Chapter 117 Shrieking Through the Rain ~ 2

He raised his dagger, but as the distance closed to three feet, his mind panicked once more. He was too inexperienced!

And by this point, he would suffer for it.

"Move, kid! Let me shoot!" Basil shouted from behind him.

Florence and Basil, the two who seemed the most urgent in realising that the young man had jumped in front of them but had frozen in from worry, had their expressions tightened, glaring at the encroaching zombies.

He had only barely awakened. He was not much stronger than a normal human. And being not much stronger, his reflexes were still around that of a regular person, too slow to strike four separate targets before those claws reached his neck.

'Move, Paris! You want to be strong! Fight and move, otherwise everyone else will have to suffer for your cowardice!'

Fear spiked straight through his chest, and then suddenly a warm spark flew throughout hs body and erupted into scalding, violent heat.

The world jolted.

The heavy roar of the falling rain dropped into a low, distant hum.

The individual raindrops suspended themselves in mid-air, hanging like tiny beads of glass around his face.

The four rushing dead slowed into crawling shapes, their grey limbs inching forward through the thick air.

'Accel!' His ability surged through his body like liquid fire.

Paris moved before his conscious mind could finish forming any more thoughts about worries and indecision.

His legs drove him forward in an explosive burst of velocity that tore the air from his lungs.

He ducked beneath the outstretched arms of the lead runner, sliding inside its guard before its fingers could graze his coat.

He drove the heavy steel dagger upward beneath its chin, punching clean through the roof of its mouth.

He yanked the blade free with a violent twist, his boots already pivoting on the wet pavement.

The speed tore at his joints, but he pushed through the strain, driving his blade straight into the eye socket of the second runner.

He wrenched the steel sideways, using his forward momentum to shoulder-charge the third runner, and then as it jumped off of its feet, in its slowed movement through the air, he adjusted his grip and ran around to the back of it.

His dagger sliced through the back of its neck, cutting off its head.

Then the scalding heat behind his sternum snapped off violently.

Time crashed back into full, terrifying motion with the deafening roar of the rain.

The sudden drop in kinetic velocity slammed through Paris's body like a physical impact.

His right thigh caught fire from the inside. A horrific, tearing sensation ripped through his quadriceps as his unconditioned muscle fibers shredded under the sudden torque.

Paris screamed behind his locked teeth, his right knee buckling instantly out from beneath him.

He hit the wet pavement hard, landing on his knees over the wet concrete.

He gasped for air, his vision swimming with white sparks as agony radiated from his ruined thigh.

Movement surged above him. The fourth runner had not been caught in his initial blitz.

It stumbled over the pile of three corpses, its milky eyes locking onto Paris as he sat helpless on his knees.

It lunged downward, its grey hands reaching straight for his face, jaws opening wide over his throat.

And Paris didn't give up.

He shoved his pain down into his gut, dragging his bleeding body backward against the brick wall with his left leg.

He raised his hunting dagger with both hands, pointing the heavy steel blade straight upward.

The runner dropped onto him, and Paris drove the dagger upward with every ounce of strength remaining in his arms.

The thick steel point punched through the center of its face, the force of its own fall driving the blade deep into its skull.

Foul blood spurted over Paris's sleeves and chest as the creature went entirely limp on top of him.

In those brief seconds of ease, Paris mentally couldn't afford much thought at all underneath his suffering to the sound of the chronicle's voice speaking in his head.

{You have felled a Level 12 Destitute Zombie, harvesting its essences. Your Agility, Strength, and Endurance have been nourished significantly.}

{You have felled a Level 12 Destitute Zombie, harvesting its essences. Your Agility, Strength, and Endurance have been nourished significantly.}

{You have felled a Level 14 Destitute Zombie, harvesting its essences. Your Agility, Strength, and Endurance have been nourished significantly.}

{You have felled a Level 15 Destitute Zombie, harvesting its essences. Your Agility, Strength, and Endurance have been nourished.}

{ Your Agility has been enriched to I+ }

{ Your Strength has been enriched to I+ }

{ Your Endurance has been enriched to I+ }

Paris shoved the heavy corpse off, gasping for breath while pressing his palm over his right thigh.

He panted heavily, his chest heaving as he stared down at his leg.

The trouser fabric remained completely unbroken, yet intense, feverish heat spread beneath the cloth as internal blood pooled in the shredded muscle.

By the time Paris had finished his fight, within moments, Dion was crouched in front of him, pulling Paris up as he inspected the injury. It was difficult for his senses not to have heard the sharp snapping of muscle.

Suddenly, before he could think much more about it beyond understanding that he hadn't been bitten, another shriek pierced the air from the east, answered by the same one from the south, but they were closer now.

Dion stood up, raising Paris to his feet, his blood longsword dissolving back into his soul sea.

"Basil, take him with you and Florence and keep moving down the street I just cleared. Find a building you guys can hole up in and stay there, I'll find you."

Basil hooked his broad shoulder under Paris's arm, hauling the pale, panting boy off the pavement.

"Where are you going?" Basil asked.

"To shut them up," Dion said, turning on his heel and sprinting toward the mouth of the lane.

'None of this looks like it will end if I don't kill the two damn things!'