Ansel - Part 2

Calming himself, he took time to take a look at his Stats.

[STATS:

Name: Ansel Witt

Age: 23

Level: 1 (15/1000)

Life: 150/200

Spirit: 92/200

Physical: 42

Agility: 35

Attack: 21

Defense: 17

Mana: 100

Physical Potential: S

Mental potential: A+

Skills:

Active: None

Passive: None

Elemental Affinity: Fire

Titles: None

Overall rank: A

Current Status: Weakened. ]

[EQUIPMENT LIST

Head: None

Ears: None

Body: Wool Suit, Cotton Polo +0 Defense

Arms: None

Legs: Wool Pants +0 Defense

Hands: Gun +Attack indeterminate

Feet: leather shoes +1 Defense, +0 Agility ]

[WEALTH: 43 gold, 0 silver, 130 copper]

As a gamer, he naturally had an idea of what those stats meant. Although, he was a bit disappointed that many gold bars only got him a few scores of gold.

The client paid in gold and he had not had the time to gather other things. For one thing, other than the gun he stole, he didn't have anything else after so many hours of hiding.

The so-called space backpack only contained a couple of mint candies he got from a countertop.

He sighed in self-pity and looked around, but froze when he finally realized where he was.

His sexy peach blossom eyes brightened at the sight.

He was in the kitchen, an empty one at that— the zombies must have gotten out a long time ago—leaving this oasis of normalcy for him to find.

His sights landed on kitchen knives as well as those huge scissors used to cut meat on table grills.

He took them all into his space. He took everything that could be used as a weapon, including the chopping board.

He scurried to the fridge and filled the backpack with all the food and water that could fit. Mostly filling food like rice and flour were given priority. A bit of meat and fruits were added, and the rest was potable water.

After looking around for a bit to see if he missed anything, he went to find the back door of the kitchen to exit from there—

Only to see about a dozen zombies turning their heads to him simultaneously.

His scalp numbed at the sight, each hair on his body rising in fear.

He quickly closed the door and dragged another table to bar it.

On cue, the door started banging and it felt like his heart rose to his throat. He tried to gulp the nerves down but to no avail.

Damned city, even back alleys have so many people!!

Fortunately, after several minutes, he was certain that the obstacle worked.

He eventually got used to the banging and scratching on the door, finally letting his heart get back into place.

He made a quick calculation and decided that handling the zombies inside was still easier than those outside.

He looked at the ceilings. This city was one of the older cities that hadn't been developed much, so many of the cities here had relatively older systems. He watched an old movie that ventilation in the olden days could fit people.

He looked up the walls and saw the vents, his ears could hear some rumbling sounds from within.

He hoped that there weren't meat-grinding fans that would turn him into a minced-Ansel.

His sister..., he didn't know if she would laugh or cry at him at that time.

As for Garan... he would probably sneer. 'Shame,' he'd say, 'All that training for nothing.'

Anyway, he tried to make a mental map of the building, trying to find his way to the parking lot.

After heaving a sigh, he dragged a table to the area underneath the vent, trying to open it.

Because it wasn't a common sight in his generation, he struggled for a bit, until he realized he needed something thin to pull it out.

He stepped down and looked for something that could do the job and settled with a small knife.

It was not easy because he didn't have the right tool and he was starting to get impatient. He almost dropped the knife many times, and when the lid finally loosened he almost cheered like a little brat.

It was just that the moment he entered, his eyes twitched.

"Fuuuuudge!"

Spiderwebs. Dust. Grime.

Everywhere. On every freaking surface!

Whoever filmed those movies was liars! Obviously, these things were clean in the movies! He should sue!!

However, it was still better than rotting meat trying to eat him, so he sucked it up and just covered his mouth and nostrils with a handkerchief to avoid getting lung disease or something.

As he crawled, arm by arm, leg by leg, he couldn't help but enter a melancholic mood.

He was reminded of that time he escaped from kidnappers… only Althea wasn't here with him.

He did not dwell in self-pity for too long, primarily because the place was uncomfortable to sulk in, and he steeled himself, crawling forward.

It took him a full hour to get somewhere downstairs without a damned zombie.

Ignoring his inevitable sneezing and the cringe from all the dust that stuck to him because of the grime—hell, he felt like puking—he trudged on, like a brave warrior.

He would eventually be able to find the relevant intersections.

Fortunately, he had a decent memory and knew which hallway he had passed by. After carefully opening the lid from inside, he jumped down with the knife in his hand, ready to attack whatever glomped at him.

Two zombies were nearby and they heard the noise, running towards him.

Fortunately, zombies were a bit slower than normal people due to rigor mortis.

Not to mention, he was not without martial arts training.

This was because he didn't want to lose to the nominal brother who took all the admiration of his sister and parents.

So... dealing with two zombies was no problem at all.

He gained confidence as headed towards the elevator only to hear scratching noises and growls quickly approaching.

It was also a zombie, but it was a familiar one. It was that survivor who had been kindly distracting the restaurant zombies a few hours back.

He felt a little sad. That guy didn't make it, after all.

However, his lax attitude quickly disappeared when he saw how the damned thing moved.

It was at least thrice as fast as a normal zombie, okay?

A bit panicked, he could barely block the zombie's attacks with his kitchen knife. He basically could only defend himself for several rounds until he started to be more proactive in attacking.

Only… the damned thing was really fast.

A few minutes later, the zombie still couldn't be taken down. He feared the noise would attract more zombies.

He was losing.

And he was not reconciled.

At this time, an idea popped out his head and he quickly took out a random piece of meat from the backpack space.

Sure enough, the zombie was momentarily distracted but this one second was enough for Ansel to stab through its head.

[+15 copper, +15 experience]

Respecting the holy principle of No Waste, he took back the bait-meat. However even if the zombie didn't touch it, he wouldn't be eating it after landing on the floor with who-knew-what kind of zombie goo.

He marked the meat and thought that if he ever found a fishing rod this would be its bait.

After letting himself breathe for a few seconds, he dragged himself to the elevator.

He closed his eyes and let himself rest for a few seconds of travel time. 

After all, he knew that he still had a loooong way to go before getting back home.