The footprints led deeper into the dead forest.
Ah'Ming followed them, fidget cube clicking steadily in his left hand, claws extended on his right. His antennae twitched constantly, searching for any movement, any vibration at all--
There.
Ten meters ahead. Something shambling between the trees.
Ah'Ming stopped, going very still. Something in his brain clicked into predator mode, just like how cat eyes dilate when they see nasty cockroaches.
The thing lurched into view.
It had been human once. Maybe. The basic shape was there, of course---two arms, two legs, a head. But the skin was blue-tinted and bloated, like it had been underwater for weeks. Water dripped constantly from its clothes, its hair, its slack mouth. It moved with the jerky, uncoordinated movements of a puppet with tangled strings.
"Zombie?" Ah'Ming whispered. "We're doing zombies?"
Big question of the day: Were these NPCs? Or did they used to be players?
|Analysis: Hostile entity detected
|Threat level: Moderate
|Recommendation: Eliminate from distance
The zombie-thing shambled forward slowly. So slowly. Each step deliberate and clumsy.
Ah'Ming relaxed slightly. "Okay, slow zombies I can handle—"
The thing's head snapped toward him.
And launched.
"SHIT—"
One second it was ten meters away, moving like molasses.
The next it was on him, covering the distance in a blur of impossible speed, hands reaching, mouth open in a soundless scream—
Ah'Ming's claws came up on instinct, ripping through the thing's torso in a spray of blue-black ichor.
The zombie collapsed mid-lunge, hitting the ground with a wet thud.
Ah'Ming stumbled back, breathing hard. "What the FUCK was that?!"
|Warning: Hostile entity remains active
|Recommendation: Complete elimination
The thing was trying to crawl toward him, even with its torso half-severed.
Ah'Ming stomped down hard, crushing its skull.
It finally stopped moving.
Blue-black gunk splattered across his boots, his pants, his hands—
"Ugh, gross—"
The gunk burned.
Not like fire. Like ice. Like something fundamentally wrong seeping into his skin, freezing his skinny little veins. Think snowy-mud sludge from the late days of january.
Ah'Ming frantically wiped his hands on his jacket, but where the ichor touched, blue-ish rings were already forming. Bruises blooming across his skin in stupidly perfect circles. The worst part? It stained his jacket.
"System?! What is this?!"
|Unknown substance detected
|Effects: Minor necrotic damage over time
|Recommendation: Avoid further contact
"GREAT. That's GREAT. Very helpful."
|System provides information
|System does not provide emotional support
"I noticed!"
[LIVE BARRAGE COMMENTS]
"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT SPEED"
"SLOW UNTIL CLOSE THEN NYOOOM"
"That's actually TERRIFYING game design"
"False sense of security into INSTANT DEATH"
"He handled it pretty well tho"
"By ACCIDENT, he handled it by accident"
"His instincts are insane"
"Former apex predator go brrrr"
"Necrotic damage??? In a C-rank instance???"
Three more zombies later, Ah'Ming was covered in blue bruises and thoroughly done with this instance.
The first one he saw coming and dodged. Mostly. It still caught his arm, leaving three finger-shaped bruises.
The second one actually surprised him by dropping from a tree. Who knew waterlogged zombies could climb?! He'd incinerated it with his gauntlet flamethrower, but the burning gunk somehow made the bruising worse. Turns out that any form of heat would increase the apparent livor mortis.
The third one he'd handled efficiently, with a quick decapitation and thankfully minimal contact.
"$10 says he gets infected"
"$20 says he accidentally becomes immune through sheer protagonist energy"
"WHY IS HE STILL CLICKING THE FIDGET CUBE"
He was getting better at this.
He hated that he was getting better at this.
The forest path opened into a small clearing, and Ah'Ming almost tripped over something. stupid, obviously, but his eyes were geared for tracking motion, not wierd almost log-things on the floor. He looked down... and yep. It was what he'd feared.
A body.
Human. Female. Broadcaster, based on the badge-thing still attached to her wrist.
She was face-down in the dirt, dried blood pooled around her head. Her inventory pack had been ripped open, contents scattered and looted.
Ah'Ming crouched carefully, checking for... he wasn't sure what. Supplies? Clues?
Nothing. Whoever looted her had been thorough.
He stood, offering a silent apology to the corpse, and kept moving. The system, nice as it was, had censored all of the comments that it thought Ah'Ming might not like. TL;DR, stuff like sadistic outer world beings loving bloodshed and cannibalism were automatically muted, at least from Ah'Ming's view.
The system had been apologetic when it had explained that it couldn't just permanently banned them, it still needed their support and patronage.
Capitalism.
"She got LOOTED, damn"
"Probably by other players"
"This is gonna be that kind of instance isn't it"
"PvP + PvE + investigation = CHAOS"
He rubbed a hand over his face. With how bad Ah'Ming's luck was, he wouldn't be surprised if some random person burst out of the bushes with a camera and accused him of killing the woman. His wrist itched.
"The bruises are getting worse"
"Someone count how many he has"
"I counted 17 visible ones"
"That's gonna be a problem"
"YA THINK?!"
He stepped around her, and over her as well, before moving onwards. The path widened.
THere were some voices ahead. Rather loud and irritating voices, too, clearly of multiple people arguing.
Ah'Ming slowed, approaching cautiously, trying to catch what they were saying—
"—YOUR fault for not checking the water—"
"—not MY fault the SYSTEM won't store it—"
"—WHERE IS MING-JIE?! Has anyone SEEN her?!"
"—probably dead like the others—"
"—don't SAY that—"
Ah'Ming emerged from the tree line into a clearing.
A lake dominated the space. Crystal clear water that, like the ocean, was perfectly, unnaturally still.
And surrounding the lake were people.
Twelve of them. Maybe thirteen? Ah'Ming counted quickly.
They were clearly from different groups—different guild emblems, different equipment styles, different levels of panic and exhaustion on their faces.
Most were standing in loose, hostile clusters, with their weapons drawn and bristling like angry cats. Suspicious glares exchanged.
The argument was centered on four people wearing matching red and gold guild insignias. One woman was nearly in tears, screaming at the others:
"Ming-jie wouldn't just LEAVE! Something HAPPENED to her! We need to go BACK—"
"We can't split up again!" A man with a sword snapped back. "Every time we split up, someone DIES—"
Ah'Ming cleared his throat.
Every single person whirled toward him, weapons raised, magic crackling, eyes wide with panic-turned-aggression.
"Whoa, whoa!" Ah'Ming threw both hands up in a peace gesture, fidget cube still clutched in one palm. "Friendly! I'm friendly! Not a zombie!"
For a moment, nobody moved.
"At least he found other people?"
"Other people who are PANICKING and might kill him"
"Fair point"
Then someone---a woman with a bow---lowered her weapon slightly. "How do we know that?"
"The zombies are pretty obviously ZOMBIES!" Another player smacked her arm. "He's not blue and dripping!"
"He's got bruises though," someone else muttered suspiciously.
"Those are from zombie contact, idiot, not infection—"
"How do YOU know—"
"EVERYONE SHUT UP."
The voice was commanding enough that the clearing actually went silent.
A tall man with a spear stepped forward, studying Ah'Ming carefully. "You just arrive?"
"Yeah. Solo spawn, apparently." Ah'Ming kept his hands up. "Found a helicopter crash on the beach. Followed footprints here. Ran into some of those waterlogged zombies. You guys been here long?"
There was some muttering about how suspicious it was that somebody only spawned now, while everyone else had appeared at once.
"Three days," the spear-user said grimly. "We're what's left of multiple investigation teams. Started with thirty-seven people."
Ah'Ming's stomach sank. "And now?"
"Twelve."
"Fuck."
"Yeah."
The woman from the red-and-gold guild pushed forward, eyes red from crying. "Did you—did you see anyone else? On your way here? A woman, short hair, red and gold armor—"
Ah'Ming's expression must have said enough.
Her face crumpled. "No. No, no, no—"
"I'm sorry," Ah'Ming said quietly. "She was already gone when I found her. Someone had looted—"
"WE DON'T LOOT CORPSES!" The woman screamed. "WE'RE NOT ANIMALS—"
"Some of us are trying to SURVIVE!" Another player shouted back. "She was DEAD! Her supplies could save someone ALIVE—"
The argument erupted again.
Ah'Ming lowered his hands slowly, backing toward the edge of the clearing where two people sat apart from the main group.
One---a young man with dark circles under his eyes and blood dripping from his nose---was leaning heavily against a woman with braided hair who was supporting him like he might collapse any second.
"You okay?" Ah'Ming asked quietly.