Chapter Eight: An Unexpected Turn of Events

A group of ten made their way to the emergency stairwell of the office building. To reach the parking lot, they still had to cross the walkway into the second floor of the academic building, then go downstairs to reach the main entrance. If it weren’t for someone leading the way, Hao Ren would have surely gotten lost by now. He was already filled with resentment toward the architect of this academy—though, most likely, that architect had met his end by now.

“Let’s confirm our plan first,” Saeko Busujima said solemnly, her gaze sweeping over the horde of corpses below. “No unnecessary fights. If we can avoid them, we must.”

“They’re sensitive only to sound,” Saya Takagi added. “And their strength is enough to smash through a regular door. If they grab you, you’ll be bitten for sure, so be careful.”

A woman’s scream suddenly pierced the air, drawing the attention of everyone—dead and living alike.

Five survivors appeared. Seeing this, the group immediately rushed to their aid.

Kouta Hirano, the military fanatic, was an unerring shot; at least on this journey, Hao Ren hadn’t seen a single nail go astray. Saeko was as formidable as ever, her strikes swift and efficient. Takashi Komuro’s bat—what on earth was it made of? After so many corpses, it hadn’t so much as dented. What exactly did Rei Miyamoto’s gun club teach? These weren’t self-defense moves—these were killing techniques.

Hao Ren didn’t advance, instead stationing himself by Dr. Shizuka Marikawa and Saya Takagi, guarding them. Shiki Ryougi also stayed by Hao Ren’s side, vigilant, rather than rushing ahead for experience. Worth mentioning was Saburo Watanabe, the man with pronounced sideburns—he and Ishii were trailing at the rear, watching from afar as the others fought. For someone with such a burly build—his arm nearly as thick as Hao Ren’s thigh—how could he be so timid?

The five new extras joined the group.

Everyone gathered at a landing about twenty meters from the academic building’s main entrance, observing the scattered corpses. The protagonist, Takashi, ignoring Rei’s objections, decided to prove a point: that the dead responded only to sound.

“Wait.” Hao Ren, ever the voice of reason, grabbed Takashi. “Don’t go down yourself. I have a better way.”

“And what’s that?” Takashi, denied his chance to show off, sounded impatient.

“Watch.” Hao Ren sighed, turning to Dr. Marikawa. “Doctor, I need a few bottles of medicine from your kit. Whole bottles—it’s urgent.”

“Ah, all right.” Startled by the sudden request, Dr. Marikawa rummaged through her kit. “Here you go.”

Hao Ren took them, only to be exasperated—they were two small bottles of saline. Didn’t Dr. Marikawa find them heavy?

“And you lot!” Suddenly remembering something crucial, Hao Ren pointed at the five extras. “Keep a firm hold on your weapons. If you make noise by bumping into anything, we’re all finished.” For once, Hao Ren’s tone was deadly serious.

“U-understood.” Startled by Hao Ren’s sudden intensity, all five nodded repeatedly.

Carefully approaching the stairwell, Hao Ren picked up a bottle and hurled it down the right-hand corridor.

A loud crash echoed out. The dead all turned their heads and moved toward the source of the sound.

“Go.” With a signal, Hao Ren slipped to the door and opened it. Shiki followed without hesitation. The others quickly caught on and hurried after.

“Quick, quick,” Hao Ren urged in a low voice, holding the door open. He lobbed another bottle of saline into the mass of corpses for good measure.

One of the extras, wielding a long-handled weapon resembling a tuning fork, tripped over a corpse’s severed arm five meters from the door. He—and the tuning fork—clattered onto the marble floor.

A resonant hum, powerful and piercing, rang out. Instantly, every corpse on campus stirred.

At that moment, Hao Ren could have strangled him. Even with all those warnings, disaster still struck. Was it the mainframe repairing an important plot point? Then, Takashi’s shouted “Run!” almost broke Hao Ren. Did every protagonist have to be so clueless and self-absorbed? If only they’d kept quiet and slipped away, they could’ve cleared out the immediate area and escaped. But of course, he had to shout.

“Why did you yell? If we’d kept silent, we could have cleared the nearby ones and gotten away!” Saya Takagi rebuked mercilessly.

“It’s too late to argue—move!” With a side kick, Hao Ren sent a corpse flying, grabbed Saya’s hand, and started running.

Saeko, watching Hao Ren from behind, flashed a look of approval. Takashi, by contrast, wore a fleeting expression of spite.

Suppressing his near-overflowing anger, Hao Ren quickened his pace, dragging Saya along, venting his frustration on any corpse that got in his way with his long spear.

Saya, whose hand was being gripped tightly, knew this wasn’t the time for stubbornness, and let Hao Ren lead her (though she couldn’t help but feel there was something a little wicked about it).

More and more corpses gathered, and before long, the group was split in two.

Among the five new extras, Takujo—the towel man—Naomi, a blue-haired girl with a short bob, and Watanabe, the sideburned uncle, began to drop behind due to exhaustion and were soon surrounded by the dead.

Hao Ren felt a twinge of sympathy for this inseparable couple from the original story, but faced with the risk of injury, he chose, shamefully, to hang back. And Watanabe—what was the point of all those muscles if he had such poor stamina?

Sure enough, the towel around Takujo’s neck became the instrument of his demise. A corpse seized both ends of the towel with ease and, as if embracing a lover, took a bite out of his throat.

“Naomi! Run!” A decisive man to the end—he thought only of his girlfriend in his last moments.

“No! Don’t! Let him go!” Naomi threw herself at the attacking corpses, kicking and punching, but to little effect. All around, the dead closed in, preparing to attack all three.

Just as Hao Ren turned away, unable to watch this tragic scene, something utterly unexpected happened.

Watanabe thrust out his right hand, shouting, “Forced Contract!”

In a flash of red light, Naomi seemed transformed—her hair turned crimson, and a red bracelet appeared on her left wrist.

The metamorphosed Naomi cast a deep glance at the fallen Takujo, then reached behind her as if performing a magic trick and drew a Damascus scimitar. What followed was a flurry of blade-light, slicing through the air like sword energy. In an instant, the corpses encircling them were hacked to pieces, severed limbs scattering everywhere. For a moment, a vacuum surrounded Naomi—no dead could get near.

Watanabe, as if unburdened, shuffled over to Naomi with a sleazy grin and whispered something. Naomi frowned and lowered her head in resignation. Watanabe then reached for Naomi’s now-bountiful chest and gave it a squeeze.

Hao Ren’s first reaction was disbelief; his second was deep envy—he’d never touched a woman’s chest in his life! But what happened next drove home a hard lesson: pursuing a girl required patience; one mustn’t reveal his lust so crudely.

Before Watanabe could process what was happening, the Damascus scimitar pierced straight through his chest.