Third floor. I knew it clearly. Even if it had been the thirtieth, I would have jumped without hesitation. I would rather be shattered into pulp and consumed than consume another. But it wasn't the thirtieth floor.
I landed intact, feeling the vibration of impact. Without pausing, I ran toward the cornfield.
The hunger, the desire, kept growing. Soon, I might lose control. Resisting it was agony—like holding back a boulder weighing tons, like facing a tidal wave, like trying to leap across a canyon hundreds of meters wide.
But if I didn't resist, I would become a monster. Worse than death.
It was early July. The crops were lush, corn tall and green. I could sense the living auras hidden among the stalks—livestock released into the fields. Chickens, ducks, pigs, rabbits…
…
Rain poured. I lay among fallen stalks, letting water wash blood from my face, biting into a tender ear of corn. Rain stung my eyes, but I kept them open, staring at the sky.
Cold? I felt none. Pain? None. Did corpses feel such things?
Only the patter of rain on earth and leaves. Nothing else. The storm drowned all sound. Rain could wash everything away. No trace of me would remain.
No worries. Tomorrow, when the rain stopped, nothing would change. That was fine. I could sleep.
But I didn't want to close my eyes. I wanted to watch the sky. Black, rain-filled, yet I wanted to see.
The rain ended before dawn. Stars appeared, brilliant against a clear blue sky, as if washed clean. They twinkled quietly, reminding me of a childhood song:
Twinkle, twinkle, little star…
I didn't hum. Just stared. Such beauty belonged only to distant childhood. To miss it now would be a loss.
The mountains' silhouettes rippled like waves. Perhaps the sea was never so grand.
A rooster crowed. Time to return. Maybe another nap.
I couldn't climb back to the third floor. But downstairs, I found someone—or something—that shouldn't have been there. The zombie who had said "thank you" before dying.
He saw me. Didn't attack. Fearful, but unmoving, as if waiting. As I approached, he retreated until pressed against a wall.
Truthfully, I avoided humans, hiding even when near. But zombies? We were the same kind, though I refused to admit it. And among the same kind, competition was inevitable. Humans fought for power, wealth, survival. Zombies fought for life itself.
Was I betraying humanity—or betraying my kind?
I felt no cold. No clothes to change. I didn't want to soil the sofa, so I slept on the floor with a pillow. A trivial habit, but I kept it.
Morning came. Sunshine. A good day.
I sensed the murky auras nearby. Closing my eyes, I extended threads of thought, telling them: Leave. Go far. All but the one downstairs.
Not mercy—he simply wouldn't listen. I could force him, but I chose not to.
I went to the bus. He followed. I ignored him.
Inside, only three zombies remained, standing in corners. The windows intact, smeared with black stains. Their eyes had changed—not just fear, but something else.
I hadn't seen what happened here, but I could guess.
In the southwest of my country, legends spoke of raising Gu—placing venomous creatures together in a sealed vessel, letting them fight and devour until only the strongest remained. That survivor was the Gu.
I regretted learning such tales. The bus, with its black stains, looked cursed, like dark sigils. Deadly.
I watched the three. They were Gu. And me? And this world?
I piled dry grass beneath the bus, lit it, stood back. Flames spread. They struggled, burned.
One fell. Another tore into its skull, pulled out a gray-white shard, and devoured it. A crystal. The same crystals I had found before.
The moment he swallowed, his filthy face showed satisfaction, almost pleasure. The zombie beside me stirred, wanting it too.
The fire grew. Neither would escape. But the one who ate the crystal grew stronger—faster, harder.
I couldn't allow a stronger zombie to rise. I focused, shaping thought into a spear, driving it into his skull. Harder than defense. But after several tries, I struck true. He sensed danger, leapt back, wary. But the fire reached him. Soon, he burned.
They smashed at the doors, desperate to escape. Perfect practice for me. I attacked with thought, draining myself until I clung to a tree for support. The zombie beside me stared at the flames, vacant.
Hours passed. The bus burned to embers. The follower grew restless, edging toward a crystal lying outside.
Not stinginess—it was mine. And I feared his strength if he took it. Before he touched it, I seized it with thought.
He turned, eyes filled with confusion, even hurt.
It felt like stealing candy from a child. But I absorbed it.
Yes—absorbed. The useful essence entered me. The husk crumbled to dust.
I didn't know the principle. Only that last night, when I nearly lost control, the crystal had steadied me. Now, it strengthened my mind, my body.
I picked up another shard. Absorbed it too, under his gaze.
I told myself: I am stronger. You cannot defeat me. The crystals are mine.
And with that, I felt better.