I—Sofia—never imagined I'd witness a creature like that.
That day, we were conducting a routine patrol on the upper floor of the mall we had just reclaimed from a zombie horde the night before. Most of the area had been cleared, but the atmosphere was still unnerving. The smell of dried blood, remnants of rotting bodies, and walls covered in claw marks and bullet holes created a silence thick with tension.
But none of that compared to what awaited us at the end of the corridor.
There, amidst dozens of wandering Rank 0 zombies... stood a girl.
She looked young. Her body was thin but upright. Long hair partially covered her face. A black dress with red accents wrapped around her figure like the midnight mist. At first, I thought she was just another survivor—someone who had somehow managed to camouflage herself among the undead.
She started to move. And in mere seconds, the air turned into a massacre.
Glowing green claws slashed through air—and flesh. Each time she struck, a zombie fell apart like it had been cut by a chemical blade. Skin blistered. Muscles melted. Some even popped from within, as if hit by corrosive venom.
But what chilled me the most...
Not a mad or cruel smile. More like... someone who finally felt free.
"We... we need to fall back," I whispered to the team, my voice stuck in my throat.
"That's a zombie... right?" asked Rina, our healer, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"No. Look at how she moves. That's not a normal zombie."
Kamil, our sniper, had already raised his rifle, but I held his arm down. "Don't. She's tearing through Rank 0s like nothing. If she sees us, we might be next."
We crouched behind the broken remains of a storefront display. Holding our breath. No one spoke. No one moved. Only the sounds of ripping flesh and the groans of the undead echoed... until they slowly faded.
After several minutes—that felt like a lifetime—she finally stopped.
Without a word, the girl walked away. Her steps light, graceful, like a dancer. Not heavy like a zombie. Not frantic like a survivor.
More like... a shadow that knew she no longer belonged to this world.
Once we were sure she was truly gone, we hurried back to the underground base. No one spoke on the way. Even Dito, who was usually the loudest, stayed silent. We all knew—whatever that thing was, we couldn't fight it.
As soon as I returned to base, I wrote a report. The words felt stiff beneath my fingers, my mind still struggling to process what I had seen.
"Female creature. Young appearance. Black-and-red dress. Capable of slaughtering Rank 0 zombies within seconds. Possesses toxic or corrosive claws. Fast and precise movement. High threat level. No signs of communication or aggression toward humans so far, but danger level is confirmed to be extremely high."
The report was immediately sent to the military observation unit.
A few hours later, when I was called to the briefing room, I saw it—a new entry on the threat classification board.
CODE NAME: ZOMBIE WITCH
Status: Unknown. Suspected to be an evolved zombie individual.
Direct contact PROHIBITED, except for high-level observation or containment using special forces.
The military brass read my report with furrowed brows. Some began whispering among themselves. Others stared at drone footage capturing the girl's silhouette from afar—blurry, but clear enough to make out her striking dress and her movements... which were nothing like a zombie's.
I sat quietly, gripping a small pendant I'd kept since before the world fell apart. Its shine had faded, but it still felt warm in my hand. It used to belong to my mother. Now, it was the only thing that reminded me I was still human.
I looked at my own reflection in the glass wall of the briefing room.
There was something in that figure... something more than just a threat.
There was... suffering.
"Who are you, really...?"