A silence hangs in the air. No sound can be heard, and only the steps of feet on the floor were creeping.
Creeping noise in various corners within a small marketplace once a very lively place was drowned with infected, who were standing and wandering aimlessly.
Though there was one male infected scavenging on the sideline, grabbing every canned good he spotted and filling up a cardboard box. Once full, he stacked it along with other boxes filled with water, medicine, and food.
The infected grabbed the bottom part of the stacking boxes, lifted them up, and slowly walked out, avoiding bumping into other infected who were motionless.
(Wait! Stash that Coke Soda.)
A voice was heard inside the infected's head, giving an order. The infected turned its head, saw the fridge full of Coke beside it, and slowly dropped the stacking boxes. It grabbed the bag slung to its body, unzipped it, and started emptying the fridge of Coke until it was full to the brim.
After slinging the bag back onto its body, the infected returned to the stacking boxes, carried them, and exited the marketplace onto the desolate streets, silently ending another round of supply run.
Within an apartment complex, a man named Ark Brooks, in his age of 22, wearing a black shirt and cargo pants, overlooked the place from the balcony of his residential room. He was sweating profusely from standing by the balcony for a long duration.
Looking at the stack of boxes filled with various daily necessities and food, Ark idly drank a Coke with satisfaction.
Beside him sat the infected that had exited the small marketplace, staring at him. Normally, this infected would attack its victim to replenish its undying hunger, yet in front of Ark's eyes, all traces of malice were gone, leaving it somewhat empty like a doll.
A mystery left unsolved.
"It's very intriguing. Compared to a week ago, it seems I managed to control them, though it's very taxing," Ark thought.
A month ago, an unknown virus appeared, instantly turning the world into a mad slaughterhouse. Countless people infected by this plague turned into heinous abominations, losing their humanity to their undying hunger. They only knew how to kill as they slowly spread.
The remaining survivors who survived the first wave of infection fled to find safe havens on their own in order to survive or met their demise.
Ark was among them, barricaded within, watching the madness roaming to the end of the world.
One day, he mysteriously gained the ability to control these heinous creatures that wrecked the world. He could feel a faint string of connection between himself and the virus, allowing him to inject his thoughts into the infected and control their actions like puppets.
When he discovered this ability, his first attempt was difficult. The infected often broke away from his control, and using the ability was very taxing, leaving him tired and in danger several times.
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Within a week of awakening this ability, Ark managed to master its tricks. This allowed him not only to control these creatures but also to collect food and other necessities needed to survive and strengthen his apartment, the only safe haven he had.
However, the distance between him and the infected couldn't be too far. He adjusted his aim, finding better spots for him to control without getting himself vulnerable.
He felt like a necromancer in a medieval fantasy novel, manipulating the undead zombies. Though the string of his control was not strong enough, and he was not skilled in manipulating it, being able to control these undead creatures from a safer distance was already an achievement. He called this ability [Zombie Bind].
While handling the control of the undead, Ark vaguely felt that manipulating them affected his humanity. Whether this influence was good or bad, he still couldn't tell.
These days, Ark gained some understanding of the habits of the undead as he continued to use his ability. Unlike the general undead zombies depicted in games and movies, these creatures were not like the living dead but living people affected by the mysterious virus.
Although the physical body remained fresh and alive, the mind and spirit of the host had completely changed into a monster driven by killing intent, completely dominated by the virus. They attacked uninfected people, spreading the virus, and their individual strength was incredibly similar to athletes on steroids, much stronger than ordinary people.
In his understanding, this kind of undead was more terrifying as they retained their five senses, which brought no blind spots.
"The sun is about to go down, here comes the dark hour," Ark mumbled under his breath.
Dark hour was his concept of time when, during the night, the undead were more active and aggressive of unknown strength.
His apartment, though reinforced, needed effort to maintain, or it wouldn't be safe during the dark hour.
After putting all the materials collected today into the storage area of his residential room, Ark nursed a headache and controlled the infected to stand up.
Looking at the zombie puppet standing face to face with him, Ark still felt a little strange. Although it did not emit a rotten stench due to decomposition, the infected's body still retained a strong smell of blood. The virus infection made its face pale and bloodless, with a pair of glowing red eyes. Through the slightly opened mouth, he could even see the red meat stains on its teeth.
Needless to say, this must be the residue left when it ate people before he put it under his control...
Its appearance was pretty average, around 17 or 18 years old, but now this appearance made it look simply like a ghoul.
"Let's go..." Ark controlled the bound infected to go downstairs as he suppressed the feeling of nausea.
Although he could bind and control the infected, it did not mean he was safe from ambushes. Ark held a crossbow and carefully followed behind the binded infected.
From his apartment to another, he needed to cross a street, clearing any potential herd that might compromise his apartment's solitude. During daylight, Ark found some unused firecrackers, first making noise in the opposite direction to create a diversion, attracting most of the infected on the street away from his apartment.
After accomplishing his objective and walking to the intersection to retreat back to his safe haven, Ark found trouble.
Two infected blocked the intersection, their bodies splashed with fresh blood. One was still holding half an arm, bowing its head and gnawing on its meat.
In this city, once a high-tech hub with a population of tens of millions, survivors gambled their lives to search for food each day, and fatalities were high and not uncommon.
Upon seeing the remains of the arm, Ark still felt some sympathy. Thanks to his ability, he had some leverage for survival, yet he must not become complacent. A moment of carelessness would make him food for these monsters.
Ark carefully controlled the bound infected to get closer to them. When it got close to one, he raised the machete. When the attention of the other infected was attracted by the sound, Ark quickly aimed with his crossbow and shot an arrow through the back of its head.
The two infected almost died simultaneously. After pulling out the used arrow, Ark moved the corpses to a trash bin.
In situations where he had the initiative to make the first move, Ark gladly grabbed it. Although controlling the bound infected was easy, maneuvering them was difficult to practice.
Ark faintly felt that every time his bound infected killed another infected, the violent feeling inside him played tricks. He even vaguely felt a sense of pleasure coming from his connection to the bound infected.
"This virus can't be transmitted through spiritual connection... If this was mainstream, even I can't escape from the virus... What could influence this virus and this power I have, then what is it?" Ark was very concerned.
The subtle change left him confused, though it could give him understanding of the insights before the end of the world and the appearance of the virus.
Though the process of killing an infected increased the proficiency of his ability, Ark believed this could be a good thing.
In order to increase his survival, his fighting capacity must be improved.
So quickly improving the proficiency of commanding the undead, collecting as many resources as possible, and further strengthening his apartment to withstand many herds became his goals. This was his world now, a realm of silent solitude, where survival depended on his ability to command the infected and outwit the relentless dangers lurking in every shadow.