C5 Strengthening and Hunting!

Willett had an incredibly long dream in which he relived his entire life. From the foggy memories of infancy, the loving care of his parents, his grandfather's indulgence as the eldest grandson, to the heart-wrenching grief of his grandfather's passing. He remembered the pride of attending a prestigious university, the joyous clamor with his closest friends, and the crushing disappointment of job rejections after graduation. His mind lingered on the memory of Patricia's face, torn beyond recognition by a zombie. He envisioned his parents weeping over his body, his portrait atop the altar at his wake, and the horror of being devoured by zombies, bite by bite.

"I can't die! I absolutely can't die! I'm still young; I can't just die like this! My parents... I can't let them weep over my body! I refuse to die!"

As his determination to survive swelled within him, Willett gradually awoke and opened his eyes.

"Ugh, how long was I asleep? My head is killing me!"

He massaged his throbbing head and glanced at his watch in astonishment. "What? I've been asleep for three days?"

Willett stared at the date on his watch, unable to believe it. He distinctly remembered going to fetch water on the 24th. How could it possibly be the 27th today? Was it all just a dream? Yet the persistent presence of zombies on the opposite balcony suggested otherwise.

"What the heck happened? That day... I recall fighting Patricia and the others after they turned into zombies, and then... Oh, right, the headache!"

The memory of that day's excruciating pain made Willett shudder. It was unbearable, a pain a thousand times worse than any dislocation he'd suffered playing basketball. He couldn't bear to think about it; he didn't know how he had managed to survive.

"Anyway, I'm alive, and that's what matters. Could I be sick? Infected? No, that can't be it. I haven't consumed anything contaminated, not even tap water. Could it be... that day?" A sudden recollection hit him—the mysterious blue liquid that had appeared that day. It was the blue liquid that had seeped into his body, causing such intense agony. "What on earth is this blue liquid?"

He mulled over the problem for a long time but couldn't crack it, so he eventually gave up on it.

"Hmm, after sleeping for three days, I'm definitely hungry. I should eat something first. As for water, I'll need to figure out something else."

He straightened up and glanced at the zombies on the opposite balcony. With a sense of resignation, he turned and headed to the kitchen. He grabbed some instant noodles and milk, crushed the noodles, and started eating them dry. After finishing one packet and still feeling ravenous, he opened a second and then a third. It wasn't until he was finally satiated that he was astonished to realize he had consumed six packets of instant noodles.

"Damn! How did this happen? I was so preoccupied with my thoughts while eating that I didn't notice my hunger. Now, after six packs, I'm finally not hungry. How did my appetite get so huge?"

Willett counted the empty noodle packets on the table and was startled.

"Sigh, my physical strength just isn't up to par. I'm completely worn out after taking on just a couple of zombies. Considering there are probably millions of zombies in Depridge, I couldn't kill them all even if they just stood there. It seems that getting in shape is crucial. But the water issue... Sigh, I won't think about it now. After I finish the last pack of milk tomorrow, I'll have to make another attempt at Welborn's place. Six of them, sigh, I just hope I can make it back with some water."

After a bout of sighing, Willett went back to the balcony to continue his daily workout while pondering a solution. That's when he noticed a dramatic change in his body—it had become significantly stronger!

"What's happening? Why am I running so much faster? And when I use my spear on the wooden board, it feels like piercing paper. Why has my strength increased so much?"

Willett stared at his hands in amazement. They looked the same—still slightly pale and delicate—yet his strength had surged incredibly. The wooden board that used to require his full force to pierce could now be penetrated effortlessly with a casual jab. He also noticed a substantial increase in his speed and jumping ability, but the limited space on the balcony prevented him from fully testing his new capabilities.

"How did I suddenly get so strong?"

Willett mumbled to himself, "Could it be because of that blue liquid and the headache I had that day?"

After much thought, that was the only explanation he could come up with. Recalling the Biohazard movies and apocalyptic novels he'd read online, didn't the protagonists always gain incredible powers from a virus? Could he be experiencing the same thing? Was he now incredibly powerful? But as he basked in his newfound confidence, the sight of six zombies on the opposite balcony brought him crashing back to reality. "Damn, even if I turned into Superman, I couldn't possibly take out so many zombies in Depridge. There are millions of them; they could bury me under sheer numbers. I'm just a bit stronger, that's all. Oh, if only I could fly off wearing my underwear on the outside..."

His geeky imagination was running wild again...

"Wait a second!"

While Willett was fretting over the six zombies across the way, he noticed a long bamboo pole used for drying clothes on the balcony. An idea struck him. "Welborn's balcony is so close to mine, and it's not that big. I don't need to go over there to fight those zombies! The greatest difference between humans and animals is our ability to make and use tools. Hehe! This is perfect..."

He leered at the long bamboo pole on the balcony.

The creativity of an otaku truly knows no bounds. Willett took down the bamboo pole and securely tied one end to a short spear. To ensure it was sturdy, he used several clamps to fasten it. And just like that, he had fashioned himself an extra-long spear. Initially, he considered sharpening the bamboo pole into a deadly spear, but then he thought better of it. What if the zombies' skulls were harder than the bamboo? That would be a real hassle. So he attached the sharp short spear to the pole and began what he dubbed his "fishing expedition." Willett smirked and aimed the long spear at a zombie's head. He didn't want to recognize the faces of the zombies anymore; they were his neighbors, after all. So he purposefully overlooked their features, treating them as mere data points in a game. This detachment was the only way he could avoid being tormented by guilt. It was also the only way he could maintain a positive, almost playful, attitude towards the zombies. He was aware that his mindset was becoming somewhat twisted, but there was no helping it. The apocalypse has a way of shaping a person. If you don't embrace a bit of madness, you're only left with death.

After taking careful aim for quite some time, he finally thrust the long spear forward with considerable force. A faint "thud" followed, and he scrutinized the result. "Damn! Missed it!"

He muttered a curse in frustration. It was his first time using such a long spear, and his aim was slightly off. He had nearly targeted the zombie's head, yet the spear ended up striking its shoulder. Nevertheless, he wasn't worried; the zombie couldn't bite him, and he had all the time in the world to aim properly. Withdrawing the spear, he took aim again, this time with calm precision. After a long, steady gaze, he pushed the spear forward. "Yes!"

He waved his hand in triumph – a direct hit! The spear had pierced right through the zombie's eye and exited out the back of its skull. It quivered briefly before coming to a halt.

Before Willett could fully savor his triumph, he was struck by a curious phenomenon. As the zombie perished, a blue liquid began to seep along the bamboo pole towards him, but it evaporated into a puff of blue smoke after extending less than a meter. In that moment, Willett experienced an innate craving for the blue liquid, but as quickly as it came, the sensation vanished with the dispersing smoke. This strange occurrence left him puzzled. Why did he feel compelled to drink the blue liquid? Was his growing strength somehow connected to it? What exactly was this blue substance? Did every zombie release it upon death? Overwhelmed with questions, his excitement from the recent kill subsided. He felt he was on the brink of understanding something crucial. He needed to conduct another experiment.