03 | A Struggle

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The zombie's remains rained like Ash fall—just like the one when I was three. I extinguished Dor; my reserves were low.

Phew.

I sighed as I looked around. I had some Dor when I fell—some were of better quality, even.

After a while of stalking around the collapsed debris, I managed to find two more—they were, thankfully, intact. A morsel of pure Dor shimmering red inside the carefully crafted spherical crystal-like shell.

The other was like the first, the only difference being that it emitted an orange hue instead of a red.

I'd brought the most common and worst kind of Dor—red—with me, believing that a simple investigation mission couldn't punish me for being a scrimp.

How wrong I was.

But, thankfully, I had enough brain cells that I brought two Oranges as well—it was a different matter that only one remained though.

(A/N: Ok, sorry, I'm interrupting again. Dor has a tier system based on colors, so don't confuse the reds, and oranges, with normal colors. Of course, the other colors will be revealed as the story progresses.)

I should've brought more.

Haah. Well, it's not like I'm infallible.

I'm just a human—half-human, actually—what do you expect of me?

A booming shriek brought me out of my mind.

"They're coming, get ready." Doryu alerted.

"Ah, Try not to have direct skin contact with these ones," Doryu said.

"They're different from the zombies." He puffed out of me.

Weren't you just saying something about death's heat being too dangerous for you?

I asked sarcastically.

Doryu capitalized on his right to remain silent—which I hated by the way.

The f*cker could read my mind akin to an open book—literally—but I couldn't.

How's this fair?

I lamented internally.

"The world isn't fair, dude," Doryu said, dryly.

"Never was and you know it."—then, staring in my eyes, he continued—"I didn't help you because of your foolhardiness. You didn't bring Dor just because you 'thought' that this was just gonna be a 'simple' investigation. You don't think of the implications of your decisions. You simply don't think about them. And because of that, stuff happened to others, and some of them are even gone- "

"You know NOTHING!" I snapped, my head throbbing.

"You're just something Drake created."

Doryu looked at me for a moment, then, shaking his head, he walked away.

"Yeah, I don't. But you do." He said as he sprang forth, disappearing in the darkness.

I stood there for a moment, pondering over what he'd said.

Hearing a loud screech, I pushed the thoughts deep inside and lurched forward as I bit my lower lip.

Toppling over a rock, I clinched one of the remaining Dor; the red one. Orange would be left for emergencies.

Doryu was nowhere to be seen.

I frowned as a zombie sprang into existence, ten paces away.

The darkness was limiting my vision, I'd have to be on guard; these creatures might come out of anywhere and I wouldn't even know where I was struck from.

I was upon the zombie in just but a few moments. Jumping forth, I didn't burn Dor; sure I'd just consumed some, but the reserves were still limited.

I'd have to use it sparingly and carefully.

Lashing my raised knee at the zombie—slower and sluggish than the one I'd fought before—I whipped out my dagger from the holster—which lay upon my waist—and tightened my grip around it.

I burned Dor, but instead of using my spark—for blowing up the zombie—I enhanced my strength.

My muscles tightened. Feeling the surge of strength, I landed on the zombie's chest, hitting it with my knees.

As the zombie teetered, I whipped the dagger at its throat with a Dor-enhanced swing.

The zombie collapsed, throat slit.

But before it could get the chance to stand up again, Its brain matter splattered because of my Dor-enhanced kick.

I had read enough novels about zombies in my head—courtesy of my ever-growing and ever-popping snippets of strange knowledge. Which, even strangely, stayed instead of fading away like my sh*ty memories—to know that to kill these brain-dead c*ck-suckers, you needed to blow their head to smithereens

I stood cautiously, focusing on my ears, listening for sounds in the darkness.

Sounds that could alarm me if more came. There were none, for now, that is.

I left the zombie behind, letting Dor burn; more zombies could pop out any moment, I needed the strength when the need arose lest I get kissed by these ugly-faced.

If I was to burn Dor—only for enhancing my strength—it could last long, minutes even. Given that I enhance just a bit and enhance more when the need arose.

Stalking down the darkened cave, I couldn't help but frown slightly.

There it was, the same burnt butter-like smell.

I inferred that it was a zombie; as the last time such a smell had wafted in my nose, I had paid with an arm. The zombie had scared the sh*t out of me and my precarious ability had set the Dor ablaze, blasting my arm away.

I couldn't let such a thing happen again; If I was careful and didn't get jump-scared by anything, I could keep my nerves in check resulting in saving any unfortunate body part which would blow—only when Dor was inside my stomach, that is.

Normally, I was fine.

The rough rocky surface was slick beneath; water? Or some other kind of liquids?

No time to find out.

I walked through the dark cave, slowing down when I saw a passage, curving sharply.

There could be more zombies, so I crouched, staying as silent as possible.

The air was getting damper and colder the deeper I ventured. I inferred that there wasn't any lava in here as it was cold instead of warm.

That was good, this cave wasn't connected to a volcano.

I sneaked near the passage, readying myself in case of a jump scare. I heard a sound, it was one of those: a zombie—if that was its real name in the first place.

I scurried forth, turning sharply over the passage. The zombie was looking away, not in my direction.

They were sensitive to sound—courtesy of my memory—and would react to even small noise.

So I didn't sneak behind, instead, I jumped forward. Propelling myself by pushing against the cave wall with my left foot. I kicked its ass, sending it hurtling.

Capitalizing on the chance, I pulled it backward.

As it hit the ground, I plunged my dagger into its eye socket and into its brain, successfully neutralizing the zombie.

Its dangling eyeball got cut away, rolling like an egg.

Hearing the thumps of approaching footsteps, I froze.

Then, I pushed away my dagger, tearing it away from the zombie's skull, goo-ish brain matter oozing out like melting ice cream on hot summer midday.

I stood on guard, my attention everywhere around me, my ears strained to the fullest so that they could pick up any type of noise.

A figure walked out of the darkness. A zombie? No; it had a sword in its hand.

The flesh on its body was pale and limp, patches of it flailing about. Especially the flesh on its face.

"You . . . " It spoke, its creaky voice sending me the chills.

" . . . You . . . have dis . . . turbed . . . our . . . lords . . . re . . . turn . . . I . . . shall . . . "

Before it could continue, I jolted forth and blazed Dor, this time, enhancing my agility.

The relishing feeling of being stronger than my opponent vanished and weakness took over me.

But—pushing through the protest of my muscles at losing strength—I toppled forth toward the somewhat-intelligible zombie.

I stumbled—as only my speed had increased, not my ability to comprehend such speed nor adapting to it—but I managed to avoid falling and pushed the zombie, who had the sword raised in the air to strike me.

The zombie was too slow—probably the price it had to pay for its intelligence—but I was too fast for even my own comprehension.

I managed to jerk the sword away from its hand just as I began to slow down—and fell face first on the ground.

F*ck!

I paled. Changing the burning from strength to speed had cost me dearly.

The Dor I'd consumed was red. It had given me minutes of strength but changing between strength and speed had emptied my reserves—I was surprised that it had even lasted this long.

Now, only one burn; a single burst, was left.

There was the Orange Dor. But I wasn't going to use it, it was for emergencies.

Yes, I did not deem this as an emergency.

I pushed myself up before the zombie could get near me. My muscles protested and my vision was getting blurry.

I put the dagger in its holster and raised the sword with my right hand.

As the zombie got near, I gripped the sword tightly, with both hands, and waited. Just as the zombie got in my range, I burned Dor, it wasn't enough, not nearly. I increased my strength, but as I was weakened, the strength increase only returned my normal—without Dor—strength for a moment. It was enough.

I slashed—forcing every fiber of my muscle—in a single slice.

As the sword neared the zombie, it ducked slightly.

Sh*t!

It was slow, but ducking slightly at the last moment, it managed to evade any deadly injuries.

The slash—which was supposed to sever its head—only managed to slice a chunk of its flesh.

And, that was it.

My vision darkened—not black, I could still, somewhat, see—as I teetered. Then, my grip on the sword loosened and I started falling down.

I'd strained my muscles too much in a short time. Now, I would be in a state similar to paralysis for a while. Conscious, but in a state of paralysis.

I felt the zombie grip my right shoulder, its finger piercing through my shoulder blade.

If I could move, I would've grimaced in pain.

I felt it inject something inside.

But, I . . . I was strong. I refused to . . . Surrender myself to pain.

In that state, I felt the rough and rugged ground against my back. My back was stinging; probably got cut somewhere.

The Zombie took me somewhere. It took a while, but after it stopped in front of a wall, it put his hand against it and a tunnel opened.

Wh-what?

I felt myself hurtling inside the tunnel.

The f*cker threw me!

So, I was right. It was strong, just slow because its mind couldn't send signals to his organs fast enough-

My inner monologue halted as I felt a sudden burst of pain wash over the back of my head.

Did I hit some rock or something?

That was the last thought I had before falling unconscious.

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