Seeing Lucien's attitude and decisiveness, Malrik naturally had no intention of abandoning a teammate.
After all, someone with this level of ability might not seem like much now, but if he survives, he'll definitely bring endless surprises in the future.
"Ah… where should I kill some zombies now? Probably nearby, right? Can't let him wait too long." Malrik muttered to himself while glancing around.
His gaze quickly locked onto a small group of zombies. There weren't many—only five—and the surrounding space was wide enough for proper combat.
"So strange… Just a while ago, I struggled to win a one-on-one fight with one of them. But now, only minutes later, even five charging at me feel like nothing but trash." He muttered while picking up speed.
In no time, he appeared in front of the group of zombies. Raising his sword-wielding arm, he slashed down with force.
One of the zombies instinctively lifted its arms to block, but it was too slow to keep up with the speed of his attack.
Slash!
The blade sliced through the zombie's skull, lodging into its head. It didn't cleave the creature completely in two, but this was already far stronger than before.
"Damn! Am I really this strong?" Malrik cursed. He couldn't stay calm—not after witnessing his current combat power.
His confidence surged. With each swing of his sword, zombies fell like watermelons being chopped apart.
One by one, each zombie was cleanly taken down with a single blow.
But this very ease made him feel deeply suspicious.
He knew the one-star sword in his hand was of excellent quality, but it shouldn't be enough to take down creatures of the same rank so effortlessly.
'That's not right; according to what Kunpeng told me, there won't be such a difference in strength between two creatures of the same level. Could it be… zombies aren't actually considered one-star beings? The zombie I killed did seem a bit sturdier than the one Lucien took down, but the difference was minor. If that's the case, it makes sense now. After all, zombies aren't that different from humans before they transformed.'
Malrik pieced together the clues and began forming a hypothesis.
Malrik eventually came to a conclusion—zombies were nothing more than a kind of tutorial guide to help humanity adapt to this new era.
The fact that some zombies barely qualified as one-star beings could be considered a sort of "starter gift" for beginners.
"Alright, no point overthinking it. Looks like the drop rate for cores is pretty damn low… Five zombies and not a single corpse. Ten cores for two sets of clothes—what a rip-off." Malrik muttered as he flicked his sword, shaking off the zombie blood.
Just as he was about to leave, a group of seven people approached him. The one leading them seemed to be some kind of doctor.
"Can you help us? You're clearly strong, so we'd like to invite you to join us. I'm a doctor—if you get injured, I'll be useful," the man said.
There was a faint trace of arrogance in his tone, though it wasn't clear why.
It seemed that the current situation had given him a sense of authority, making him act like he was somehow above others.
"I'm busy. Step aside." Malrik replied.
He didn't feel annoyed or angry—they weren't actually bothering him all that much.
But seeing someone strong about to walk away right in front of him, the doctor clearly couldn't accept that.
'I have to make him join us, the doctor thought. The world's in chaos. If I had someone like him under me, wouldn't my influence grow rapidly?'
Before all this, he was just an ordinary doctor with no real power.
But now that the new era had arrived, and he'd gotten just a taste of what it felt like to have authority, he was already drunk on it.
"You can't just walk away!" he shouted. "You're this strong, yet instead of helping people, you're only thinking of yourself? We're educated people—we should be helping each other!"
His voice carried the tone of someone giving an order rather than making a request.
A question mark practically appeared above Malrik's head.
He stared at the doctor like he was some kind of idiot.
If he weren't in a rush, he might've entertained the clown with a few more words.
But right now, he was busy—Lucien was still waiting.
With a swift swing of his sword, Malrik slashed across the doctor's chest, leaving a long, deep gash.
Fresh blood soaked through the man's shirt, staining it a dark red. The doctor collapsed to the ground, groaning in pain.
Of course, it wasn't a fatal wound—at least not if treated in time. Malrik hadn't intended to kill him.
The man had simply been too damn talkative, and this was just a way to shut him up.
The rest of the group stood frozen in shock, their entire bodies trembling at the sight.
None of them had expected someone to actually dare attack another person.
After all, this was a law-abiding society—years of peace and order had long made violence and murder exceedingly rare.
Now, to see someone so casually swing a weapon without a care for legal consequences… it terrified them.
"Y-You… How could you just attack someone like that?!" Someone finally spoke up, voice trembling.
But before they could get an answer, Malrik had already vanished without a trace.
Some time later, after slaying over a dozen zombies, Malrik finally stumbled upon one that contained a core.
"Hahaha! Finally done. The drop rate is f*cking abysmal… or maybe I'm just unlucky. Whatever. Time to head back."
Grinning, he sheathed his sword in one hand, grabbed the zombie corpse in the other, and made his way toward Lucien.
But as soon as he arrived, something felt off.
He could hear sounds coming from inside the room—sounds that distinctly resembled a struggle.
"Damn it! How the hell did you get in here?!" Lucien cursed from within.
The moment Malrik heard that, he knew something had gone terribly wrong.
Without hesitation, he kicked the door clean off its hinges.
What he saw inside nearly made his blood boil.
The zombie's arm was mid-swing, aiming directly at Lucien's head.
Invisible Hand!
Suddenly, the zombie's strike froze in place, stopping just centimeters from Lucien's skull.
Without missing a beat, Malrik dropped the corpse he was carrying and launched himself forward.
A clean slash—
The zombie's neck was severed in an instant. Blood sprayed everywhere as its body stiffened, then collapsed like a stone statue.
"Sh*t… Cult Master, if you'd been even a second later, I'd be dead," Lucien muttered through gritted teeth.
But despite the curse, his expression relaxed. He let the knife fall from his trembling hand and exhaled in relief.