The red dots on my map interface vanished when my gauntlets blasted buckshot at the zombies ahead of me. I collected the yellow brute cores and strode forward to face the remaining Blade types.
Though there were several stage three close, none of them seemed willing to fight me.
'Or are they watching, observing how I fight?'
I turned to face the stage ones, a couple of them remaining as they dragged their broken bodies across the ground.
"Hm..."
Opposite them, the blade-types started approaching, wanting to kill him. Their accuracy and strength are deadly, but not enough to bother me.
A dull ache pulsed in the back of my mind, warning me of the danger with each slight vibration of the Stage Three zombies' movement.
My predator instincts sometimes acted like a double-edged sword.
The Blade-types moved.
