Tysone and Saeko exchanged glances, then looked back at the smoldering remains of the zombie dogs, their expressions grave and thoughtful. "Let's go." He muttered.
Marin's words rang true; it was yet another concerning piece of the puzzle that seemed to get more complex with every passing day. Not to mention dangerous. Once they all retreated back inside, Tysone looked at Kohta and Officer Nakaoka. "You two, scout the perimeter of the mansion, keep an eye out for any more of those things. The rest of you, let's get some rest. Please, don't let this damper the party; we're still alive. That's what matters most."
Kohta nodded and Officer Nakaoka followed him, already chatting amicably with the boy.
The festive atmosphere of the party had been shattered. The fairy lights still twinkled, but now they seemed to illuminate the exhaustion etched on everyone's faces rather than inspire joy.
The half-eaten food and abandoned cups were a stark reminder of how abruptly their moment of reprieve had ended. One by one, the group began to disperse, the new survivors shuffling off to their designated rooms with fearful, backward glances, while the core members moved with a familiar, post-combat weariness.
Usually, Tysone would've held an emergency meeting. However, he was already tired of meetings and the party. Everything was piling up way too fast, and he was exhausted. "Get some rest, everyone." He muttered—he doubted he'd get any tonight. After all, he couldn't let Kohta and Nakaoka stay outside by themselves.
It wouldn't exactly be nice if the supposed leader of the group didn't even stay on the lookout.
"Ty?"
Saya's hand caught his sleeve just as he turned toward the front door. The others were already slipping away down the hall, their footsteps softened by the rain tapping steadily outside. She glanced toward the retreating group, then leaned in, her voice low.
"You should sleep too."
"Someone's gotta keep watch." Tysone said, his voice just above a whisper. He gave her hand a small squeeze, firm but gentle. "Go get some rest."
She hesitated, lips parting with the start of a protest, but he shook his head with a quiet smile.
"Seriously. I'll come in later, once I'm sure everything's quiet. Besides—" his brow arched, teasing— "You and I still have unfinished business, don't we?"
Saya flushed. Her fist tapped lightly against his chest.
"Idiot." But she was smiling.
She leaned up and kissed his cheek—quick, warm, and just awkward enough to be sincere—then turned on her heel before he could see the full shade of red rising to her ears.
Tysone watched her go, a grin tugging at his mouth before it faded into something more thoughtful.
Lucky? Yeah, maybe.
Unlucky? Also yeah.
But that was the point, wasn't it?
The world didn't care how lucky you were. It stripped everything away without warning. Comfort, safety, people you loved—gone in seconds. Strength was the only constant that mattered now. Not just muscle or bullets or who could kill the fastest, but the will to stand when everything else fell apart.
And he wasn't about to fall.
Tysone sighed and turned to the doorway, picking up his halberd.
He pushed the door open and walked into the backyard, now more of a makeshift training ground than anything else. The grass was worn, patches of dirt showing where boots had dug in.
He briefly looked up.
Damn beautiful sky and all of the bullshit it entailed.
Then his eyes fell back down to his hands. At his halberd, which felt so much lighter than before. He stood in the backyard, which had sort of become a training ground for everyone.
Was this enough? The drills, the sparring, the endless repetition—would it matter in the end? Could they really carve out a future in a world like this?
He didn't know.
His thoughts always seemed to spiral into this same dark corner. Just when things started to feel stable, something cracked.
Someone died.
Something changed.
The quiet ended.
And every time, he only knew one way forward.
Train. Bleed. Push.
If brute strength failed, then he'd get faster. Smarter. Meaner.
If the enemy couldn't be outmuscled, then—
He spun the halberd in his hands, letting the familiar weight pull him back into motion. A slash, a step, a turn. Again. Fluid, sharp, controlled.
—then he'd carve his way through anyway.
Because in a world like this, there was no standing still.
Only survivors.
And corpses.
Tysone gritted his teeth as his swings became faster. More powerful. Then, he slowed down, because brute strength was only half of it. The halberd wasn't meant for such fast movements, and in fact, was quite a sluggish weapon in combat. It was made to reap through crowds. To cut through flesh with its weight.
And so he focused on precision. On control. On timing. The balance of power and precision, speed and weight.
He could have been training for an hour or ten minutes—he wasn't sure. Time melted when the blood rushed in his ears like that. He spun the halberd around again, and his vision blurred. The weapon's blade became a silver streak against the night sky. The air screamed as it split under his blade.
Tysone targeted some of the training dummies that were still standing around the yard. Each one of them was a potential zombie. Each slash was a kill. Each jab, another. Then he began to incorporate more of the elements that he learned from his brief spars with Saeko.
The dummies were ripped apart as he attacked. One fell. Another was sliced in half.
Three were bisected in a second. A clean cut.
Five were ripped apart by a horizontal slash.
Seven were obliterated with a thrust that tore apart the ground beneath.
...
Saeko wasn't to fall asleep so lightly either, and had decided to fulfill her duty as the vice leader to help Tysone. She firmly held onto her katana as she made her way out, walking along the perimeter while staring into the distance, almost as if searching for any incoming threat.
She found herself walking into Tysone training his heart out, however.
Kohta almost happened to walk in as well.
Saeko and him stared at the carnage that was Tysone training. They looked at each other. Kohta grinned and nodded, as if saying. "This guy's crazy, huh?" to which Saeko nodded with a soft chuckle.
"Well, it's quite nice to know that our leader's this reliable." Saeko murmured.
"Uh, yeah. But don't you think it's a little too extreme? I mean, I get that the world's ended, and all that. But it's kinda worrying, seeing someone be that determined. It's almost like he doesn't care about himself, you know? Like, it's cool, but it's not really healthy." Kohta mumbled.
"That's why he needs us." Saeko smiled at him. "We can help him. He needs friends who can look out for him, not just followers who rely on him for everything. We can be his support system, right?"
"Yeah." Kohta grinned, pushing his glasses up with his finger. "Ah, damn, now I have to get even more training myself! If I'm gonna keep up with this guy, I've gotta put in the work!" He pumped a fist. "Wish me luck!"
"Good luck!" Saeko chuckled. "But remember to rest, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. I know. You don't have to worry about me, I'll be fine!" He waved and jogged off to his post, likely where Officer Nakaoka was. Saeko had indeed noticed the way those two got along, and it made her happy.
It reminded her of the good things that could happen, even in a world that seemed determined to snuff out every bit of happiness. It reminded her that they weren't just fighting to survive; they were fighting to protect these moments, these connections.
Tysone paused mid-swing. His breath came in sharp, short gasps. Sweat trickled from his hairline, carving a path down the side of his face.
Saeko had to admit she found the sight extremely... hot—was that the right word Tysone would use?
Tysone paused mid-swing. His breath came in sharp, controlled gasps, shoulders rising and falling as he steadied himself. Sweat clung to his skin, glistening faintly in the low light. His shirt was tossed aside somewhere near the edge of the yard, forgotten. Muscles tightened and relaxed beneath skin marked with bruises and shallow cuts.
Saeko observed quietly from the shadow of the back porch, her katana still in hand, though at ease now by her side.
She tilted her head slightly, watching the way his body moved. Not just with power, but with a strange kind of grace. He was applying the insights of her teachings very well.
'Hot.' She thought again.
Yes, that was the word he would use. Crude, but strangely fitting.
She took a step forward, her voice calm, almost teasing. "You're going to pass out if you keep going like that."
Author's Note:
If you're enjoying the story and want to read ahead or support my work, you can check out my P@treon at [email protected]/LordCampione. But don't worry—all chapters will eventually be public. Just being here and reading means the world to me. Thank you for your time and support.