Pandora was completely lost in the thrill of it all.

  The improvement in her swordsmanship, the strength surging through her limbs, the absolute control as she cut down her enemies…

  It was intoxicating. Addicting.

  Time ceased to matter.

  She moved through the silent vilge like a phantom—stalking, killing, absorbing.

  Elsa remained silent the entire time, content to be the deadliest bde in Pandora’s hand. But she was also a vigint sentinel, constantly monitoring Pandora’s state, ready to intervene at the first sign of side effects.

  However,

  Pandora’s rampage was forced to a halt.

  Not because of side effects, but because…

  she ran out of zombies.

  “…That’s it?”

  Pandora stood in the center of the stone road, looking around.

  Silence.

  Only the wind whistling through the empty streets, kicking up a few dead leaves. Besides the faint breathing of the three survivors she’d found, there was nothing. No groans, no shuffling feet.

  It was the most frustrating feeling of unfinished business. Like being in the middle of a killer gaming session only to have the server go down for maintenance, leaving her with a belly full of battle-lust and nowhere to vent it.

  Still, it made sense.

  Grey-Stone Vilge was one of the smallest settlements in the area. At its peak, maybe sixty-odd people. Adults? Just over thirty.

  Elsa had cleared some out earlier. Pandora had harvested the rest. Naturally, it was empty now.

  Of course, she had found survivors.

  Just a moment ago, following a faint moan, she’d found a half-colpsed farmhouse. The celr door was ajar.

  She called out twice. A weak, terrified reply came from below.

  After some work clearing the debris, she found them: three children. The oldest maybe fifteen, the youngest around Betty’s age. All siblings.

  From their fragmented, terrified stories, they’d been up te talking about the Full Moon Festival. They were the first to see the horror unfold.

  The oldest, thinking fast, had dragged his younger siblings into the celr. It wasn't big, but it was enough. They’d spent a terrifying, suffocating night in the dark.

  To be deprived of air but not die was a miracle.

  Pandora had Elsa help carry the three weak, barely-standing kids back to the “safe house.” Aurora’s eyes fshed with pity at their pale, dazed faces. She settled them on a pile of hay in the corner while Betty spoon-fed them warm water.

  Pandora didn’t linger.

  After a brief rest, she led the group back on the road.

  Next stop: Calfskin Vilge.

  One of the rgest in the fiefdom, with a popution of nearly two hundred.

  Which meant at least a hundred zombies were waiting to be harvested.

  That number was enough to satisfy the craving for strength that had just been ignited within her.

  When the group arrived at the outskirts of Calfskin Vilge, it was already afternoon.

  Unlike Grey-Stone Vilge, this pce was rger, with wider streets and more densely packed houses.

  The familiar stench of rot in the air was also thicker, almost nauseating.

  Elsa’s movements were as efficient and silent as ever.

  A few moments ter, on the western edge of the vilge, an independent mill cottage by a gurgling stream was completely secured.

  “My Lady, this spot will do.”

  Elsa’s voice pulled Pandora from her survey of the vilge.

  She nodded. The choice was smart. It was on the edge, away from the main horde. Near the stream, for water. Most importantly, Elsa had intentionally left the zombies in the central and eastern parts of the vilge, leaving them for Pandora.

  After settling Aurora, Betty, and the three new additions, Pandora took a deep breath.

  A cold, rational light gleamed in her eyes.

  This time, she didn't immediately start the hunt.

  Her gaze fell upon the most conspicuous building in the center of the vilge: the stone clock tower.

  It was a good twenty meters tall, the highest point for miles. Sturdy and solid, with only a few narrow shooting holes in its walls.

  A perfect… sughterhouse.

  Pandora gave Elsa a look. The two of them, like phantoms, melted into the shadows and infiltrated the vilge.

  Two zombies were wandering aimlessly on the ground floor of the tower.

  Pandora didn't even let Elsa handle it.

  Gripping the single-handed sword she’d taken from the armory, she moved like a butterfly, circling around to one zombie’s side. Her wrist twisted, the bde like a viper’s tongue, slicing cleanly across its neck.

  Shunk!

  Experience was the best teacher. After Elsa’s “training” and the nourishment of a few dozen zombies, she was a far cry from the girl who could only "smack" things to death.

  The other zombie lunged with a roar.

  Pandora didn’t retreat; she advanced. She ducked under its arm and, in a reverse grip, thrust upward from below. The bde punched clean through its lower jaw and deep into its brain.

  Efficient.

  After clearing the ground floor, they ascended the narrow, spiral stone staircase. The tower wasn’t tall, only four stories. Each floor had a few scattered zombies, and Pandora disposed of them all with maximum efficiency.

  Soon, they reached the top.

  It was an open ptform, surrounded by a waist-high stone parapet.

  Standing atop the tower, the entire vilge of Calfskin spread out below her.

  Pandora first checked the direction of the mill cottage. Everything looked normal.

  Then, her gaze swept over the dense, bck mass of zombies below, swarming like an anthill.

  A hundred or so. Not a huge number, but not a small one either. But when they gathered together, a slow-moving river of rotting flesh and blood, the visual shock and psychological pressure they created… no number could ever compare.