NOVEL WEB Chapter 26: Kill Streak (III)
The younger man staggered backward, his legs buckling as he fell hard onto his backside. He looked up at Simon, fear evident in his eyes.
Simon loomed over him, his presence like a dark shadow that seemed to consume everything in its path. The man's chest heaved, and for a moment, Simon could almost feel pity for him.
Almost.
"Weak," Simon muttered, his voice cold, almost detached. He raised his boot and brought it down with brutal force onto the man's face.
Blood splattered across the floor, and the sickening crunch of bone echoed in the quiet mall. The body collapsed, lifeless.
For a fleeting second, Simon felt nothing. No satisfaction. No remorse. Just the quiet emptiness of doing what was necessary to survive.
A notification appeared in his vision, the words flashing in bright red.
[You have started a Kill Streak.]
Simon furrowed his brow, momentarily distracted. Kill Streak? He wondered. He couldn't remember the last time something like this had crossed his mind. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. He couldn't afford to focus on it now.
A sharp whoosh pierced the air. An arrow zipped toward Simon's head, and his instincts kicked in before his mind could catch up.
Without even thinking, he moved, his hand snapping up to catch the projectile mid-air. He crushed the arrow in his palm, splintering it into pieces before it could touch him.
The woman who had shot it was already backing away, her face a mask of panic. She fumbled for another arrow, her breathing shallow.
Simon could see the fear in her eyes, but there was something else, too. She had made the choice to attack him, and in this world, that meant she had already sealed her fate.
Before she could react, Simon was on her, moving like a blur.
The crossbow she was holding was no match for his speed. With a single motion, he snapped it in half, his fingers digging into the wood like it was nothing more than kindling.
The woman gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief, but it was too late.
Simon's other fist shot forward, connecting with her chest with brutal force. He didn't even flinch when he heard the sickening crack of her ribs.
Her body went limp, falling to the ground, lifeless.
His gaze shifted back to the remaining men in the room. They were frozen in place, unsure of what to do next.
Simon could see the tremors in their hands as they clutched their weapons, but they weren't acting out of courage. It was fear that drove them now. Fear of him.
Fear of the predator that stood before them.
The next man, a young man with a shaking revolver, tried to steady himself, his eyes wild.
"You — You can't just kill us all!" he stammered, though his voice lacked conviction. It was a plea, not a threat.
Simon tilted his head, watching the man with disinterest. "You can't use that," he said quietly, his gaze flicking to the gun in the man's trembling hands.
The young man's eyes flickered with doubt, and Simon could see the internal conflict warring in him.
It wasn't about survival anymore. This was about pride. About not wanting to be the first to back down.
Simon's lips twitched into a faint smile, though it wasn't one of amusement. He didn't find this situation funny.
He found it predictable. Weak. Undisciplined. Driven by fear, not survival.
"You think your gun will stop me?" Simon asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The young man faltered, but before he could react, Simon was already moving.
In an instant, he closed the gap between them, grabbing the man by the wrist and twisting the revolver from his grasp. The man gasped, trying to pull away, but Simon's grip was unrelenting.
With a single, fluid motion, Simon lifted the man off his feet and slammed him against the wall.
The impact left a crack in the stone behind him, but the man barely seemed to register it, his eyes rolling back as he slumped to the ground, dead.
The last man with the rifle was still standing, though he seemed less certain of his position now. His hands shook as he aimed the weapon at Simon, his eyes wide with panic.
But Simon wasn't concerned. He could feel the tremor in the man's hands, the uncertainty radiating from him. He had already decided what would happen next.
"Just put the gun down," Simon said softly, though there was no kindness in his tone. "It's over."
The man hesitated. He knew. Simon could see it in the way his eyes darted from Simon's unwavering form to the lifeless bodies of his companions.
They had all tried. And they had all failed. He would, too.
With a swift motion, Simon reached out, grabbing the rifle with both hands. The man tried to pull away, but it was futile. Simon twisted the barrel of the gun with ease, and with a sharp crack, it snapped in half like a twig.
The man's eyes went wide with shock, and Simon could practically hear the thoughts racing in his head.
"This doesn't have to end like this," the man said, his voice trembling.
Simon didn't reply. Instead, he slammed his fist into the man's gut, knocking the air out of him.
The man crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath. Simon stood over him, watching as the man struggled to catch his breath. Simon brought his foot down on the man's chest, and with a sharp crack, all resistance faltered.
"Life's hard," Simon muttered, almost as if to himself.
He turned his back on the fallen men, the silence in the room settling like a weight.
His eyes scanned the abandoned shopping mall, the air thick with the scent of death and decay. It wasn't the first time he had been in a situation like this, and it wouldn't be the last.
'Survival. That's all that matters now,' he thought.
The world had changed, and the rules had too. And Simon had made peace with the fact that to live, he had to kill.
[Kill Streak: 6 Bodies]
[Congratulations, You have shot up to 800, 456 in the world rankings]
[Targets of a Kill streak will not become Zombies]
[Congratulations, You have gained an Apocalypse Weapon]