Sweep in Progress

New chapter is live.

Settle in, take your time, and let's see what waits in the dark 🖤

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Evan slowly crouched.

He held a translucent glass bottle in one hand and nudged it forward along the floor.

Clink. Clatter.

The sound was crisp and clear. In the empty administration building, it bounced and echoed again and again.

Walkers could smell blood.

They were also drawn to noise.

The bottle rolled from Evan's feet toward the end of the hall, its sound fading with distance.

As it did, more than a dozen rotten figures staggered out from behind office doors on both sides.

"Drank a little too much last night," Evan said. "Let me loosen up first thing in the morning."

The walkers came toward them.

Evan stretched without hurry, rolled the hammer once with easy control, and walked to meet them.

Light spilling through the open doors behind him fell across his body, making the pressure around him feel almost solid.

For a moment, the people who had come to clear the building had the same strange thought.

The walkers were not surrounding Evan.

Evan was surrounding all of them.

The closer the walkers came, the more excited he became.

"How strong is Lv. 10 Strength, really?"

"Those pathetic bastards yesterday weren't enough. Today, I'll test my hammer on you."

Evan gripped the giant hammer one-handed and held it level at his side.

Three walkers closed in.

His expression did not change.

He swept the hammer sideways.

Blood sprayed.

For an instant, the whole dim hall seemed to change color.

Three hairless heads flew upward and hung briefly in the air.

With one casual-looking swing, Evan had broken all three necks by force.

The blow carried so much power that it changed the path of the heads in midair.

Evan lifted his chin.

He had grown used to killing, but it had never felt easier than it did now.

Killing three walkers felt like crushing three ants under his thumb.

They clawed and crowded closer.

Against absolute strength, it meant nothing.

The system had judged him fairly.

This strength deserved its top-tier rating.

Heat filled his blood until it felt less like blood and more like molten stone.

His body woke under the violence. Even standing still, he felt like a furnace giving off heat.

"Dead things never learn."

The walkers still pushed toward him.

Evan cursed under his breath and started forward.

His pace built slowly, then faster.

Every walker he passed lost something.

Blood burst.

Limbs snapped.

Bodies broke.

The dozen walkers could not slow him down. Evan walked all the way to the end of the corridor.

Only then did the last walker behind him drop with a wet thud.

At the sound, Evan drew his presence back, shouldered the hammer, and turned.

"Finish them. I want at least two holes in every head."

"If the skull is still intact, I don't want to see that body stand up again."

His voice echoed down the hall before the others woke from their daze.

They lowered their guns, drew melee weapons, and began checking the bodies.

"Pile the finished ones together. Walk around the pile."

"After the whole building is clear, we'll move the corpses out properly."

Evan gave each instruction one at a time.

No one argued. No one wasted motion.

They followed his orders.

More than a dozen walker bodies were stacked inside one of the offices.

T-Dog dragged the office door shut with a rattle, leaving the hall empty.

Watching them work, Evan nodded to himself.

They could learn.

Clumsy was fine.

Weak was fine.

What got people killed was being clumsy without knowing it, weak without trying to improve, and wrong without ever looking back.

"Continue."

The administration building opened into a long corridor.

At the end was a T-junction.

To the left, a stairwell climbed to the next floor, eighteen steps per turn.

To the right, after a few steps, stood a heavy metal door.

This had likely been where the officers gathered: briefing room, kitchen, staff cafeteria.

"No need to rush upstairs," Rick said, stepping beside Evan. "Draw them out first and clear in stages."

Daryl shone his flashlight through the metal cafeteria door from a distance.

"Only see three, maybe four. Guess when everything went bad, it wasn't mealtime."

"That's good news."

Evan nodded and signaled everyone to follow Rick's suggestion.

They took positions on both sides of the stair rail and raised their guns toward the stairs.

When everyone gave a small nod, Evan struck the hollow metal handrail several times with the hammer.

Clang. Clang.

The sound rang sharp. The vibration traveled up the rail from the first floor toward the third.

After a brief echo, silence returned.

Evan tilted his head and listened.

Then came the growls.

They spread through the building, and footsteps quickly grew clearer.

One or two sets at first.

Then more, overlapping until they became a moving current of sound.

"Stand to the sides of the stairs!"

Evan gave the order and took the center alone, directly facing the stairwell.

Walkers had no brains.

The moment they rushed down, they would charge straight at him.

Evan put away the Stone Sledgehammer and pulled the Remington from his back.

He did not shoulder it the way the others did, cheek tight to the stock.

He spread his feet and held the shotgun against the front of his chest.

At Lv. 1, Boomstick would not make him a marksman.

It did not have to.

He only needed to keep the pressure on while the others worked with him.

Footsteps thickened overhead.

Three seconds after the group was ready, a hoarse roar sounded, and a walker tumbled straight down the stairs.

Behind it, dozens of figures surged in a ragged rush.

They leapt and stumbled down, tripping over each other as they poured toward Evan.

Bang.

The first shot roared.

Flame spat from the muzzle of the shotgun in Evan's hands.

After that, the gunfire did not stop.

A storm of shots drowned out the sound of the walkers.

Flame and smoke spread.

Blood gathered on the steps and ran downward in thick, sluggish streams.

Evan held the Remington one-handed without moving back.

He worked the pump fast, hot shells kicking out from the side.

Shot after shot, he stepped steadily forward.

Bad aim did not matter.

The shotgun was the great equalizer.

As long as Evan got close enough, he would hit walker heads.

When all eight shells were spent, the others' gunfire stopped at nearly the same time.

For a moment, the hall filled with the sharp, overlapping clicks of weapons being reloaded.

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