35 Chapter 35
- Xenon -
Although my previous level up was nothing extraordinary, the throwing knives were a nice addition. They were bigger and heavier than the ones I had, which means more damage, even if they took a bit of time to get used to, but once that was done, I could clearly notice the difference, as my attacks could now finish a walker even without using [Empowered Strike].
( Image Here )
I have spent the last eight days moving from house to house, looting everything that could be of use, but admittedly, every single house followed the same template, and there wasn't anything exceptional that couldn't be found in the other houses.
I managed to find three pistols and one shotgun. A Smith & Wesson Model 686P with a 5 inch barrel, a Glock 17 and a Sig Sauer P320. I have around a hundred rounds for the Glock and the P320, but the Revolver needed .357 Magnum rounds, of which I only had thirty. As for the shotgun, it was a Mossberg 590, though I've never been a shotgun person myself. I'll probably be giving the one I had found in the bar to the group, along with the Glock. I'm keeping the other two weapons for myself, and right now, they were all loaded and hidden in my inventory, which was by now almost full. I can't put in whatever I want anymore, but have to put everything on my pickup, which was quite full by now.
I hadn't been idle on the fighting front either: every single day, I killed a healthy amount of walkers, which allowed me to gain more experience and level up my skills, but also to confirm that my initial misgivings were true: I was definitely doing something wrong.
< You have leveled up! >
< Evaluating performance… >
* Ding *
< You are eligible for rewards! >
< +1 DEX Gained! >
< [Weapon Mastery: Hatchet. (Passive)] has leveled up! >
[Weapon Mastery: Hatchet. (Passive)] LVL 2
You find using hatchets as a weapon easier.
Increased damage when using hatchets .
Note: The effect extends to similar weapons.
< Status >
Name : Xenon
Level : 4 | Progress : 0/70
Race : Human
Age : 16
-
Stamina (SP) : 230/230
-
STR : 14
DEX : 11
CON : 4
END : 11
CHA: 14
WIL : 3
INT : 23
WIS : 12
LUK : 8
<>
I wasn't doing something wrong in the sense that I shouldn't have killed walkers to level up. No, au contraire, it was the right thing to do. Why? Because if it wasn't, I wouldn't have leveled up at all, and I wouldn't have gained a stat point and a level in a my skill, or gained any rewards at all.
No, what I was doing wrong was my "performance". The system has clearly judged it lacking, or 'nothing truly exceptional', as the rewards are proportional to my performance. And even though killing that number of walkers single handedly was far more impressive than what I had done on my first time in Atlanta with the group, the circumstances were different at the time. Hell, I even got a skill just by killing a single walker once I came to this world, something I can't see myself achieving right now.
But now? I could easily kill quite a number, as long as the terrain and equipment helped, which was the case most of the time. So really, me leveling up slow and steady was nothing impressive, which means that the rewards were nothing impressive either. I can also guess that the stat gains are somehow related to what aspect of my "stats" were used the most in my performance, though I can't really tell if that's truly the case. I used my strength most of all to level up, yet I didn't get a single STR point.
My pickup was full now from everything I took from every house, so I will be going back to the camp tomorrow. I have no reason to stay here apart from killing more zombies, something I could do after I deposit my loot there. I'm not staying there peacefully any longer than I have to, it's counter productive.
I woke up a bit late on the ninth day (since I came to Atlanta), on the master bedroom of the house I took the previous day. I had it locked and barricaded by whatever I could find the room, just in case. It had a window big enough for me to go through, so I wouldn't be stuck here either.
I took out a box of cereal and a bottle of juice, and had my breakfast. I would've preferred some toast, an egg sandwich and tea, but hey, beggars can't be choosers. Though I did eat a significantly large portion before I felt full. I equipped my weapons, both my hatchet and knives go to my belt. I can't keep them in my inventory, just in case I have to use them in front of people. I know it's not likely to meet people in Atlanta, especially in this suspiciously calm part of the city, but you never know.
I got out of the bedroom, and went to the kitchen, where I had put everything I would take from this house to load in my car, which really wasn't much, a single bag of food, and went out to my car to hit the road. I reached the pickup, but as I reached out to open the door, I realized this journey of mine was about to take a very dark turn for the worse.
* Tick *
"Make one move, and I'll blow your fucking head up, you understand?" my body froze on its own in response, because that's what you're supposed to do when a fucking gun was held against the back of your head. And this time, I could tell it was a gun because of the loading sound. All that separate me from an early grave is the jerk of a single finger and the whims of my captor…
