Louis gritted his teeth, picked up a sharp wooden splinter from the floor, and stabbed his left index finger without hesitation.
A bead of bright red blood welled up instantly.
Suppressing his tension, he carefully brought his "invisible" hand back toward the edge of the shattered glass.
This time, he was extraordinarily cautious, making absolutely no sound.
The scent of blood, even the faintest trace, was usually enough to drive Walkers into a frenzy.
Yet the Walkers outside showed no reaction at all.
Some shuffled aimlessly in circles. Others crouched over the mangled corpse on the street, gnawing mindlessly. Not a single one reacted to the fresh human blood just inches away.
Louis's heartbeat quickened.
He pressed a little harder, letting more blood seep from the wound.
Still nothing.
This was no longer just relief, it was genuine surprise.
His earlier belief that the invisibility cloak might block a Walker's sense of smell had been little more than hopeful speculation. After all, he vaguely remembered that in the original works, the cloak didn't conceal scent.
But reality was proving otherwise.
This invisibility cloak truly blocked a Walker's perception, sight, sound… and even smell.
Was it because this cloak was custom-made? Or because magic behaved differently in this world?
Louis didn't know.
But the result was all that mattered.
Staring at the confused Walker right outside the door, a bold idea surfaced in his mind.
He extended his cloaked hand through the broken glass, clenched it into a fist, and punched the Walker hard.
The impact landed squarely.
The Walker looked down at the spot where it had been struck, visibly confused. After swaying dazedly for a moment, it turned and wandered off in another direction.
It worked.
Louis nearly screamed in triumph, but swallowed the sound at the last second.
At last, he could confirm it: at least for now, the invisibility cloak completely severed a Walker's ability to perceive him.
Of course, he wasn't foolish enough to assume this would hold if he were drenched in blood. But even with limitations, this was more than enough.
Satisfied, Louis retreated upstairs to the manager's office, barricaded the door securely from the inside, and finally allowed himself to relax.
He collapsed onto the sofa and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
He didn't know how long he slept before a faint knock woke him.
"Louis? It's me. Shane."
Louis jolted upright, quickly dragged the sofa aside, and opened the door.
Shane stood outside, covered in dust. His backpack bulged heavily, clearly the result of a successful search, but his expression was grim.
"How's it looking?" Louis asked, rubbing his eyes.
"Not great." Shane set the backpack down and pulled out several cans and two bottles of water. "I checked multiple exits. Walkers are everywhere, more than yesterday. We're boxed in."
He paused, then added quietly, "The good news is, the ones downstairs seem to have lost interest in breaking in."
"The bad news is, we're stuck here for now. Best bet is to wait until they're drawn away by something else… or disperse."
That afternoon, they didn't waste time.
Together, they searched the entire office building. They dealt with two Walkers trapped in the pantry through smooth coordination and found additional food and water along the way.
Night fell once more.
At Louis's repeated insistence, Shane rested first while Louis took watch.
Once again, Louis sat beneath the manager's desk, but his mindset was completely different from the night before.
The success of the invisibility cloak had given him something priceless.
Confidence.
This time, he wasn't anxious or impatient. He quieted his mind completely, focusing all his attention on the wand in his hand, and the pen on the floor.
He recalled every detail from the books. The posture. The motion. The feeling.
He waited for that faint, nearly imperceptible ripple of magic to respond.
Time slipped by unnoticed.
Just as he had lost count of how many attempts he'd made, and his arm began to ache;
It happened.
Almost casually, he pointed his wand at the thick book on the floor.
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1.
"Wingardium… Leviosa."
His voice was soft.
A smooth swish.
A gentle flick.
Buzz
A strange, electric tingling surged from his palm, racing through his entire body!
The book trembled.
Then, as if lifted by invisible fingers, it slowly rose into the air.
Unstable.
Shaking slightly.
But unmistakably floating.
Three inches off the ground.
It worked.
Louis's eyes widened, his heart pounding violently.
He bit down hard to keep himself from shouting.
In that moment, the exhaustion, fear, frustration, and pressure of the past two days were swept away, replaced by a surge of pure, overwhelming joy.
He had really… learned magic.
Louis desperately wanted to jump up and celebrate, but reality didn't allow such recklessness. Instead, he silently pumped his fist and whispered, "Yes."
The excitement passed quickly.
His adult soul took over, forcing him to calm down and redirect his thoughts toward something far more practical.
Simply learning the Levitation Charm was nowhere near enough.
He needed mastery, and beyond that, goals like instant casting, silent casting, and eventually even wandless magic.
Only when magic became an instinct, woven into his body and reactions, could it truly matter in the unpredictable chaos of real combat.
There was also a far more pressing issue.
He needed to test his limits.
The wizarding world didn't have something as convenient as a "mana bar," but that didn't mean magic was infinite. Harry had collapsed from exhaustion while practicing the Patronus Charm and needed chocolate to recover, spellcasting was an immense drain on both mind and body.
Louis had to find his own threshold.
He needed to know exactly how long he could maintain combat effectiveness before mental exhaustion set in, before dizziness, blurred vision, or loss of focus caused a spell to fail.
A gunman needed to know how many bullets were left in his magazine.
A wizard needed to know how many spells he could cast.
Otherwise, collapsing mid-fight from mental overload would be the stupidest way imaginable to die.
The former, true mastery, would take time.
But the latter could be roughly assessed right now.
So Louis cleared his mind and returned to focused practice.
First, he directed the floating spellbook through increasingly complex movements in the air. At the beginning, it wobbled violently, but gradually his control smoothed out. He could feel his command over the magic improving at a visible pace.
Next, he experimented with objects of different weights and materials.
A metal stapler. A thick glass ashtray. The half-full water bottle beside his backpack.
Then Louis took a deep breath.
And pointed the wand at himself.
What happened next caught him completely off guard.
If lifting the book had felt like raising a feather, then lifting his own body was like trying to haul a truck with his mind.
His body suddenly felt light, his feet even showed signs of leaving the ground, but a violent wave of dizziness slammed into his head.
Worse still, he didn't rise smoothly like he'd imagined.
Instead, it felt as though someone had yanked his ankles upward. His center of gravity flipped instantly, his feet shot up, and his head plunged straight toward the floor.
Before his face could kiss the concrete, Louis hastily interrupted the spell.
His body wobbled, and he dropped onto the floor with a dull thud.
"Still a long way to go."
Louis panted heavily, his face drained of color.
That brief attempt alone left him feeling as exhausted as if he'd stayed awake for three straight nights. Using the Levitation Charm to fly was clearly nothing more than a fantasy at his current level.
Over the next hour, he continued practicing stubbornly, until waves of dizziness rolled through his vision.
Only then did he finally stop.
The environment was still dangerous. Practicing until he collapsed would be suicidal.
"At least… I finally have some means of self-preservation," Louis muttered, leaning against the leg of the table.
Even a single spell that could lift objects remotely, create obstacles, or strike from a distance dramatically improved his odds of survival in this apocalypse.
His eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
Knowing he'd reached his limit, Louis didn't force himself any further. He walked over to the sofa and gently shook Shane's shoulder.
"Officer… wake up."
"It's time to switch shifts."