Ophelia's First Shot

Zorvax, armed with purpose, moved towards the spot where his colossal bone sword was propped against the rugged wall of their makeshift shelter. His movements were fluid, more assured than before, and when he wrapped his fingers around the sword's hilt, he noticed something different. The weapon, once heavy and cumbersome, now felt as if it was made of something as light as driftwood.

"It seems my strength has increased with the forced evolution," Zorvax mused, turning the sword over in his hands. A pleased grin spread across his face. "This may not be as difficult as I expected."

Meanwhile, Ophelia watched him from the corner of her eye, a subtle look of admiration on her features for the powerful figure he cut.

Noticing her gaze, Zorvax reached for the guns he had acquired from the fallen zombie gunners and presented them to Ophelia. The firearms were heavy and ominous, carrying with them the promise of destruction.

Ophelia's eyes widened as he handed them to her. "What are these for?" she asked, her voice tinged with surprise and curiosity.

"These," Zorvax began, his voice infused with a note of camaraderie, "are a gift to aid in our hunt for more zombies."

She accepted the guns, their weight significant in her slender hands. "Thank you," she said, her tone warm with gratitude. "But how do I use them?"

Zorvax explained, demonstrating the safety mechanism and the trigger with deliberate movements. "And if you can infuse elemental manipulation into the bullets, you'll have an unlimited supply."

Intrigued by the notion, Ophelia nodded thoughtfully, aiming at an abandoned structure in the distance. She focused her power, channelling it through the gun. The weapon shuddered in her grip as a fireball replaced the bullet and hurtled towards the building, obliterating it in a spectacular explosion.

"Good job!" Zorvax exclaimed, genuinely impressed. He reached out and affectionately patted Ophelia on the head, his touch surprisingly gentle.

Ophelia's smile brightened under his praise, and she gave a small, satisfied nod. The warmth from his gesture seemed to infuse her with confidence.

With the sun beginning its descent and casting long shadows across the land, the two prepared to set out. Zorvax, with his newfound strength and lighter sword, and Ophelia, now armed with destructive firearms empowered by her abilities, were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

---

The vast wasteland stretched endlessly, a stark landscape that mirrored the desolation of a world overrun by the undead. In this grim setting, Zorvax and Ophelia moved with purpose, their eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. The hunt was on.

Their journey was quiet, save for the occasional scuffle of their boots against the cracked earth. Zorvax carried his colossal bone sword with newfound ease, the weight seemingly insignificant to his enhanced strength. Ophelia walked by his side, her new guns clutched in her hands, a symbol of the trust Zorvax had placed in her.

Suddenly, the stillness was broken by a guttural roar that rolled across the plains. They both froze, then, as if by an unspoken agreement, veered towards the sound. Zorvax's stride lengthened, his cloak billowing behind him like a flag of war.

They found the source of the disruption soon enough—a level 2 zombie warrior, its growls vibrating through the air. Zorvax raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Another level 2 already? Seems like while I've been evolving, the rest haven't been sleeping either," he mused.

A smirk crept onto his lips, his eyes lighting up with the prospect of a challenge. "This is good. It means more points for us," he stated confidently.

Turning to Ophelia, he nodded towards the warrior. "Try to take it down. It will be good practice for your aim," he encouraged her.

Ophelia, understanding the importance of precision, steadied herself. She raised the gun, her arms firm despite the slight tremor of anticipation. Her finger hugged the trigger as she took aim.

Her first shot flew, swift and sure, but it missed the intended mark, instead striking the zombie warrior's hand. The impact was significant, tearing through the decayed flesh and bone.

"Not quite," Zorvax said, observing the result. "But a good start. Heavy damage inflicted. Try again."

Ophelia nodded, her lips pressed in a thin line of concentration. She realigned her sights, focusing intently on the zombie warrior who had now noticed the attack.

The zombie warrior unleashed another thunderous roar, reverberating through the desolate expanse like a drumbeat of war. This sound was different from the first—a resonance tinged not with pain but with irritation.

The creature had long since been severed from the shackles of agony, no longer privy to the body's warnings of harm. Instead, it was the indignation of being attacked, an affront to its monstrous existence, that fueled its rage.

It turned in a slow, deliberate pivot, its bulky form casting a menacing silhouette against the jagged skyline. Sunken eyes, devoid of soul or sense, swept across the barren terrain—a predator seeking the source of its ire.

With a sudden snap of its head, the zombie warrior's gaze locked onto Zorvax and Ophelia. Its pupils, once human, now shone with a bestial and sinister light, reflecting a mind lost to the feral instincts that now ruled it.

The recognition wasn't of individuals but of targets—obstacles that stood between it and its relentless desire to dominate and destroy.

For a fraction of a second, the world seemed to stand still as predator and prey acknowledged each other. Then, with a guttural snarl, the zombie warrior charged, its heavy feet pounding the earth, kicking up clouds of dust and debris.

"Here it comes," Zorvax announced, stepping slightly in front of Ophelia as the zombie charged. "Headshot this time. You can do it."

Ophelia took a deep breath, willing her heartbeat to quiet. She switched to her elemental manipulation, her powers swirling within the chamber of the gun. A bullet formed of concentrated wind energy crystallized at her command.

The trigger gave way beneath her finger, and the wind bullet soared free. Time seemed to slow as it spiralled through the air, a dance of death towards its target. The shot landed true this time, piercing the zombie's skull with a clean, fatal strike.

A leap of elation propelled Ophelia off the ground. "I did it!" she exclaimed, the thrill of victory bright in her voice.

Zorvax's smile was a rare gem, genuinely proud. "Good job," he praised, reaching out to pat her head, an affirming gesture that spoke volumes of their dynamic.

At that moment, the familiar glow of an announcement appeared before Zorvax.

---

[Zombie Points +500]

---

The message was a beacon of progress, a numeric validation of their efforts. Zorvax felt a surge of satisfaction—this was the currency of their survival, the means to continue evolving.

"Let's keep moving," he suggested with renewed energy. "There are more points to be had, and we've only just started."

As they ventured forth, the sun began to dip towards the horizon, casting long shadows behind them. Their silhouettes, one tall and imposing, the other smaller but no less determined, were the only signs of life in a desolate world.