The zombie, its form grotesque, crept towards the stairs at the entrance. Its eyes, grey and hollow, shifted unnaturally within their sockets while its mouth—full of hardened yellow teeth leaking blood from the gums—gaped wide.
An unintelligent screech followed, and yet the noises weren't what scared Aiden the most. It was the zombie's tongue, which split into two parts before slithering out and whipping violently toward his place of hiding.
"Shit…"
Bending his knees just in time, he leaped forward in a tactical roll, his face growing pale as the tongues shot over his head and impaled his original position with a sickening crunch.
Quickly regaining his footing, he scanned his surroundings, his racing mind desperately seeking a solution to his predicament. The zombie was blocking the entrance and preparing to pounce within seconds. Its main weapon—the split tongue—could strike from a distance, making turning his back to flee practically suicide.
So when faced with such a disadvantage, Aiden sprinted toward the tongue still trying to break free of the solid concrete and whipped out his fruit knife, slicing downward in a decisive motion.
The cut was clean and precise, born from years of peeling fruits at the hospital for his sick mother. She had left him long ago, but the knife skills remained, and now he demonstrated them with deadly intent.
His strike landed true. Half of the split tongue fell to the ground, blood spraying across the concrete as the zombie's body convulsed violently. A nightmarish scream tore through the air.
Taking that as his chance, Aiden—quick on his feet—dashed across the ground floor and bolted toward the staircase.
A loud crash followed, accompanied by rapid pounding footsteps that echoed behind him, but he didn't dare look back. Arriving at the first floor, he leaped to the side just in time to avoid being lunged upon by a much smaller figure.
"A kid…"
After a series of frantic rolls, his body finally came to a halt. His dim blue eyes locked onto the pale child crawling along the wall like a spider. The kid's eyes were pure black, its razor-sharp teeth dripping with saliva as it clung above him.
The child let out a ferocious growl and descended upon him like a comet falling from the heavens.
Unable to react, Aiden stared upward like a statue, completely unmoving.
"Is this how it ends?"
Faced with doom, he could not help but muse in dissatisfaction. He was an orphan—he doubted anyone would care about his death. Well, it wasn't as if the survivors would have much time to think about him anyway. Survival came first.
Resigning himself to his fate, he didn't even bother resisting, but…
[You have received the Black Heart]
A distant proclamation of unknown origin echoed in his mind, filling his body with a sudden surge of strength and power. His senses snapped back into clarity.
With monkey-like agility, he stepped back just in time before the zombie child's descent completed. The sudden movement saved his life from the razor-sharp bite. He wasn't finished though—his hand whipped forward, knives clenched tight, hacking through the undead's neck with unrestrained brutality.
Once his strike was complete, the child's head fell to the ground, fountains of blood spraying from its neck.
Bloody and confused, Aiden looked back toward the staircase—where more footsteps were rapidly approaching.
"Now isn't the time for this."
Rushing to the nearest window, he pushed it open and forced himself through. His descent was fast and painful, but he got up nonetheless, albeit wounded.
Looking up, he saw dozens of pale hands and twisted heads trying to squeeze through the window after him. Shivering in fright, he dashed toward the gate.
He heard multiple crashes behind him as he fled, but he blocked them out, weaving through the maze of parked cars until he finally made a desperate escape onto the roadside.
Turning back toward the hostel's gate, he froze at the sight of a horde of zombies charging at him. Slamming the gate shut, he bought himself precious seconds to escape.
Branching left, he sprinted down the pathway leading toward the main road, running with all the strength his frail body could muster. Before long, the gloomy silhouette of his hostel shrank behind him, and no longer was he being directly pursued.
"I made it…"
Stepping into an alleyway after confirming it was safe, he collapsed onto his butt and leaned helplessly against the wall. Exhaustion, unlike anything he had ever felt before, assaulted his fragile body, his heart beating rapidly in painful spasms.
"What was that about?"
His mind flashed back to the moments before he was about to be devoured by the agile zombie. Something had echoed within his mind—words he clearly remembered—and they had strengthened him.
"You have received the Black Heart."
Repeating the words to himself, he felt his exhaustion waver slightly, replaced by a burning sensation in his chest.
"Argh…"
Clutching his mouth with one hand to stifle his groans, he pressed the other against his chest, his expression twisted in pain.
In his attempts to resist the sensation, he chose instead to lose himself in thought.
In this chaotic new world, he had killed. It wasn't fun or appealing in the least—and yet that wasn't what unsettled him. What worried him was how he had succeeded in killing.
Strength far beyond his grasp had surged into his arms, allowing him to deliver a strike so clean it had decapitated the zombie. And it wasn't only that—the speed he had used to dodge, the stamina to endure—all of it was beyond what his body should have been capable of.
It was as if his very being had undergone some form of enhancement.
"Could the Black Heart be a form of evolution?" he speculated. It had unlocked strength he couldn't explain, so perhaps it was possible.
But then more questions gnawed at him. How strong could it make him? Where had it come from? Was he the only human who had it?
So many questions—too few answers.
Clueless but determined to survive, Aiden gazed outside the alleyway to check for zombies. Once his search revealed no immediate threats, he sighed, steadied himself, and stepped out in search of supplies.