Before Chen Liu could react, three searing scratches tore across his face. The pain burned like fire. A black blur shot past him, landing at the doorway to block his path. His attacker was his own burly, dark-brown Burmese cat, now turned against its master. The cat licked its bloodstained paw, its red eyes glowing brighter with malice.
Moments before Chen Liu entered, the cat and the female zombie had been locked in a tense standoff. His arrival shifted the dynamic, the two mutated creatures silently aligning—one in front, one behind—to trap him. A newly awakened Chen Liu might have panicked, but now he stayed focused. Ignoring the cat, he charged the zombie, knowing its strength posed the greater threat. The cat, though fierce, couldn’t yet deliver a fatal blow. It’s too fast to hit anyway, he thought, his expression hardening. Better to risk injury, eliminate the zombie, then deal with the cat.
Chen Liu moved swiftly, but the cat was faster. As he closed in on the zombie, the cat leapt at his back, claws bared. Slash, slash—his clothes ripped like paper, six bloody gashes blooming across his back. The cunning cat darted away after the strike, crouching at a distance, and waiting for another opening. Chen Liu grimaced, pain shooting through him. I’m not built for this, he thought, recalling childhood scrapes he’d shrugged off. Adulthood had softened him; even minor bumps left him wincing. Now, the agony in his back threw off his balance. His mallet swing missed, grazing the zombie’s side.
The zombie seized the moment, pouncing with shriveled limbs. Her claws dug into his flesh, her jaws snapping at his throat—a typical zombie attack. Simultaneously, the cat struck again, aiming for his neck, a vulnerable target that could mean death with one swipe. I’m trapped, Chen Liu thought. In desperation, he dropped the mallet, gripped the zombie’s throat with both hands, and shoved her forward with raw strength, disrupting the cat’s lunge. They stumbled into the coffee table.
Ignoring the cat’s hungry stare, Chen Liu slammed the zombie onto the table. He grabbed a heavy ashtray and brought it down with force. Crack—the zombie’s skull shattered, gore splattering across the wood. His eyes burned with a wild intensity, matching the undead’s ferocity. The cat, undeterred, leapt again, tearing deeper into his back. Blood and shredded flesh coated his skin. “Damn it!” Chen Liu roared, pain and rage overwhelming him. He hurled the ashtray with all his might. Thud—by luck or fate, it struck the cat mid-air. MEEOW—the cat shrieked and crashed to the ground.
Chen Liu lunged, pinning the stunned cat beneath his knees. Ignoring its thrashing claws, he grabbed its head and twisted. Crack—the neck snapped, twisted fully around. The cat’s red glow faded, its body still. Exhausted, Chen Liu collapsed to the floor. The fight, though brief, was his most perilous yet. Staring at the cat’s corpse, he thought, Zombies are bad enough, with their brittle skulls, he thought. Mutated beasts are worse. He assumed that animals, with lower intelligence, either awakened fully or not at all, became brutal and unpredictable with unique abilities. This cat had turned bloodthirsty, showing no loyalty to its former master. Love turned to bloodlust, he thought darkly. Other beasts, more docile but intelligent, could pose an even greater threat in time. I can barely survive now—humanity’s fate is too big to worry about, he concluded.
Through gritted teeth, he collected the zombie’s cylindrical crystal and the cat’s prism-shaped core. Mutated beast cores converted energy at twice the rate of zombie crystals, yielding a full strand of source energy per one-star core. With five zombie cores and the cat’s core, Chen Liu absorbed them all, reaching 3.5 strands in his dantian. He thought excitedly, one more zombie core, and I hit Three Stars. Eight strands marked Three-Star status, but levelling wasn’t simple. Beginner Awakened (one to three stars) doubled energy requirements per level; intermediate (four to six) quadrupled; advanced (seven to nine) multiplied by eight. A Nine-Star Awakened needed a whopping 262,144 strands.
His wounds had scabbed over, a perk of awakening. No instant healing, but no infections either, he thought, his face reflecting quiet relief. Minor injuries wouldn’t hinder him. He stripped off his bloodied clothes and stepped into a hot shower. The warm water eased his tense nerves, a fleeting moment of calm. Soon, even this will be a luxury, he thought, his expression somber. The past day’s chaos replayed in his mind—Old Wang’s transformation, the corpses, the cat. It felt like a lifetime ago. History had surged, overturning the civilized world overnight. Chaos and brutality loomed before a new order could emerge. Can humanity still rule Earth? he wondered, his face tightening. For now, survival was his only goal.
After the shower, Chen Liu dressed in a tracksuit and hiking boots, better suited for combat. Through these battles, he’d begun to forge a warrior’s mindset. He cut apart two leather travel bags, stitching them into crude armor—two cowhide slabs, one front, one back, secured with belts. Real leather, at least, he observed. It might blunt a cat’s claws. His first piece of protective gear complete, he made a bucket of instant noodles, the warmth steadying him. He checked the sanatorium’s group chat on Old Wang’s phone. Over 99 unread messages greeted him. Survivors, he thought, a flicker of relief softening his face. He wasn’t alone.
thINKer: In a zombie apocalypse, even cats want a bite 😂