Chương 33: Blackout

As his Max HP steadily climbed, now creeping toward the 200 mark, Vince could distinctly feel the raw physical power coursing through his muscles. His makeshift curtain-rod spear now felt noticeably light and flimsy in his hands. It wasn't sturdy enough, nor was it heavy enough. If his weapon had been solid enough, Vince was confident that he could have split a zombie's skull wide open with a single, devastating baseball swing, just like the survivor leader had done earlier today!

But with a hollow curtain rod, that was out of the question. A heavy lateral swing would just bend the metal in half. Because of this, despite his rapidly growing strength, Vince was forced to rely almost entirely on thrusting attacks, rarely utilizing blunt-force swings. Pondering this dilemma, he rummaged through the cleared apartments in the building. He found a few heavy bone-cleavers and even a small hand axe, but he couldn't find anything that truly qualified as a heavy polearm.

Frustrated, he scavenged another curtain rod from the sixth floor around 8: 00 PM to serve as a backup. He was just about to head home and sleep when his eyes landed on something in the stairwell landing: the exposed, heavy-duty building heating pipes. He walked over and rapped his knuckles hard against the metal. A deep, solid, resonant thud echoed back. Now this looks sturdy... He ran an extension cord out into the hallway, hooked up his angle grinder, and sliced a section of the pipe free.

Given the apocalyptic circumstances, the city's winter central heating was never coming back on anyway. This was the perfect recycling opportunity. The pipe was roughly four centimeters in diameter, with solid steel walls nearly four millimeters thick. It appeared to be galvanized steel, and because central heating water was full of impurities, the inner walls were caked with a thick layer of rust and mineral scale, making it significantly heavier and denser. Vince didn't hold back. He cut two 1.

7-meter lengths from the ground floor lobby, and four 1-meter lengths from the upper stairwells, yielding six pipes in total. Sparks flew as he used the angle grinder to meticulously shave one end of each pipe into a vicious, razor-sharp point. When he had crafted his first spear, he hadn't sharpened the point this aggressively. For one, he had been inexperienced and afraid of cutting himself. Secondly, the curtain rod was too thin; a needle-fine point would easily crumple and roll upon hitting bone.

But with these heating pipes, that was completely a non-issue. A four-millimeter-thick solid steel wall was practically impossible to dent or snap. Forget stabbing zombies—if he dropped this thing point-down from the sixth floor, it would punch straight through an engine block... Vince hefted the 1. 7-meter spear in his hands. It weighed over ten pounds, nearly double the weight of his old spear. This weight far exceeded historical combat spears, rivaling the heft of heavy battle-axes or sledgehammers.

For an ordinary person, a spear this heavy was nothing more than a gym weight. Just keeping it balanced would be a struggle, let alone rapidly swinging it in combat. But Vince's current strength was leagues above a normal human's. While he wasn't quite at the level of punching a zombie's head off bare-handed, wielding a ten-pound steel spear with blistering speed was no problem at all. While he was at it, he took the leftover curtain rods and ground them into two lighter spears—one long, one short.

Compared to the heating pipes, they felt like feathers. They were perfectly suited for Claire, allowing her to start familiarizing herself with polearms. When Vince hauled his new arsenal back into the apartment, he noticed the main living room lights were still off. Only the dim nightlight cast a soft glow. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Claire was on her yoga mat, in the middle of a rhythmic aerobic routine.

Vince thought to himself: I was just grinding solid steel in the hallway a minute ago. The zombies outside must be going absolutely berserk from the noise. Turning on one light bulb isn't going to make a difference. But upon further reflection, he reconsidered. After all, the threat outside wasn't just mindless zombies anymore. There were likely many survivors hiding in the dark, some of whom might harbor malicious intentions.

Noise could only give away a general direction, but a lit window in the dead of night painted a massive bullseye on their exact apartment. Being targeted by desperate, starving humans was a terrible feeling.

"From now on, even if the zombie horde downstairs disperses, try to keep the lights off at night..." Vince instructed Claire. He then handed her the custom-made curtain-rod spears.

"Give these a try. How's the weight?" This was the most suitable weapon he could provide her for now. It was on the lighter side, but he had personally field-tested its lethality; it was guaranteed to get the job done. Claire took the spear and weighed it in her hands. The balance was perfect. Swinging it like a bat would be exhausting and ineffective, but thrusting with it was completely manageable.

Vince used rolls of medical adhesive tape to wrap the grip sections of the shafts, creating a highly textured, non-slip surface. Watching him, Claire mirrored his actions, meticulously wrapping the grip of her own spear. Witnessing the brutal betrayal of the survivors earlier today had solidified Claire's absolute resolve to grow stronger. Vince was right: relying on others was a fool's errand. You could only rely on yourself. If you were weak, you just had to grind until you weren't.

She dragged a massive stuffed animal out from a corner, propped it against the wall, gripped her spear with both hands, and began fiercely practicing her thrusts. After finishing the grips on his own weapons, Vince stepped over to correct her posture and kinetic chain a few times, then left her to her training. He planned to teach her the anatomical weak points of zombies when they had a proper chance. Judging by her current stance and determination, she absolutely had the potential to become a capable "Hunter."

After washing up and getting ready for bed, Vince paused in the living room, hesitating for a moment before turning to Claire.

"Claire, you should go to sleep early too. Make a large batch of food tomorrow morning. I'm probably going to have to head outside..."

"Ah?!" Hearing that Vince was planning to leave the building, Claire immediately dropped her spear and hurried over.

"You're going outside?! How are you even going to get out?" She pointed a trembling finger toward the window, indicating the sea of undead below.

"Mhm... don't worry, I have a plan." Vince smiled reassuringly at her.

"I'm just going out to lure them away. Having them constantly besieging our building isn't a long-term solution..." Having a massive horde surrounding them seemed relatively low-risk as long as they stayed inside, but it carried countless hidden dangers. In this entire building, the only unchecked apartments left were 502, the two units on the second floor, and one on the first floor. Units 102 and 502 were dead silent, implying they were empty.

The two units on the second floor both had movement inside; they likely held one zombie each. The problem was that the horde was currently piled up directly below the balconies. Vince didn't dare rappel down to the second floor. If something went wrong, or if a mutated zombie spawned down there while he was dangling on a rope directly above a hundred snapping jaws, he would be serving himself up on a silver platter...

Furthermore, with this many zombies packed so tightly together, the probability of a new mutated variant spawning was uncomfortably high. If multiple mutants spawned at once, even he would struggle to survive. Then there was the issue of the three survivors who had escaped today. Who knew when they might pull that exact same stunt again? Human nature was predictable: once a tactic worked, people developed a path of least resistance.

If those bastards made it a habit to lure zombies to Vince's building every time they needed to scavenge for food, the situation would quickly become completely unmanageable. Therefore, Vince had decided: tomorrow morning, he was going out to kite the horde away. He had originally intended to wait until morning to tell Claire to avoid making her worry all night, but he hadn't been able to hold it in.

"..." Seeing that Vince's mind was made up, Claire knew she couldn't change it. She could only look at him with wide, pitiful eyes.

"Then you have to come back..."

"Heh... Of course I'm coming back. Where else would I go?" Vince chuckled, amused by her puppy-dog expression.

"Then you have to come back early..." Claire continued, her voice small and pleading.

"... Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen to me. I'll be back early." Vince heard the deep, unspoken reliance in her words and answered with absolute certainty.

"Get some rest. I'm going to sleep." He waved at her and retreated to his bedroom. After a long, chaotic day, Vince was genuinely exhausted. Now, he had upgraded his arsenal, acquired two powerful new zombie crystals, and expanded his combat capabilities into an entirely new dimension. Moreover, Vince had a strong gut feeling that once his Max HP broke through the 200 or 300 threshold, his physical abilities would undergo another massive qualitative leap!

With the internet completely dead, his smartphone addiction had naturally cured itself. Lying in bed, Vince drifted effortlessly into a deep sleep.... The next morning at 7: 30 AM, Vince—who was sleeping with earplugs in—was jolted awake by Claire frantically pounding on his bedroom door. The moment he pulled the door open, Claire's panicked words instantly blasted the remaining sleep from his brain.

"Vince, this is bad!"

"The power went out!"