The Strange Zombie

At the other end of the corridor, a horde of zombies rushed relentlessly towards Clark, seemingly unaware of fatigue. Clark, however, paid them no heed. His gaze was fixed firmly on a white-painted door to his left: "Second Bone Surgery." The door was tightly closed and appeared neat and clean.

"I think I've found it," Clark muttered to himself. He gently turned the doorknob, and the door opened without being locked.

Inside the room, someone wearing a white medical uniform, looking like a doctor, sat with their back turned.

"The Eye of Judgment."

"Mutant: 0"

"Mutant: 1"

The numbers flickered as if unable to decide.

Clark was puzzled but stepped further into the room. The numbers on the screen stopped flickering and settled on "1" as his psychic probing broke through a faint barrier and enveloped the figure.

"Zombie (First-level Mutant?): This appears to be an ordinary zombie, but it seems to possess some mysterious power that has helped it surpass the limits of a regular zombie."

"Strength: 13"

"Agility: 6"

"Constitution: 10"

"Willpower: 12"

"Threat Level: Medium."

So, it was a false alarm. Clark's last trace of anxiety dissipated. The mutant detected by the Eye of Judgment should be this zombie before him. It was neither beyond his perception range nor a formidable third-level being. It was equipped with "Skullcrusher's Hand," which blocked his detection.

The 13 points in the Strength attribute were undoubtedly the result of this mysterious power that allowed it to exceed the limits of a regular zombie.

"Block the door," Clark casually instructed Arnold.

"Power Surge!" Clark shouted in a low voice, once again activating the enhancement effect of +2 to all attributes. The effects of the medicine had not worn off yet, and he maintained his peak combat power.

Clark did not underestimate the zombie before him just because it posed no threat in terms of attributes. The pristine examination room, the zombie that looked like a doctor sitting with its back turned, and its lack of the usual aggression despite sensing human presence all raised his suspicion. Clark remained highly vigilant.

"Bang!" Arnold forcefully closed the door, and within seconds, a series of frantic banging from outside followed. The white-coated zombie paid no attention, appearing as if it were deaf.

"Thrust!" The door wouldn't hold for long. Whatever the abnormalities, Clark decided to test them first.

Clark's gaze was sharp, and his body lunged forward. Although he was testing, this strike would be enough to pierce through steel and kill any regular zombie. The bone spike whizzed through the air. His voice was hoarse and strained, each word squeezed out from his throat.

Clark's eyes suddenly contracted like needles, and his entire body turned cold. The attack that had been aimed at the head of the zombie doctor veered off course in an instant, and the voice came from the "doctor."

"Boom!" The wall behind the zombie was pierced, revealing gray concrete. Clark stared in disbelief at the "doctor" who attempted to continue speaking.

A zombie. How could it speak? Clark shuddered. In his previous life, during three years of the apocalypse game, he had never heard anyone mention zombies that could talk. Talking meant intelligence and, in turn, wisdom!

Unlike Clark's fear, Arnold simply stared at the "doctor" with some surprise. The iron door behind him was pounded incessantly, but the doctor in the white coat didn't react, as if it were deaf.

"Clark, what the hell is this thing saying?" Arnold asked.

Clark didn't answer; he just tightened his grip on the bone spike in his hand. The fact that a first-level mutant zombie possessed intelligence was almost incomprehensible.

As far as Clark knew, mutants of third level and higher began to exhibit varying degrees of intelligence. But a first-level mutant zombie with intelligence? If it was because of equipment, he could reluctantly accept it, as apocalypse gear often had special effects. But if this zombie retained its intelligence without relying on apocalypse gear, that would be terrifying. Humans had risen to the top of the food chain because of their intelligence.

If first-level mutant zombies had intelligence, Clark had no idea how humanity could stop them.

His footsteps heavy, Clark held the bone spike against the doctor's forehead. Any sudden movement, and he would kill it.

"What do you want to say?" It was ludicrous. Clark had never imagined he would be talking to a zombie.

"Don't kill me." 

As Clark approached, the zombie doctor sitting in the chair struggled to resist its primal urge for flesh and blood. It was like a dying old man gasping for breath, its body repeatedly trying to stand up from the chair and lunge, but reason kept its instincts in check.

Clark saw fear in its eyes, and it tilted its head, trying to avoid the bone spike aimed at its forehead.

"Give me a reason not to kill you," Clark took a deep breath. A zombie fearing death, pleading for its life like this?

"You want it..." the zombie doctor fidgeted uneasily. It slowly raised its right hand. The right hand, with peeling flesh, wore a glove. The glove was entirely black, covered in intricate blood-red patterns.

On the back of the glove, there was an empty hollow, as if something had once been embedded there.

Clark's heart skipped a beat, and a hint of blue flashed in his eyes.

"The Eye of Judgment!"

"Ding! Apocalypse equipment detected. Grade: Fine (Blue)"

Blue equipment? Clark's eyes burned with excitement. In his previous life, this was the equipment that players in the entire LJ City had coveted. Although he couldn't view its attributes without obtaining it, Clark was confident that this piece of equipment was the "Skullcrusher's Hand"!

"Swish." Clark held the bone spike against the zombie doctor's head, and in an instant, he pierced a bit. With just a little force, he could crush its brain. In the face of Clark's strength, the zombie's enhanced bones were as brittle as biscuits.

"To exchange your life for my item, it's not enough," Clark tilted his head, his gaze fixed on the fleshy skull.

"It's mine, killing you means it's mine," Clark bluntly interrupted the zombie doctor.

The office door couldn't hold for much longer. If this zombie could only talk and offered no value, Clark didn't see the need to waste any more time.

Clark had promised Lynn that he would explore the nearby building, and Arnold's suggestion to check the pharmacy was also essential. Time was running out, and if they delayed until nighttime, the danger posed by zombies would escalate. Once again being trapped amidst a swarm of zombies would be too dangerous.