There was no way to reach the laboratory, not when so many mutated plants guarded it.

  Venom everywhere. Spores that did not make any zombie, no, they just killed. Carnivorous plants the size of a bus. Fungi bigger than apartments. Monsters that didn’t resemble humans, not anymore, recognisable only for the pieces of lab coats and torn clothes.

  Francesco was immune, not immortal. Some minor strength enhancement could do only so much.

  He had scouted the perimeter for months, looking for a way in.

  A network of bukers and underground structures was the answer.

  Whatever filled it would be the stuff of nightmares; zombies mutated to impossible levels, unbreathable air, plants turned to untold mostrosities. There was a reason he was the only one who would accept this challenge.

  Gotta die a hero, I guess.

  The entrance he chose was the safest, an underground deposit, but even then, dozens of zombies guarded it, likely the old workers or people who lived close. Green blades and needles emerged from their skin, dried blood around them.

  Hollies. Let’s see… right now, they shouldn’t be too dangerous. None should have gone to combat, there are no signs of struggle or fight on their clothes. Which means, their blades have yet to develop into actual weapons. There are only ten too close to the entrance.

  Let’s go.

  He passed the old barrier, it was the ones that were once supposed to stop cars, its white and red paint faded away from age, and dashed straight, ignoring the monsters that turned around to follow him.

  He quickly pierced the skulls of two in his path, not stopping for even a second, sure of his kill.

  Eight to go.

  He slashed off the head of one, then gave first the butt of the spear then the blade to another, dodging the swipe of a third, which he killed the instant after. Without counting how many were left, he ignored the ones that left their hiding to get him, shoved another away, and ran straight to the rusty door at the end.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Three were guarding it.

  Stab the first, kill, and recover the weapon; push back the one on the right, and get through the head of the one on the left; turn around and-

  The first wasn’t dead, the wound quickly healing, and the blades all over its body grew bigger; it swiped at him, but thanks to an expert dodge, all that it left was a red line on his cheek. In response, Francesco put it down properly.

  As more joined the fray, he was forced to create some distance, leaving the door for later.

  Fuck! Shitfuckgoddamit! Holly pile!

  The monsters were, in fact, barely aware of each other. With one shared target and blades covering their bodies, they would end up cutting themselves and their similars apart.

  Longer, bigger, sharper weapons were born in a matter of seconds, and in turn, their lack of control had them tear each other to shreds even more.

  The man scratched his itchy stubble and wished for time for a cigarette; all the time he had, instead, was dedicated to finding the holes in their flailing and getting whatever head he found within his reach, ending as many “lives” as possible before they managed to untangle.

  What was left was a singular one, standing.

  From its arms and head extended more-than-razor-sharp weapons, long just as much as his spear. The same blades came from the sides of its torso, almost like a second set of arms, and two more covered the length of its legs, trading range in exchange for a perfect line from hips to knees, and knees to feet.

  When their attacks met, the skill and experience of one was matched by the raw power and number of longswords of the other. Cuts and thrusts flowed and rained, both trying to kill the other time and time again.

  The air whistled as neither gave up, until Francesco feinted to the side, abusing the creature’s simplicity, and closed in with a knife to pierce the brain.

  Dragging himself away, he rested on the door.

  He opened his last pack cigarettes. All that jostling around in his backpack hadn’t been healthy, but he still had seven intact.

  Turning them to six, he relaxed for the few minutes it lasted.

  When he was done, he threw the butt on that corpse that had lasted too long, spitefully hoping it would catch fire.

  He did not check whether it did or not, opting to cross the door instead.

  More danger was awaiting him.