The mutated zombie spun around, claws slicing through the air. One swipe narrowly missed his throat.
’Shit, its reach is too long. I need to be careful,’
He ducked and then drove his shoulder into its chest, pushing it back a step. The creature growled and swiped again, almost snagging part of his sleeve.
"Not gonna happen," Luck slashed upward, his blade cutting deep into its forearm.
The Jumper didn’t slow down. It came back even faster.
Every dodge was split-second, every block a test of strength and speed. If not for his reaction time, he’d be in pieces.
Only he and Kana stood a chance against something .
They circled each other—Luck breathing heavily, the monster bleeding but mostly okay.
Behind them, arrows rained down from the towers. Zombies fell, but not quickly enough.
Kana shouted something, but the words blurred behind the fight.
Luck gritted his teeth. This fight needed to end.
Adrenaline surged through him. His heart pounded harder, pumping blood faster with every beat.
It felt just like when he faced Johan—but this time, everything was different. His stats were way higher now. He was faster, stronger, and more dangerous.
It lunged again—claws out, teeth bared.
Luck didn’t back away this time. He stepped in and drove the sword straight through the creature’s chest.
In one smooth motion, Luck yanked it free and followed through with a slash across the neck.
The creature dropped, twitching once before it stopped moving.
"Guess not even mutant zombies can handle my awesome sword skills,"
Before he could take a breath, Kana’s voice cut through the noise like a whip.
"Another one’s running! East side!"
Luck didn’t even look. "If that one jumps too, I’m charging it rent."
The creature exploded forward—legs blasting it off the cracked pavement in a blur of motion. It soared high, passing over the wall and heading straight for Luck like a fleshy missile.
In that split second, he drew two arrows. The first hit the shoulder, just enough to throw off its momentum.
The Jumper crashed to the ground, stumbled on the landing, and turned—just in time to catch the second arrow straight between the eyes.
It did not care at all and charged forward like a rabid dog.
Luck ducked under its arms and jammed the hilt of his sword into its gut, driving it back a step. Then he kicked it in the chest.
"I can see the path of your movements, dumbass. You might be a mutated zombie, but there’s a chance I came from a planet full of super monkeys—so you’d better pray I don’t start yelling for an hour just to charge up an attack."
The monster, incapable of understanding the joke, lunged again .
Luck blocked and dodged, stepping back with each strike until he was cornered.
But that was the plan. When the creature struck, it’s claws hit the wall instead.
Luck used that moment to slice off its right arm. Before the left could reach him, he cut that off too—leaving the monster armless.
Then, without pause, he finished it with a clean beheading.
The thing shrieked and dropped to its knees.
Luck stood over the headless corpse, shoulders heaving.
"Two down..." he muttered, flicking gore off the blade. "Where is the third one?"
As if on cue, a loud crash echoed from the north side—wood splintering, metal bending.
"Okay," Luck tightened his grip on the sword. "Let’s finish this."
He didn’t have to go to it—the thing landed right on the roof. It was bigger, meaner, and looked far more dangerous than the other two.
Unlike the first two, this one didn’t attack right away. It stared at him, like it actually had some kind of intelligence.
Worse, it took the high ground—and he saw enough movies to know that was never a good sign.
"Did I say ’let’s finish this’? I meant—maybe we can talk it out? You look like you’ve got at least two brain cells left, probably bumping into each other trying to think!"
Finally, it moved—launching itself from above and using the height to strike like a comet crashing down.
Luck didn’t mess around. He jumped backward four times to create space—and he was right to do it.
The moment it landed, the Jumper lunged forward, fast.
He didn’t try to block it head-on. He waited until the last second, then sidestepped and jabbed his foot out just enough to catch the creature’s ankle.
The monster lost balance mid-charge and slammed into the pavement, tumbling through a trash bin and crashing into the wall.
"I should change your name to Floopers—’cause you sure do floop a lot," Luck laughed, already backing up as the creature scrambled to its feet.
It snarled, foam flying from its mouth, glowing eyes locked on him with pure hatred.
He raised his blade and tilted his head. "Oh, what? You don’t like that? Gonna floop again?"
Snarling, the mutant zombie threw itself at him again.
Luck dipped under the first claw swipe, then rolled to the side as the second nearly grazed his shoulder.
"Careful now." he taunted. "You’re moving like you want a technical foul."
The Jumper kept attacking without pause.
He slashed low, catching the Jumper across the thigh.
The creature howled, staggered, then charged again in a frenzy.
Steel met claws , sparks flying as they clashed in the middle of the ground.
This time, Luck stopped joking.
He could tell the Jumper was adapting. Every time he aimed for the head, it pulled back or went for his blind spot—anything to stop him from landing a clean hit.
"Don’t tell me—this one won both defensive and offensive player of the year?"
It was a wild guess, but not a stupid one. These things used to be basketball players, and it made sense that the more talented ones stayed stronger even after turning.
The creature stopped, then began swinging its arms like it was dribbling a ball.
Maybe it was just muscle memory—some leftover instinct from when it was still human.
It moved again—this time with a quick sidestep, like a crossover.
Next, it went low, faked left, then spun right. Luck brought up his sword to block, but the Jumper twisted its knee mid-spin in a perfect pivot and swung with its backhand.
Luck gritted his teeth, rolling with the blow to soften the impact.
When he got back on his feet, the Jumper didn’t press the attack.
Instead, it started miming basketball moves again—dribbling an invisible ball, shifting its weight like it was running a play.
’Definitely a point guard... and those dribbling skills are insane,’
Inhaling , he steadied himself.
That boosted state—whatever it was—couldn’t last forever, and he had no idea how many times he could tap into it.
But for this third one, he got no choice.
It moved again, closing the gap fast. But just as it stepped into striking range, it suddenly stopped, jumped back, then charged in again—trying to mess with his timing.
Fortunately, he didn’t flinch. He kept his stance tight, sword held close, waiting.
"That won’t work," Luck exhaled. "I can see the path to winning."