"Hey, we need more mattresses on the unit, go plunder Tower B for them and make it quick. Got over two dozen new inmates coming in today and the cells need to be ready," an older officer ordered.
"How is getting new mattresses my job? Stores should have had things set up since yesterday!" a new officer complained.
"Damn it, just go get them before I let the sergeant know and he has you working C Tower for the rest of your short career! Lazy rookie... hmm, wait Trenton's got them already? Hah! Of course he does! Why did I expect anything less?"
The older officer laughed boisterously as a man pushed a large bin overloaded with ragged mattresses through the sally port of the jail housing unit.
Indeed, talk was cheap and complaints were worth less than the air they traveled upon. Better instead to just get the work done without whining about it. That had always been Trenton's philosophy.
A cell needed a rushed clean before the next inmate could be housed within it? Trenton would simply glove up and do it himself. Housing unit needed more mattresses? He would get to work in loading the carts and appropriating them from those who had more than one. An inmate was refusing to move cells or peacefully be transported to segregation? He would roll up his sleeves and administer a life lesson as needed.
Hard work and bravery - perhaps mixed with a dash of recklessness - were what had gotten Trenton to where he was today. His upbringing in a shitty part of town, his alcoholic father and drug addict mother, he allowed neither of these things to hold him back in life.
"My hero!" The senior officer boisterously exclaimed. "Where'd you even get all these from? I don't think stores even has any more..."
"They aren't from stores, I got them from C Tower," Trenton answered. "Most of the unit gave their extras up. But two tried fighting and they learned why that's a bad idea."
"Hahah! Of course our local champion crushed them easily!"
"I think you're overestimating me a bit much Mr. Piotrowicz, I only compete regionally," Trenton clarified.
Perhaps international competition might have been in the cards, but he was too poor and malnourished during his younger years to take mixed martial arts training seriously from an early age. After that, he got into the academy and as a cadet he simply didn't have the money to sign on with truly reputed gyms and coaches, instead opting for a local fight camp. Even still, since his last title defense a few months ago, another larger organization had sent him an offer and he was strongly considering moving onto stiffer competition.
Full-time sheriff's deputy, part-time regional MMA champion on the side. This was the life of Trenton Carmine.
"You're the pride of the department Trent! Don't hang your head low kiddo! Thanks for delivering the mattresses eh? We can take it from here," Mr. Piotrowicz offered. "Rookie! Look closely, this is the sort of officer you should look up to as a role model."
"Er... right, sir. Mr. Carmine, aren't you captain of the cell extraction team too? I was wondering if..."
"Only after two years of continuous service. Get past your probationary period first," Trenton swiftly reminded the overeager rookie. "Although I like the enthusiasm. Remember, the physical requirements are tough and we only want the best of the best, and those who can prove they're fit for it. Keep training and stay in shape."
"Yes sir!"
"Why does the rookie never listen to me like that..." Mr. Piotrowicz mumbled under his breath.
"Now then, do you need any help with taking new admits or-"
Trenton's words were cut off as the world moved.
It was an exceedingly odd feeling, akin to the lurch of a roller coaster or the floating sensation felt in the abdomen while a plane took off. But far more intense.
Trenton had good balance from years of fighting and training, but he barely retained his footing as Mr. Piotrowicz and the rookie both fell on their asses. And then, a sight which left the normally calm and collected Trenton speechless.
[System Initializing]
[Assessing Talent and Attributes]
[Name: Trenton Carmine]
[Title: None]
[Talent: Action Multiplication - Tier 1]
[Attributes:
Strength - Tier 1B
Agility - Tier 1A
Endurance - Tier 1S
Vitality - Tier 1C
Perception - Tier 1B
Intelligence - Tier 1C]
[Skills: None]
[Survivor Trial Initializing]
Survivor trial? System? Talent?
Trenton had no time to think about any of these things before he was whisked away someplace else.
He had been standing upright before, but was suddenly crawling upon concrete as the sounds of groaning and guttural growls filled the air. Was someone being attacked or in trouble? His instincts as a sheriff's deputy took hold and he immediately sprang to his feet with agility.
The sight hadn't been what he'd expected.
People, hordes of people. All of them looked horribly injured too, just what the hell had happened for them to be in this state? They were practically shambling towards him.
"Hold on! We'll get ambulances out here and get medical treatment for everyone!" Trenton announced, his voice booming with authority, used to dealing with crises. "Those of you who are least injured, form up, I'll direct the application of some first aid. Bring the critical cases further up to the front!"
Yet as the seconds ticked by, Trenton's instincts told him something was very wrong. And that these 'people' weren't shambling towards him for help... but for blood.
[Objective: Survive the Zombie Horde]
[Reward: Survivor Status, 1x Skill Book, 1x Weapon]
Zombies. Actual walking, rotting undead.
"What the hell...?" he muttered.
Trenton's instincts had never failed him. He'd grown up in a cesspool, in a broken home. Whether it was his childhood, his career or his passion, he'd been fighting all his life.
So when the first zombie reached out, its slow gait replaced by a sudden lunge at close range, he immediately reacted, sidestepping to avoid its clumsy footwork and delivering a crisp side kick to its leg which stumbled it just enough that he was able to quickly step in and casually leg sweep it to the ground. A move he often performed against opponents he had pushed against the cage.
He wasn't sure what madness or reality-altering nonsense he'd walked into, but if this place wanted him to survive... then survive he would.
A swift jump, and like a jackhammer, both feet came smashing down upon the grounded zombie's skull. The splatter of brain matter was disgusting, but Trenton had stood in far nastier things.
[Zombie Slain x1]
[First inhabitant of Planet Earth to kill a zombie]
[Title Acquired - First Zombie Slayer | Effect: Passive sensory awareness of the undead and their threat level, range increases with total zombies killed]
Trenton would have stopped to admire the game-like rewards flashing before his eyes, but he had no time. The next two undead rushed him and he immediately circled outside their turning range and peppered each one with two quick jabs which staggered and dazed them as he backed away.
So these weren't the sort of zombie which could utterly ignore all damage? That was good to know.
He jogged backwards, realizing that the horde was only in front of him. And with the distance came a chance to survey where the hell he was.
Trenton had been in the Villebrook County Jail seconds ago, and neither the town nor the nearby metropolis had a ten-lane highways. Yet he was stood upon a highway now. It was a sprawling ten-lane wide road, abandoned cars dotting it, and the zombie horde coming for him from one side of it.
It was a raised highway too, with the sides leading off to a six storey drop to a forest below. No easy escape into the woods, and it was nowhere he recognized.
The license plates, makes and models of the derelict cars were an even more confusing matter. He recognized no American State by the name of Abrahakaska, nor any vehicle manufacturers called Conksdragon or Kresla. It was utterly nonsensical and the cars looked eerie and uncanny, as though someone had taken great efforts to mimic what the real world should look like, but had gotten key details wrong.
Trenton wasn't illiterate to fictional and fantasy stories. Had some all-powerful being decided to throw him into some mad zombie trial in another world? The messages he'd received certainly implied that this was a trial of some sort.
Which hopefully meant that clearing it should get him some answers. And the messages he'd received thus far were quite game-like, and such things typically had some way of winning them.
Perhaps that involved killing all the zombies in front of him.
His eyes swept the horde.
Two-hundred. A freakish number, certainly almost impossible to take on in direct combat and especially not all at once. But... almost impossible wasn't the same thing as entirely impossible.
Trenton began formulating a plan of attack. It wasn't impossible, he considered as he evaluated the slow shambling gait of each individual zombie. They weren't runners, and thank God for that, otherwise this would have been a marathon all the way till the end of the highway. Yet while they were the slow, walking type of zombie, they weren't utterly turtle-like either.
Up close, these walkers could attack with bursts of speed, lunging towards him. And while Trenton's fighting skills were good enough that he was confident in having these exchanges, it was best not to engage more than one or two at a time.
And this would be a battle best conducted with a weapon. After all, the handcuffs and OC spray on his belt wouldn't be enough, and even if he'd been outside the walls and had his gun, there wouldn't have been nearly enough ammo on his person to take out such a horde by himself.
He had jogged a hundred metres away and the horde was still shambling towards him. It would take them a few minutes to reach, and in that time he began furiously looking through the uncanny and broken down cars nearby.
The first was empty, but the second held a suspiciously pristine sledgehammer within, as though it had been waiting there for him. Decently heavy and certainly not fit for fighting humans, but against the slow zombies it would be perfect. And for Trenton who was in tiptop shape and a natural athlete, the weight wasn't a concern. He grabbed it out the backseat and turned to face the oncoming horde.
Two-hundred opponents. Impossible for almost anyone else, but not so for Trenton Carmine. Furthermore, he now identified an odd passive feeling in his head, a dull sense which went off as he scanned each individual zombie.
He had the instinctive feeling that they were of no individual threat to him... and that same sense told him that they weren't infectious either. How he somehow felt this, he didn't know.
He approached the edge of the horde, and as he did, he didn't get too close to the leading zombie, just within arm's reach. And if what he'd observed thus far was right...
...it lunged, just as he predicted it would.
It was a clumsy move, and he'd fought human fighters in the cage that could perform a double-leg takedown far better. Trenton easily stepped back, avoiding the grasping attempt at a tackle and landing a crushing sledgehammer blow upon its skull, splattering it upon the asphalt.
The next two nearest got close enough to also lunge, but his hammer lashed out and struck the first with a jabbing motion while Trenton evaded the second and executed it with a hammer blow while it was open.
[Zombie Slain x2]
The message floating in front of his vision was opaque, appearing only if he focused on it. Which was good, as it would have been extremely distracting otherwise.
Distance management and footwork were the two most important tenets of close-quarters fighting, and Trenton Carmine, for all the brawls he'd been in, knew a thing or two about them. Step in, wait for the lunge, step out and counterstrike. Like this, Trenton continued, killing seven more zombies in seconds, remaining at the very edge of the two-hundred strong horde which was now down a few.
However, a brief misstep occurred on the next pass as one more additional zombie than planned performed a lunge, and Trenton found himself on the back foot about to be caught...
...only for an adrenaline-filled surge of power to suddenly envelop him.
One hammer strike, performed in the exact same instant of time and space, multiplied. One became two.
Two zombie heads were pulped, and he gracefully avoided the third walker's lunge.
What the hell was that?
He swung once... or at least, he only expended the energy for one strike of the sledgehammer. Yet in the same instant of time, a second swing had gone out and connected too?
Just what was this power? Did he now have abilities like a video game character did?
Trenton stepped forward and tested it out. He baited two zombies out, and called upon the familiar feeling of adrenaline.
One strike went for the head of one, and then in a display which caught him by surprise yet again, a second strike, entirely within his control somehow, struck the head of the second.
[Zombie Slain x2]
Incredible! It was as though there were two of him doing two things at once! And it didn't even tire him out twice as fast either!
Suddenly, with what was essentially a superpower, the horde before him didn't look so daunting a challenge.
A mad grin came upon his face as he began pounding the zombies' skulls into paste in twos.
[Zombie Slain x2]
[Zombie Slain x2]
[Zombie Slain x2]
Three attacks, and each one multiplied letting him output a total of six.
The log filled with messages of slain zombies, and as Trenton killed, he carefully backpedaled, maintaining distance and watching his line of escape so that he wasn't cut off or surrounded. The dilapidated cars dotting the highway at times complicated things, but a career of cutting opponents off in the cage had given him an excellent sense of space.
However, the sledgehammer was heavy and he wasn't stupid, eventually he would begin to tire. Trenton had always had excellent cardio. He'd broken the academy record for the 1.5 mile run and at one point thought of securing an athletic scholarship as a D1 long-distance runner before his college dreams were put on hold in favor of getting a job and moving out.
Yet even he would eventually tire swinging a heavy sledgehammer around for minutes on end. Two minutes and sixty more slain zombies later, he'd cut the horde down by almost half and decided it was a good time for a rest. He stepped back and jogged a hundred metres away, beginning the process of catching his breath.
In the distance the horde was roughly five minutes away from what Orodan could tell. Slowly shambling, but ever-threatening. No water around, which was a bit of a shame, but having killed over seventy zombies already, he didn't feel as tired as he would have without this strange power of his.
Was this the Action Multiplication talent he saw on that strange screen? He wasn't sure, in fact, he didn't even know how to bring up that odd summary-like screen again. Just as he wondered how he would bring it back up, it floated in front of his vision once more, as though summoned by his thought alone.
[Name: Trenton Carmine]
[Title: First Zombie Slayer]
[Talent: Action Multiplication - Tier 1]
[Attributes:
Strength - Tier 1B
Agility - Tier 1A
Endurance - Tier 1S
Vitality - Tier 1C
Perception - Tier 1B
Intelligence - Tier 1C]
[Skills: None]
With some time to rest, he could finally dwell on just what the hell had occurred.
For starters, Trenton was trapped in some mad magical trial. Whether it was the whim of some omnipotent being or if he was dead and in some weird version of hell, he didn't know. What he did know, was that this wasn't a dream. The feelings of violence, adrenaline and exertion were all too real for that.
The details of everything he was seeing were vivid, as was this video-game like screen floating before him. He thought back to receiving the title he now held.
First Zombie Slayer.
That implied others had been drawn into the trial too. Had everyone been pulled in? And what happened to those who died?
Well, the obvious outcome of a permanent death seemed the most likely. But Trenton couldn't afford to dwell on that. He'd been through too much to die here, and thoughts of getting back and protecting his friends and fellow officers from such a fate were put to the side. After all, he could help no one if he was dead.
The sledgehammer in his hands was reliable, tough and not prone to breaking. While jogging by other vehicles he'd seen machetes, knives, baseball bats and wrenches, but these he felt had poor handling or weren't sturdy enough to take the same punishment that a sledgehammer could. Furthermore, some of the other weapons were likely to catch on skull matter and thereby leave him disarmed or wrestling to dislodge them.
As the horde shambled onwards, Trenton shucked the blood and brain matter off his weapon, stretched, got himself limber and prepared himself for the next round as though he was in the ring again.
And to conserve stamina he let the zombies reach him rather than jog towards them.
[Zombie Slain x2]
[Zombie Slain x2]
The messages flitted past his eyes as he got to pulverizing zombie skulls with his sledgehammer. It was a good workout, and the steady rate of death and the messages helped motivate him.
For Trenton... it was akin to cleaning trash off the streets, it was an oddly satisfying feeling.
The second round of slowly backing up while picking off the slow zombies continued at a steady clip, his breathing even and his sledgehammer steady until...
...the horde reached exactly half its size as Trenton's impossible double-time strike from his weapon slew a pair of walkers.
[Zombie Slain x2]
[One hundred zombies slain]
[Title Acquired - Zombie Hunter I | Effect: Improved ability to identify and target undead weak points]
Immediately, the difference was noticeable. The sledgehammer curved mid-air by an almost imperceptible amount and landed clean upon the frontal lobe of the zombie, smashing its skull in for an instant kill.
And as he continued, he noticed that subsequent zombies took less strength per swing to kill when he was hitting their weak spots. He could afford to hit half as hard and still secure a kill with each swing as long as he struck the right spot.
The carnage continued as Trenton swung. He was used to fighting five rounds and retaining solid technique. Hence, his swings were a measured thing even as exhaustion began to approach once more.
He was intimately familiar with the limits of his own stamina, and with about sixty zombies remaining he chose to take another break. He still had some stamina in him, but with no help around and the possibility of other things coming for him, it was better to leave some gas in the tank for emergencies.
He jogged away once more, intent on gaining about a hundred metres of distance for a rest. And as he did, a dull sense in the back of his head told him that there was something under a car a few dozen metres ahead. It was the same instinctive feeling which told him that the walkers of the horde weren't an individual threat to him and not infectious.
Was this the effect of that First Zombie Slayer title he had earned?
Curiously, he approached the car and leaned down a distance away to confirm it.
A zombie.
Just one for now, though he could sense another a few dozen metres further down the abandoned highway he was on.
Maybe this was what the average person drawn through this trial was meant to go through. Flee from the approaching horde and encounter singular zombies along the way? The objective he'd gotten did simply mention surviving after all.
But Trenton... he planned on doing more than just that.
He would kill them all.
[Zombie Slain x1]
His sledgehammer pulped its skull as it pitifully tried crawling out to 'surprise' him. And he stood, enjoying the remainder of his break before the oncoming horde of sixty approached.
His stamina was almost fully recovered by the time they reached him, and once more Trenton's sledgehammer was held at the ready, prepared to reap a toll of carnage.
The horde reached and Trenton slaughtered.
Zombies died in pairs, and his energy wasn't depleted nearly as much with each swing. He backpedaled and maintained careful distance as he killed.
Most other people attempting to kill this many zombies would have made a mistake by now, taking a hit or two or even getting grabbed. But for him who had fought fierce competition in a cage and knew the theory and practice behind lines of attack and footwork, it wasn't hard to stay out of range and predict their clumsy lunges and flailing arms.
Sixty zombies were reduced to thirty, then twenty and finally ten.
And as the hammer fell, they became eight, then six, four and finally two.
The last pair of the horde he was meant to run from. And he had only worked up a good sweat and wasn't even exhausted.
[Zombie Slain x2]
[Trial Horde Destroyed | Trial Rewards Upgraded]
[Warning - A Darkstalker will spawn soon, travel to trial exit promptly]
On one hand, it was nice to know he would get an excellent reward for his stellar performance.
But on the other, Trenton did not like the sound of that. He didn't know what a Darkstalker was, but it didn't sound pleasant at all.
He was in some all-powerful being's magical space and undergoing a trial where he'd been fighting zombies thus far. It didn't take genius-level intellect to assume that this place could spawn more than just regular zombies. And if the message had seen fit to warn him about it, then he had no doubt that it was a dangerous creature.
His first priority then, was to head for this trial exit. Which, given the direction the former horde had been chasing him, seemed likely to be on the other end of the highway.
He started a light run in that direction as time was of the essence. Who knew what 'soon' meant? As Trenton ran he also began frantically looking for any other useful weapons in the vehicles. And along the way various walkers, doubtlessly meant to surprise trial takers fleeing from the horde, crawled out from under cars, but he simply slew them as they did.
There was a pattern to it. The cars which had zombies hiding under them also had weapons and useful supplies, and Trenton realized that it wasn't just melee weapons either.
Thinking ahead, he grabbed the largest hiking-style pack he saw in the backseat of a truck and began loading it up with supplies from these broken down vehicles. He popped the trunks too.
Bandages, first aid bags, canned food, water, backpacks and the like. And Trenton, determined to end every foul zombie he saw, had no issues collecting the rewards from vehicles they were hiding under. Who knew what would occur after this trial? Best to be prepared.
He jogged down the highway, killing every zombie he sensed and collecting gear. He even stopped in-between to hydrate by guzzling a looted bottle of water, which he noted tasted better than any regular store-bought stuff that he'd ever had.
How water could 'taste better', he didn't know, but it was a pleasant refresher all the same and helped get him back in peak condition.
The highway seemed quite lengthy, but the end of it where the elevated structure touched the ground below could be seen now. Perhaps a mile out? Not a problem for Trenton to jog.
Plus, the further he traveled down this highway, the more cars possessed useful loot and gear. But he was beginning to get full up, and the load he carried was getting heavier too, so he decided he'd looted enough useful things and simply carried on.
His pack was full and he was happily jogging away, executing zombies when he felt something very wrong, and very very dangerous.
[Warning - Darkstalker spawned, exit trial immediately]
Overhead, the clouds blocked the sun's rays. The dull sixth sense of his whose familiar zombie-detection abilities he'd grown used to, now sharply hit his mind. A warning that something was behind him.
He practically whipped around, a sledgehammer in the left hand, a carving knife in the right. And in front of him, fifty-metres away, was something he'd rather not have seen.
Trenton had seen horror movies before, and this thing, this nightmare, could only have come out of one of them.
It was practically clinging to the shadows cast by the cars dotting the highway. Which was a ridiculous notion as it looked to be half the size of an adult grizzly. Trenton had caught it in the middle of its attempt to sneak up on him.
Blood-red eyes, a non-existent nose and jagged, blood-stained teeth. It was a zombie, given the decaying flesh and numerous injuries, but it looked horribly mutated beyond what. The sort of thing that conspiracy theorists insisted the government had locked up in a lab somewhere.
The razor-sharp claws the length of butcher's knives rang alarm bells in his head, and its eight-foot tall frame told Trenton that any close-quarters fight with it would be incredibly dangerous.
At the distance, he wasn't too sure... but he could swear it looked surprised that he'd noticed it from so far away, hinting at some rudimentary intelligence. Despite the overcast sky blocking the sunlight it was still decently bright out, but even then it was oddly blurry and difficult to see, as if the shadows clung to it. If it had been dark out, and without the First Zombie Slayer title, would he have just died? Fallen to an ambush by this thing?
He wasn't sure, but now that he'd spotted it and this creature knew that he had... it wasn't about to give him the chance to plan a response.
It ran. And it was an alarming sight.
Seeing something that big move at a speed just below the average man's sprint was bad news.
But Trenton... Trenton could only think of all the people this thing would kill if it got out or somehow came back with him.
Hard work and courage, with a dash of recklessness. These were the things Trenton Carmine was known for. They had gotten him out of poverty, they had made him champion and they had gotten him far in life, and more than a few times nearly been his end.
And now, faced with a monster that could kill a lot of people if it got free, Trenton refused to flee.
It ran towards him, and in turn... Trenton also ran towards it.
It seemed utterly suicidal! What was this recklessness? But Trenton had always been this way.
But let it not be said that he would happily march towards death without any trump card. Indeed, he'd confirmed it during his jog.
And as the nightmarish Darkstalker ran towards him, and he towards it, the distance between them narrowed. And just as its horrid claw was about to tear open his chest... Trenton acted.
One step performed in the same moment became two, and Trenton covered twice the distance in the same moment, moving right past the attack.
The Darkstalker's predatory instincts flared and it attempted to move backwards, but it was too late. Trenton's carving knife bit deeply into its calf, and then a second multiplied swing hit the same spot, severing multiple tendons and rendering the leg critically wounded.
Two horrid claws flashed out, intent on ending his life in retaliation but his sledgehammer rose and an action multiplication was used to have it cover two places at once, duplicating for a brief moment to block the strike.
It was as though he was in two places at once, somehow blocking both attacks with two separate sledgehammers. But the force of the attack was no joke, Trenton had never felt anything like it in his life.
"Damn!"
A cry of shock left his lips. His arms strained and he barely held on even while being practically thrown backwards as the groaning sound of warping metal could be heard.
His sledgehammer had two deep gouges in the head and the metal had been warped.
Christ almighty... this thing was freakishly strong. And while not as quick as the average human, it was fast enough to be a grave threat when its brute strength, claws and deadly skulking capabilities were taken into account.
The 20lb sledgehammer he'd been using was now useless. Its heavy weight and toughness being the only things which allowed it to even block the deadly hits in the first place.
But his target wasn't faring too well either. It was still deadly, without a doubt. But the deep wound he'd inflicted to its leg meant its speed was now a fraction of what it was previously capable of. It moved towards him, its speed that of a fast walk.
This was now a far more manageable fight, even if it did have a reach advantage. But Trenton had dealt with that sort of thing often.
It lunged in best it could on its wounded leg, and this time Trenton carefully eyed its footwork, making sure its outside leg pointed toward him was askew before shifting to the side with a multiplied action and carving a deep wound into its left arm while nimbly moving out of range.
Its clawed left hand now hung limply, on the verge of coming off altogether.
It had a level of predatory intelligence to it too, something which was far more terrifying than any physical attribute it could possess. Its wounds caused it to become slower and start moving in a more calculated manner.
And on the next pass Trenton made...
...it actually accounted for his double step and sent a claw to where he appeared.
Trenton's desperate last-minute evasion was only partially successful as a four jagged lines of horrible damage were carved onto his back. Even having just grazed his skin, the claws went a bit deeper.
This was bad.
The burning pain caused him to hiss. He felt it quite vividly, even through the adrenaline.
"Shit! Got me good there," Trenton said through gritted teeth, flashing it a taunting smile.
He was accustomed to talking mid-fight and giving opponents their due credit if they landed a good shot on him. Even now, in a life-and-death fight, this dumb habit of his persisted.
Still, willing as Trenton was to face down this horrible monster, he wasn't stupid enough to try something that just wasn't working any more. That he'd survived a melee at all was impressive enough. Time to begin leveraging his advantages, especially since the clock was ticking on his fighting effectiveness now that he was wounded.
He had already been faster than it before. Its running speed, while quick, was still just slower than the average man's sprint. And Trenton was no average athlete.
A swift burst of speed had him vaulting over a car and quickly rummaging through the trunk. The car was then promptly sliced in half in a terrifying display of power as the limping Darkstalker made for him, but it received the throwing knife he'd found there to its face. Multiplied by two thanks to his useful talent.
It let out a low and guttural growl, enraged at his shift in tactics.
If he couldn't beat it in melee, he would face it at range. Endurance and tool usage was where humans as a species were strongest, and he fully intended to wear this ugly thing down and finish it off.
On and on this dance went. With Trenton rummaging through car trunks as he made his way closer and closer to the highway exit. The Darkstalker continued growing slower and slower too as its body began getting riddled with wounds from all the bladed weapons Trenton threw at it.
Furthermore, each thrown weapon became two thanks to his Action Multiplication.
And this retreating battle of hit-and-run continued until Trenton reached what looked like a really odd police cruiser.
For starters, the lights were green and yellow, and the cruiser was marked as 'New Stork Police Organization', which was unlike any department he'd ever heard of. The radio, siren and lights systems were all in the wrong places too.
But what was in the right place, was the loaded handgun in a vehicle-mounted holster. He kept one in his patrol car himself, and the ease of reach was invaluable.
He shattered the window with the hilt of his carving knife and reached in to pull the firearm out.
In line with everything else he'd found in this place, it was a weird gun from no manufacturer that he knew of in the United States or even abroad. But the safety and magazine release were where they should have been, and a quick check of the nineteen round magazine confirmed it was full and the gun loaded.
Trenton had been middle of the pack in the academy when it came to shooting, much preferring to use his hands for subduing suspects. But a large freakish monster limping straight towards him wasn't a difficult target.
It wasn't stupid, its predatory intelligence allowed it to recognize that the firearm wasn't good news... but despite its attempts at weaving erratically, he carefully tracked its head in tandem with his knowledge of MMA head movement.
It was still a bipedal humanoid being, and consequently it was forced to move in a similar manner to a human. As a result, Trenton correctly predicted where its head would be.
The crack of gunfire rang out as the bullet found its mark, blowing off the left side of its face. A horrible shriek similar to that of an animal undergoing slaughter rang out, but it shockingly still remained alive!
Its movements were sluggish, and it was in a great deal of pain, but it continued trying to move towards him. What a tough freak of nature this thing was.
Unfortunately for it, Trenton had eighteen rounds remaining, and then tried a simple trick.
He pulled the trigger, but activated the strange power within him.
A single gun became two, firing two simultaneous bullets towards different spots.
One shot struck the top of its forehead, and the other struck the right side of its jaw. And finally it dropped, its heavy weight hitting the pavement with a loud thud.
[Darkstalker Slain x1]
[Slew an enemy a full tier above you]
[Title Acquired - Tier Defier | Effect: 20% Increased stat efficacy]
[Darkstalker Destroyed | Trial Rewards Upgraded]
Immediately, Trenton sagged in relief.
What a horrific terror that thing was. If it were just shambling zombies the threat wouldn't have been so severe, but a monster which could slice a car in half with its claws and run nearly as fast as a sprinting man? If he didn't have this strange superpower, the ability to multiply whatever he did by two... that would have gone very poorly.
As it stood, he was still wounded, exhausted and coming off the effects of an adrenaline dump. But oddly enough, he felt... good?
His breathing felt better, his muscles stronger, his limbs light and his eyes sharp. Even his mind felt clearer.
Was this perhaps related to that title he just received?
Trenton wasn't sure, and he wasn't in the mood to dwell or figure things out with a burning wound on his back which was almost certain to get infected without prompt treatment.
A strange looking gate was at the end of the highway where it lowered to finally touch the ground, and while he didn't know what a trial exit was, that gate seemed as good a guess as any. He made way for it when a voice from behind had him whipping around.
"Interesting."
A well-dressed man in a suit. Fair skin, a dapper hat and a briefcase in his left hand. Yet despite the good fashion sense, all Trenton could think was...
...uncanny.
Human in every way, yet his mind screamed that this thing wasn't a human being at all. Everything was perfect, too perfect.
"Who are you?" Trenton asked, on-guard. "What's going on here?"
"Pardon my shabby appearance, this is the first time I'm taking this form and... imperfections are to be expected."
The words were clear, audible, with a pleasant and trustworthy voice. Yet the human-like being's mouth never moved to speak them. As though the words were directly transmitted to Trenton's mind.
"You're not exactly putting me at ease here," Trenton said, ready to do whatever he had to and sizing the thing up if in case things came to blows. "What do you want and what's the deal with this crazy magical test I've been sucked into?"
No answer came forth from it. And as the seconds passed on and the tension grew, Trenton realized it had no intention of telling him anything.
And then... the briefcase in its hand was opened, and an item handed to him. Or rather, it simply appeared in the palm of his left hand, causing him to almost drop it.
"Exceptional results merit exceptional rewards. Try not to die too soon, Trenton Carmine."
And before he knew it, the being vanished.
"What on earth...? Where the hell did it go? And what's this glowing thing? Won't even leave the palm of my hand..." Trenton muttered as he suspiciously examined the glowing object which refused to come off the palm of his hand.
It was a crystal, that much was obvious, and it glowed with ominous crimson energy. No matter how Trenton tried prying, it refused to come off his hand too.
He kept trying to jostle it about and get it off his hand when he accidentally exerted too much force...
...and the thing shattered.
The last thing he saw was a deluge of deep red entering him before a message flashed before him.
[Talent Upgraded - Action Multiplication improved to Tier 2]
Following this, he felt a strange pull upon his body. Trenton struggled to try and hold onto the ground as this suction force practically yanked him towards the strange gate.
And then, darkness was all he knew.
And with it, came a few messages.
[Trial Complete]
[Objective: Survived]
[Trial Horde Destroyed]
[Trial Darkstalker Destroyed]
[Rewards Granted: Injuries & Infection Healed, Survivor Status Granted, 1x Epic Skill Book, 1x Epic Weapon, 1x Epic Equipment]
Before he knew it, his vision began clearing and he was in the familiar housing unit of the jail again.
Around him... the groans and growls of undead.
[Welcome to the Zombie Apocalypse]