My 100th Rebirth a day before the Apocalypse novel Chapter 915

Chapter 915: Chapter 915 A Psychopath Zombie

Could it be that the zombies here had migrated, just like what he and the others witnessed on their way to City A’s hidden base? But as far as he knew, those migrating zombies always returned to where they came from, so that didn’t seem to fit. Or... could it be that something had driven them away?

Sparrow forced himself to stop thinking—there was no way to confirm whether his suspicions were correct or not, and dwelling on them would only mess with his mind. Instead, he focused on the scene before him.

He noticed the mutated zombie make its move just as the patrol team began retreating back into the shelter. It slipped through the area with unsettling precision, navigating every blind spot as if it already knew them by heart.

Its movements were deliberate, almost practiced, like it had studied the guards’ habits and behavior, allowing it to approach the shelter’s wall without drawing a single glance.

Sparrow considered taking the shot. But if his suspicion was right, that this creature had undergone another evolution, a sniper’s bullet might do little more than scratch it... or worse, give away his position.

Even beneath the charred skin, the sun’s glare revealed a scaly, armor-like texture, gleaming like steel. No... sniping might not be the best option.

Without anyone noticing, the mutated zombie crept close and yanked a guard from the wall. The man’s eyes widened in shock, but his voice failed him; no cry for help escaped in time. Everyone’s attention was fixed on the patrol party that was returning from outside, leaving him unseen and unheard.

"You’ve worked hard. Please rest inside for a while and leave the rest to us," one of the guards nearest the gate said with a smile. He scratched the back of his head with one hand, while the other gripped the shotgun slung over his shoulder.

"Eh?! Are you one man short?" One of the patrol teams that came from outside noticed something was off; no one was manning the guard platform in the corner. That spot was almost in their blind spot, so it could have easily gone unnoticed.

But one of them happened to know the guard assigned there and wanted to check on him. Looking toward the platform, he was startled to see it completely empty. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

The other guards who heard him turned to look. That position did indeed face the forest and was in everyone’s blind spot, making it easy to overlook whoever was stationed there. "Eh?! He might have gone to the toilet. I heard him earlier saying he had diarrhea," one guard guessed after a moment’s thought.

After all, they were a small but tight-knit community of survivors; everyone knew each other well and was on friendly terms.

So, it wasn’t surprising that they casually chatted about small things, but none of them knew that the man they thought had gone to the toilet was, at that very moment, being dragged into the forest by the mutated zombie.

Even Sparrow had lost sight of the creature, which made him curse under his breath.

The worst part was that the zombie hadn’t killed its prey yet. The man’s muffled protests were met only with silence, save for the low, guttural growl of the creature hauling him away from the wall. His wide, terrified eyes locked on the shelter’s wall, now growing smaller and smaller in the distance.

He didn’t understand why he couldn’t move or shout. His body felt completely paralyzed, yet the zombie hadn’t even bitten him, so it couldn’t be the virus. The fear was overwhelming, sinking into his every muscle and nerve.

He wanted to scream, to fight back, to do anything, but nothing responded. Tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks, and seeing this, the mutated zombie’s growl deepened, its breathing turning heavy, almost eager, as if it was savoring his helplessness.

It was terrifying to imagine that this mutated zombie might harbor some twisted, perverse ritual for how it "dined" on its prey, deliberately letting fear seep into every pore, forcing its victim to drown in hopelessness and helplessness before finally devouring them. As if terror itself could somehow make the flesh taste sweeter.

And maybe... that wasn’t so far-fetched.

Before it turned, this creature had been a deranged psychopath, a convicted serial killer who had escaped from prison. He was infamous for torturing his victims slowly, relishing every moment of their agony, keeping them alive just long enough for his victim to wish for death... only to deny them that release. The more they writhed and begged, the more euphoric he became.

Now, that same monster wore a zombie’s skin. And as it began regaining fragments of intelligence, it was no surprise that some of its old sadistic habits still lingered—twisted and amplified in its new, inhuman form.

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