After giving Scout Finch a few final instructions, Kael Voss pulled back the bowstring of the crossbow, slid a bolt into the firing groove, and demonstrated how to use it, guiding her hands step by step.
Scout lifted the crossbow and aimed at a row of cargo containers about ten meters away. With a flick of her finger—thwack—the bolt shot out and embedded itself with a violent jolt into one of the containers, its tail still trembling from the impact.
Seeing how powerful the shot was, Scout stuck out her tongue in surprise. "That's intense!"
Kael simply smiled. Glancing at the snakeskin bag filled with crossbow bolts—there were at least three or four hundred packed in a dozen tubes—he took one of the tubes and slung it diagonally over her shoulder.
He thought to himself: Scout may be a young girl, but girls are naturally attentive and detail-oriented—ideal traits for a crossbowman. And the fact that she's survived this long in the apocalypse says a lot. With some training, she could become a valuable ally.
Still, Kael couldn't deny that this line of thinking felt a bit selfish—maybe even a little inhumane.
After all, Scout was just a child, and asking her to confront death and violence at this age would be something a more compassionate soul might hesitate to accept.
But Kael had lived through Doomsday. He'd been betrayed by his own people. He knew better than anyone that to survive in this new world, you had to be useful. If you weren't—if you were a liability—people would abandon you without hesitation.
Teaching Scout how to use a crossbow meant that even if she parted ways with him someday, she'd still have a fighting chance to survive.
No matter how young she was, the world they lived in wouldn't show mercy. The apocalypse didn't care about innocence. If you wanted to survive, you had to learn how to protect yourself. No exceptions.
Scout's face flushed with excitement as she exclaimed, "Kael, I got it! Let's go kill some zombies!"
Kael smiled faintly. "You've learned to fire it, sure, but there's still a long way to go before you're good at it. That said, we've got plenty of bolts. You can always collect the ones you shoot and reuse them, so don't worry about wasting them. Just use real combat to hone your aim."
Scout nodded eagerly. Live combat sounded way more exciting than boring drills.
The two of them headed down through the fire escape, just as they had earlier, preparing to clear out the zombies on the sixth floor by shooting down from the seventh.
The stairwell was silent—no undead had wandered in. As they reached the seventh floor, a lone zombie came charging down the corridor. When it saw Kael and Scout step through the fire door, it let out a gurgling howl and lunged at them.
Scout quickly raised her crossbow and fired. Whizz—the bolt soared clear over the zombie's head, missing by at least a full meter.
Embarrassed, she forced a sheepish smile and fumbled to reload. This time she aimed more carefully, but the second shot also missed.
The zombie was now within ten paces, closing in fast. Panic took over, and Scout's face turned pale. She froze, then darted behind Kael in fear.
Kael frowned. He didn't bother with the crossbow. Instead, he drew his gladius, strode forward boldly, and with a swift sidestep and flash of steel, sliced clean through the zombie's neck.
The headless corpse collapsed. Kael wiped the blade on the zombie's tattered shirt, then grabbed Scout, who had crouched down in fear, and hauled her upright. He barked, "Why are you hiding? This is the apocalypse! Zombies are everywhere! Do you think hiding will save you?"
Scout flushed red with shame but said nothing. She simply lowered her head and walked to the corridor's edge, lay down, and began aiming at the zombies wandering below on the sixth floor.
There were even more of them now—around eighty or ninety in total, both in the hallway and on the terrace. The noise from earlier—when Kael had smashed the lightbulb—must have attracted more of them.
Scout lay prone, awkwardly trying to aim, but her shots were wildly inaccurate. It often took three or four bolts to even come close to hitting a single zombie. Kael shook his head at the sight.
After a few minutes of this, Kael lay down beside her, using his slingshot to silently take out zombies while also offering Scout tips and tricks he'd learned through experience.
He didn't expect her to become a seasoned fighter overnight. But having someone around—even a kid—took the edge off the crushing loneliness of this world.
Steel balls and bolts continued raining down on the sixth floor. By midday, only twenty or so zombies remained.
Seeing that they had already surpassed their expected kill count for the morning, Kael rubbed his stomach—he was getting hungry. He gestured to Scout, and the two of them crawled backward a few steps, stood up, and made their way to the door of a department store on the same level. Kael pulled out a wooden bar blocking the door and pushed it open.
He had discovered this store during an earlier sweep of the seventh floor. After making sure it was clear of zombies, he'd sealed the door with a stick to keep stray undead from wandering in.
This way, any zombies that made it upstairs would stay in the hallway or on the terrace, making them easier to eliminate.
Inside, the department store was packed with food—shelves full of vacuum-packed goods. Even though it had been six months since the collapse, most of it was still edible.
Kael grabbed two bags of bread, a few smoked sausages, and a couple cans of rice pudding. He plopped down beside a shelf, leaned against the wall, and began eating slowly.
Scout, meanwhile, wandered around the store. She opened a packet of her favorite biscuits, ate two, then tossed the rest. She found a cake, took a couple of bites, and threw that away too.
Soon, wrappers and boxes littered the floor.
It was wasteful, sure—but in a world where there were no customers left besides the two of them, it hardly mattered.
Once they were full, they returned to their vantage point to continue the mission. This time, they changed positions. Another couple dozen zombies had emerged—likely from the surrounding shops.
From their elevated position on the seventh floor, they continued the slaughter until the store grew dim, the light fading to the point where they could barely see.
Only then did they retreat to an office on the eighth floor.
Kael had discovered this office during previous sweeps. It had two rooms and a reinforced security door. Compared to the roast duck restaurant they'd been using before, it was far more secure.
Tonight, he decided, they would move all their supplies into this office and use it as their new base.
The only downside was that neither room had windows. Once the steel door was shut, the place became pitch-black—like a tomb.
Kael lit a candle he'd taken from the store, set his crossbow and gladius on the table, and asked Scout, "Both rooms have long couches. Which one do you want to sleep in?"
"The inner room!" she replied with a spark in her eyes. Then she looked at him, puzzled. "Kael, your supplies… there's so much of it."
Earlier, while helping him carry gear, she'd noticed the backpacks he'd handed her were filled with long-lasting rations—canned fruit, meat, chocolate bars, vacuum-packed beef, and other high-calorie food.
There were even several bottles of expensive whiskey, survival gear, and an entire pack devoted just to medicine.
Scout had frequented this mall before the collapse. She could tell right away that most of these supplies hadn't come from here—Kael had collected them from elsewhere.
Which made her admire him even more. He's amazing, she thought. How did he gather so much good stuff on his own?
Kael chuckled. "Heh."
But he didn't explain. What was he supposed to say? That a female CEO from ten years ago had transmitted this gear to him through her phone?
Even if he did, she'd think he was joking.
And besides—that was his greatest secret.
He didn't fully trust Scout yet. Even if he did, that didn't mean he'd share everything.
The betrayal by Sylvan Viper and Elena Cross had taught Kael a harsh truth: You can't afford to be malicious—but you'd better know how to defend yourself from those who are.