My Job? Weaving Armour For Undead In Apocalypse
Chapter 44: Were You Bitten?

Chapter 44: Were You Bitten?

Standing alone in the center of the ruined street, Felicity was a vision of defiance. Her blades were drawn, their edges slick with blood, and around her lay a circle of butchered corpses, zombies, twisted and mangled, their bodies broken where they’d fallen.

Her white mask, the Bridal Mask, the one with the etched-on smirk and curled moustache, covered her face while her baseball cap was long gone in the heat of the fight.

Her chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. Blood dripped from torn cloth and gashed skin, her once pristine attire now tattered and smeared. Deep wounds lined her arms and side, some still weeping red, others beginning to dry. Bent slightly at the waist, her posture was tense but steady.

Her eyes, sharp and fierce, burned with a clarity that defied her exhaustion, like a sword honed sharper and sharper against the whetstone of death.

That intensity wasn’t natural. It was an ability granted by Reinforced Fortitude, the Stage-1 passive skill she had claimed from the Stage-1 Type Two.

With it, she could ignore pain, fatigue, and even the creeping venom from the zombie’s claws. Her body seemed as if it was failing, but her spirit refused to yield.

Two meters in front of her stood the source of this mayhem, a female Stage-1 Type Two zombie.

She looked disturbingly human. Pale, gaunt, her long black hair cascading in greasy waves down her shoulders, brushing against a filthy white nightgown that fluttered faintly in the breeze. But what followed past her elbows marked her as something inhuman.

Where forearms should be, there were insectoid limbs, elongated, jointed with unnatural angles, and ending in wicked, blade-like scythes.

One clicked shut, producing a sharp, metallic sound like a bear trap snapping closed. The serrated edge shimmered faintly in sunlight, already stained with Felicity’s blood.

A soft, guttural growl rose from the zombie’s ruined throat, her lips barely there, chewed away or torn. The sound wasn’t one of hunger, it was predatory.

Without warning, the zombie lunged.

Felicity reacted instantly. Her twin blades flared into motion, catching the scythe-arm just before it could shear through her neck. Sparks flew as metal met monstrosity. The shock of the blow ran down her arms, but she held firm, gritting her teeth. The impact forced her backward, feet skidding across the cracked pavement, but she twisted her body mid-slide, redirecting the second scythe that came down toward her shoulder.

Clang! The screech of steel against carapace echoed down the abandoned street.

She ducked, spun, her left blade slicing toward the zombie’s gut, but the creature vaulted over her, landing on all fours like a grotesque insect. With inhuman agility, it launched itself again, faster this time, a blur of gown and blades.

Felicity vanished, only to reappear directly behind the zombie. Her blade swept in a horizontal arc, aiming to cleave the creature in two, but the Type Two spun with uncanny precision, intercepting her attack with its serrated scythe-arm.

Clang! Sparks flashed from the clash.

Before Felicity could adjust, the zombie’s second scythe lashed toward her skull like a guillotine. Her instincts screamed for her to teleport, but when she reached inward for that spatial flicker... nothing came. Her breath caught.

She had reached her limit.

Thirty-five consecutive teleports, her max.

With no escape and the deathblow descending, Felicity made a decision born from pure desperation and grit.

Her hair bled into white strands, her pupils disappeared, leaving only pure, glowing sclera. A silent aura of overwhelming clarity settled over her as time itself seemed to slow. The world moved like molasses.

Not teleportation, pure speed.

Her body blurred again, and like a phantom, she vanished from the zombie’s strike zone, reappearing to its side. Her face was tranquil, almost serene, like a blade in the hands of a master.

Her first sword cleaved clean through the zombie’s right arm, severing it at the joint with surgical precision. With no pause, she drove her second blade into its chest, straight through the heart.

"Argh!!"

She let out a cry, not of pain, but of release and ripped her blade free only to drive it in again. And again. And again. Each strike was fueled by fury.

She stabbed until her vision swam, until the creature stopped moving entirely. Only then did her awakened speed begin to fade. Her body trembled. Her knees hit the pavement with a dull thud.

"I did it—"

CRACK!

A scream tore from her throat as a hopper slammed down from above, landing squarely on her left ankle. A sickening noise rang in her ears. She was almost sure her bone had snapped.

The creature hissed, rearing back, fangs glistening, ready to rip out her throat.

The blade of one of her short swords lanced clean through its skull. Its body collapsed beside her.

She forced herself upright, face pale, jaw clenched, her breath ragged. The pain in her ankle was agony, but her spirit burned hotter.

"Come, you bastards," she spat, her voice low, wild. "I’ll kill you all."

Down the street, a fresh wave of zombies was arriving. A few dozen, most shambling, some twitching with unnatural jerks, staggered toward her, drawn by the carnage and the scent of blood

Another hopper slammed against the far building’s wall, bouncing off with a mangled right arm. It didn’t care. Snarling, it sprang straight for her.

Felicity shifted just barely to her left. Pain seared through her leg, but she bit down on it. Her sword flicked sideways, delivering a clean and swift slash.

The blade sliced clean through the hopper’s abdomen. The creature hit the ground twitching, incapable of rising.

She staggered back, eyes never leaving the encroaching mob. She was limping now, her stance uneven. Her muscles screamed, blood dripped freely from her limbs, and her lungs fought for air.

But her will remained unshaken.

Behind her, glinting with allure, the essence orbs from the slain Type Two sparkled beside its twitching corpse. Essence treasures, tempting and priceless. But turning back now would be suicide.

Felicity gritted her teeth. Both short swords lifted into a guard stance.

It was fight or die.

To her surprise, the windshield of an abandoned car cracked and the moment it shattered, the shards hung mid air. In the next moment, all of them shot out, piercing through the heads of the rest of the zombies.

"Were you bitten?" Merek’s voice rang behind her.