Chapter 88: Sneaky bastard

System, step out for a second, let’s talk. When did you secretly complete an advanced training course in adult novel accessories?

A hot, burning flush spread across May’s face. Images of Theo taking a shower stark naked earlier flashed uncontrollably through her mind, making her shake her head frantically to dispel those shameless thoughts.

Was she, May Abbot, really that kind of person?

Absolutely!

However, right now was not the time. The context was completely wrong—her teammates outside were risking life and limb battling zombies, facing down death itself. For her to be in here indulging herself would breach all codes of propriety.

Biting her lower lip, she gritted her teeth and handed the patch—which exuded a distinct, synthetic strawberry fragrance—over to Theo.

"Theo... use this," she whispered in a voice barely louder than a mosquito’s hum.

Theo lowered his gaze.

His eyes swept over the sketchy-looking patch, then shifted to May’s crimson face, dark undercurrents swirling behind his reflective lenses. Possessiveness surged within him, yet he remained silent for a long moment.

"How is it applied?" he asked, his voice deeply raspy.

"It says... on the package... massage in circular motions until it heats up and absorbs completely," May read off the lines with her eyes shut tight.

Theo stared at her. Hearing her explanation, he paused briefly before suddenly lifting his hand.

Snap.

He stripped off the sterile rubber gloves, tossing them casually into a nearby waste bin.

"I can’t distribute the medicinal effect properly through gloves," Theo rasped in a voice smooth enough to melt bone. "Pardon me."

Before she could react, his warm, slightly calloused hand ripped open the packaging and pressed the patch firmly over her injured skin...

"Hss—!"

May drew in a sharp breath, her body jerking upward, only to be held down firmly against the examination table by Theo’s other hand.

"Don’t move," Theo instructed with a calm expression, though the movements beneath his palm never ceased.

The heat of his palm transferred through the patch. Upon contact with her skin, the initially cool ointment dissolved rapidly. The sweet, almost cloying strawberry scent burst open inside the enclosed room, mingling with the sharp scent of disinfectant on Theo and leaving her feeling completely lightheaded.

Theo’s fingers were broad, bearing thin calluses from years of holding surgical blades. Following the instructions, he began...

"Theo... gentle! It hurts!"

"Bear with it."

As the formula seeped deep into her skin...

"Ah... stop... stop pressing..." May’s hands clutched the sterile sheet at the edge of the table, her nails tearing holes through the fabric.

Tears welling up in her eyes spilled over—not from pain, but from something entirely different.

"Theo, I really... this is too..."

"A physical reaction to the formula is normal."

Theo’s breathing turned heavy, his gaze darkening as his hand did not retreat, but instead pressed firmer...

The sweet aphrodisiac fragrance of the strawberry patch evaporated completely into the air...

May felt as though half her body had gone entirely limp, her mind turning to mush, leaving only involuntary shivers and quick breaths.

Fuck! This isn’t a pain-relief patch at all—this is a full-blown aphrodisiac patch! System, you sneaky bastard, you really got me this time!

***

Meanwhile...

"Cut the nonsense! Mitch, Jack, push up! Stomp these piles of rotten flesh to pieces!"

At Ray’s command, he charged forward himself, wielding his dulled combat trench knife.

Jack swung a heavy fire axe he had ripped from the corridor wall, executing wide, powerful strikes. A single downward chop severed a crawling zombie torso cleanly in two. Dark blood splattered all over his tactical gear, but he couldn’t care less, moving like an indefatigable meat grinder.

Positioned behind Jack with his rifle raised, Mitch selectively blasted the severed limbs attempting to leap forward.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The heavy gunfire echoed loudly through the narrow corridor, vibrating intensely against everyone’s eardrums.

"Fuck you, you rotten pieces of shit!"

Mitch kicked away a severed head that was still snapping its jaws near his boot, leveling the smoking rifle barrel to fire a point-blank round into the writhing pile of flesh attempting to reassemble. "Is this damn stuff living playdough?! Why won’t it die no matter how many times we chop it?!"

The hallway reeked of iron-rich blood mixed with gunsmoke, heavy enough to trigger a splitting headache.

The two Stitch-Splicers—previously dismembered by the combined efforts of Ace and Ray—acted like magnetic masses possessing collective consciousness. Severed arms, twisted torsos, and shattered skulls defied physical logic, crawling slowly yet relentlessly through the pools of blood toward a single central point.

The slick, squelching friction sound made everyone’s teeth set on edge.

"Don’t let them merge!" Ray roared, his trench knife whistling through the air to pin the fastest-crawling leg bone firmly against the wall.

Jack swung his fire axe like a tireless pile driver, pulverizing a crawling torso into mincemeat with a single heavy blow. Yet that flattened mass merely twitched twice before resolutely wriggling back toward the center.

"Ray, this isn’t working!" Jack wiped sweat from his brow, his voice carrying a panicked, tearful tone. "My axe blade is almost completely dull! This stuff is like dough—the harder I smash it, the stickier it gets!"

Right then, the most bizarre phenomenon occurred.

The two piles of shredded meat finally closed the remaining distance, coming into physical contact.

There was no explosion, nor any deafening blast.

Only a thick, bubbling sound—resembling air escaping dense mud—echoed through the corridor. The two piles of flesh dissolved like hot wax, merging instantly into a massive, surging slurry of gore and muscle.

The biomass expanded and bulged violently.

Sinews stretched, and bones reassembled.

Squelch—!

An arm—twice as thick as any previous limb—shot out from the meat slurry, followed immediately by a second, a third...

In the blink of an eye, a colossal Stitch-Splicer standing three meters tall, stitched together from at least five distinct corpses, rose straight up from the pool of blood.

It possessed eight massive arms and five distinct faces crowded onto a single enlarged head, each exhibiting a different expression. All five mouths opened simultaneously, unleashing a five-part harmonic shriek capable of rupturing eardrums.

"Holy shit..." Mitch stared at the monstrosity before him, forgetting to even raise his sniper rifle. "This damn thing... can merge and evolve?!"

"Fall back!"

Ray made an instant decision, grabbing the dazed Jack and yanking him behind his back.

The giant Stitch-Splicer slammed all eight arms down onto the floor. The hard terrazzo tiles shattered instantly as if struck by artillery shells, sending stone fragments flying in every direction. Its massive frame charged toward the group at a speed completely defying its immense size.

BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG!

Muzzle flash erupted from Mitch’s heavy sniper rifle, landing precise shots squarely on the creature’s central head. Yet this time, the heavy rounds sank in as if hitting dense cotton, merely splashing tiny black blood flowers across its face without slowing its advance for a fraction of a second.

"Physical attacks have reduced effectiveness against it now!"

Ace’s shadow flickered along the monster’s flank as his twin blades sliced across its lower calf. The blades that had previously cut through tissue effortlessly left only two shallow white marks this time.

"Its outer hide has hardened!" The usual composure on Ace’s face vanished at last, replaced by a grave, intense focus.

"Scatter! Hit-and-run tactics!"

Ray bellowed, grabbing Jack as he led the charge toward the adjacent fire exit staircase. "Jack, smash through that wall! Mitch, find a high vantage point! Ace, Alex, you two keep it occupied and run it in circles!"

The orders came rapid and sharp, leaving zero room for hesitation.

Receiving his command, Jack’s eyes turned red with adrenaline—as if finding an outlet for his frustration—and he slammed his shoulder straight into the load-bearing wall separating the staircase from the neighboring ward.