Chapter 174

               

Sweeper moved toward the department store with nothing but a hand axe in one hand.

He needed no other weapons.

His near-running pace gradually slowed as his chaotic thoughts settled.

Aside from having lost what was his and having his own people killed, the anticipation for the battle ahead made his blood run cold with excitement.

His movements were as light as a ghost’s—so much so that even some zombies didn’t react until he’d already passed by.

Arriving at the department store entrance, Sweeper headed straight for the nearby subway without hesitation. He’d been here once before. The building’s layout was still in his head.

Using the passage connected to the subway, Sweeper entered the interior of the department store.

His body, hidden by darkness, gradually shed its shadows and came into view.

Two guards, frowning as he walked in confidently, rubbed their eyes in disbelief when they realized who he was. Their pupils widened as if they might burst.

“Q-quick, report to the executive! Sweeper is—urk!”

A hand axe buried itself in the yelling man’s throat. His eyes bulged as if they’d burst from the pain.

“A-aaaah…”

The other guard tried to run, but didn’t make it far. The hand axe, spinning through the air, smashed his skull.

…

Sweeper yanked out the axe with a twist. Thick, bright red blood gushed out.

He wiped the sole of his shoe on the corpse’s clothes and hurried on.

There were quite a few Goldmoon survivors, but the department store was too big to guard every passage. Not only the department store, but also the multi-level shopping mall connected by sky bridges had to be watched.

Sweeper slowly scanned the department store interior from the second-floor sky bridge connecting to the shopping mall.

Just like the day he first encountered the executive, and as before, zombies wandered inside the building. The survivors had deliberately released zombies inside so others couldn’t escape easily.

‘What a twisted hobby.’

The stench of rotting corpses stung his nose. Sweeper covered his nose and searched for any place Bora might be.

As much as he wanted to kill everyone, he forced down the urge to rampage.

Securing the kid’s safety and rescuing her came first.

They saw him as a threat, and the best way to control a threat was to take Bora hostage. He was certain they wouldn’t harm her. Sweeper was convinced she was alive, and he was sure he could rescue her. He had no doubt.

With a much calmer mind, Sweeper thoroughly searched the interior, raising his eyebrows as he suddenly hid himself.

“…?”

What’s that?

There was another intruder besides him. A man clad head to toe in leather, a bandana mask covering his nose, deadly weapons hanging from both hands, his thighs, and his back.

Sweeper instinctively scanned him. If he didn’t have a keen eye, he wouldn’t have noticed—the man moved so stealthily. At least 180cm tall, solidly built, not skinny at all.

He looked like someone not to be trifled with.

He’d appear and disappear from view, and the way he thoroughly subdued every Goldmoon survivor he met made Sweeper’s heart race.

Subdued was putting it mildly—it was clear, definite killing. He would cover their mouths, stab the neck, snap it, or drive a weapon through the brain to ensure no problems remained.

Judging by his skill, he was no ordinary person.

Despite the apocalypse, his hair was cleanly two-blocked and loosely swept back. His neat appearance radiated arrogance, as if this chaos meant nothing to him.

He was one of Sweeper’s own kind.

Sweeper knew it at a glance.

He felt both surprise and delight.

They say the enemy of my enemy is my friend. If he teamed up with this man, he was sure his objective would be much easier to achieve.

Sweeper didn’t hesitate. He carefully approached the man—not to surprise him, but just to quietly propose an alliance.

“…!”

But Sweeper instinctively kicked out. As he was about to call out, the man spun around, aiming a crossbow at him. The murderous intent hit him like a wave.

The urge to kill was clear—Sweeper’s body reacted before he knew it.

‘Danger—’

He reflexively kicked the crossbow aside.

‘What the—?!’

Fortunately, he prevented it from firing, but his heart nearly stopped. He’d hidden his presence completely. He was sure the man couldn’t have noticed him. Yet he’d reacted instantly, almost as if he’d read Sweeper’s mind. Sweeper gritted his teeth.

“What the hell, attacking me out of nowhere?”

He was about to try talking, but the man’s hand moved toward his waist for a weapon. Sweeper had no idea what it was, but judging by the murderous aura, it was definitely dangerous.

He thought they were the same kind—but this guy was even deadlier. He’d attack, or even kill, without hesitation.

‘Gotta subdue him.’

Trying to talk was useless now, and this kind of dangerous back-and-forth was bad for both. First impressions be damned—he had to subdue him. He could do it. In one-on-one fights, he’d never lost. He’d never even considered the word defeat.

Sweeper aimed a kick at the man’s jaw. But his toes only brushed a few strands of the man’s hair, barely missing. Sweeper’s eyes widened.

‘What the—did he predict that?’

He hadn’t dodged by watching. He ducked in advance, as if he knew what was coming before the kick even went out.

‘Monster…!’

For the first time ever, Sweeper felt he’d messed with the wrong guy. He felt both awe, fear, and a surge of competitive spirit.

For a moment, the two locked eyes in a tense standoff.

He looked just as surprised. What’s with this guy? He was obviously taken aback. Sweeper grinned.

Surprised? My kick is pretty fast, even I think so.

His reflexes had improved three or four times since before the outbreak, almost like awakening a superpower. At first it was hard to adjust, but over time he adapted completely. Honestly, even dodging that attack deserved applause.

Then, the stranger’s foot struck low. It was such a simple move that Sweeper failed to react in time.

‘Ugh…’

He staggered. The man’s heavy body pressed down on him.

‘Are you crazy?’

He looked mid-to-late twenties, maybe early thirties at most, but every move was that of a grizzled veteran. He acted like he’d spent his life in hand-to-hand combat.

But if it’s a dirty brawl, I won’t lose either, man.

Sweeper dodged a swinging fist with a head motion, then landed a quick punch to the man’s chin.

The man flinched and his grip loosened. Sweeper used both legs to throw him off, then rolled back for distance.

“Ptui.”

The man spat, blood mixed in the saliva. He scowled deeply.

Wow, he must really be pissed.

The fight resumed.

The man dodged Sweeper’s punch, and Sweeper blocked a knee strike with both hands. Then came a headbutt.

Thud—

The man reeled.

See, my head’s harder than stone.

Sweeper grinned and kicked the man. He tumbled across the floor. Honestly, the winner was already—

“Whoa, whoa.”

“Move a step and I’ll shoot.”

So he took a hit on purpose and rolled away for distance.

He had another gun. Sweeper slowly raised his hands.

“Calm down, man. Why the sudden attack? I just wanted to talk.”

He tried to subdue him and then talk, but maybe the other guy wanted the same.

Sweeper swallowed.

Damn, can’t believe I’m the one being subdued!

“You’re the one who approached suspiciously.”

“Ah, sorry. Moving quietly is just a habit.”

After speaking, Sweeper watched the man’s face, giving a big, harmless smile.

“If you shoot, we’re both dead anyway. The place is full of gangsters below.”

So why not put it down?

But as the man attached a silencer, Sweeper’s hopes were dashed.

“I just want to talk. Don’t be so cold.”

“State your business.”

“I’ve been watching, you’re searching this department store top to bottom. You’ve got business here, right?”

“None of your business.”

Tough crowd.

“I have business here, too. Let’s cooperate.”

“Any companions?”

Sweeper hesitated a moment.

After a split second, he intentionally lied.

“No. I’ve always been alone. What do you say? I’m Sweeper.”

“Sweeper?”

“It’s a nickname.”

“Who gave you such a cheesy nickname?”

“I did. Why?”

Cheesy? That kinda hurts, you know.

Sweeper kept his hands up.

The man, still aiming the gun at his torso, moved slowly toward the crossbow he’d dropped. Sweeper flinched.

I said I’m not your enemy, man.

Sweeper did his best to show he meant no harm, but the man picked up the crossbow and aimed it at him.

“Anything else to say?”

“Well…”

Wait—

He grabbed the crossbow to avoid making noise?

“Guess not.”

Damn it!

At that moment, Sweeper cursed inside and moved.

Murderous intent radiated from the man. He’d kill without a second thought.

He was never the type to cooperate from the start. The instant Sweeper moved, the crossbow fired.

Sweeper dodged instantly, grabbing the railing and jumping down.

As he landed, he bounced off the railing on the lower floor, kicked a zombie near the door, and sprang back up.

At this point, forced cooperation was the only option.

“Ah, seriously! Why’d you have to shoot?”

But he was strong—definitely worth using as a tool.

Sweeper took a deep breath and shouted at the top of his lungs.

“There’s an intruder! An armed intruder on the third floor! In front of Olive Young on the third floor!”

Good luck with the aftermath, man.

Sweeper dodged the swarming zombies and slipped into the store.