The air in the dormitory corridor was thick with the stench of decay, a rancid blend of rotting flesh and dried blood that clung to Jon's clothes as he swung his bone-crafted blades.
Slash… Slash… Slash.
Each strike was precise, severing decayed limbs and shattering skulls. Five zombies crumpled to the ground, their lifeless forms sprawled across the cracked linoleum floor.
Jon's chest heaved as he caught his breath, his hands trembling slightly from the exertion. He knelt beside the corpses, his fingers deftly searching through the gore for anything useful.
From one of the zombies, he retrieved a faintly glowing orb, pulsing with an eerie green light.
Without hesitation, he ripped the bones from the other four, their brittle frames snapping under his newfound skill.
He stored the bones in the watch.
"Status," Jon muttered, his voice low and gravelly, barely audible over the distant screams echoing through the dormitory.
[STATUS]
[NAME: JON WHYTE (****)]
[AGE: 20]
