The hotel spanned seven floors, with the first three designed as a food lounge filled with medieval furniture.
It felt less like a modern building and more like the interior of a sprawling castle. Ezra ascended the curved staircase with an arrow already nocked.
His steps were preternaturally light, leaving no sound on the floorboards. He began to understand the reason for this newfound steps.
It was his Intelligence stat. Coupled with his agility, it allowed him to command his body with absolute precision, stripping away every wasteful movement.
His steps were lighter because his mind was sharper.
Occasional gunshots echoed from the floors above. Whenever a blast rang out, a multitude of heavy, frantic footsteps converged on the sound.
While moving in the shadows, Ezra tried to decipher the nature of the threat. He recalled the two creatures he had seen.
They were identical in their horror, moving on four limbs with exposed brains and spines that functioned like rows of snapping teeth.
The system called them mutants, but he wondered if they were simply a more aggressive breed of zombie.
"No way," he whispered to himself. "These things are much worse than zombies."
He prayed their bite didn't carry a transformative virus, though the thought alone made his skin crawl. He focused instead on how he had dropped the first one.
The brain was the undeniable weakness. Knowing the weak point was a start, but exploiting it consistently was the only way he would ever make it back to his wife.
She was waiting for him, and if he was late, he really would be sleeping on the couch.
Ezra froze when he detected motion ahead. A group of survivors appeared in the corridor. He considered calling out to them for a brief second but changed his mind when he realized how loud they were.
They were being led by a soldier with a rifle. Ezra slipped behind a heavy door, watching through the crack as they passed.
Sure enough, the sound of pursuing footsteps followed close behind. The guttural growls announced the hunters before they even came into view.
Ezra held his breath until the monsters vanished in the direction of the group. Only after the sound of distant gunfire erupted did he emerge and rush toward the upper levels.
From a balcony overlooking the lower lounge, Ezra looked down. The group was pinned down, but a single man was holding the line against the mutants.
He was a blonde man in a military uniform, wielding a massive, glowing katana.
[Maxwell (Lvl: 2)]
Text hovered in the air above the man's head. Ezra blinked, crouching behind a stone column to observe. He was only Level 1, and his first kill had granted him 5 experience points.
If this Maxwell had already reached Level 2, he must have slaughtered dozens of those things. It was a staggering feat.
As Ezra watched, his wonder grew. Maxwell wasn't actually an exceptional swordsman; his swings were somewhat clumsy.
However, a strange light emanated from his hands rather than the blade itself. Whenever that glow touched a mutant, its flesh withered and charred as if struck by intense heat.
"How?" Ezra narrowed his eyes, searching for the source of the power.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted a mutant creeping through the shadows toward Maxwell's flank. The soldier was too preoccupied with the frontal assault to notice the predator closing in.
The civilians he was protecting were scattered in a panic, none of them brave enough to shout a warning.
Ezra calculated the distance. In ten seconds, the man would be bitten. There was no time to yell.
Taking a steadying breath, Ezra aimed. Just as the mutant coiled its muscles to spring, he released the string.
The arrow cut through the air with a faint hiss, punching directly into the mutant's brain.
The creature's head exploded with a wet, disgusting pop.
[EXP: +5]
Maxwell jolted, finally noticing the carcass beside him. He looked at the dead mutant with a flash of confusion, wondering what had killed it, but more monsters were closing in. He couldn't afford to dwell on the mystery.
Ezra was relieved to remain unnoticed. The rush of experience points was exhilarating, and he found himself growing addicted to the efficiency of it.
He began firing one arrow after another, his shots raining down from the balcony like silent bolts of lightning.
With his hidden support, the desperate struggle below turned into a one-sided massacre. The pressure on Maxwell vanished, and even the civilians began to find their courage, stepping in to finish off wounded targets.
Ezra observed them closely. Every time a person landed a kill, their demeanor shifted. Some became suddenly proficient with their weapons, while others moved with a new, unnatural speed.
"Killing them awakens something," Ezra mused. "A title, a class, or maybe both."
Under the cover of the hidden archer, the lounge was cleared in minutes. Dead mutants piled up on the ornate carpet. Finally, a new notification flashed in Ezra's vision.
[You have leveled up. Level 1 -> Level 2]
[One attribute point earned.]
The lounge fell into a heavy silence, followed quickly by the sound of survivors cheering. Ezra allowed himself a small, tired smile.
The mutants weren't invincible. If people could level up this quickly, the military would have the city under control in no time.
"Summer, just wait for me," he whispered, his smile widening. "I'm coming home."
*
* *
Maxwell wiped the stinging sweat from his eyes, his chest heaving with every ragged breath. He turned immediately toward the Mayor, sagging with visible relief when he saw the old man was still unharmed.
Everything had fractured the moment the blackout hit. His own comrades, men and women he had trained with for years, had morphed into those screaming abominations in a matter of seconds.
The memory of those first few minutes made him shiver. Over thirty soldiers had turned into monsters before they could even draw their sidearms.
He had burned through every magazine he carried just to keep the Mayor breathing. Somewhere in the middle of the carnage, a shimmering screen had flickered into existence, informing him that he had become a Light Paladin.
Then, from the cooling corpse of a fallen monster, this katana had dropped.
Maxwell found that the blade felt more natural in his hand than any firearm ever had. He frowned, looking down at the scattered remains of the mutants.
Several of them had arrows buried deep in their skulls.
Each one was a single, clean shot. Whoever had fired them was a master marksman. He scanned the upper balconies, searching for his silent benefactor, but the shadows were empty.
His gaze eventually drifted back to the Mayor, and he let out a heavy sigh.
The Mayor was a short man with a protruding belly, looking entirely out of place in the middle of a war zone.
He had only been at the hotel to meet with an A-list actress, a romantic date which had taken a gruesome turn when she transformed mid-act.
It was only because of the Mayor's strange kink—insisting his guards stand watch during his sexual activities—that he hadn't been torn apart in his bed.
Maxwell walked toward the man, feeling the weight of his responsibility. He was the only guard left alive to finish the job.
'Atleast everything is under control.' he thought.
Not noticing the blood scattered around being absorbed into the carpet under them…..
The deep crimson pools narrowed and then vanished, leaving the gold patterns of the carpet looking strangely vibrant.
The carpet seemed to grow more plush, the pile rising as it gorged itself on the cooling gore.