Chapter 29 –The Calm Before the Shift
A group of survivors moved silently through the shattered campus grounds, their formation tight, eyes alert. The air was thick with tension—but not fear. They'd done this before. Today's mission was clear: sweep and secure the designated area, and return before nightfall.
The large team had split into smaller squads to maintain mobility and full coverage. Each unit had its own assignment. Communication was tight—mostly through gestures and short calls to avoid drawing unnecessary attention.
Sam led one of the forward teams. His bow, now fully attuned to his increased strength and agility, was a blur of motion. The string thrummed with each draw, his movements faster than most could follow. He fired four arrows in a second—every shot landing with devastating precision.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
Each arrow struck a vital point—head, neck, chest—dropping zombies instantly.
"Damn, that's efficient," Max muttered from behind a shattered bench. "He's like a damn turret."
Sonia chuckled. "He's gonna make us lazy at this rate."
Emmy and Nina fought close to Sam, clearing the sides with blades while Sonia covered the rear with her salvaged crossbow. Her bolts were slower but always accurate.
Even the newer survivors—rescued just a day or two ago—had started pulling their weight. Roy was paired with Ravi and Jordan from the engineering department. They'd only just picked up real weapons, but they were determined.
"Don't waste your swings!" Roy barked as Jordan overreached. "Keep it tight. Control your breathing."
"Yes, sir!" Jordan grunted, deflecting a zombie's claw with a metal pipe.
Another squad swept through the lower levels, led by Akira—a calm, focused strategist. His group worked methodically, using lures and traps to herd zombies into kill zones.
"Secure the west stairwell," Max called. "Push them into the corridor!"
"On it!" came the reply, as a teammate slid into place with a heavy iron shield.
Back with Sam, the arrows eventually ran out. Without missing a beat, Ira shifted into glaive form with a shimmer of silver. Sam waded into the horde, sweeping through the infected like a storm. His movements were fluid, brutal, controlled.
"We're almost done with this block," Emmy called, panting slightly. "Last group spotted down the corridor!"
"Let's finish this," Sam replied.
Minutes later, the final shriek of a mutant fell silent.
Evening — Boys Hostel
By 8:00 p.m., the squads had returned in waves—tired but alive. Some bore scrapes or cracked shields, but no one had been lost.
The common area buzzed with life. Lanterns flickered, makeshift fires crackled, and the air smelled of warming soup and cooked rice. Some students tended weapons, others chatted, laughed, and shared food. The atmosphere was finally beginning to feel... human again.
"Hey," Ravi said, approaching Sam with Jordan in tow. "Thanks for the advice earlier. We'd be toast without Roy."
Roy grunted, arms crossed. "Don't thank me. Just stay alive."
Max threw an arm around him. "Look at you, mentor of the year."
Roy shoved him off. "Shut up."
Elsewhere, older students were teaching newer ones how to fight. Near the fire, Sonia had gathered a small crowd, telling a wild pre-apocalypse story about a baking contest gone wrong. Everyone burst into laughter as she mimicked flinging batter in someone's face.
Sam watched quietly, Emmy beside him. For once, things looked... normal.
"What are you smiling at?" she asked.
"Nothing," Sam said. "Just thinking. Remember the shouting and chaos when this all started? Look at them now."
Emmy nodded. "Everyone's accepted it. We're all trying to move forward."
Just after 10:00 p.m., Sam's phone buzzed. Blake.
He stood, stepping toward the window. Emmy followed, silent. He answered.
"Blake. Finally."
Blake's voice was tired, but sharp. "Sorry. Things got messy."
Sam shut the window quietly. Emmy sat nearby, listening.
"We were attacked on our way to the staff quarters. Too many zombies. I think our movement attracted them."
"You alright?" Sam asked.
"Barely. Some injuries. Nothing fatal."
Sam exhaled. "Yesterday, I got stuck at level 25. I only broke through after completing my mana core. But the process was... painful."
"Yeah, that's normal," Blake said. "If you reach Rank 3 without forming a core, your body can't handle the overload. The system stalls your advancement—or worse."
"That explains the pain," Sam muttered.
"I felt it too. I completed mine recently—hurt like hell. But the boost in power is real."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Wait, you formed your core... and struggled against zombies?"
"There was a fast one," Blake explained. "Sharp claws, using mana slashes. Fought me head-on. It had already injured two people. I had to drag it away from the group to keep them safe."
Sam's brow furrowed. A zombie using mana attacks? That was not new but the zombies and mutants till now were not as perfect in using mana as this zombie Blake was talking about and its concerning.
They exchanged a few more observations—zombie behavior, mana usage, and strange evolutions—before ending the call.
Sam slipped the phone into his pocket and looked at Emmy.
"Sigh... I don't feel better about this."
She shook her head. "Me neither. But at least he's okay."
Sam leaned against the wall, voice low. "My mind is telling me to fight more. Get stronger."
Emmy squeezed his hand gently. "We'll figure it out. Together."
They looked out across the courtyard. Survivors were resting, joking, living.
A community was forming.
But as the lights flickered
Something had noticed their growth.And it was coming.