Number 7

"Why are there so many undead in this mall? It's like humans have never even cleared out this place. Do you think they got overrun? Or maybe... they were never here in the first place?"

Jeremiah Rithargus and Ector Stralgen - both men who had large builds and were experienced in combat - were currently standing back to back as they fired off round after round, taking out numerous undead without blinking an eye.

They had entered the mall from the front entrance, and were currently in the middle of a central area which split off in numerous directions, therefore they had to maintain careful attention to their surroundings to ensure that they didn't get caught by surprise from behind.

"I don't sense that we're being watched or anything like that... which is extremely strange. If the Bloodhounds actually had made this place into their lair, then I'd notice something.", Ector replied with a stern expression.

The two were suspicious.

"Do you think the girl could have been wrong about this place? Or maybe..."

"I think that this is a trap."

Finishing the sentence of Jeremiah, Ector reloaded his rifle after unloading an entire magazine of ammunition into the undead around him.

"Do you think that the Bloodhounds were able to somehow keep the undead around as a security measure to their real base?"

"That might be the case. But it's still strange that the cameras seem to be off. No... I guess that isn't too strange. I guess repairing them would require someone skilled in that area."

"Then there's probably either a basement or an upper level where the real threat is, and they left the first floor full of the undead so that nobody tries to get in?"

"That's the only thing I can think of."

The idea that their very client had set them up had never crossed their minds.

No - rather - it had. However even so, there was no motivation for the girl to do such a thing.

If she held a grudge towards her uncle for whatever reason, then she should understand well that they too wanted to escape from his clutches. Betraying them would be doing nothing more than cutting off potential allies.

If on the other hand, she was following the orders of her uncle, then that would make even less sense. The former clients held significant worth to Gerard, if only as pawns. Having them killed off for no reason just didn't make any sense.

'Unless they're really trying to get rid of any threats that could possibly leak information... but...'

The existence of Yakov denied such a possibility.

It was as if that man was all knowing - revealing everything and anything before they could even try to plan against him.

Furthermore, why would they be lured to this place to be killed? Did she think that mere zombies would be enough? It was clear that no human had set up any traps here, so why here?

By all means, the idea that they were set up by the ones they served didn't make sense.

However, this was their failure.

They failed to understand that the reason for their elimination was not practical, nor was there any logic behind such a thing.

It was purely because they were people who should not be allowed to exist in this world.

For the very act of being a client of the man known as Gerard Stirling was an unforgivable crime in the eyes of Isabella Stirling.

----

"That's... all of 'em."

"I still have a few mags left, but we might need to refill at this rate."

"Tch... I didn't expect this many zombies. We might need to retreat and come back. And to think we'd use so much ammo without even meeting any people..."

"But we did get some good information, didn't we? The fact that there are no humans on this floor is a major deal. Though... the fact that we eliminated most of the undead might be a problem if someone notices."

Jeremiah and Ector went back and forth, the enmity between the two having decreased after they fought alongside one another.

"Well, I can still go a little further. How about we go ahead and split up and clean up some of these department stores while we're at it?"

"Fine by me. Just don't get yourself killed. Or do. It wouldn't affect me, after all."

"Haha, same goes for you, you greedy bastard."

With violent smiles on their faces, the men headed in different directions, each glancing back at the other.

'Not yet. I won't kill you until I've found those bastards.', Jeremiah thought.

'Soon as I finish this off, you're next.', Ector mused.

With these thoughts, the men headed in different directions, each going their own way.

'Ah ah... reducing someone's perception of danger... that's another way to use this ability, isn't it, One?'

----

The aisles of a clothing store was perhaps one of the most dangerous locations that Jeremiah could find himself in.

With racks of clothing all over the place, the location was perfect for hide and go seek, as many children would often do while their mothers spent hours upon hours viewing the selection - and it was exactly this affinity for the childish game which made it a nightmare for an apocalypse.

The undead could pop out of any corner at any moment, hiding themselves in the circular racks or behind the shelves with little effort.

Fortunately for Jeremiah, the undead didn't appear to be intelligent enough to purposely hide themselves like that.

They were out in the open for the most part, and while Jeremiah made sure to check every possible location for enemies, he never found anything.

One by one, the man made his way through the aisles, the silenced rifle in hand as he mowed down anything that stood in his path.

Things were going almost too well.

'Are there really no humans hiding somewhere in this mall?'

If the Bloodhounds were really here, wouldn't they find some way to sneak attack the invaders?

The man continued his way through the store, however after laying bullets into every zombie he could find, the man looked to the ground with a gulp.

He was surrounded by the bodies.

'Shit...'

Grabbing his groin, the man began to sweat as he looked at the bodies, sexual thirst overcoming him as he wiped a line of drool from his mouth.

'Shit... I can't handle this.'

This man - Jeremiah Rithargus - also known as the Necrophile, was at his limit.

'It's all around me... the bodies... there are so many of them... yet... yet...'

Forcing himself to look to the ceiling, the man's eyes became teary as he grit his teeth with restraint.

'Yet if I give in... I will become infected.'

It was as if this entire world was designed to make him suffer.

Dangling in front of him at every moment was the very thing he wished for, yet he could never obtain such a thing - lest he die.

'No... I won't give in.'

Coming to this decision, the man shut down his instincts as he denied his perturbed fetishes, maintaining his humanity for just a bit longer.

He was alone, and nobody would be around to witness him.

He could give in and obtain exactly what he wanted.

He could go out in one last blaze of glory before dying a dog's death.

'No. I can't think about these things.'

The temptations continued to bombard his mind as he walked through the store, forcing himself to focus on the situation at hand.

'I have to focus. Focus. Focus. FOCUS. I need to work... work. Work. Work. Work. I need to focus on my work...'

In every effort to distract himself, the man tried to find every excuse not to give in, yet the desires continued to bombard his mind.

'I'm here to defeat the Bloodhounds. Nothing more. Nothing less.'

"You seem to be quite troubled."

Shooting his head around at the sudden comment of a woman, the man immediately became on guard, aiming his weapon in the direction that the sound came from.

However no matter how hard he looked, there was nobody.

"I wonder just what it is that you're so concerned about... to the point where you're even drooling like a pig."

Suddenly, the voice spoke once more - this time from behind him again.

Shooting around once more, the man now faced in the opposite direction, reaching out with his hand as he grabbed something in midair.

He grabbed a hand - however as soon as he turned around to look, his own eyes deceived him.

He felt the hand of a woman within his grip, but there was no person present in front of him.

His combat reflexes alone had allowed him to seize the foe who spoke, however it was as if she was invisible.

"What... what the hell are you?", the man asked as the woman slowly took form, the invisibility having been dispelled.

"Would you mind letting go of my hand first?", she asked as her gaze fell upon it.

In front of the man now, completely visible to his eye, was a woman.

Her black hair fell down her body, tied in a ponytail, and she wore a suit and even a tie as if she were a businesswoman.

She carried no weapon, and she merely looked to the man with an annoyed expression as she tried to wriggle her hand free.

However Jeremiah wasn't playing any games.

Crack!

Snapping the wrist of the woman, he tore her hand off without mercy, at which she fell back - apparently holding back the pain as blood flowed from her now handless wrist.

"Rude."

With this single word, the woman held her hand with discomfort as the flesh itself seemed to bubble up as if it were liquid.

"What are you?", the man pressed - his tone becoming low as he spoke with force.

"I would have told you, but honestly I don't feel like doing that anymore. Maybe if you were a bit more delicate with me, I would have been more accommodating of your questions."

As the woman's hand reformed, she stretched it out, feeling out the newly grown hand as if such a thing was normal.

"Regeneration... that... wait..."

Suddenly, the man realized it.

This woman's skin was not the normal shade of a human being, but rather a pale blue.

It was the color of the undead.

"You... are dead? Yet... you're alive."

"Aren't we all?"

With a dull tone, the woman held forward her hand as she pointed her palm at the man before grabbing and squeezing.

In that instant, the man fell to his knees in horrendous pain.

Grabbing his chest, the man puffed for breath as he looked up to the woman, who glared down upon him as if he were an insect.

"The heart pumps blood through the body, carrying oxygen to the muscular cells. This oxygen provides energy for the muscles to operate, allowing them to function properly."

Suddenly, the woman began to walk around the man, whose chest felt as if it were about to explode.

"If the heart ceases to beat, this is known as cardiac arrest. After just a few minutes of living without a beating heart, a human will die."

Placing her hand on the chest of the man, who found himself unable to move even a single muscle as he watched, the woman seemed to smile sinisterly as she continued to lecture him.

"The muscles will no longer receive the oxygen they need to function. They will become unusable."

Gripping his chin, the woman turned his head up to look her in the eyes.

And at that moment, he felt it.

'This woman... I want to fuck her.'

She was a corpse.

But not just any corpse - a living corpse.

A dead body with intelligence and life, moving around yet rotten and corrupted, the flesh continuously dying and replacing itself through some magical process that he couldn't possibly comprehend.

"However, what if the size of the heart were to be suddenly reduced?"

Grabbing her hand as if she were crushing something, the woman grinned as she looked at the man with immense sadism.

"The change in pressure would create an unprecedented reaction within the body - something that has never happened before. Of course, how could such a thing be possible?"

Turning around, the woman continued to pace, speaking out loud as the man was unable to respond.

"Even if the body were to somehow stabilize itself, the decreased volume and pumping pressure would mean that less oxygen would be transported throughout the body."

Walking behind the man, she was no longer within his sight as she continued to speak.

"You would live on with a limited flow of blood, and the amount of energy you would be physically capable of exerting would be significantly reduced."

The man felt his own arm being grabbed as she seemed to be analyzing it from behind, yet he could not even see her face as she did so.

"However... my own flesh is rotten."

Then, letting go of the man, the woman once more walked within his sight.

"Everything within me is constantly deteriorating, and I have no need of such energy."

Spreading her arms, the woman displayed herself to the man as she removed her coat - her smooth yet rotten skin bearing itself in all its horrific glory.

"Therefore even if my heart were to stop beating... that would not become the reason for my death."

And at that moment, the woman shoved her own hand straight through her shirt, which became riddled with blood that seeped out as she stabbed herself with her claws.

Ripping her very heart out of her chest, the woman held it tenderly - a purple heart which seemed to have lost all vitality.

The blood exploded out of her chest, covering the man as it was expelled from the body of the woman - the sudden removal of the heart having unsealed a pressurized vault of the fluid.

Yet despite its purple color, as if it had been bruised and beaten, the heart continued to throb with life.

The woman stared at the heart, tears in her eyes and a pained expression on her face as she laughed to herself, placing it back into her chest once more - which sealed itself as a result of the regeneration.

"My own thoughts too - are no longer a product of my brain, but rather a product of my soul which has been infused into this body time and time again."

Then this time, the woman plunged her hand straight into her forehead, opening up her own skull as she grabbed a handful of brain flesh - ripping it out as if it were ground beef, mushed up and crimson with blood.

"Therefore even without such a thing... I am still capable of thought."

Throwing the flesh aside, the brain and even the skull of the woman began to repair themselves, as if dedicated to return to their original state.

"It makes no sense, now does it?"

Standing before the man as her body once more was full - the woman sighed as she looked up with grief.

"Nothing does in this world. Not anymore."

Then, sending her foot into the chest of the man, he fell backwards onto his back as he coughed up a fit of blood.

Her foot was laid upon his neck, at which he felt himself being choked - crushed underneath the weight of the dress shoe which was placed upon him.

"From the moment these reawakenings were introduced, any laws that we once believed to be true have been overwritten with new realities."

And in that instant, the neck of the man was crushed.

His breathing ceased as blood filled his lungs, and a fit of coughing and drowning ensued.

The man shook violently, anger filling his expression, yet he could not even so much as scream out in pain.

Then, with hatred in his eyes, his thoughts became blurry.

'You... no... I can't die... not here... not without... at least...'

Gritting his teeth, the man coughed up his final spout of blood.

'Having my way with you... you corpse in denial.'

Thus, Jeremiah died.

For the only time.

----

10 years prior, in a small town on the outskirts of the Soviet Nation of Joraten, a military operation was held by the Republic of Stronvardia.

This operation was an attempt to gain more territory in order to push the border of war further from their own cities.

However, to the soldiers sent on this impossible expedition, it was nothing less than an unnecessary slaughter.

"Huff... huff... huff..."

Having entered the Town of Iluk, the Stronvardian soldiers had forcefully established a temporary base, however these movements were found out by the Joraten army, and they found themselves surrounded on all sides by enemy forces.

"Shit... shit! What the hell!? This... this wasn't supposed to be like this!!"

One particular man found himself running after witnessing numerous of his own comrades ambushed and mowed down.

However as he ran through those streets, he knew that there wasn't anywhere for him to go.

It was dark, and late at night. The trails underneath his feet were caked with mud, not fit for anyone to drive upon. Buildings surrounded him, though they were nowhere near as modern as those of a large City.

Bombshells and gunshots loaded his ears, and fear trickled through his body as he heard the screams and explosions of warfare.

He ran as fast as he could, panting and out of breath but even so forcing himself to take each step with haste, not slowing down for a second - lest it be his last.

This young soldier, who was in a fight for his life, was Jeremiah Rithargus - an infantryman at the time.

He carried a gun in his hands and wore the bulletproof gear which he had been equipped with, yet even this was not enough to spare him from bombshells or being captured.

"Huff... where... should I go?"

With gunshots resounding in every direction, all options seemed to be sealed off from the man.

Suddenly, the man looked to his side to see a residential district.

'The homes... there must be people inside.'

Rushing to them, the man found his last hope.

If he could strip off these army clothes, if he could force a civilian family to pretend like he was one of them, if he could just act as if he were a resident of this village - then he would survive.

Assuming his comrades hadn't already slaughtered them all.

Rushing towards the homes, the man approached one porch as he began to bang on the door.

"Open up! Or I'll break it down!", he shouted frantically.

However there was no response.

"Tch..."

Rather than breaking down the door, the man instead stepped off, moving onto the next home.

This time, he knocked more calmly.

"Excuse me. Can you please open up?"

This time, a worrisome father opened the door.

"Yes?", he said - his voice trembling.

He was clearly terrified, but didn't want to disobey or do anything that might put himself or his family at risk.

"Let me in."

Pointing a gun to the face of the man, Jeremiah immediately resorted to violence as soon as he had a person in front of him.

However this was immediately met with the slamming of the door.

The man was likely running through his home, trying to gather his children in preparation to escape from the back door.

'I don't have time for these games.'

Running a bit down the street, the man came to a home a few houses down, trying to get away from his past failures.

As he did so, the fighting seemed to be honing in on him.

'Shit.'

This time, however, the man decided to take a different approach.

'I'll sneak inside and threaten them from inside their own home. That way, they won't try to escape.'

Heading to the backdoor, the man began to pry it open, eventually busting the lock and entering without restriction.

Sitting huddled at a table was a young girl - likely in her twenties.

"Who are you? What are you doing in here?", she asked - clearly fearful but with a rebellious tone.

"I'm going to require your assistance. Give me a change of clothes and hide me here. Is anyone else living with you?"

"It's just me. I don't have a husband, so I don't have any male clothes."

Standing up, the girl seemed to be mustering all her strength just to even speak to the man.

"And even if I did... I wouldn't have any for someone like YOU."

Bang!

Without a second thought, Jeremiah let his trigger finger slip as he fired a shot straight into the heart of the woman.

"Tch..."

She fell to the ground immediately, her body cold and lifeless as it hit with a thud. Blood pooled around her quickly, and the man turned to head out.

However as soon as he turned, a bomb dropped.

Hitting the backyard of the house he was in, the man flew backwards as a wave of heat enveloped his body. He barely gathered himself as he looked outside to see a charred moshpit of ash and cinder.

'Shit! They're already here!!!'

Looking around, the man knew not what to do - so in a panic he grabbed his rifle and rushed upstairs.

'I have to hide myself.'

Making his way up, however, the man noticed something in the corner of his eyes below the stairwell.

It was hidden in a corner, but there was a small door.

'Maybe there...'

"Hey! Search these houses! See if there are any civilians left!"

"Got it!"

"No more bombshells until we confirm the situation over here! If we can evacuate some of the citizens we will do so!"

"Understood!"

A Captain and a soldier seemed to converse back and forth, close enough that Jeremiah was able to witness the entire conversation.

Immediately shoving open the door and stuffing his body inside, the man found out that this was a cupboard - barely big enough to fit even a hunched man.

Even so, he fit himself in there without a second thought, closing the door as lightly as he could from the inside.

"Shit... a woman is dead here. Was she already killed? Or did the bombs kill her?"

"No... she's been shot. Look at her chest. Someone was here before us."

"Eh? Then we should search-"

"You idiot! We don't have time to waste if there are no people left. We'll save the civilians first and then turn off the nuclear defense systems. We'll bomb the entire Town in a few days to get rid of any lingering enemies. For now, we need to move on. The faster we get these people out, the faster we can eliminate those dogs once and for all."

With these words, the two men left.

Sitting in that cupboard, sweat continued to bead down the forehead of Jeremiah, drenching him to the point where he was almost swimming.

He finally let out a breath after holding it the entire time, and quivering he slowly opened the door.

'I'm... saved... for now.'

He was indeed saved for now.

'This house has already been searched, but going outside is too risky.'

Heading upstairs, the man wanted to escape the sight of anyone who might come in the back door - which had been blasted open.

'I need to hide here for a bit, and get out of this Town before they destroy it.'

----