Elara's warning cry came simultaneously with her lightning-fast response. Her tactical knife flashed cold in the dim light, striking at a precise angle to drive deep into the skull of the undead that had attempted to ambush Amily!
"Squelch—"
The sound of the blade penetrating brain matter was distinct. Elara twisted her wrist skillfully, using the knife tip to pry loose a faintly glowing crystal core from the undead's skull.
The attacking undead stiffened briefly before collapsing limply.
Only then did Amily turn around, still shaken, to see the dimly glowing core in Elara's hand and the motionless undead on the ground. Her face showed both gratitude and lingering fear.
"Th-thank you, Elara..." her voice trembled with nervous energy.
Elara acknowledged her thanks with a slight nod, though concern flickered in her eyes. The undead here weren't just more agile - their attacks showed suddenness and... a degree of tactical thinking.
She casually removed the crystal core from her knife and opened a special metal box attached to her tactical backpack's side pocket, dropping the core inside. The "Bubble" orchid within the box, seeming to sense the core's energy, quieted its previously restless movements. Its petals gently opened to envelop the crystal core, as if savoring a delicious candy.
Watching this, Elara mused that this little one's intelligence far exceeded that of the foolish vine. The vine, confined in another larger box, continued writhing about like agitated snakes, making rustling sounds, completely unbothered by "Bubble" receiving another treat - showing no signs of "jealousy" whatsoever.
Endearingly stupid, Elara thought, shaking her head as she led the group along the walls, crouching and weaving around the undead, searching for a route into the building.
After Vespera's ability temporarily cleared the "patrol" of undead from the perimeter, the group avoided the heavily guarded main entrance. Instead, following Zephyr's structural plans, they circled to the building's flank.
According to their battle plan from yesterday's meeting, their target was an outdoor platform extending from the second floor of the main building. There, a maintenance railing offered a relatively weak point they could climb to access an internal corridor. Conveniently, Zephyr possessed an electronic key for a security door in that corridor.
Amily, Vespera, and an almost hyperventilating Jorah were protected in the middle of the formation. Cassian and Zephyr took point and rear guard, while Elara and Seraph covered the flanks, ready for unexpected threats.
The night provided perfect cover. Like shadows given form, they ghosted through the gaps and alleys between buildings, evading waves of wandering undead.
Finally, they reached the base of their target platform. At roughly four to five meters high, the climb posed no challenge for their enhanced abilities.
Zephyr moved first. Like an agile panther, he soundlessly vaulted onto the platform in a few swift movements, then lowered a high-strength nylon rope he'd prepared earlier.
"Jorah, you first," Cassian said in a low voice.
Jorah stared at the rope swaying gently in the night breeze, his gaze fixed on the dark edge of the platform above. His legs, once again betraying him, began to tremble. He shakily gripped the rope and started to climb, all flailing limbs. His thin arms and legs, stiff with nervousness and fear, made his movements exceptionally clumsy. He was even slower than Vespera, who, with Amily's help, had already nimbly climbed halfway up behind him.
Elara watched Jorah's pathetic display—he looked like he wanted to wrap all four limbs around the rope and never let go—and couldn't help but palm her forehead, a wave of helplessness washing over her. This guy practically had 'rookie' tattooed on his forehead.
Zephyr, standing on the platform, watched Jorah's sluggish progress with a deadpan expression, his patience seemingly exhausted. Without a word, he swiftly reached down, accurately snagged the hood of Jorah's hoodie—a particularly thick one Jorah had deliberately chosen for extra protection—and then… with a heave of his arm, yanked him straight up!
Poor Jorah felt a powerful force, and his body went airborne, limbs flailing wildly. He landed with a thud on the platform and reflexively latched onto Zephyr's arm like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline.
"Whoa—!" he yelped involuntarily. Zephyr's brow twitched almost imperceptibly, and his other hand shot out to clamp over Jorah's mouth, stifling the noise threatening to erupt.
"Shhh—quiet, if you want to live." Elara, agile as a cat, leaped lightly onto the platform. She pressed a finger to her lips, making a hushing gesture at the still-terrified Jorah.
Since the apocalypse began, most individuals who had awakened abilities also experienced a significant boost in their physical attributes—strength, speed, and reflexes—far surpassing those of ordinary people. Jorah, however, was clearly an exception.
Perhaps it was because he had overdrawn his potential due to extreme fear and the desperate will to survive right after awakening his powers, resulting in physical damage. In any case, his current physical condition was even weaker than many ordinary adult men before the apocalypse. It was a pity that humans hadn't evolved to the point where they could absorb energy from crystal cores at will, like some mutated plants. If they could, Elara would definitely have found a way to "supplement" him properly.
Fortunately, although the Research Institute was heavily fortified, its specialized nature meant that the number of personnel working and active there regularly wasn't particularly large. Consequently, the number of those who had turned into undead was relatively limited. While these internal undead were individually stronger than those outside—likely due to the environment and a culling process by the Zombie King—they hadn't encountered major trouble yet, as long as they carefully avoided their fixed patrol routes.
Just as they were about to use Zephyr's electronic key to open the security door leading to the internal corridor, Elara's sharp gaze caught a figure moving slowly in the shadows nearby.
It was a male undead wearing a white tank top. Unlike other undead, its muscles didn't appear significantly atrophied; in fact, they looked rather… robust? The tank top, originally white, was now caked with thick, dried layers of dark red blood, its original color almost entirely obscured. Judging by the layers and freshness of the stains, the reason for its 'enhanced' strength was obvious—it had clearly devoured a substantial amount of flesh.
Elara's lips thinned slightly, a cold glint of killing intent flickering in her eyes.
What struck her as even stranger was that, apart from the faint, ever-present scent of blood in the air, the floors and walls inside the institute were remarkably clean, almost devoid of any bloodstains or signs of struggle. This was a stark contrast to the scenes outside, where undead remains and gore were commonplace.
This situation suggested only two possibilities.
First, there was a designated 'feeding ground' where they dragged their prey to be consumed.
Second, the potential 'Zombie King' possessed an unusual level of intelligence and… perhaps a peculiar sense of cleanliness? It might be directing its subordinates to clean their 'lair.'
Or… possibly both.
Either possibility led to a deduction that made Elara's heart sink—it was highly likely that they still had 'stored rations' here!
Meaning… some of the isolated researchers, and other survivors who might have been captured and trapped here!
Elara's gaze sharpened. If her suspicions were correct, then these undead roaming the institute's interior, clearly more evolved, were far more than just ordinary obstacles. Their presence, along with their potential "feeding grounds" and "stored rations," would introduce immense risks and uncertainties to the subsequent rescue operation.
That being the case, these undead… had to be eliminated! And it had to be done swiftly and decisively, before they could raise an alarm and attract more of their kind.
Words were almost unnecessary. A mere exchange of glances between Elara, Cassian, and Zephyr was enough to establish a mutual understanding. The combat intuition honed from constantly treading the line between life and death allowed them to grasp each other's intentions in an instant.
Seraph's fire abilities were immensely powerful, but they were also loud and conspicuous, clearly unsuitable for a situation requiring stealth and precise assassination. Thus, she proactively took on the duty of guarding Amily, Vespera, and Jorah—who could generously be described as "combat-impaired"—at the rear, while also remaining vigilant for threats from other directions.
The remaining three moved like silent shadows, closing in on the undead patrolling the corridor. To avoid making excessive noise, they had all tacitly opted for cold weapons.
Cassian led the way, his steps light yet steady. A uniquely shaped short blade had appeared in his hand, its body possessing a water-wave-like streamlined form that glinted with a faint, cold light in the dim illumination. With a subtle flick of his wrist, a thin stream of water, as if imbued with life, flowed silently from beneath his feet, rapidly spreading towards an undead that was slowly moving ahead, its back to them.
Just as the undead was about to step onto the water, Cassian's eyes, from his position further back, narrowed. The seemingly harmless puddle instantly froze solid! The slick ice sent the undead stumbling, its body lurching forward uncontrollably, letting out a short, suppressed grunt.
In the split second the undead lost its balance and momentarily froze, a dark figure darted past Cassian like a lightning bolt!
It was Elara!
Her tactical dagger sliced through the air in a vicious arc, whistling faintly as it plunged with unerring precision into the juncture between the undead's nape and skull! A swift twist of her wrist, and the crisp sound of bone cracking echoed with stark clarity in the silent corridor.
A fatal blow!
The entire sequence was as smooth as flowing water, perfectly coordinated. From Cassian creating the trap with water to Elara's lethal strike, the whole process took no more than two or three seconds, executed with the chillingly efficient beauty of a meticulously rehearsed assembly line.
Zephyr, like a silent specter, followed closely behind Elara. His gaze was as sharp as a hawk's, warily scanning their surroundings, ready to deliver a follow-up blow or deal with any other potential threats. The ancient-looking longsword in his hand remained sheathed, but the sheer icy killing intent emanating from him was enough to deter any living thing from approaching.
After dispatching the first undead, the trio didn't pause, continuing towards their next target.
Watching Elara's combat skills, so ingrained they seemed almost instinctual, and the unabashed, almost innate decisiveness in her every lethal move, Cassian sighed softly to himself again.
This woman, really… she has no idea how to conceal her edge, does she?
Imperceptibly, the next time he used water to control an undead's movement, his fingertips brushed almost invisibly over the water's surface. An extremely faint electrical current instantly conducted through the icy puddle and into the undead.
The undead's body suddenly stiffened, exhibiting a more pronounced stun and paralysis than when it had merely slipped on the ice.
This subtle change might have gone unnoticed even by Elara herself, but it didn't escape Zephyr's hawk-like eyes. He glanced at Cassian, a flicker of understanding in his gaze.
Cassian merely quirked his lips slightly, unconcerned by Zephyr's scrutiny.
He knew Zephyr had noticed. It didn't matter. This little performance, or rather, this "act of goodwill," was as much for his old partner's benefit as it was for his own.
After all, Elara's seemingly casual yet remarkably prescient warning before the apocalypse had not only allowed him to prepare for the end of the world but had also, indirectly… saved his family, who were abroad.
Though Elara's warning at the time had been vague and shrouded in mystery, he had, by some twist of fate, chosen to believe her. He had secretly mobilized resources to move his family to a relatively safe region beforehand, allowing them to avoid the initial catastrophe of the outbreak.
As an old saying from that distant Eastern country went: "A drop of kindness should be repaid with a gushing spring."
Coincidentally, he, Cassian, happened to be a water-ability user. He was more than willing to offer this "favor that flowed with the current." Besides, the value and potential Elara herself demonstrated were well worth his investment and… protection.
The subsequent hunt became even smoother and more efficient. With Cassian's subtle "paralytic assistance" from the faint electrical current, Elara's assassinations became almost effortless, nearly every strike precisely ending an undead's "life" before it could fully react.
In the silent corridor, only the soft sounds of their footsteps and the dull thuds of falling undead repeated in a monotonous rhythm.