As I went into the dimly lit corridor, the familiar sense of anticipation mixed with caution settled over me. My footsteps were light, each step taking me further away from the security of the classroom and deeper into the dangerous unknown. I readied a javelin, feeling its familiar weight in my hands.
The corridors of the school were eerily silent, save for the occasional distant groan of a zombie. My senses were heightened, attuned to any sound or movement. As I moved through the empty hallways, the memories of my previous encounters with the undead played in my mind.
Reaching the area with the most zombies, I positioned myself strategically, preparing for the inevitable onslaught. The zombies, drawn by my presence, began to shamble towards me, their grotesque forms emerging from the shadows. I braced myself, ready for combat.
The first few zombies fell easily under my swift attacks. Each successful strike brought satisfaction, but also a growing realization. At level 16, these lower-level zombies were no longer challenging. They fell with ease, but the experience they offered was disappointingly minimal. The thrill of the fight was diminishing, replaced by mechanical efficiency.
As more zombies fell by my hand, a sense of emptiness replaced the initial adrenaline that once accompanied these battles. The creatures, once terrifying, now seemed almost mundane. Their predictable movements and lackluster attacks hardly posed a threat. Yet, with each vanquished foe, the lack of substantial experience gained became increasingly apparent.
After clearing several waves of zombies, the truth was undeniable. I was no longer leveling up as I had hoped. The experience gained from these lower-level enemies was insufficient, barely making a dent in my progress. The realization was sobering. To continue growing stronger, so that I could protect myself and my companions, I would need to face greater challenges.
With a heavy sigh, I put away my weapon and retreated to a quiet corner of the corridor to gather my thoughts. It was time to reassess my strategy. The Elite Zombie Boss, a formidable adversary, preoccupied my thoughts. Defeating it would not only provide a significant boost in experience but also a chance to escape this nightmarish place.
I began to think about potential strategies for confronting the elite boss. A direct attack was risky, given the creature's strength and my current level. A more cunning approach was required. Something to even the odds.
With my back against the cool wall of the corridor, I closed my eyes, allowing the memories of last night's thoughts to resurface. The plan I had devised, though risky, seemed increasingly like the best course of action. The sanctuary restroom, an area within the school where the system's rules rendered it inaccessible to the undead, was the key element in my strategy.
I thought about the scenario in my mind: the Elite Zombie Boss, lured into a relentless chase by me. The plan hinged on my speed and agility, qualities that I had plenty of. The goal was to draw the boss as close to the restroom as I could.
Once at the restroom's threshold, I would run inside, and start spamming the Elite Zombie Boss with javelins. At that point, there would literally be nothing it could do to fight back, and I would be able to easily whittle down its health to nothing. Ha! I'm actually a genius. And he who thinks otherwise is a moron.
With the plan firmly etched in my mind, I pushed myself away from the corridor wall, steeling myself for what I had to do next. My steps were quiet as I navigated the silent, haunting halls of the school. Lost in thought, I wandered, my mind replaying the upcoming confrontation with the Elite Zombie Boss, strategizing every move and countermove over and over again.
As I turned a familiar corner, a pungent, acrid smell assaulted my senses. It was a stench so overpowering, so vile, that it nearly brought me to my knees. My stomach churned, and I fought back the urge to vomit. The source of the odor was unmistakably close, and with a sinking heart, I realized where I had come to.
I stood before the door to my own classroom, the epicenter of so many memories, both bitter and sweet. The door, slightly ajar, seemed to beckon me into a scene I was unprepared to face. Steeling my nerves, I pushed the door open, the creaking sound echoing ominously through the empty hallways.
The sight that greeted me was one of macabre devastation. The classroom was filled with the bodies of my former classmates, which lay strewn about in grotesque disarray. Reduced to lifeless husks, their individual identities were stripped away by death's impartial hand.
A wave of emotions crashed over me – grief, guilt, and an overwhelming sense of surrealism. Had I not been the target of bullying, had I not sought refuge in the restroom to escape my tormentors, I could very well have been among these lifeless bodies. My decision, made from a moment of loneliness, had inadvertently become my salvation.
Stepping out of the classroom, I closed the door on the tragedy behind me, and the images of my former classmates etched in my mind. It was time to face the Elite Zombie Boss, the threat that stood between us and our escape. The time had come to confront it head-on and reclaim a semblance of the life we had lost.
