Thirty three mana cores gained, I gotta say I am loving this system. I mean three times the profit, that is something to aspire for. But I did find out one thing, it is weak. Well, it has an agile frame, it lacks any true offensive capabilities, and its defense, well strong, is less than a peak disciple cultivator. That is better than mine at disciple, but against stronger undead, it will be ripped in two. A perfect design for a foot soldier, yet not for much more.
I am unimpressed, most people will probably outperform this. So, let's claim a mutant core. "Five minutes." I draw out the pistol, stuffing my back to the only wall that has yet to crumble. I take a deep breath, and then another. "Three minutes." This is nerve racking. "Two minutes." I breathe in through my nose, letting it burst through my mouth. "One minute." Shutting my eyes, I focus all my attention on my ears. "Five, four, three, two, one."
Buzz buzz. My arm band rings. "Night has fallen, stay safe out there."
"Cheng Wu." I look at my father, his strong arms resting across his wide lap. "You must survive."
Kicking with all my might, I smack a plagued's gray matter all over the wall. Turning I let three shots fly down range, dropping two of the twenty. They jump in long strides, bonding across the roof tops like some after noon jog. Their faces contorted in anger, their arms thrashing into each other. By the time I empty the core, they have arrived upon my roof. Lunging and scurrying over each other. Crosshair pounces on the nearest one, as they bound over him mere feet from my face. Its claw skids over my nose, sending blood splattering over the ground. I control his arm, using his own momentum to trip him off the fifth story roof. The next two try to leap over the others, who have now met the brutal glory of the horse stake, their claws cut into the wall, as I throw myself to the ground. Skidding over the concrete, I push my hands against the floor, flying into a backflip that lands me painfully close to the other edge. Drawing the combat knife, I slash off the finger that almost pierces my skull. Its, now fingerless, hand hits into my face, causing me to stumble back. Flipping the knife into a reverse grip, I stab the infected through its chest, feeling the grim satisfaction of hitting its core. Using the now dead plagued as a shield, I throw them both off the building. They hit the ground with a thud.
Turning to the beasts with their stomachs caught, I flip them off. "Hey Crosshair, you alive?" I ask.
"Meow." He responds, ripping off their heads one by one.
I'm the fucking greatest, fuck yeah. Screw you, undead meat bags. I smile, personally reflipping each of them off. "I am the fucking greatest."
Reloading my gun, I prepare for the inevitable second wave.
Three waves pass, as I am left beaten and battered. My nose won't stop bleeding, and my muscles feel like a bitch. Even Crosshair looks exhausted, and he can't feel exhausted.
"End of hour fourteen, ranked fourth." Damn I went down one. This is some pussy ass shit if you ask me. What fuck is going out there to hunt infected? Maybe they're insane, yeah that's likely. I am barely getting by as is, and I have Crosshair's help. What could some fucking prodigy do?
My side aches. Hopefully the eighth wave didn't burst an organ. Na, it's just a little bruised is all, I'm fine. Though. I wipe my nose, blood smearing over my sleeve. It won't stop. It won't fucking stop. This is some real shity luck. Damn you stupid body, don't you know how to stop some bleeding? I'm going to die at this rate.
"End of hour nineteen, sun rises in forty eight minutes, ranked fifth." I went down again. I wipe my nose, as tears fill my eyes.
"Fuck you shit faces!"
"Rhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaa." Jumping from the street, a massive giant lands on the roof. His nasty gaze looks down upon me.
"Great." I stand. "A mutant."
Crosshair, who is one step short from death, stands with me. His hair gleaming with blood. "Hisssss."