Global Evolution: I Became A Zombie!

The humans had only one respite in the apocalypse. It was the fact that not all zombies could spread the virus to them. It was reserved for evolved zombies. Even then, only a third of them awakened it.

This gave the humans a fighting chance.

As long as they either killed the elites or ignored them, they could live in harmony.

However, Blaze had ruined their plans by creating the Infector.

A seemingly weak and harmless zombie. Even a child could kill it. Something that Blaze had paid utmost attention to while creating it.

After all, the infector was useful only in death. It was primarily a carrier filled with blightspores and ammonia sacks.

Upon death, these ammonia sacks stretched their bloated bodies to the limit. The pressure was crucial for launching the spores far and wide following the explosion.

The only weak point was its slow speed. If someone spotted them from a distance of a couple of miles, for example, then the spores wouldn't reach the target.

Unfortunately, through his experiments with assembly, Blaze failed to synthesize a single infector with a sprinter as the base.

But that didn't take away from the fact that now any zombie, no matter how weak, could spread a new zombifying agent.

At least within Blaze's domain.

His blight zone.

It's destructive, even though it's still in the experimental phase.

Blaze thought, heading inside the rundown shelter. To his surprise, some humans were still alive and fighting. Technically, it wasn't that they were fighting that surprised him, but that they were still alive.

The spores should have infected them all. But it seemed they had some kind of resistance to it.

However, considering that it hadn't even been a day since the Blightspore came into existence, it was odd that they had already developed resistance to it.

Unless… they have inherent resistance to fungal infections.

Humans had strange adaptability. In Thomas Huxley's bold words, their adaptability was their greatest advantage when it came to evolution.

While he wasn't the only one to say such words, Blaze remembered Thomas Huxley first because of his close intellectual association with his forefather, Charles Darwin.

However, Blaze preferred Theodosius Dobzhansky's words over Huxley's. One where he highlighted how genetic variation allows humans to resist diseases and infections.

It could be a case of that. Even among the chosen, some people were inherently different. Hence, the spore was either subdued or was facing difficulty infecting them.

"I can't let this be, can I?" Blaze said, flexing his neck.

His goal was to study the different zombies the spore made, the ones he called the sporeforms. Instead, he found something more interesting.

Meanwhile, the chosen were busy fighting for their lives. They didn't notice the newcomer, focused on the undying zombies.

The chosen tried to fight back with swords, arrows, and spears, but even after chopping them in half, the strange zombies refused to die.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the same for the chosen. They fell left and right. However, they weren't ripping the fallen chosen apart like before. Almost as if someone instructed them not to.

Just when death felt certain, a zombie stepped close to the campfire. As the flames crackled, the zombie screeched loudly, jumping back.

A woman with short hair noticed the strange reaction. She had seen zombies avoid fire, but it was the first time she had seen such a reaction from one.

"That's it!"

"Monica!" someone yelled as she broke formation and ran to the fire pit.

Everyone thought she was doomed until she pulled a plank from the fire, waving it at the sporeforms. The zombies hissed and snarled, but didn't dare get close.

"They're scared of it!" she shouted at the others, swinging the plank in a wide arc. "Stay close to the fire!"

The fire had turned into hope for them. Perhaps the humans were experiencing such joy for the first time since learning to use it over a million years ago.

They rushed to grab logs as if their lives depended on it. And sure enough, the sporeforms stayed far away, snarling at them.

"Slowly retreat to the exit," Monica said.

But then, they heard someone clapping. They turned around and gasped as if they'd seen the Grim Reaper.

In the dark stood a figure dressed in a suit. His entire head was covered with a reflective mask.

While none of them had seen Blaze in the flesh, they had heard enough tales to know what he looked like. However, it was only the beginning of surprises.

"Well done," he said between claps. "Truly well done. I didn't think anyone would discover the weakness of my little creations so soon."

The chosen stiffened as soon as those words came out of his mouth. Not because of what he said, but because he spoke… anything at all.

The voice was hoarse and difficult to make out, but merely hearing a zombie talk sent them into shock.

At first, they thought he was an impostor. Their fears lessened for a moment until they realized the zombies weren't attacking him. The realization made their faces go paler than before.

But the next moment, Monica raised her plank towards Blaze. Her hands trembled, betraying her bravery.

As for Blaze, he looked at the other as if asking if the woman was serious.

"How rude," he said, acting offended. "To shove fire in the face of your savior."

"Savior…?" Monica mumbled.

"What? You thought I was here to kill you? Nah!" Blaze said, stepping closer. "There's no need for all this. I swear on my life as a zombie, I have no intention of killing you."

The group was so focused on Blaze's face that none of them noticed a tendril coiling around the woman's waist. Everything was going well until one of them noticed the tendril.

"Watch out!"

The man lunged at Monica. Unfortunately, it was too late.

Crunch!

The tendril squeezed shut, snapping Monica's spine like a twig. In a second, her body went limp. The burning plank fell from her hand as she glared at Blaze in disbelief, before falling to the ground.

While the chosen remained rooted to their spot, Blaze crouched beside Monica, patting her pale cheek.

"I told you I would save you," he said. "But I never promised you'd remain unharmed."

Monica wanted to scream and curse, but her body wouldn't obey her. She had lost control of every part of her body except the eyes, which were filled with despair.