The Encounter with a Swift Zombie!

Zorvax crept closer to the commotion, sticking to the shadows as he moved. The sound that had led him here was getting louder and more intense as he peeked around a crumbled wall. His eyes, though no longer human, widened in interest.

Before him was a scene of desperate struggle. A trio of survivors, their faces slick with sweat and etched with fear, were taking on a Swift Zombie. Zorvax watched, a spectator to their plight, as the creature darted between their attacks with an eerie grace.

"Ah, a Swift one," Zorvax noted to himself. "Quick little bugger."

He didn't move to help. Instead, he observed, taking in the way the humans moved, the way they coordinated their efforts against the threat. Their fear was palpable, even to him, and he couldn't help but feel a strange kinship with the creature they were fighting—it, too, was a transformed zombie, albeit less fortunate in its abilities than Zorvax.

One of the survivors, a girl barely out of her teens, yelled, "I can't hit it!" Her voice was high-pitched with panic as she fired her gun, missing the zombie as it weaved through the debris-strewn street.

A large man, his shirt dark with sweat, bellowed back, "Stay focused! Aim for its legs!" He turned to the third member of their party, a wiry fellow clutching a rifle. "Mike, help her out!"

Mike nodded, his face set in grim determination. "Cover me!" he shouted, darting forward to flank the swift-moving zombie.

The Swift Zombie was relentless, lunging at the humans with outstretched claws. But the humans were determined, and Zorvax had to admire their courage.

He could see their problem; they were slow, weighed down by fear and lack of practice. The big man had the right idea, though, using the environment to their advantage. "Use what you got," Zorvax murmured in approval when the man shoved heavy crates into the zombie's path, attempting to trap it.

The Swift Zombie snarled and thrashed, but the survivors quickly exploited its temporary confinement. They fired repeatedly at its legs, the sharp cracks of the gunfire echoing in the desolate urban canyon.

Zorvax's interest deepened as the bullets finally hit their mark, and the zombie's legs buckled, unable to support it any longer. The young girl exhaled in relief, her voice trembling with exhaustion and triumph. "Finally, it can't move anymore."

The burly man, his high adrenaline from the fight, marched over to the defeated Swift Zombie. His heavy boots thudded on the ground, kicking up dust as he went.

The girl, holding her sidearm with a trembling hand, called out to him, "Dave, what are you thinking getting that close?"

Dave grinned back at her over his shoulder. "I just wanna see it up close—the thing that nearly had us for dinner."

He bent over the Swift Zombie, now little more than a twitching, snarling mess on the ground. "Not so fast now, are you?" Dave taunted, his face uncomfortably close to the creature's snapping jaws.

The girl, clearly on edge, kept her weapon aimed at the scene. "Just finish it off, quick. Don't mess around," she said, her voice taut with nerves.

Dave nodded, sobering at her words. "Yeah, you're right. This thing's still dangerous," he agreed, pulling out a small, sharp knife from his belt.

The Swift Zombie, despite its grave injuries, made a feeble attempt to lunge at Dave, a low growl escaping from its throat. "Not today, zombie," Dave sneered and raised his knife to put the creature down for good.

But before Dave's knife could descend, a figure appeared seemingly from nowhere—a zombie with an intense, almost human gaze. The figure moved with a purpose and agility Dave had never seen in the undead.

With a swift motion, the figure threw a knife that spiralled through the air, embedding itself in the Swift Zombie's head with a sickening thud. "[Evolution Points: +50]," a disembodied voice seemed to announce, the words only audible to the mysterious zombie.

The newcomer stood up, a grotesque semblance of a smile on his lips. "That's how it's done," he muttered, a sense of achievement in his raspy voice.

Dave stumbled back, his eyes wide as saucers. "Who... or what are you?" he stammered, the knife in his hand forgotten.

The girl's reaction was immediate. "Dave, back off! Now!" she screamed, stepping back as she aimed her gun at the new threat.

But Dave stood rooted to the spot. His gun aimed squarely at Zorvax. He tried to seem fearless, but his hand shook, and there was a bead of sweat trailing down the side of his face.

"Dave, we have to go now!" the girl insisted, her eyes darting around, looking for an escape route.

Dave's voice came out in a hoarse shout, more from fear than confidence. "Not a chance! I'm not running anymore!" He pulled the trigger, but Zorvax was no longer where the bullet was aimed.

"Missed me," Zorvax said almost casually, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble. He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, and before Dave could shoot again, he was upon him.

Dave gasped as he fell, his weapon slipping from his grasp. "No way..." were his last words before he hit the ground, his eyes wide with disbelief.

The girl turned to run, her footsteps echoing loudly in the empty street. "Help, someone!" she screamed, but no one left to hear her.

Zorvax caught up with her easily, his new body moving unnaturally. "Sorry," he said, almost sounding like he meant it.

He turned away from the girl, her body now still on the cold ground, and noticed the final survivor. The man's arm was changing, muscles bulging, and skin stretching. "What's this?" Zorvax muttered to himself, intrigued by the transformation.

"Ability?" he whispered, almost to himself. He watched, curious, as the survivor's arm grew, becoming something powerful.

This new world, with its evolving zombies and humans with burgeoning abilities, was a mystery that Zorvax was now a part of. He looked down at the survivor, pondering the implications. "What's next for us, I wonder?" he thought, his voice so low it was nearly lost in the wind.

Zorvax stood in the dimming light, the last survivor at his feet. The city around them was silent, holding its breath. What would become of them all in this new, merciless world? Only time will tell.