SGT CH97: Aix Turned Into a Zombie

◎He was very likely treated as reserve food by Aix◎

Tormented by chaotic dreams all night, as soon as the sky was slightly bright, Mousse sat up supporting his head, feeling tired and aching all over.

Especially the back of his neck, where there was still the phantom pain of being bitten by Aix in the dream.

Probably a stiff neck.

He had been raised too delicately. Since the apocalypse came, he hadn’t slept in such an environment.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t adapt.

Anyway, it wouldn’t be long…

The judgment didn’t know when it would come.

Trapped alone in this chaotic urban area full of zombies, it was uncertain whether he could see tomorrow’s sun.

Mousse hammered his neck, felt better, and got up to pack his things.

Preparing to take advantage of the morning light to explore the mall.

Look for some usable supplies and familiarize himself with the terrain.

At least when encountering zombies and escaping, he had to know where to run.

Before setting off, Mousse put on the several layers of clothes and pants he brought back last night.

This would be slightly cumbersome, but if bitten by a zombie, it could save his life.

This was taught to him by Aix.

But Aix would only wrap him tightly to protect him, never wearing such inconvenient clothes unsuitable for combat himself.

So, after falling into the zombie swarm, he was quickly engulfed.

Mousse lowered his head buttoning up, his eyes slightly astringent.

He didn’t intend to kill Aix.

But Aix had already died because of him. Saying anything to alleviate the guilt that it wasn’t intentional would be too hypocritical.

[Good morning, Little Cake.]

[Sigh, about to turn into a Dirty Bun.]

[Suddenly entering the civilization-overturned, chaotic and disorderly apocalypse from the glamorous and orderly interstellar era, really a bit uncomfortable.]

Interstellar era.

Mousse captured a keyword, but it was of no use to him.

But… was he very dirty?

Through the glass of the mall, Mousse saw his own appearance.

Platinum blonde hair was slightly dimmer than usual, a face exceptionally pale, with some anxiety always revealing in his brows and eyes.

Wearing many layers of clothes, slightly cumbersome, making him look a few years younger, looking completely harmless at first glance.

This appearance was actually cleaner and tidier than most people in the apocalypse.

Not exactly dirty, just appearing wretched and fragile.

This wasn’t a good thing.

Not only zombies were dangerous in the apocalypse, but also humans.

His appearance was easily targeted by other survivors.

Mousse found a mask from his backpack and put it on his face.

Then put on a stern face, making his eyes look fiercer.

This looked much better.

[Cute~]

“…”

[Boohoo, a beauty originally, why be a thief.]

Mousse was silent for a few seconds, deciding to ignore these strange bullet comments, and set off with his backpack.

The food area had long been looted empty, but there was still some stock in the drink area.

Probably because these bottles and jars were too heavy and easily broken.

Mousse opened his backpack and stuffed a few bottles of drinks inside.

Looking up, he saw the fruit wine brand he was familiar with.

Aix didn’t allow him to drink alcohol.

He hadn’t touched these for a long time, even forgetting its taste.

Mousse stood there looking up for a long time, until his stomach, which hadn’t eaten normally for too long, felt a burning sensation.

He suddenly reached out, took down a bottle, unscrewed the cap, pulled down the mask, and drank in big gulps with his head back.

Soon, a mellow flush appeared on his face.

This was low-alcohol fruit wine, not intoxicating, just that Mousse easily flushed when drinking.

Mousse leaned against the shelf, his hand pressing hard on his stomach which hurt even more.

He didn’t quite understand.

Wasn’t Aix’s nose as sharp as a police dog?

Every time he wanted to sneak a drink, Aix would appear in front of him in various ways, stopping him in the name of not allowing him to harm his own body.

Why this time, Aix didn’t come to stop him?

Heavy footsteps sounded, echoing exceptionally clearly in the empty mall.

Mousse was suddenly startled, looking vigilantly in the direction the sound came from.

Zombies mainly relied on sound and the smell of blood to find living things.

Survivors would move as lightly as possible during daily activities, impossible to make such obvious noise.

It was a zombie coming.

[Damn damn damn, is a zombie coming?]

[Anchor run quickly! Watching makes me anxious to death.]

[Didn’t you all hope the scum gong pays the same price and gets eaten by zombies?]

[No way, the live broadcast perspective is on the anchor, too immersive, like I’m playing a horror game, scared.]

[Run run, I haven’t prepared myself mentally to be bitten, don’t die yet.]

Couldn’t run.

Mousse took a deep breath to calm himself down.

Listening to the zombie’s footsteps, just wandering slowly, meaning it hadn’t discovered him yet.

If he ran, the sound would travel over, actively exposing himself.

Mousse looked up at the sky.

The sun had come out.

Before night fell, low-level zombies entering buildings wouldn’t leave actively.

He needed to find a place to hide.

Mousse clutched the glass wine bottle in his hand, held his breath, lightened his movements, and moved in the opposite direction of the sound source.

Hide when encountering danger; his own safety was more important than anything.

Also taught by Aix.

The difference was that now even if he hid, no one would carry him out from the hiding place a few minutes later, telling him the danger was resolved.

Mousse moved quietly, while quickly looking around, looking for places to hide.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps in front too.

More than one zombie entered the mall.

Mousse almost broke into a cold sweat.

Zombies in front and back, especially the footsteps in front were too close.

He leaned against the shelf full of dishes, not daring to act rashly.

At this time, Mousse realized he didn’t have weapons to fight zombies.

The wine bottle in his hand might count as half, but using it to deal with zombies was too extreme.

Usually Aix protected him. Even in the most dangerous times, he only needed to hide or run far away, having no chance to fight zombies at all.

So much so that he forgot to carry weapons with him.

Mousse’s gaze swept quickly over the surrounding shelves.

His gaze fixed for a second on various knives and forks on the shelf diagonally opposite, then withdrew his gaze.

No, dealing with zombies required headshots to be effective.

Mousse admitted he didn’t have the strength and mindset to destroy a zombie’s head or cut off a zombie’s neck in a short time.

Footsteps getting closer, the stench clearly audible.

Mousse hid his figure, holding his breath and waiting.

When that zombie appeared at the corner, he suddenly raised the glass wine bottle in his hand and smashed it down with all his strength.

Bang—

In the huge noise, the wine bottle shattered, and the zombie fell backward.

Mousse quickly stepped over the zombie and pushed down the shelf hard.

The shelf tipped over, layers of dishes falling, making continuous crisp sounds.

Mousse didn’t care to look at the zombie’s condition and ran away.

The sound here had already alarmed the zombies on the other side.

Just like primitive beasts discovering prey, zombies roared and chased.

More terrifyingly, several responses actually sounded in the mall.

Damn, how many zombies exactly.

Mousse found a closed utility room, just about to press the door handle to hide in, roars came from inside, the door impacted heavily.

“…Excuse me!”

Mousse turned around and ran out.

At least there was sun outside the mall. Low-level zombies moved slowly in the sun; as long as he could run out, there was still a chance.

However, he hadn’t run a few steps when the cramps in his abdomen forced him to slow down.

He already had stomach trouble, hadn’t eaten normally for a day and night, and just poured fruit wine into his stomach.

Simply courting death.

Mousse’s face turned pale from pain, almost falling to the ground, leaning against the shelf to stabilize his figure, black spots appearing before his eyes.

The zombie’s footsteps getting closer, like fatal drumbeats.

Going to die here?

Mousse regretted a bit.

Should have carried a knife.

Although he might not be able to hack a zombie to death, stabbing himself once to end it was still achievable.

Better than being eaten alive by zombies.

That must hurt very, very much.

Not knowing how long he would be eaten before dying was the biggest horror.

But Aix died in the zombie swarm, submerged by countless zombies.

Mousse suddenly lost his strength, letting his body slide down along the shelf.

Just like this.

Death might be his release.

Hoping to faint from pain sooner.

Zombie figures appeared in the gradually blurring vision.

Three zombies running wildly, pushing each other, pouncing towards Mousse.

Mousse closed his eyes.

But the expected pain didn’t arrive, and all sounds disappeared too.

Silence reigned in the empty mall.

So quiet that Mousse could hear his own trembling breath and rapid heartbeat.

If not for the stench still existing, Mousse would have thought he had gone to another world.

Mousse opened his eyes tremblingly.

Only to see the zombies stopped a meter away from him, maintaining the posture of pouncing forward, frozen there.

Even their mouths were open, motionless.

A nauseating smell came.

Mousse pursed his lips, one hand covering his boiling stomach, the other pressing his chest, turning his head to retch.

The zombies moved again.

But not approaching, instead retreating.

Mousse retched for a long time, spitting out nothing, feeling terrible.

In the corner of his eye, a pair of black combat boots appeared.

Mousse was stunned for a moment, thinking his eyes were blurred. He blinked, and the shoes were still there.

Mousse looked up slowly.

A black-haired man with a grim face stood in front of him, scarlet and cold eyes looking at him, without a trace of emotion in his eyes.

“Aix…”

Mousse forced his body to stand up, but at the moment of getting up, his eyes suddenly went black.

Body falling forward out of control, consciousness plunging into darkness.

·

Mousse was woken up by hunger.

When he opened his eyes dazedly, he found himself lying on the cold floor, dark and lightless all around.

Mousse propped himself up on the floor, sitting up slowly, his brain still a bit confused.

He remembered he was originally in the mall, chased by zombies, then… Aix?!

He saw Aix, living Aix!

No…

Perhaps not living.

In memory, those scarlet eyes looking at him were cold and emotionless.

A guess surfaced in Mousse’s mind, shocking him cold all over.

Aix turned into a zombie…

But why didn’t he eat him?

Instead… saved him?

Maybe not saving, but snatching.

Mousse suddenly remembered the story Aix told him.

A high-level zombie kept a village of humans in captivity.

High-level zombies possessed certain intelligence and would actively collect food for storage.

Just like some animals storing food for winter.

When food was scarce, high-level zombies even actively attacked other feeding zombies to snatch their prey.

He was very likely treated as reserve food by Aix.

This result was actually somewhat similar to the dream he had.

—He was captured by Aix who turned into a zombie, and finally eaten by Aix.

Being shared by other zombies versus being eaten by Aix, couldn’t say which was harder to accept.

Anyway, Mousse had no choice.

Mousse raised his hand to cover his stomach. The stomach didn’t hurt as much as before, but the hunger grew more intense.

The room was very dark, nothing could be seen clearly.

He fumbled while sitting on the floor and touched a chair.

He supported himself on the chair to stand up, moving forward step by step, touching the wall.

Continuing to support himself on the wall, fumbling forward, his hand touched a switch.

After the apocalypse, many places lost power supply, especially in large cities, pitch black at night, like a pile of dead steel shells.

Mousse pressed it down without much hope.

Bright white light suddenly lit up, stinging Mousse to close his eyes subconsciously.

After a while, Mousse opened his eyes slowly, squinting half-open to look around.

Table, bed, curtains, sofa, and… the tall black figure on the sofa.

Mousse met those red eyes, breath hitched, hands and feet cold.

Aix sat upright on the sofa, a pair of eyes watching him coldly, unknown how long he had been watching him.

Mousse opened his mouth, wanting to call Aix’s name, but couldn’t make any sound.

Throat seemed blocked by something, terribly dry.

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