I focused on sensing everyone's positions. Once I had a general grasp of where they were, I shifted my attention to an open third-floor window. Two hunters stood there, smoking and talking as they stared at the cloudy sky. A cold wind blew from the north, and a distant black plume of smoke rose, making the entire town appear abandoned. Below, the crack of gunfire and the screams of people echoed through the streets, mingling with the brutal sounds of bodies being cut apart.
"God, the smell of burning undead flesh is awful," said the hunter with the bat.
"You think that's bad?" replied the man with the rifle, gesturing downward. "Look below. That bastard Butcher is killing people. Can't you see how wrong this is?" He snatched the cigarette from the other man and took a drag.
"Hey, I was smoking that," the bat-wielder complained.
"Shut up. Be thankful I'm sharing," the rifleman said dismissively.
The hunter with the bat shot him an annoyed look before turning back to the scene below. "Lower your voice before someone hears us."
The rifleman stopped smoking. "I'm telling you, our leader isn't right in the head. Can't you see that?" He glanced around, then leaned closer, lowering his voice. "He carries his wife's and daughter's heads in that black bag everywhere he goes. He talks to them. Don't you think that's insane?"
The bat-wielder stared at him and whispered sharply, "Shut the fuck up before you get us both killed. Be thankful we're not slaves—or meat. At least we're living decently. Look down there. Do you want to end up like them? If not, keep your mouth shut."
The rifleman looked down. His face drained of color, and he quickly turned away. The cigarette burned down between his fingers.
"You're right," he muttered. "Come on—let's patrol before someone catches us smoking."
As they stepped away from the window, the hunter with the bat added quietly, "As a friend, I'm telling you—keep your mouth shut. You don't want to lose another finger, do you?"
The other man nodded, and they walked off, leaving the window open. Once they were gone, I slipped inside without a sound.
Those pieces of shit had talked for far too long.
I scanned the library. It was dark, lit only by a few candles and faint, cloudy light spilling through the windows. There was no electricity, which worked in my favor—it made killing easier.
I focus on my senses and located the hunters. The two from the window were walking down the hallway. I followed silently, a pocket knife clenched in my hand. The man with the bat lagged slightly behind.
I matched their footsteps, crept closer, covered his mouth, and drove the blade up through the base of his skull. His body stiffened once—then went slack. I lowered his body gently to the floor.
"Hey, why did you stop—" the rifleman began, turning.
The moment he did, I closed the distance in a heartbeat. His eyes widened, recognition flashing just before the knife punched into his skull. He collapsed beside his companion without a sound.
Both were dead. I felt a flicker of sadness—but also satisfaction that the two friends would be going to hell together.
I focused again, sensing the others. No one was nearby. I dragged the bodies into a side room and hid them.
Two down. More to go.
As I moved through the floor, I spotted a library map on the wall. I was on the third floor. Nine hunters guarded the area. Three were inside the library itself, browsing books. Tall shelves filled the room—perfect cover. With darkness on my side, it was an ideal hunting ground.
Using the shelves to conceal my movements, I took them out one by one. All three died without making a sound. As I dragged their bodies into a shadowed corner, hidden by fallen books, I heard footsteps.
Two more were approaching.
"We're in the library—come on, let's grab a book," a woman whispered, tugging a man along.
"Honey, we're supposed to guard this place. If we get caught, we'll lose a finger," he hissed, trying to pull her back.
"Just one book," she insisted. "No one will notice," she said, dragging him deeper inside.
They stopped suddenly.
Their eyes widened.
"Why is there blood on the floor?" the woman whispered.
The room was dark, but up close, the blood was unmistakable. A thin trail led toward the corner where I hid the bodies. Fear spread across their faces.
Before they could react, I moved.
I leapt from the top of a bookshelf, sword in hand, and in a single motion severed both their heads. They rolled across the floor, faces frozen in terror. Blood pooled beneath them as their bodies collapsed. Moments later, their eyes turned white, and their mouths snapped at the air as they began to turn undead.
I grabbed both heads by the hair and tossed them aside with the other corpses, then dragged their bodies into the corner.
Next target: the TV room.
Two guards were stationed there. Using darkness and instinct, I killed both effortlessly.
Only two guards remained on the third floor.
They were patrolling the office.
I moved silently, hugging the walls, and slipped beneath a desk just as they entered.
"This is so boring," said a man with a scar across his face.
"Shut up and keep patrolling," the other replied coldly.
"There's no one left in the library. Everyone's dead. Let's go downstairs and have fun with the girls," the scarred man said casually.
"For once in your life, think with your head," the other snapped. "Did you forget last time? You played with that little girl until she died. We both lost fingers and got demoted because of your lust. Focus on the job."
"How could I forget?" the scarred man growled. "The moment I get the chance, I'll kill that leader of ours. Brain-dead idiot."
"With that attitude, your head will be chopped off. Stay away from me—you'll drag me down with you," the man said, leaving the office.
The scarred man growled and turned to follow.
That was my opening.
I slipped behind him, locked him in a chokehold, and slit his throat. His body thrashed as he struggled, but I wrapped my legs around him and stabbed his chest repeatedly. He tried to scream—only blood and gargling sounds escaped.
Slowly, painfully, he began to die.
I released him and stood.
His eyes locked onto mine, filled with horror. I watched until his body finally went limp.
I gave him a polite smile so he would remember my face.
His body twitched, beginning to turn undead.
Before the transformation finished, I drove my knife into his skull. I wiped the blade clean and stepped out of the office.
The last guard was calling out as he hurried back.
"Where the fuck are you?"
I waited in a dark corner. As soon as he passed, I clamped a hand over his mouth and drove the knife into his skull. He died instantly.
The third floor was clear.
Everyone was dead. I could tell my body was made for killing. Somehow, it was becoming enjoyable to slaughter those who tried to take what was mine or threaten me. That realization frightened me. I was no longer driven by anger or fear—I was calm, savoring every moment. Worse, I was beginning to fear I might become addicted to this feeling.
I turned toward the stairs and headed for the second floor, already preparing myself for what came next.