"Raaaargh—!"
With a guttural roar, the Black-Skin Zombie hurled aside the femur it had been gnawing on and lunged straight at the group. The scent of fresh blood and flesh was just too tempting.
"Damn, this one's aggressive," Chris muttered, frowning as he drew his titanium-alloy machete.
"Let me handle it…"
The Black-Skin Zombie moved with surprising agility, its body a blur of motion as it darted forward like a shadow. It was clearly stronger than your average elite zombie—fast, precise, and dangerous. Easily a B-class threat.
As it closed in, heat radiated from Chris's body. Flames erupted around him, licking up the blade of his machete until it was fully engulfed in fire.
He swung.
The flaming machete sliced clean through the air—and then through the zombie's neck. The blade sank in with a screech of metal grinding against bone.
Schlick!
A moment later, the zombie's pitch-black head flew off its shoulders, spinning through the air.
