The building that Ray stood on was already being surrounded by anomalies below, their bellowing screams piercing through the air with their grotesque, wide mouths.
"Something is coming here — from the church." Ray stood prepared, conserving ammunition by having a little fun with the axe.
An anomaly scrambled up the stairs and onto the second-floor terrace, rushing at the hunter like a headless chicken.
Begging to be killed.
Ray swung his axe overhead into the skull of the approaching anomaly, ending its life — the hunter immediately dislodging it from it's head.
"Another one—" he said, as he swung it again at the next anomaly that came toward him.
Grunt, grunt, grunt.
Within this terrace, the sound of skull-crushing and axe-murdering filled the air, as one by one Ray stacked bodies on the terrace, his entire uniform bathe in blood.
Thud… thud… thud…
Heavy footsteps…
"What the hell is this?!" Ray immediately took off his black suit, covering his entire upper body — in the worst-case scenario that it was the anomaly that twisted limbs with just a glance.
He waited…
Heavy breaths.
Deep breaths.
"The anomalies stopped coming up…" he observed. Then he heard someone laughing — the kind of laughter you'd hear from a middle-aged man.
Slowly, a head crept into view, rising up the stairs to the terrace. It was a obese butcher with two cleavers, wearing a disturbing, bloodied smile, and reeking of rotting pig.
Ray was unimpressed. He put his black suit back on and leaned down to grab his shotgun — but at that exact moment, the obese butcher rushed at him, cleavers swinging.
Bang—
Ray shot the butcher in the head. He pulled the forend back, ejecting the spent shell, then pushed it forward, loading a new one into the chamber.
Ray quickly reloaded a shell, leaving him with only two shells in his pocket.
As the butcher crashed to the ground with a heavy thud, the staircase leading to the terrace filled with anomalies once again — and at the same time, multiple ladders appeared at every corner of the terrace.
This time, Ray had no time to kick them all off. Every side was showing up with climbing anomalies who intend to rush at him from all sides.
"This is bullshit." Ray sighed… he could feel his muscles soaring with exhaustion. Deep inside, he wanted to sleep — to lie down in some warm bed at night and basically hibernate throughout the autumn season.
He took out his knife and set the shotgun down. He ignored the axe, favoring agility in this kind of scenario.
A scenario where he'd dance on the fingertips of a mass genocide.
He closed his eyes — he could feel them, so many of them approaching him with their open mouths, seeking a fresh bite of living flesh.
The Hunter has opened his dark-red eyes—
The nearest anomaly lunged at him viciously, its red saliva flying through the air — Ray stepped in, not back, his knife flashing upward as he slit its throat and shoved the collapsing body aside to keep the path clear.
But another came from his right. The hunter twisted, grabbed its jaw, and drove the blade up through its temple, all while wearing a blank stare.
The bloodied show didn't stop; the macabre was yet to find its final depiction, and the hunter's knife was the pen.
Too many at once — an anomaly crashed into his back, biting down on his shoulder with all its strength, even shaking its head to grind its crooked teeth.
Ray grunted in pain — it was the first pain he'd felt, reminding him that, "I can… still die…" But the reinforced black suit held; teeth scraped against hardened fabric instead of his pale flesh.
He elbowed the creature twice, then stabbed backward without looking — a perfect strike into the neck.
He kept shifting his stance, never letting the horde fully encircle him — that would be the end of him, and he knew that.
It was a dance floor of murders — he was efficient, and no movement was wasted.
"Step left… keep pivoting. A small retreat when needed, charge forward, create space from the most suffocating area." The hunter was focused, his eyes never losing attention.
Under pressure the greatest perform — But even he wasn't perfect.
Another anomaly caught his arm, its teeth clamping down. Again, the suit spared him, though he felt the crushing pressure.
Ray snarled and slammed its head into the railing before finishing it off with a swift stab.
Then the projectiles came.
An axe whistled past his ear, the blade burying itself into the concrete behind him. A kitchen knife followed, spinning straight toward his chest; Ray barely twisted out of the way, the metal grazing his suit.
Rocks, cleavers, broken tools — the rooftop became a storm of crude weaponry.
The anomaly hunter dodged everything he could, ducking low, swaying aside, sometimes using a dead body as cover.
Minute after minute, the fight dragged on.
Ten minutes, fifteen, twenty.
Still the anomalies climbed, crawled, and threw whatever they could at him, all wanting him lifeless.
But there's no signs of the limb twisting anomaly.
For half an hour, Ray carved through them — stabbing, slashing, kicking, pushing bodies aside, breathing hard through the stench of blood and rot.
He will never stop, and he will never slow down…
He refused to be buried under the pit of corpses along with the unfortunate dead…
The terrace had become a mountain of bodies, so densely stacked that moving through it swiftly was nearly impossible.
Then silence—
It felt like an eternity, but the horde had stopped. The hunter had murdered most of it, though he was sure there was more lurking in the shadows of the fallen trees.
Yet, in the middle of it all, the anomaly hunter stood, eyes high, with the most exhausted face one could see on a man — surprised at himself that he had the endurance to survive for this long.
He was riddled with cuts and bruises, blood leaking from every wound — a complete mess.
"I need… water—" He took a deep breath, gripping the shotgun firmly in one hand, and sheathed the bloodied knife that was already close to dulling from the relentless massacre.
Step by careful step, he moved down the terrace. His senses were starting to wane, but he shook his head and forced himself to stay alert.
Ray moved cautiously through the building, searching for a kitchen where he could make himself a glass of water. His eyes caught a jug nearby, and the urge to wash himself overwhelmed him.
He splashed water on his face, the cold liquid bringing a momentary relief and getting rid of blood on his face, then drank a long gulp straight from the jug.
Relinquished, he returned to the living room.
Despite the lingering stench of iron and rot, his eyes landed on a perfectly serviceable brown couch — though right next to it were dead bodies on the floor.
Without thinking, he lay down.
"Ughh—" The feeling of his back finally being able to relax, his body felt the bliss. He lowered his guard for the first time in hours and hugged his shotgun close.
It was quiet — the chanting of the horde was gone. He closed his eyes.
"A few seconds, that's… all I need…" he murmured, his wedding ring already calmed against his finger.
A few minutes passed, the hunter managed to feel some resemblance of peace.
But the chaos wasn't over—
The bells chimed again—
Along with them came the screams of children.
"You got to be kidding me."
Chapter End.