A Hornet’s Nest

Veyl's mouth hung open as he involuntarily stepped back a few paces, terrified that even the slightest sound would alert the zombies."Hey, look—there's a hoe, man. How about we dig up some potatoes later? Potatoes stewed with rat—I always eat that shit," a muffled, slurred voice suddenly rang in his ears, making him jump in fright.

Turning around, Veyl saw that the big moron was holding a hoe and was staring at him with his head bowed, as if he hadn't noticed the horde of corpses nearby. Furious, Veyl leaped up and smacked Alexander hard on the back of his head with a resounding slap.In a low, furious growl, Veyl shouted, "Drop that stupid thing!! Didn't you see what's over there?!"

Alexander, patting his sore head with a look of wounded indignation, glanced up at the ragtag group of "kids" huddled at the doorway. The big dumbass froze for a moment, clearly trying to figure out why his boss was so pissed off. But before anyone could react further, without warning he suddenly grabbed his shield and charged forward—like a bear rampaging through a pile of blocks!

The first wave of zombies, as if being crushed by a tank, toppled over in a heap, while those bumped aside by the giant's rampage were flung all over the place. Yet, spurred on by the commotion, even more zombies began to pour in crazily from the doorway! Alexander was soon completely overwhelmed by the rotting horde, but with a thunderous roar and a series of explosive blows, the zombies clinging to him were sent scattering—it seemed nothing could stand up to this enraged, raging bear of a man.

Clearly, this bodyguard moved like a shark in a feeding frenzy amid the dead, but his boss—Veyl—was getting the short end of the stick. The zombies at the edges began shuffling toward Veyl. Watching this unfold, Veyl raked his hands through his hair and nearly screamed; he had no intention of engaging the zombies head-on right here. His plan was to lure them away, separate them, and then deal with them.

But that big dumbass had other ideas—he charged right into the hornet's nest!Two zombies reached him in quick succession; Veyl swung his spiked hammer, smashing one zombie to the ground and kicking the other away. No sooner had he done that than he heard the rush of wind from behind. After a clumsy roll, he discovered that six or seven zombies were barreling toward him!

His heart began pounding like crazy, and he muttered a string of curses under his breath. Without another thought, he darted behind a pile of assorted junk."Come on, cover me!!" he bellowed, unsure if his shout would be heard. In his frantic escape, he managed to yell out those words—though his Chinese accent might have muddled the message for his bodyguard. Still, it seemed to have the desired effect.

The big guy, upon hearing this, charged toward Veyl. There came a thunderous sound of heavy footsteps and the sickening thud of flesh colliding with flesh. Zombies that had been crowding around Alexander were flung about like thrown dirt. The few zombies that had been chasing Veyl were flattened like a rampaging tank had run them over, but the scene only grew more chaotic.

Although the big moron was ferocious, he couldn't possibly attract every last zombie to him. In particular, some of the zombies he had knocked away simply began to claw their way back up from the ground, searching for a new target.Before long, the pandemonium had the zombies scurrying around the mill in utter disarray. Meanwhile, as Veyl dodged and weaved through the chaos, more zombies confronted him from every direction—and to make matters worse, some were even descending from above.

Using the terrain to his advantage, Veyl managed to deal with a few stray zombies while keeping an eye on his surroundings. He realized that in just a little while, the zombies around him would likely band together, just as they had when they encircled Alexander, and completely overwhelm him.But Veyl wasn't as strong as his bodyguard. It was clear that if five or six zombies attacked him at once, his sorry ass wouldn't survive.

"Fuck, I'm really screwed…" Veyl muttered bitterly as he smashed one zombie's head to bits with his hammer. Tears welled in his eyes as he watched a group of zombies charge in from behind. Desperate, he scrambled and darted into a relatively clear wine vat, where he crouched down while the incessant sound of numerous footsteps echoed overhead. Gripping his sacred tome at his waist, he thought maybe it wasn't too late to recite some sort of lamentation…"Damn it! I'm not gonna recite some mourning poem—I'm gonna sing a war hymn, dammit. Boss, don't try to bullshit me…" In his mind, dripping with sweat, Veyl nearly planned to mark a bookmark with his sacred tome.

In this world, it was a long-standing habit for clerics in battle to belt out their hymns. They believed that the Lord's mighty name could drive away evil spirits. And now, this faithless bastard had no choice but to cling to that last straw.As soon as Veyl began chanting "Divine Retribution in the Lord's Name," the very first zombie leapt into the wine vat.

Veyl stared at the zombie's suddenly glazed, vacant eyes before hefting his sacred tome and smashing the creature's head aside. He then dashed to another wine vat."Purge the evil, show mercy to the weak, fear nothing…"His war hymn kept flowing, and though the awkward, cringe-inducing sacred chant sent shivers down his spine, it surprisingly began to work. The zombies around him noticeably slowed down, and those that caught sight of his determined eyes became dazed.

Seeing this effect, Veyl's eyes narrowed, and he sang even louder—though he occasionally had to strain his neck to catch a glimpse of the sanctuary, which was proving to be a pain."Thank fuck I bookmarked that!" he mumbled.

Slowly, the charging zombies dwindled in number. Using the terrain, Veyl picked up what looked like a "brick" along with his spiked hammer, and began to fend off the scattered undead one by one. As his hymn grew clearer and louder, some of the zombies—those missing limbs or with broken arms—began to scramble out in panic, abandoning their pursuit.Only a few of the most intact zombies lingered behind, clinging desperately. They soon tripped over debris, and Veyl dispatched them one by one.

"Damn it, I actually memorized that shit," Veyl exclaimed, wiping the sweat from his brow. At that moment, he realized he had somehow circled around to the granary. Outside, the mill had quieted down considerably, though every now and then he could still hear the sound of running and thudding.Outside, the zombies were shrieking in a cacophony—mumbling words like "little skinny, little runt, choke you, crush you" in a ridiculous, stilted tone. Listening to these familiar phrases, Veyl's brow twitched uncontrollably.

Suddenly, a zombie soared through the air, crashing beside the door. It slowly got to its feet and then shuffled into the granary. As Veyl caught sight of it, he was startled to see that he could actually read its little status note.Rotting ZombieOverall Combat Power: 1(In life, these poor, emaciated refugees were utterly powerless. But at night, these creatures are terrifying. And those who get infected and corrupted by them will eventually turn into something just like them.)

"Who needs those words? I can guess their combat power myself," Veyl muttered. Without further ado, he grabbed his sacred tome—heavier than a brick—and swung it directly at the zombie's head. The creature's head snapped to one side; Veyl tripped it to the ground with a kick, smashing its rotted skull.

After emerging from the granary, Veyl found three more zombies caught up in his war hymn-induced daze. They were so slow to react that with a few more blows, he sent them sprawling to the ground.

Panting heavily, Veyl felt a surge of exhaustion. He didn't immediately head back toward the mill; instead, he waited until the chaos outside had quieted before slowly proceeding. Throughout the entire mill, corpses lay scattered everywhere—except for Alexander, who was casually sitting on a wine vat, munching on a string of black sausage.

Seeing this sight, Veyl felt a measure of relief."This guy's really something. With all these zombies around, he hasn't got a scratch on him," Veyl thought, shaking his sore arms and settling onto a rickety shelf.

Only after this sudden moment of relaxation did Veyl realize just how utterly drained he was—he felt as if he might collapse."Let's rummage through the pockets of these dead bastards—see if there's anything useful," he said wearily to his bodyguard."No, it's too damn dirty," Alexander replied, chewing his sausage and glaring at his boss with wide, round eyes."Maybe there'll be some potatoes or something," Veyl murmured.

Alexander began rifling through the bodies. With a heavy sigh, Veyl set aside his work and unrolled the scroll to take a look.He noticed that the number of monsters on the map had dwindled to just over twenty—meaning the two of them had taken out nearly thirty zombies!"Did I really just kill seven or eight in one go?" Veyl mused, wiping the sweat from his neck in surprise. In the past couple of years, though his memory was hazy, he didn't recall ever achieving such a feat.It seemed that sometimes you had to push yourself to unleash more of your potential.

Eagerly, he looked at the small, twinkling golden star on the scroll and read the accompanying text. He discovered that his Constitution had increased by 0.1, reaching 1.3. Yet his combat power remained unchanged. Curious, he glanced over at a small blue dot labeled "Alexander." It seemed that because Alexander was stronger than him, the data regarding his Constitution was still unknown.Staring at his overall combat rating—marked as C (r)—Veyl furrowed his brow, wondering just how big the gap was between them.As if the scroll had heard his inner thoughts— or maybe his musings influenced the shifting text—he saw a new note appear next to Alexander's combat power: "Anyway, it's no problem to beat you at least ten times.""Ugh, seems like it's still a bit off," Veyl coughed, shaking his head.