The brief pause gave Integral a sense of foreboding. “Report the situation immediately!”

A strange male voice suddenly sounded from the phone: “Miss Integral, please rest assured, we will guard the main entrance on the first floor. The enemy is zombies.”

After saying this, the strange male voice hung up.

Once the enemy’s identity became clear, everyone in the conference room looked even more shocked.

A hand placed the phone back in its original spot, pressing it into the splattered blood. The black-haired, black-eyed muscular man shook the blood from his palm, looked at the surging zombie horde, and his eyes were full of disdain.

Standing atop the dent he had just smashed into the floor, the muscles on William Carter’s body twitched and then swelled in a bizarre way. His burly frame took on a steel-like sheen. With just a casual blow, he had smashed a huge pit with a heavy ornament. The long knife in his other hand was still dripping with crimson blood.

He muttered to himself, “Fifteen points each? Looks like the ones with guns are worth more than those basic zombies in Resident Evil…”

“Hey, cover me, all right?” He glanced at the terrified soldiers behind him and spoke.

After receiving a definite answer, William Carter roared and charged into the ranks of zombies, casually smashing a bulletproof shield to pieces and tearing a zombie hiding behind it in half.

The mangled flesh and blood fell among the zombies and was quickly devoured by their own kind.

On the first floor, the sound of shells whistling through the air rang out one after another.

In the monitoring room, Uncle Clark watched the crimson chaos on the screens and couldn’t help but shake his head and sigh, “Feels like Andy Carter is becoming more and more like a tank.”

Chapter 8 The Blind Man and the Zombies

Looking at the monitors, every screen was filled with blood and twisted faces.

Zombies holding bulletproof shields formed ranks, slowly closing in. Even if their heads were severed, they didn’t stop moving (I really wanted to complain about this scene when watching the OVA—why don’t they die even with their heads cut off? These zombies are just too overpowered!), and guns poked out from gaps in the shields, spitting deadly sparks one after another.

Fortunately, their trainers weren’t skilled enough to teach a bunch of brain-rotted zombies how to aim, or else the Hellsing headquarters’ garrison would have been wiped out long ago.

Amidst the synchronized footsteps, the putrid line advanced slowly, zombies chewing on flesh, their ashen faces showing only hatred and hunger for the living.

Their eyes burned with the desire to fill their bodies with all the warm flesh and blood, accompanied by chilling, low growls.

It was enough to drive anyone mad.

The living soldiers screamed as they pulled their triggers, emptying magazine after magazine, but to no effect, forced to watch as the line of death advanced slowly, treading through blood.

From time to time, a zombie would bend down, letting its body shudder in the hail of bullets, just to pick up a half-eaten limb left behind by its devoured kin.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

At last, a soldier, unable to bear the immense pressure and unable to face the zombies slowly advancing down the corridor, screamed, shoved the barrel of his gun into his mouth, and pulled the trigger.

Just as his finger was about to squeeze the trigger, a loud bang sounded by his ear. A bullet knocked the pistol from his hand, and a frowning face appeared in his vision.

Casually stuffing a grenade into his arms, John Baker patted his face. “If you want to die, use this. Charge forward and end it all at once.”

“Cowards die in shame…” he muttered something no one could understand.

With that, John Baker ignored him, speaking into his earpiece: “I’m here. Don’t worry about the B-2 corridor.”

After finishing, he cut off the earpiece, tossed away the magazine from his gun, and loaded a new one filled with mercury-tipped silver bullets.

He grinned viciously and casually aimed ahead. A violent roar erupted from the massive gun in his hands.

The huge bullet tore through the bulletproof shield ahead, ripping a zombie in half.

“See? It’s pretty simple. Don’t be afraid,” he whispered, not sure if he was talking to someone else or to himself.

A low growl rumbled from John Baker’s throat, like a wild beast. Scalding hot shell casings jumped from the side of his gun, clattering to the ground. The spring pushed another bullet into the chamber.

“Come on, baby.” John Baker lowered his voice and pulled the trigger again.

※※※

Intense gunfire rang out nearby, separated by only a wall.

Under Grace Brooks’s guidance, Henry Clark sprinted at top speed, nearly stumbling several times.

“How are you holding up?” Grace Brooks asked, seeing Henry Clark almost fall.

“Keep moving, don’t stop.” Henry Clark steadied himself against the wall, gripping a dagger. “Do you hear that? The gunfire is getting closer.”

Grace Brooks, panting, grabbed his hand and started running again, dashing through the maze-like corridors.

“Stop, turn right.” Henry Clark suddenly grabbed the off-course Grace Brooks. “This way, to the right.”