Another tormenting scream came from below.
"What the hell." Ray didn't like the way their mouths stretched — it felt like he was stuck in a Japanese horror film.
He couldn't afford to hold onto shells, he needed to apply damage consistently to slow the horde and maintain control of his position.
Immediately, the anomaly hunter loaded a shell from the ammo box on the nearby table. His rhythm was simple: fire, rack, load — without ever emptying the shotgun's tube.
Shells Remaining: 12 (box)
Four more anomalies scrambled up the narrow staircase, their twisted limbs clawing over one another in a frenzy to reach him.
Ray stepped back just enough to keep the angle tight. He didn't need to aim — at this range, buckshot did all the reckoning.
BOOM—
Ray fires.
Chchk—
He racks the shotgun, the spent shell bouncing across the floor.
Load—
One shell shoved into the tube.
Shells Remaining: 11 (box)
The lead anomaly's entire midsection felt the full force of the buckshot — The creature behind it tripped over the collapsing mess, but the others climbed over the ruin without hesitation.
Ray aimed it then again—
BOOM— rack, load…
Shells Remaining: 10 (box)
Another head was victimized by a buckshot shell, another pile of collapsing, rotting tissue blocking the stairs for all of two seconds before the mass pushed through it.
Then, behind him — near the tower's southern window, which had been shattered by a thrown projectile and scattered glass across the floor, he instinctively dodged.
Those outside were throwing pitchforks and axes toward the windows, but none of it could reach him from this angle.
Ray, without hesitation, grabbed the thrown pitchfork and hurled them downstairs, creating more obstacles for the anomalies' movement — though some of them were already dragging the obstructions away.
"Are they allowed to do that?!"
He prepared to leave — "Tch, they might be capable of throwing flammables… that would be generous of them."
More were coming — dozens.
BOOM— rack.
BOOM— rack.
BOOM— rack.
BOOM— rack.
BOOM— rack.
On the tower's second floor, five shotgun shells had been fired by the hunter, emptying the chamber and tube.
Ten anomalies that dared to climb were brutalized, the pellets spreading across them. Even the tiniest scratch from the cursed pellets was enough to trigger the death ring's decaying effect.
His space was filling with debris and corpses, and with weapons still being thrown from outside, he needed to get out of here.
Ray started reloading, remaining calm throughout it all.
Four shells were loaded into the tube, one in the chamber. He planned to use every shell in the ammo box before moving out — though even that carried its risk.
Shells Remaining: 5 (box)
"I keep thinking about that twisting-limbs anomaly… where is it? Everything that came here so far were Caro-class…"
Ray could feel the tower vibrating under their weight — he exhaled slowly.
He had about thirty seconds of height advantage before the horde piled high enough to reach him.
"Come on," he muttered, raising the shotgun again.
Ray just had to hold them off long enough to empty the ammo box and get out the window to the roof.
But until then—
Chchk—
—he kept firing, making sure the shot spread pellets across the maximum number of targets.
BOOM— rack.
BOOM— rack.
BOOM— rack.
BOOM— rack.
BOOM— rack.
He pumped the shotgun between each blast until the tube was empty, the spent shells tumbling from the ejection port and piling in a small heap on the floor below him.
The staircase had become a graveyard of former townsfolk. He then reloaded, using all five remaining shells from the ammo box.
Shells Remaining: 0 (box), 8 in pockets and 4 in tube, 1 in chamber.
Ray has killed approximately 21 anomalies so far…
The staircase had become nearly impossible to ascend, the tangled corpses of the dead clogging it, which greatly slowed their movement.
Then the hunter heard it—
"Ladders?!!" He glanced toward the east window, where the roof of the tower extended, and saw anomalies climbing up using makeshift wooden ladders.
The hunter immediately took aim with his pistol and shot the first head that came into view — wasting a shotgun shell on one anomaly wasn't efficient.
He holstered the pistol and prepared the shotgun once again, he saw at least four ladders being planted on the roof.
"Tch—"
Ray knew he had to stop them. Without delay, the hunter stepped out onto the roof, but before he could fully set foot, an axe came flying at him, forcing him back inside. The anomalies still kept throwing pitchforks, knives, and rocks.
"Fuck it—" Ray, without a hint of fear, still went onto the narrow rooftop of the tower, open to being hurled at by various deadly objects.
The rooftop was narrow, barely wide enough to walk on. One side had a broken railing; the other dropped sharply into the alley below.
Cracked tiles and puddles made footing tricky, and jagged angles from adjoining sections left little room to move.
The hunter dodged everything he could while keeping his balance. Immediately, he took aim at the crowd below on the right side of the rooftop — making sure the buckshot hit as many targets as possible with its spread, prioritizing those holding throwable objects.
Ray shot the shotgun twice the pellet spread hit the dense crowd of anomalies, killing at least 10-12, the shells being ejected then coming down the roof.
He kicked two ladders down after each shot, but to his dismay, behind him were two anomalies, their eyes glinting with hunger.
Ray reacted quickly — butt-stroking them with the Remington, his physical strength enough to crush the jaws of those who dared bite him, while shooting the other to avoid risking his balance if it lunged.
Then — just as he did on the right side of the roof, he unleashed another two buckshots on the left side of the crowd below, kicking down the ladders again.
The anomalies tried to strike him with their thrown objects, but each missile flew off to the other side of the roof, hitting another anomaly square in the face.
Click—
The hunter didn't bother aiming the shotgun at the approaching undead crawling from the tower's window.
The chamber and tube were empty, and he had no opportunity to reload on the rooftop.
With no better option, he jumped to the next building, crashing onto the concrete as he landed on a different rooftop — much wider than the last one.
It was four meters away, close enough to risk the jump with his athleticism.
The anomalies below didn't waste any time moving from the tower, to his new location.
"Aghh—" he let out, standing back up and ignoring the pain. His hands moved automatically, checking the condition of his gear. The pistol was still holstered, the knife secure, his wallet intact — and the shotgun shells within his pockets had survived the fall.
But he did feel the weight of the axe as it hit the floor, he double checked, "I need to get rid of this soon, this is getting in the way…"
Once on his feet, he immediately reloaded five buckshot shells that was stored in his pockets, four into the tube, one into the chamber — and with a sharp clack, the shotgun was primed.
A roar coming from the church.
The sound of its door being smashed open.
His wedding ring shot a sharp pain through his right forearm; it was begging the hunter to use it.
"Whatever enemy is coming, I will not use you to kill it."
Anomalies were already coming up from the first floor to the nearby terrace that Ray was moving toward.
He took out the axe and removed its belt, placing the Remington near his footing.
"Come — I am here."
Chapter End.