A terrified scream interrupted the unnatural silence.

Jerking a little at the suddenness of it, Ira blinked his eyes open and found himself in both another world and another body. 

Blinking a little more as the pungent scent of blood and grime filled his nose until it was all he could smell — not that that was a bad thing — Ira sat himself up from where he had been laying on a fairly comfortable mattress, all things considered. The room he was in was a mess, as if it had been ransacked about two dozen times, followed by a hurricane. Curtains fluttered from the wind in front of the open window, where lukewarm air travelled through.

There were no birds chirping, no sound of bugs or barking of dogs. Just a still, unnatural silence.

The screaming that had woken him up — he had transferred to this body awhile ago, he had just decided to sleep before dealing with it — cut off with an abruptness that told him it wasn't voluntarily. Curious, Ira stood from his position on the bed and walked over to the window.

The sight that met him was absolutely glorious.

Gore and blood littered the streets, cars overturned — some still smoking from the remains of fires that had reduced them to husks — and corpses walking, grunting as they moved.

The sun was still on the horizon, not yet truly morning, and Ira was already in a great mood.

Observing as what passed for this world's zombies tore a woman apart in the middle of streets below him, he turned his attention to the information he automatically received whenever he entered a new world. Having a body was a choice he had made, because he was performing an experiment to confirm a theory, and he was of high enough rank that he was allowed it.

This world was, as might be concluded from the evidence so far, in the middle of a zombie outbreak.

It was sometime in the twenty-first century, so technology was at least more advanced than previous missions and he could probably find decent books here, provided libraries and bookstores hadn't all been destroyed.

One could always hope.

As was customary in worlds like these, it was a survival story.

His Host had been transmigrated into the body of a mildly important cannon fodder, a certain Jane Miller, who had managed to live for around five years into the apocalypse, not much worse for wear. But in the end, like all cannon fodders, she was killed to give the protagonists of the story a much needed push forward.

His Host's mission this time was to find the vaccine for the zombie virus.

This was no longer the Tutorial Mode.

As was mandatory, Ira had possessed a body that had no relevance to the story, a mob character of such little importance, he was named precisely once in the original story, and then never mentioned again. And the one time he was mentioned, was just a soldier announcing names of the recently deceased to a superior officer.

However, right now was a different time. It had only been three days since the zombie outbreak began, and he was nowhere near the base his character was set to join, work for, and then promptly die for, all within the same year.

Smiling in success at being put in a world filled with decay, where he could murder people left and right without anybody the wiser, Ira leaned on the windowsill and gazed out at the wonderful view. His eyes grew relaxed as he watched the various low-level zombies grunting as they moved, following any sound they could hear.

Ira only felt anticipation curling in his stomach as he watched them.

Hopefully, they wouldn't disappoint.

Letting his attention split, he zoomed in on his Host, who was in another city in another part of the country. At the moment, she was desperately fleeing a pack of zombies together with a few other people, while others from high vantage points picked off the zombies one by one. She was covered in grime and dust, her eyes were wild and she screamed whenever a zombie approached, which of course only a attracted more of them.

It wasn't difficult to imagine what her companions were thinking. Unfortunately, they were only a few days into the apocalypse, so most people hadn't hardened their hearts yet, which meant he wouldn't get to see her being abandoned and left to fend for herself.

It would have been really funny, too.

Well, it might still happen.

It was all about keeping up hope, in worlds like this.

With the Tutorial Mode no longer active, the mission this time required much more proactivity. Going with the flow and keeping ones head down wouldn't do any more. No, this time, his Host would need to take the initiative and work hard, harder than she ever had before.

Ira was more than ready to record the entire clusterfest.

Keeping his bloodthirsty thoughts from showing on his face with difficulty, Ira decided that he had observed long enough. Depending on how long it took his Host to die, he had more then enough time to take in the view, especially as it would only get better from here. Not to mention all of the pictures he had already taken.

Sweeping his eyes over the room he had woken up in, Ira grinned a little viciously when he saw a backpack stowed away under the bed. Bending down, he grabbed it and dropped it on top of the bed, opening it as he went.

It had a few bottles of water, very clearly store-bought, a couple of unopened cans of food and a small first-aid kit that hadn't been opened yet. And evidently, this mob character hadn't been a complete fool, because there was also a few tubes of toothpaste and an unopened packet of toothbrushes, together with about four bars of unused soap.

At least his teeth wouldn't fall out. That was always something.

And he wouldn't stink.

Opening one of the cans — there was also a can-opener in the backpack — Ira started eating, feeling relieved when that annoying rumbling sound from his stomach disappeared.

"Now then." Ira said when he had finished eating. "Where am I going to go from here?"

A bloodthirsty grin spread across his face. "Somewhere... messy."

After he brushed his teeth in the bathroom and finished his business at the toilet, Ira grabbed his backpack, put it over one of his shoulders and slowly opened the front door. He peeked his head out and stared both ways, disappointed when he couldn't see a single zombie. Checking his map, he frowned when there truly was no zombie around waiting to ambush him.

What an utter let down.

Scowling in displeasure, Ira opened the door all of the way and slammed it closed behind him. However, as no zombie was close enough to hear it, it had absolutely no effect whatsoever but displeasing him further. 

He huffed at the unfairness of it all, his Host chased by zombies, but not a single zombie in his close proximity.

Ira wanted to be chased by zombies too, damn it.

He stomped his feet with viciousness where he walked along the street, hoping that some zombie would hear him and come running, but again, no luck. Getting more and more pissed off the longer he went without attracting attention, Ira scowled harder and harder. By the time he had walked two blocks further into the city he had woken up in, Ira was so pissed off he would have killed his Host if they had entered his physical sight.

Catching sight of a convince store, Ira increased his speed and entered it without any attempt at stealth. Surely, there must be some zombie trapped in here.

But no, because the universe hated him, there was not single being in the store, whether dead or otherwise.

In his fury at once again being denied his prey, Ira kicked over a shelf and watched it fall with satisfaction finally burning in his gut. He wandered through the store, the shelves practically overflowing with stuff. Clearly, nobody had been here since the apocalypse had started.

He grabbed some more canned goods and some bottles of water, and after thinking it over, some liquor too. He wasn't much for drinking, but he was in a mood right now. 

In his mind, he could see as his Host had finally escaped from the zombies together with her companions. The group she was running with was set to run into the protagonist's group in about another month. When that happened, it would lead to internal strife and half the group would proceed on their own, while the other half would stay with the protagonist. Jane Miller would be among the later half.

Ira was looking forward to seeing what his Host would choose to do when the opportunity arose. After all, the original Jane Miller had never found a vaccine by hanging around the protagonist.

The sound of gunfire brought him out of his mind.

Frowning at the disturbance, Ira closed his backpack where he had shoved his newest acquisitions in.

He swallowed the last of the wine and dropped the bottle on the floor. 

He didn't feel a thing.

Being a System, he had turned off his ability to become intoxicated before he had started drinking the actually really good-tasting wine. As such, he was not in the least bit drunk, despite having drank an entire bottle of the stuff.

Ira swung the backpack over his shoulder and exited the store.

On his map, he could see a group of dots hurrying in his direction. Based on their color, they were ordinary humans.

But there was a whole pack of zombies chasing after them.

Depositing his backpack inside the store right by the door to keep it safe, Ira positioned himself by the corner outside of the store, waiting for the humans to come running right passed him as they switched streets. Before long, he could hear them coming, someone shouting commands, the sound of their feet hitting the ground, and the gunfire that only rose in volume the closer they came.

Smirking at thought of the carnage to come, he took out the knife he had found in the backpack as well. Bending his knees, all that was left to do was wait.

It didn't take long.

Within seconds, the humans ran right beside him as they fanned out and ran behind cover. Ira watched with one eye as they rose their guns and aimed at the pack of zombies coming ever closer.

Ira waited until all of the zombies — numbering in the twenties — had moved passed him as well and out into the open street. Unable to keep his grin of excitement to himself, Ira pushed off from the wall and rushed to the nearest one, not wasting a second before he stabbed the knife through the base of the skull and up, penetrating the brain instantly and turning the zombie into just another corpse that dropped to the ground, motionless, as soon as he let go.

The sound disturbed the other zombies and a few turned around to try to catch him, but by that point, he was already moving to the next one.

These were low-level zombies, which meant that they had yet to evolve to the point where they were dangerous one-on-one. As long as Ira didn't get caught by them, he had the advantage. And Ira always used it.

He could hear the humans stopping their shooting, heard them calling out for him to move out of the way if he didn't want to be shot as well, but Ira ignored them.

It wasn't difficult, having as much fun as he was.

Ira moved between the many zombies, bringing them down one after the other, aiming for the knees and spine when he couldn't get a clear aim for their head. He was virtually dancing between them, completely unconcerned about the blood that covered him before long.

Oh, this was just the absolute best.