CHAPTER 62: INTERACTIONS WITH THE NIGHT PART 21

Seeing the creature stumble was the first thing that made Luck breathe easier.

Reading where it would strike wasn’t enough. It outclassed him in speed and strength. If he wanted to win, he had to stay at least two steps ahead.

’I need to improve...’ His eyes widened, and the world around him slowed. He was breaking through his limit, whether his body liked it or not.

As the mutated zombie crouched low, pawing at the ground like a lion sizing up its prey, he felt the tension in the air thicken.

He wasn’t the only one improving. The creature’s eyes lit up with a deep red glow, and its body began to tremble. Somehow, it looked bigger than before.

Others might’ve thought it was just a trick of the light—but he knew better. This wasn’t in his heads.

"Come on," he taunted, stepping forward with absolute confidence. "I’ll show you the peak of humanity."

With an explosive leap, the creature lunged back into the fight. It sidestepped sharply—then pulled off something that looked way too close to a basketball crossover.

Luck’s instincts kicked in; his body moved before his mind could overthink it. He sidestepped gracefully, letting the creature’s momentum carry it past him.

He felt the rush of air as the claws barely grazed his side, a reminder of the razor-thin line between survival and death in this unforgiving world.

"Nice try," he muttered, spinning to face the mutant just as it twisted its body, trying to strike with its back hand.

He ducked under it, then pivoted. The blade came up in a smooth arc, slicing across the its abdomen.

"EKKKKK!" The creature let out a high-pitched shriek, staggering backward, its claws scraping against the ground in frantic desperation.

"I’m not done yet!" He pressed forward, adrenaline electrifying his movements. This was no time for hesitation.

With quick calculations threading through his mind, he ducked under another desperate swipe, then launched himself, targeting its exposed flank.

He drove his sword deep into the side of its torso, feeling muscle and sinew give way beneath steel.

The creature howled again—this time more primal, more enraged than before.

Luck’s heart raced in sync with the pounding of his fists; he had to finish this before the creature regained its footing. His blade glinted menacingly.

The monster didn’t hold back. It attacked without thought, driven by instinct alone. The more it was taunted, the more its mind gave way to fury.

Luck counted its movements, reading the patterns like a well-timed dance—waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

When it made another reckless charge, it left itself vulnerable.

"Time to end this." Luck sidestepped and drove the sword straight into the mutated Jumper’s exposed side again, feeling the resistance of its rib cage before finally tearing through flesh.

Luck twisted his wrist, using the momentum to free the blade from its wound as he sidestepped another wild swipe.

The Jumper, now faltering but still dangerous, attack again in a desperate attempt to sink its teeth into him.

"Told you—I’ve seen those clumsy moves a hundred times already!" Luck dropped low and rolled aside just as the zombie’s jaws snapped where his head had been.

"You’re gonna have to be faster if you want a bite of this snack." He came up behind it in one motion, blade already swinging.

slash!

The head flew off clean, landing with a dull thud.

"Too slow," he muttered, flicking the blood from his sword.

"So this is the peak of humanity, huh?" He stood there, staring at the moon for a few seconds—like some wannabe main character charging up his aura for a dramatic cutscene.

A quick flashback played in his head—his so-called training arc. The struggle, the grind, the near-death exhaustion just to get this far.

Then he remembered how he spent most of his life playing video games, binge-watching anime, skipping exercise , and avoiding human interaction like it was a side quest he didn’t care about.

One day, he just decided to be a badass. And somehow... it worked.

’Guess some people train. I just woke up and started breathing awesomeness.’

"We still have the zombie issue!" Fernando shouted.

"Oh, right." Luck scratched his head, and bolted back toward the watchtower. "My bad, got a little too into the moment."

He kept firing arrows, each shot dropping a zombie clean. When the horde began to thin out, he vaulted over the wall and charged in, blade ready.

The others watched in disbelief, half impressed, half wondering if he finally snapped.

Most survivors screamed and ran when they saw zombies. Luck ran at them—like it was a Black Friday sale and they were the last TVs.

Geo whispered to Peter, "Is he possessed?"

Little did they know, Luck wasn’t trying to impress anyone. His weapon just needed to feed.

The weapon started to shake, almost vibrating with excitement. It practically screamed, "More! More!"

"Chill out," he swung again. "We’re not leaving anytime soon. You’ll get your buffet."

His words seemed to work. The blade stopped twitching like it was on a sugar high, finally calming down.

"Good," Luck said, stepping forward. "Now let’s get back to work."

Zombies rushed him from both sides, groaning and flailing, but he moved through them.

One clean slice took down three in a row. Another tried to lunge, but he spun and kicked it straight .

His sword hissed with each hit, glowing faintly like it was enjoying the violence a little too much.

Up on the wall, a few survivors just watched with wide eyes.

"Is he... smiling?" Geo asked.

"He’s laughing, bro!" Peter replied.

Luck ducked under a swing, elbowed a zombie in the jaw, then stabbed it through the chest without even breaking momentum.

Thanks to him, the wave finally ended.

Zombies lay scattered across the field, limbs twitching, heads rolling, and a few still stuck to the barbwires like bad decorations.

Luck stood in the middle of it all, catching his breath

"Not bad," he wiped his blade. "Could’ve used more of a challenge, though."

Not wanting to make more noise, he skipped the gate and climbed the pile of dead zombies instead, using their bodies like a very gross staircase over the wall.

’Disgusting,’ he muttered, ’but effective.’

Fernando, leaning over the edge of the watchtower, let out a exhausted breath. "I didn’t think we’d make it out alive

"Did you see how Big Boss moved?" Dima called out from below, eyes wide with excitement. "With him around, we’re untouchable!"

Luck’s ears perked up at the chatter. The survivors were beginning to talk about him—not just as their leader, but their savior.

’Good. With this, starting my own cult shouldn’t be a problem,’ he nodded like it was a perfectly normal thought.

The main requirement? Looking like someone way beyond human. And honestly, he already had that in the bag.

’Should I make a miracle happen?’ he muttered, rubbing his chin. ’Maybe order some donuts... and just make it appear out of nowhere? Yeah. That’ll get the prayers rolling.’

He paused, imagining a glowing loaf floating in the air while people cried on their knees.

’Not good. I’m getting sidetracked again by my overactive imagination,’ he sighed. ’Focus—need to check if everyone’s okay.’