New Dawn Chapter: 0103

Tysone felt it, a cold prickle at the base of his skull, an instinct that had nothing to do with sight or sound. The Zombie Major's eyes, those vacant, milky orbs, somehow seemed to focus on their position, even through the driving rain and the gloom of the alley. 

It wasn't a direct look, not exactly, but a subtle shift in the creature's posture, a faint tilt of its head as if it were scenting the air. Or perhaps, Tysone thought, it was just sensing the unnaturalness of a living, beating heart amidst its army of undead.

"He sees us." Tysone whispered, the words barely a breath. It was a statement, not a question. His newly heightened senses, still overwhelming and sharp, confirmed it. 

There was a peculiar, almost electrical hum emanating from the Zombie Major, something akin to what pulsed within his own veins now. 

This was no ordinary zombie.

Saeko, her head low, didn't respond with words, only a subtle tightening of her grip on her bokken. Her eyes were fixed on the imposing figure, too. Takashi and Rei tensed beside them, their gazes following Tysone's. Kohta, always the quickest to pick up on the leader's unspoken cues, shifted his rifle to a ready position.

One of the new survivors, a middle-aged woman with wide, terrified eyes, whimpered. "He's looking right at us… oh god, he knows!"

Officer Nakaoka, despite her own palpable fear, immediately clamped a hand over the woman's mouth. "Quiet!" She hissed, her eyes darting from the horde to Tysone, as if seeking confirmation or instruction.

The Zombie Major tilted its head again, and a low, resonant growl, a sound that seemed to vibrate the very air, rolled through the alley. 

It wasn't directed at them, not precisely, but it was a declaration. A territorial warning. And the entire horde, a river of putrid flesh, seemed to shift, eddying around its leader, its collective moans rising in intensity.

"It's not just a zombie." Saya murmured, her voice tight. "It's… thinking."

Tysone nodded, his jaw clenched. "It's not just a leader by chance. It's an apex predator. We are not engaging. Not here, not now. We're getting out."

Fortunately, the Zombie Major, for some reason, turned its attention away, seemingly focused on something else. The horde around it moved, vacating the area around the alley.

Tysone, who's breathing momentarily stopped in case the Zombie Major's senses were acute enough to pick up on it, finally heaved a sigh of relief. 

"Okay." He rasped, his voice rough. "They're moving. That's our cue. Get down the ladder. Now. Fast and quiet."

Takashi, already moving, started ushering Officer Nakaoka and the remaining two survivors down the slippery metal rungs of the fire escape. The young woman, still quietly sobbing, stumbled, but Nakaoka steadied her. 

One of the survivors—a grizzled man, whose face was still a mask of terror—moved with a surprising, desperate speed.

Saya, her ribs protesting, moved with surprising grace despite the pain, Rei just behind her, offering support. Saeko was already halfway down, her movements fluid and silent. Kohta, rifle at the ready, was the last to descend after Tysone, his eyes scanning their rear.

Their boots hit the flooded asphalt with muffled splatters. The alley felt less like a potential deathtrap now, and more like a grimy, forgotten tunnel in the belly of the city. Still, Tysone didn't let his guard down. Relief was a fleeting luxury in this world.

"Stick to the right." Tysone ordered, already moving at a swift, ground-eating pace. 

"Any more of those things…?" Officer Nakaoka managed to ask, her voice breathless as she struggled to keep pace, her short hair plastered to her forehead. 

She clung to her small service pistol like a lifeline.

"Unknown." Tysone replied without breaking stride, his eyes sweeping their surroundings. "Assume they're everywhere. And the less noise we make, the better."

He couldn't know if there were zombies that could bypass his enhanced senses. 

The rain and slight fog creeping up didn't help either. 

The new survivors were already struggling. The young female survivor stumbled again, letting out a small, desperate cry as she twisted her ankle. She collapsed, clutching her leg. "I can't! I just can't!"

Her voice, thin and reedy, seemed to echo in the unnatural quiet of the alley.

Tysone cursed under his breath. He debated. Leaving her would be merciful, in a way. Keeping her would be a burden, a potential risk to the entire group. But what was the point of gathering survivors if he couldn't even get them safely to his base?

"Takashi, Saeko, get her up. Saya, keep an eye on our six." His orders were clipped, decisive. Whatever—as long as it wasn't one of those powerhouse evolved zombies, everything else wouldn't pose much of a problem.

Takashi and Saeko moved without hesitation, hauling the woman up. She was heavy, dead weight, her tears mixing with the rain on her face.

Just then, from deeper in the alley, a low groan rose above the rain. Then another. And another. Drawn by the faint sounds of their struggle, a small group of common zombies, maybe seven, shambled out from behind a line of rusted-out cars.

"Shit." Kohta hissed, raising his rifle.

"No." Tysone said, his voice sharp. He moved. With a sudden burst of speed, a blurred movement that left the others momentarily wide-eyed, he closed the distance to the incoming zombies. 

Their already slow movements were slowed down even further in his eyes. They might as well have been puppeteered by someone on a very bad wi-fi. 

He swung his halberd in a silent, deadly arc. 

The air whistled as raindrops were split in half. And along with them, the first zombie's head as well. It separated from its neck with a wet thud before its body even registered the blow. 

The second received a savage, roundhouse kick on its swivelling head—it exploded in a mist of gore, that quickly dissipated under the torrential downpour. 

Tysone moved on, fluid and merciless, his halberd too fast for its size. 

It felt so light in his hand. He could have wielded a fork in that moment, and it wouldn't have made any difference. 

The remaining five zombies never stood a chance. One was decapitated, three others were cleaved clean in half, and the last had its head pulped by a precise, powerful downward chop.

It was over in seconds. The silence returned, save for the rain and the horrified gasps of the new survivors. Tysone stood amidst the dismembered corpses, his breathing calm and steady. His clothes were spattered with foul ichor, but he didn't even register it.

"Don't make a sound." Tysone said, his voice flat. He pointed a bloodied halberd towards the whimpering woman. "You. If you make another noise like that, you are dead. Understood?"

The woman, trembling violently, could only nod, her eyes wide with terror. 

Tysone, in her eyes at that moment, wasn't just a mere human anymore. He was something that transcended the bounds of mortality. 

Something frighteningly efficient and utterly ruthless. "Let's move." Tysone turned, leading the way again, his pace unrelenting.

They continued their journey through the overturned arteries of the city. 

The new survivors, shaken by the display of brutality, followed in terrified silence.

They eventually emerged from the alley onto a broader street, the pavement cracked and littered with debris. The rain was relentless, drenching them to the bone, but at least the open space felt marginally safer than the claustrophobic confines of the alley. However, as Tysone surveyed the scene, a frown marred his face.

The street ahead was blocked by a tangle of abandoned cars, some of which were overturned or burnt-out shells. A bus was lodged sideways across the road, effectively creating an impassable barrier. It appeared that the street had been the scene of a desperate battle or mass panic in the early days of the apocalypse.

However, with cars and other vehicles not functioning properly due to their electronics being fried, getting back to the base was going to be much harder.

As they continued their journey back, on foot, hordes of zombies would attack them, like clockwork, but were also swiftly dealt with. Tysone had become a literal reaper on the battlefield. As long as it wasn't a horde of hundreds dogpiling on him, or a powerful evolved zombie, he was able to deal with everything.

It soured their morale even more, knowing that despite everything, neither the police, the army or the powerful Japanese government could do anything to mitigate the spread of whatever happened to these people.

They were truly on their own.

Most of the houses had their windows boarded up, doors barricaded with whatever could be found nearby.

Tysone didn't want to stay in the city one second longer, and so, he picked up the pace.

"Wait!" One of the survivors, called out, his face pale. "I can't go on... we need to rest."

Tysone, already on edge as it was, turned to him with a look that would've made a lesser man wet himself. "No, we don't."

The survivor, while scared, held his ground. "I'm exhausted! I can't keep going like this. You're not even giving us a chance to breathe!"

Author's Note:

If you're enjoying the story and want to read ahead or support my work, you can check out my P@treon at P@treon.com/LordCampione. But don't worry—all chapters will eventually be public. Just being here and reading means the world to me. Thank you for your time and support.