As I sprint away from the cafeteria, the Zombie Chef's heavy breathing and loud footsteps echo behind me. The narrow halls make our chase even noisier. The Zombie Chef stumbles after me, moving awkwardly but driven by a never-ending hunger. The distance between us keeps changing, with the creature's stubbornness threatening to close the gap no matter how hard I try to stay ahead.

I round a corner and prepare myself to attack. The space I've created gives me an advantage. With a well-aimed throw, I send a javelin flying towards the monster chasing me. It sticks into its body with a loud squish, as green blood spurts from the cut.

The Zombie Chef lets out an angry roar that’s a mix of pain and frustration.

Its cloudy white eyes seem to burn with anger at not being able to catch up to me.

I keep moving, maintaining a safe distance while throwing out javelin. It hits the monster with a dull thud, followed by more nasty green blood oozing from the wound. The Zombie Chef's movements become wilder, its attempts to reach me growing more desperate.

Each successful hit fills me with a hint of accomplishment. The badly hurt Zombie Chef roars again, this time sounding much weaker. It's clear that it's struggling, its body unable to handle the damage. A long trail of green blood follows it.

As I prepare another javelin, I realize the fight is almost over. The Zombie Chef is moments away from defeat. I grip the last javelin, poised to throw. It’s breathing heavily and stumbling, seems to sense its impending loss. It makes one last frantic attempt to reach me, but its strength is fading fast.

I take a deep breath and let the last javelin fly. It sails through the air in a perfect arc towards its target. The impact is powerful. The Zombie Chef staggers and lets out a final roar, the force of the blow too much for it. With a last cry of frustration, it falls to the ground, finally motionless.

The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by my heavy breathing. Soon after, the familiar blue glow of the System's screen appears, lighting up the dim corridor. A feeling of pride washes over me as I read the message:

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Congratulations!

You've reached Level 16!

5 stat points awarded.

The excitement from the chase slowly fades as I catch my breath. I decide to save the new stat points for later, for when I might really need them.

As I stand there, thinking about what to do next, my eyes fall on the meat cleaver the Zombie Chef had been using. It lies on the ground, almost begging me to pick it up. The cleaver, still covered in blood, seems to have a strange pull. I approach it carefully, considering how useful it could be.

Picking it up, I feel its weight and balance. It's a good weapon, solid and sharp, perfect for close-range fighting. Despite its gruesome appearance, it's a decent tool for survival. I decide to keep it as a backup.

With the cleaver secured, my thoughts turn to the others. They're still hiding in the classroom, unaware of the battle I just faced. They must be hungry, and probably worried about my long absence. I will need to get back to them eventually, but not before finding some food.

Determined, I head back to the cafeteria where I first encountered the Zombie Chef. Entering the kitchen, I see tons of different utensils and ingredients scattered everywhere, evidence of the creature's last attempts at normalcy. I start searching through the shelves and refrigerators, looking for anything edible.

To my relief, I find packages of non-perishable food, canned goods, and even some fresh oranges that somehow survived the chaos. I gather as much as I can carry, imagining how happy the others will be to finally see some food.

With my arms full of supplies, I carefully begin my journey back to the classroom. The weight of the food and gear makes things tricky. While I could technically drop the food to defend myself if I need to, the precious seconds lost in doing so would leave me vulnerable. So, fighting could be risky. My best plan now is to just sneak through the zombie-filled hallways without being spotted.

As I move, I stick to the shadows, using the darkness to my advantage. The moonlight from outside creates pockets of darkness that I use for cover. Every step I make, every rustle of the food packets in my arms, seems incredibly loud in the silence, making me nervous.

There are moments when I have to press myself against the wall, holding my breath as zombies shuffle past. I can see their outlines, a grotesque parade of the undead, oblivious to my presence even when I’m just mere feet away.

After what feels like an eternity, I finally reach the door to the classroom.