BLADECRAFT: The Undead Spear Emperor

Horror in the Bunker

Ozias peaked out through the door, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he watched the Zombies around moving in a direction.

Something was attracting them, but he did not know what.

He retreated into the shop and blocked the entrance. If he wanted to head out, he needed a plan.

According to Cole, the world was changing, literally. Phenomenons that wouldn't be understood until later would occur. Millions will die, a lot will survive though, but only a few will grow and become the most important in the next phases.

The cat always sitting on Cole's shoulder was a pet of his. Allegedly, it was related to the Lineage Ability of the Morvane family.

They could tame monsters and beasts of various kinds, harnessing their innate and inborn abilities to boost theirs.

Ozias remembered vividly, Cole mentioning that his cat possessed spacial powers with its weak Race limiting it to possessing only a small storage space.

If he wanted to unlock more of its abilities, then he had to make it evolve.

This had piqued Ozias’ interest.

Cole also mentioned the Lineage Ability of the Draven family.

He claimed it was tied to Blades.

As weird as that might sound, Cole explained that it was one of the most feared Lineages on the surface of the Earth.

‘One Blade to sever the Heavens…’ he had heard Cole say.

It was powerful not just because it was, but because of its wielders.

Blood-seeking Humans who enjoyed fighting more than anything else.

They drew power from their body to make their weapons stronger, dealing devastating blows to their enemies.

Cole didn't go too deeply into the workings of the Blade Lineage. It was left to Ozias to figure it out if he wanted.

He looked at his makeshift weapon, and muttered. “I need a good spear.”

And that led him to one of the surprising things Cole had also mentioned.

Loot. Dungeons. Monsters.

Some Monsters, when killed, dropped loot. The loot could range from something as simple as a paperclip, to something more useful—like the potion he had taken a few minutes ago.

As he came to terms with all that he had received, Ozias decided to make a plan, all while using that chance to recover.

The base was located on an island not too far from the city. He looked at a map plastered on the salon's walls, thanking his luck for its existence there.

He marked his current location with a nail polish he found in the drawers, then made a trace from where he was to his destination.

“About… 500 kilometres,” Ozias calculated. “Great… Just great.”

Taking into account the blockades and troubles he would definitely meet on the way, making it in a month was preposterous.

He would have to fight, rest and even find a way to cross the sea to the island.

His mind roared and entered overdrive as he sat down, drawing a plan out and preparing himself mentally for what was to come.

***

In the outside world—far away from Ozias’ location—an underground bunker filled to the brim with people closed shut, sealing itself from the outside world.

Everyone felt safe and secure, but just like what had happened in the limited number of bunkers around, a commotion spread through the masses like wildfire, sounds of screams and panicking taking hold of the atmosphere.

Someone who had been bitten earlier had turned, and now they were moving with their basic undead instincts, which was to tear the living apart and take away their energy.

Panic was an understatement when explaining the situation. There was an uproarious headlong rush of people.

Every man for himself.

They pushed and fought, all of them trying to get as far away from the Zombie as possible, but they seemingly forgot—in their fears… that they were all locked in there.

The soldiers tasked with monitoring the people rushed to the area and opened fire, riddling the Zombie with bullets and successfully killing it.

However, the panicked citizens didn't seem to calm. What if there was someone who had been bitten too, but refused to tell, fearing that they might be killed on sight?

The tension was at an all time high, and from the mass, a single person stepped out of the crowd, walking towards the soldiers.

He went past them in silence, his small form brushing past a soldier without the slightest noise.

“Hey! Step back!” The soldier he walked past—who only noticed him seconds later—thundered.

In spite of that, the teenager didn’t stop. He reached the dead Zombie's body seconds later and crouched low.

“Don't touch it!” The soldier hollered again, his gun already pointed, ready to fire.

Right before everyone's eyes though, motes of light rose from the body and drifted into the boy’s body.

“So refreshing,” they heard the boy say as he rose to his full height.

He turned around slowly, raising his gaze to a man in the crowd. The soldiers around stared at him, tensed, not really knowing how to proceed.

And just when they came to a tacit understanding and made a move to step forward, the boy dropped a bomb.

“You've been bitten,” he said, still staring at the man among the crowd.

Gasps resounded immediately, and everyone in his line of sight backed away from each other.

The man he had spoken to did the same, rushing backwards and looking to see who was bitten.

Alas, the boy appeared before him all of a sudden, bringing down his arm with shocking velocity as it lit up with flames in the same moment.

BOOM!!

The man's head was obliterated as though a bomb went off within it, the blood evaporating and the flesh turning to ash. Shrapnels of broken bones shot out like tiny bullets, wounding those close to the explosion and killing a few—including a soldier.

If there was a commotion before, now there was an even greater one.

The crowd erupted into a cacophonous struggle, running from the scene with horror written all over their faces.

The remaining soldiers behind shook in their boots, but they didn't hesitate…

They raised their guns and fired.