Rebirth in the Apocalypse: I Have Unlimited Warehouse Space-Chapter 10 - : The First Gene Lock

A slender zombie, its speed surpassing the limits of human movement, suddenly appeared. It swung its sharp claws, charging straight at Clove.

Wherever the Swift One moved, all the ordinary zombies in its path were shredded to pieces by its claws.

The claws, nearly half a meter long, tore through everything in their way, turning anything that tried to block its path into fragments.

In an instant, blood and chunks of dark, rotting flesh splattered across the street.

Clove's eyes locked onto the Swift One's claws, his brow furrowed. He hadn't expected this Swift One to have already passed through the weak early stages of evolution.

And then there was the Black-armored Zombie, which, to Clove's surprise, seemed to have developed some strategy. Instead of attacking with the Swift One, it stayed hidden in the horde, preparing for a sneak attack.

Clove took a deep breath and then swung his iron spear, charging forward!

Screech~

The iron spear collided with the Swift One's claws, producing a shower of sparks.

"Roar!" The Swift One let out an angry howl, its rancid, decaying stench rushing toward Clove.

Clove immediately held his breath, twisting his body to the side and delivering a powerful kick to the Swift One's torso.

The Swift One was sent flying by the force of the kick.

At that moment, the Black-armored Zombie, which had been hiding among the corpses, suddenly lunged at Clove.

Already prepared, Clove spun his iron spear, positioning the sharp tip directly at the Black-armored Zombie's head.

Thud!

The spear tip buried itself deep into the zombie's skull, and the Black-armored Zombie let out a piercing, guttural scream.

Clove tried to push harder, but to his surprise, the Black-armored Zombie had a firm grip on the spear, refusing to let go.

From behind, the Swift One came charging again!

Seeing this, Clove didn't hesitate. He immediately discarded the spear, and as he turned, he drew the bone knife from his waist with his right hand to block the Swift One's attack. At the same time, he pulled out his pistol with his left hand, firing rapidly at the zombies closing in from all sides.

Screech~

Clove's joints groaned as he panted heavily. After briefly pushing back the Swift One's assault, he rushed straight toward the Black-armored Zombie.

The Black-armored Zombie, struck in the head by the iron spear, stood rigidly in place. It had just enough intelligence to attempt an attack on Clove but also feared death.

In the end, it looked down at the spear in its hands, mimicking Clove's movements, and attempted to stab at him.

Seeing this, Clove sneered internally. Even with some intelligence, the zombie was still nothing more than a bloodthirsty monster.

Even if it could mimic actions, its movements lacked the coordination of a human.

Watching the sloppy, opening-filled attack, Clove let out a long howl, pushing his body to its limit. In three steps, he closed the distance to the Black-armored Zombie, raising his bone knife and swiftly slashing it down, severing the zombie's head in one clean strike.

In an instant, pitch-black blood spurted out from the severed neck of the Black-armored Zombie like a fountain.

After killing the Black-armored Zombie with a single strike, Clove didn't stop there. Hearing the sound of something cutting through the air behind him and feeling a sudden chill rise on his back, Clove immediately performed a roll on the ground, grabbed the iron spear, and without even looking, turned and thrust it backward.

Thud—

The Swift One, with speed and attack power but no evolution in defense, was easily pierced through the neck by the iron spear.

The sharp tip of the spear struck with deadly precision, hitting the Swift One's spine.

As Clove slowly withdrew the iron spear, the Swift One's body collapsed backward, lifeless and defeated.

But before Clove could catch his breath, the surrounding zombies began to howl and charge forward.

Although the battle had only lasted for a few minutes, the physical exertion had taken a significant toll, and by this point, Clove was completely exhausted.

Faced with the overwhelming horde of zombies, Clove gritted his teeth, trembling as he raised his handgun. He first shot the closest zombie, then continued firing while stumbling backward.

The gunshots echoed down the street, drawing more and more zombies toward him. Even though his body had nothing left to give, Clove's expression remained unchanged. His face was cold as he pulled a chocolate bar from his pack and slowly began to chew.

As the chocolate entered his stomach, the strength deep within him slowly began to revive, flowing back into his body.

At this moment, Clove could clearly feel it—he was only one tiny step away from unlocking the first genetic lock!

When the last piece of chocolate was gone, his body seemed to regain some energy. But Clove understood—it was just an illusion. Rebuilding his stamina would take time. Right now, it was nothing more than his willpower holding his body together!

Unlocking the first genetic lock was within reach. Panting heavily, Clove holstered his gun, and the next moment, he howled in a mix of anger and madness.

He gathered the last of his strength, gripped the iron spear, and charged at the horde.

His energy was nearly spent, and now only his unyielding will and burning desire to grow stronger were driving him forward.

At that moment, Clove's mind was consumed by one thought: attack, attack, and attack again!

Advance, advance, and advance!

Blood and flesh flew as the air was filled with the deafening screams of the zombies.

Clove screamed in fury: "Kill! Kill! Kill!"

With each horizontal sweep of his spear, multiple zombies were cleaved in two. With every forward thrust, Clove pierced the skull of another zombie.

Gradually, Clove's furious roars became quieter, and the number of zombies surrounding him grew ever larger.

His body was starting to show signs of injury, deep gashes forming as crimson blood flowed from his wounds. Yet Clove's demeanor grew increasingly calm. With every strike, his movements became more precise, wasting no energy, all in the effort to kill more zombies and survive longer within the horde.

Crack.

After using his spear to knock one zombie flying, the already weathered and rusted weapon—damaged by the constant barrage of strikes—finally gave way and snapped in half.

Clove didn't panic. Calmly, he discarded the broken spear handle and drew the bone knife from his waist.

The battle grew even more brutal, more vicious.

With every swing of the blade, countless zombies with razor-sharp claws reached for him.

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Thud, thud!

His heart pounded, blood continued to flow, and his will burned like wildfire.

His exhausted body cried out in protest, but Clove felt nothing. Like a machine, he swung his blade again and again, killing the zombies that charged at him.

Crunch!

A sound, sharp and quiet, echoed in his mind. The bones deep within his body groaned.

A surge of immense power exploded from the deepest parts of his being.

With a sweeping motion, Clove cleaved through the zombies surrounding him, severing their bodies.

A ferocious, overwhelming will began to radiate outward from within him.

It was the pressure of his genes—an instinctual force, overwhelming even to the zombies.

Without thinking, every low-tier creature, even those mindless zombies, could feel it. Their instincts screamed at them to flee—to run as far as possible!

The zombies, which had been charging at him with wild abandon, began to rapidly retreat.

Clove, his strength now completely spent, stumbled and collapsed to the ground.

Blood poured out of the numerous wounds on his body, but the wounds began to visibly heal at an alarming rate, closing before his eyes.

His bones creaked, his muscles spasmed uncontrollably.

Clove understood what was happening: his genes were at work, altering his body.

But the pain of the transformation, even though he had experienced it before, was still unbearable. It felt as if his body might break apart at any moment. The excruciating agony on a genetic level pushed him to the brink of collapse.

It was so painful that Clove couldn't help but scream.

He frantically pounded the ground, trying to shift his focus away from the torment, refusing to let it defeat him.

Clove knew this was no time to lose consciousness. If he did, the first genetic lock he had unlocked would reset, and he would never have the chance to break through it again.

A person only gets one chance!

There's no second opportunity!

Bang—Bang—Bang!

His fists struck heavily against the cement pavement, each blow pounding the hard concrete, creating a deep crater with every punch.

Ugh! Clove let out a guttural, almost inhuman scream, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the ground. His bones, blood, and muscles burned with a wild, uncontrolled energy.

At the same time, Clove's will—forged through countless trials and hardships, through storms, snow, mountains of corpses, and seas of blood—also flared up, fueling him, keeping him upright.

At this moment, the entire street was silent except for Clove. The only things remaining were the bodies of the zombies—no zombie dared approach him.

Kill!

Clove thought of his enemies from his past life, of everything he had endured in that world. With a hoarse, strained voice, he screamed, "Kill! Kill! Kill!"

The murderous intent swirled around Clove's body, and in the instant the words left his mouth, the excruciating pain that had pierced his very soul slowly began to fade.