"You've all been deceived!"
A woman stumbled out from the crowd, strands of gray-white hair stuck messily to her sweat-dampened face.
"They're just sick, not monsters! The real monster is that little beast!"
"When she saw people were sick, that monster didn't even hesitate before killing them! Open your eyes… how many people has she killed? So many lives! Can a human do something like that?!"
...
After listening for a short while, Zeroy understood the situation.
Most likely, while she had been out cutting down zombies, a group of outsider survivors had heard the broadcast and followed the clues to find this survivor base.
It was obvious from their ragged appearance.
Her base had abundant supplies—no one here would look like that.
And the people she personally brought in would never dare cause trouble.
These newcomers were obviously people who couldn't accept reality, mixed together with self-proclaimed righteous do-gooders.
They couldn't face the fact that friends and family could turn into man-eating zombies in an instant, and they couldn't accept Zeroy's merciless slaughter.
After witnessing the mountains of corpses and seas of blood left in her wake, their fear and anger had turned into pity—for the zombies being one-sidedly slaughtered.
And now they were condemning her cruelty.
Truly remarkable.
Was it because her efficiency at beheading was so high that they'd been too well protected?
If she hadn't cleared out all the zombies nearby, these people couldn't have even reached the base alive.
Once she understood what was happening, Zeroy stopped listening.
She had no patience for this nonsense.
"Move."
Her voice wasn't loud, but with the backing of mana, it cut clearly through the noisy crowd.
She stepped slowly out of the shadows, her golden hair swaying gently with her movements, her slender figure standing solitary and cold in the amber sunset.
The crowd immediately parted for her.
She walked straight toward the group of newcomers.
Her arrival was like a gust of cold wind—the noise in the square halted abruptly.
Tension and fear spread instantly, though a few smirks appeared among those watching.
They knew exactly what would happen next, given Zeroy's temperament.
And these newcomers had just been shouting in their faces.
One woman among them saw Zeroy approaching, a flash of fear in her eyes. She instinctively stepped back.
But when she noticed the gazes behind her—filled with both anger and anticipation—a mix of courage and irritation rose in her chest.
Suppressing her fear, she suddenly stepped forward, jabbing a finger at Zeroy's face. "You little monster—"
Before she could finish, a streak of black-and-red light burst forth.
Zeroy's black-red blade was already in hand, its arc so fast it was almost invisible.
A glint of steel—and the hand pointing at her flew off, blood spraying forth.
"AAAHHH!"
The woman clutched her severed wrist, collapsing with a scream, pain, and terror twisting her features.
"Noisy."
Zeroy's voice was icy, devoid of any emotion.
A second slash followed immediately, cutting her scream short—her body split apart, the stench of blood filling the air.
The brutality of the scene shocked everyone present.
Even those in the base.
…They knew Zeroy was decisive, but not this decisive.
The newcomers, who had been full of bluster moments ago, suddenly had all courage drained from them.
Eyes widened, faces turned pale—some even staggered back, gasping.
The square was silent but for the wind, the air heavy with suffocating fear.
"You are a danger."
The newcomers didn't understand her meaning, but the others did.
They knew it was a death sentence.
"Since you refuse to face reality and choose to pity zombies, then go face them yourselves."
Of the eight newcomers, one was already dead. The remaining seven were bound.
Zeroy then gave everyone else a two-hour break—with the condition that they watch what happened next.
She took the seven to a secluded open space.
Then she went out and caught two zombies.
After personally building an iron cage, she threw both the seven people and the two zombies inside.
Then she untied the survivors' ropes—and the zombies' restraints.
"Alright, let's see your performance."
Arms crossed, she stood coldly to the side.
The zombies immediately lunged at them, and within seconds, two people had their throats ripped open, arterial blood spraying across the cage.
Screams tore through the air, terror and despair spreading inside.
"W-wait! Calm down, okay?"
A bloodstained woman collapsed to the ground, a stiff, unnatural smile plastered on her face.
Fear had twisted her features, her eyes wide enough to split, tears and sweat mingling.
She kept backing away until her spine pressed hard against the bars, the metal biting into her back without her noticing.
"Heh... heh... We—we should sit down and talk this over..."
The words weren't to Zeroy, who watched coldly, but to the zombie tearing into her companion's throat.
Extreme fear had driven her mind into chaos, her muttering like the rambling of a delirious fool.
"You're just sick, I can take you to a hospital... Yes, once we get there and you're treated, everything will be fine..."
Perhaps to deceive herself—or to show her goodwill—she even forced out two dry laughs.
Suddenly, the zombie paused in its feeding.
It slowly turned its rotting neck, chunks of flesh dropping from its jaw, pale eyes fixing on her.
When she saw that blood-dripping, corpse-spotted face, her pupils shrank to pinpoints—and she erupted into a scream of pure terror. "No—! Stay away!"
She scrambled back on all fours, only to crash into the bars.
"No! Save me—I don't want to die!"
...
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