'…How bizarre. This book does not function in accordance with reality.
The physical anatomy of a zombie does not operate this way. Zombie tissue does not automatically regenerate through mutant muscle bundles or fungal threads; in reality, it is the coagulation of a dense, black blood like fluid that binds and seals wounds together.
The zombies documented in here are said to originate from corpses driven by mystical occultation or zombie fungus; in reality, it is caused by the pollution of Death Magic prior to demise.
In other words, this book is garbage. It is closer to an aggregation of mainstream information. For instance, if the number of people with level 10 knowledge is 10, and those with level 5 knowledge is 100, it effectively drags the average benchmark of knowledge down.
Which means, perhaps, this space is subjected to the control of the demon, and it harvests the knowledge of everyone within this dimension, aggregates it into data agreed upon by the majority, and injects it back into the environment—in this case, as books. It is a striking resemblance to the Mandela effect.
Could it be... that due to this property of information synchronization, Lunas became far more bloodthirsty than usual, and this was also what Quan—no, the past Ron—implied?'
BOOM!!!!
CRACK~
"What is that? Sis! This place, this place isn't right!?"
Mark, who was riding on Ron's shoulders, cried out. Emy followed the direction of Mark's gaze and looked upward, though it was unclear whether she could actually see anything.
"…"
Ron glanced at the book in his hands, then shifted his gaze forward. Standing right ahead of him, Emy, and Mark was the West District Police Station.
Scanning his surroundings, Ron retracted his nylon cords, ensuring he had deployed a specific network of traps to guard against any sudden variables.
In truth, by utilizing these black nylon cords almost continuously for the entire day, his mana was nearly depleted, leaving him practically a single strike away from total exhaustion.
"...What on earth is this?"
Emy uttered a cry, staring toward the sign that read 'Police Station', then looking up at a building riddled with gaping holes right before them.
"...Why... Is there an attack by the lunatics? Someone must have provoked it, but how did they provoke it enough to have over thirty of them roaming around everywhere?"
Emy peered deeper, attempting to gauge the situation.
"There are roughly thirty to forty people hiding deep within the basement, while the bulk of the lunatics are concentrated heavily on the third and fourth floors. Furthermore, it appears a specific silhouette is drawing that crowd away from the masses."
Hearing this, Ron instantly understood. This was Janeus's diversionary tactic.
Essentially, Janeus must have pulled off a few stunts to draw the lunatics back here, intending to play the role of the savior delivering the masses from crisis.
It was a primitive blueprint, Ron reasoned, constructed entirely upon exploiting the psychological panic, dread, and underlying skepticism of a crowd. It amounted to nothing more than a crude patchwork utilizing psychological bridge effects, fostering goodwill among desperate individuals through an adrenaline surge.
'Do you intend to secure their trust through such a simplistic method? Who would fall for a mediocre trick like this? I must observe further.'
Ron stepped forward, but bizarrely, his footsteps failed to establish contact with the ground.
"Huh?"
Emy and Mark looked down at the ground, suddenly realizing that they, too, were gradually levitating into midair.
"Tsk!"
Ron yanked violently on the nylon cords wrapped around his fingertips, causing all three of their bodies to hurtle rapidly toward the sky.
"WHAT THE FUC—"
"WHOAAAAAAAAAAAA"
Both siblings screamed at the top of their lungs, paralyzed by the sheer terror of what they were experiencing.
CRASH!!!
Suddenly, the spot where they had been standing just moments ago was utterly obliterated by a catastrophic force. At least fifteen meters of the surrounding area was crushed and compressed by an immense pressure.
The ground collapsed like a treacherous quagmix, spewing dense clouds of dust and debris that completely choked the immediate landscape, causing the police station to gradually crumble along with it.
"!?"
"Mommy, WORMS!"
A colossal worm surged out from deep beneath the earth, yet it phase shifted continuously within the dense dust screen, rendering its form as hazy and deceptive as the shifting ground itself.
Towering higher than a standard residential building, the worm reared its massive body upward. Its pair of pincers rose to obstruct the silhouette of the sun behind it, making it look like a grotesque, otherworldly construct from Ron's perspective.
RUMBLE~~~
Ron darted his eyes in every direction, unable to suppress his shock. Within a matter of seconds, dozens—hundreds—of demonic worms erupted from beneath the earth, thrashing relentlessly across the terrain.
SWOOSH~
Ron reeled in his nylon cords, pulling the three of them toward a nearby structure. They were currently suspended roughly fifteen meters above the ground.
They had hurtled past several structures toward a building Ron had secured in advance. He had configured the nylon cords to act as a spring and a cushion to shield the three of them from impact trauma, but evidently, it wasn't quite enough.
He shifted his gaze toward the siblings. Emy was doubled over, dry heaving violently, while Mark appeared to have blacked out. Perhaps waking from a coma only to sprint continuously for hours, coupled with the trauma of flying through the air, had completely drained both their physical stamina and mana. After all, they were patients who had only recently bypassed critical condition.
Ron was now entirely on his own, burdened further with the task of preserving the other two. With his mana practically bottoming out, everything was spiraling toward a critical tipping point.
'Janeus and that crowd are still out there too, tsk!'
Ron smashed through a window, bringing all three of them inside. At present, they shouldn't remain stationary inside the building; they needed to find a secure shelter. However, hiding in a basement was no longer viable with the worms burrowing all around. He possessed zero intel regarding their specific traits beyond their sheer destructive capacity. Ron was essentially balancing on the tip of a sewing needle.
He looked around, his hand latching onto a wooden walking cane belonging to an elderly person. Walking canes in this world were integrated with multiple functions designed for individuals with degraded mana and mobility.
It provided maximum sensitivity to magic.
Ron raised the wooden cane. He abandoned the use of his nylon cords, substituting them with the wooden staff. From this point onward, everything would hinge upon it.
CRASH!!!
BANG!!!!
Crisp, violent sounds echoed from directly beneath his feet, as well as right in front of him.
'…Seriously, what kind of idiot classified this as a level 10 mystical event?'
Ron pulled the cane back, executing a lightning fast, straight thrust directly ahead, piercing straight through the wooden door.
When he withdrew the weapon, it was, as expected, coated in a thin layer of blood.
"More monsters! Emy, if you're still conscious, get up! If you don't stand up, I'm not standing up either!"
RIP
The wooden door was abruptly torn to shreds, and a horde of blood-drenched lunatics burst into the room, their hands outstretched to seize the three defenseless targets before them.
They resembled a pack of ravenous zombies, prepared to gorge on the flesh and blood of the living.
Ron closed one eye while opening the other to its absolute limit. His golden pupil was gradually webbed by hundreds of micro capillaries. That single eye burned with a wild, feral intensity that mirrored the madness of the ravenous horde before him—as if screaming out in Ron's stead.
Body Extract:
Speed.
Technique.
Crush.
KILLING TECHNIQUE.