Lord Of Ashes

More than an hour later, John blankly picked up a zombie lying next to the refrigerator pretending to be dead. Without hesitation, he slammed the refrigerator door onto the zombie's head, blasting it apart. The corrupt blood splattered across the refrigerator's internal space, mixed with shattered skull fragments and brain matter.

[Successfully killed Level One sporadic monster 'Worker Zombie (Normal)' × 1. Soul point +1.]

John tossed the headless corpse aside and turned to leave, but a glint inside the refrigerator caught his eye. Of course, it wasn't the refrigerator suddenly coming to life, but rather a treasure chest that had dropped from the zombie.

After stuffing the chest into his bulging shoulder bag, John moved to the last room on the sixth floor. Surprisingly, he'd already cleared most of the apartment building, and it had gone faster than expected.

The primary reason? A small supermarket next to the apartment building that he'd stumbled upon earlier. There, John discovered two full boxes of bottled water (48 bottles in total) and a stash of well-preserved canned food. This discovery drastically shifted his strategy. With food and water no longer a concern, he refined and expanded his furoshiki cloth bag to carry the extra supplies.

You might wonder, how did this find help John kill zombies faster? It's simple. Initially, after killing a zombie, John would search each room meticulously for supplies. But now that his basic needs were met, searching for random items became unnecessary. The only things of real value to him now were weapons and ammunition, which were rare to find in zombie-infested apartments.

On the lower floors, John had searched every room thoroughly after killing zombies, hoping for some usable guns or ammo. Out of twelve zombies, however, he found nothing but disappointment. This raised some questions in his mind: where were all the firearms that were supposed to litter this supposedly "freedom-loving" land?

"What happened to the American dream of a gunfight every day?" John muttered sarcastically. "What about 'one hundred guns for every hundred citizens'? Not a single one?"

His frustration with the scarcity of firearms in this apocalypse-ravaged version of Brightwater City grew, especially since he'd hoped America's infamous gun culture would give him an edge. Now, he was left bitterly disappointed.

Abandoning room searches sped up his process significantly. With no time wasted scouring for supplies, John focused solely on hunting zombies and racking up soul points. His efficiency skyrocketed.

John's zombie-killing strategy was simple but effective:

Approach the target door.

Kick it open.

Dispatch the zombie. If he was in a foul mood, he'd hack them apart with his machete. On better days, he'd use his Beretta 92F pistol for a quick headshot.

Wait for treasure. Stand still for a few seconds to see if the zombie dropped a treasure chest.

Rinse and repeat.

He sometimes used his radar to check the positions of zombies in nearby rooms, ensuring no surprises interrupted his loop. Over time, his efficiency allowed him to clear entire floors in minutes.

His luck turned when he encountered a few police zombies. Unlike ordinary worker zombies, these carried weapons and ammo. On their bodies and in their rooms, John found another Beretta 92F pistol, a Remington M870 shotgun, and even a stun gun. The haul included over 100 rounds of 9mm ammo and 40 to 50 shotgun shells.

Now, John could dual-wield pistols, but he found it unnecessary. He preferred the versatility of holding his machete in one hand and his pistol in the other.

Standing before apartment 608, John took a moment to assess the situation. According to his radar, this room was packed with eight zombies. But something else had caught his attention earlier while clearing this floor—a faint sound of barking. No dogs had appeared in the other rooms, which led John to suspect that this room might contain zombie dogs.

"Zombie dogs, huh?" he muttered, knocking on the door. "As long as it's not one of those freakish lickers, I should be fine."

The moment his knuckles rapped on the door, the barking intensified, accompanied by guttural zombie growls. Now certain that zombie dogs were inside, John braced himself. He kicked the door open, his shotgun ready.

What he saw left him speechless.

[Successfully killed Level One sporadic monster 'Teacup Poodle Zombie (Normal)' × 1. Soul point +1.]

[Successfully killed Level One sporadic monster 'Teacup Pomeranian Zombie (Normal)' × 1. Soul point +1.]

[Successfully killed Level One sporadic monster 'Teacup Yorkshire Terrier Zombie (Normal)' × 1. Soul point +1.]

"Teacup dogs?" John exclaimed, bewildered. His mental image of zombie dogs had always been ferocious Dobermans or snarling Rottweilers, not pint-sized pooches.

Before he could process the absurdity, a shadow lunged at him. A zombie husky leaped for his throat, its teeth sinking in before John could react.

Despite the pain and the revolting stench of its rotting breath, John kept his cool. He pried the zombie dog off, letting it dangle from his arm as he checked its stats:

[Husky Zombie (Normal)]

Level: 1, 1-Star

Talents:

Slow Decay

T-Virus Vector (Evolution Failure)

HP: 45/45

Energy Value: 0/0

Attributes:

Power: 6

Agility: 9

Constitution: 3

Intelligence: 1

Charm: 0

Skills: Bite