Mishiro

Not much time had passed since she took refuge in the safe area near the concession stand, but she was feeling better now. Wrapped up in a larger, fluffier coat, the girl pulled her legs close to her chest and ran a brush through her hair, undoing the tangles and the mud that had clung onto it from falling to the ground more times than she would have liked. Mishiro was content with letting the others fight for now; they had it all handled and the terrible fatigued state she had been in during the majority of her ordeal reminded her that she needed to get some proper rest.

Or coffee. Three espresso shots would work, too.

One gray eye blinked open as she heard a familiar voice by the stall. Arabelle? She hadn't seen her friend and their new teammate since they got separated. Reluctantly leaving her comfortable position, she rose to her feet and quietly walked towards the two. An was the first to approach and she was glad the girl's red eyes were as bright as ever. Apparently, the two hadn't split up since then and Mishiro thought they would make good friends at the very least. "It took much more fighting than I would have wanted, but I managed to leave the area before things got too bad," she summed up. The longer version would come later. For now, An's curiosity with the concessions stand was contagious.

Achievements... She navigated to the special 'event' section of her quest submenu and gave it a quick read-through. Somehow, she had earned three which was enough to purchase a special event-limited consumable.

"One of those, please." Mishiro pointed to a Halloween Sticker. It didn't look as impressive compared to the equipment vouchers, but she wasn't too concerned. Along with that, she found that An had been taking items from a nearby table as they so pleased and she would naturally follow after them and pick up a Ghost Treat and a free weapon voucher herself.

She was just making her way over to Arabelle when the lights cut out.

Mishiro froze, tugging the ends of her coat tighter around her.

--Not again?

Jack the Ringleader appeared on the stage, laughing maniacally, declaring war and as Arabelle called out for them to stay behind, Mishiro knew exactly what to do. She dropped a corndog and a bottle of cider (both she had retrieved from the treasure chest earlier) into a paper bag and tossed the object in Arabelle's direction.

She drew closer to An and watched as the scythe-wielder disappeared behind a wall of vines.

May the fight go in their favor.

--Mishiro tossed three more bottles of cider to the ground.

It felt as if the world around her was practically falling apart. The gargantuan that had caused all of this mess had been dropped to a certain point of its HP and it was beginning to rampage. She had gotten a glimpse of it as she leaped past a fallen zombie earlier; it was not one but it was a cooperation of many, smaller zombies melding themselves together and working together in the most grotesque way possible to move a larger body as one. Such a thing wouldn't have pulled itself out of the ground in that form immediately, no, this had slowly been brewing since the start of the event up to the point where it became too big for the underside of the stage to contain.

The ground shook and Mishiro gave a surprised cry as a zombie flung off from the main body landed behind her and almost immediately tried to lash out upon seeing her. She ducked, put on another burst of speed, and left it in the dust. Another loud crash, and another batch of zombies being flung from above. She had dismissed the Widower to her inventory now; it only weighed her down. Darkness danced at the edge of her vision, threatening to swallow her whole, her head pounded, but she kept her eyes locked on the treasure chest. 

Just a little more.

--The undead on the ground chased after her with their hands outstretched. One narrowly got a hold of her hair.

A few more paces.

--Above head, the large mass collapsed in on itself and the rest flooded the inside of the opening.

And Mishiro boosted herself up, leaping onto the treasure chest and launching herself into the air. She caught the edge of the wooden floor and hoisted herself up to safety. At her wake, a small slip of paper fluttered to the ground.

"Stay safe! c:"

She tossed one last glance over her shoulder and quickly vacated the stage.

❄❄❄

Zombies Killed: 5

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

It pulled itself to its feet and snarled. The undead slouched, twitched its head, then threw itself forward. Wild. Frenzied. Saliva dripped from its open mouth. It was fighting tooth and nail to get to her, but it didn't take long to realize that every miss she has ever made was either due to a movement she couldn't predict or her own incompetence. They attacked. They never defended. They drove themselves forward with the one primal instinct that made up their entire existence: to kill, to eat living flesh.

Consequently, she had found it hard to defend against an opponent that attacked her indiscriminately. This was not her usual spar, nor even the occasional wild land creature she fought - whose fighting styles differed from humans but still retained the same survival instinct.

So she made herself untouchable.

With a spin on her heel, she cleaved her axe through the undead. She kept up the momentum: spinning once more, then twice. Two thick rings of black smoke formed at her dizzying dance, constantly being emitted by her weapon and the clear line being redrawn by her spinning slices. When she stopped, the world was still whirling.

The girl shook off the zombie that had taken one last chance to latch onto her leg, sinking its teeth into the skin just above her boots.

<<Bleeding>>, and as good as dead. And as it struggled, clawing at the ground and trying and failing to pull itself up, the undead moaned and wailed and reached up to her with one rotting hand. Whether it was in hunger or in the same desperation-induced abnormality that appeared in a zombie she fought earlier, she didn't know.

"You're no longer human," the girl spoke softly. "You're a beast of the night, driven forward only by your desire to consume everything around you. But no matter how much living flesh you eat, there's no coming back. You're dead; your current existence is harmful, pointless. There's no place for you here anymore."

-- The black mist from earlier had lifted up, almost as if to form a ring around her head. Mishiro had the Widower poised like an executioner's blade. Her gray eyes held all the warmth of a blizzard. --

"Return to dust."

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

Never in her life had she thought she would be running around the too-deep underside of a wooden stage that was filled to the brim with the undead. Never in her life had she even thought she would see living, breathing (???) zombies in person. SAO had faded that line between reality and fiction - between the very few things she could experience with her limitations in the real world and the combination of the fantastical that made up everything she's experienced in the past three years and everything left to experience - but she still found it hard to believe sometimes.

Another one stood in her way, slowly clawing out of the earth. Cautiously, she moved to sidestep it, but the zombie's head snapped up as soon as she tried to pass by it. Mishiro retrieved her axe and charged up a Sword Art. It pulled itself up with a sudden burst of strength and dragged the rest of its body forward with its hands, mouth snapping open and shut with hunger. 

She cancelled her attack fast enough to stumble back before it could grab her.

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

She moved to sprint toward the treasure chest, but world seemed to sway under her feet. Staggering to the side, the girl stabbed the hilt of her axe into the ground and leaned against it for support. Not now... Mishiro grit her teeth and inched forward in desperation, only to almost fall to the ground. Bringing her hazy mind back to some sense of order, she glanced at her status bars.

HP not looking so good. And energy at a critical low.

That explained it.

Stretching her hand out, she flicked open her battle-ready and took them out one at a time. First, she popped open a bottle of cider and tossed the empty container to the ground once she was done. The litter was followed by another plastic bottle. And then two more. Tossing away the last, she looked down at the mess she left on the ground.

Mishiro nudged one with a boot and they collectively burst out of existence.

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

Well, if it didn't go down, she just needed to stick with her current strategy: hit it until it's dead. The regeneration ability was as unpredictable as ever; she remembered attacks made by her stronger teammate that should have sliced a zombie in half leaving... a large fatal wound and 1 HP. Mishiro checked her status bar and prepped her axe. A large volume of black smoke emitted from it as she held its blade over her head, further clouding her vision, but she didn't need to see.

The zombie was loud enough on its own.

A series of wails and screeches, and something dragging itself laboriously across the ground. Her last opponent scrambled out of the black mist with its hands outstretched, and the girl crushed her blade against its head with the clumsy brute force one would expect more out of a warhammer than an axe. 

It faded from existence with its mouth stretched open in one last dying shriek.

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

Her axe glanced off her opponent. She ducked, narrowly dodging the punch it threw her way. As it slowed, Mishiro stumbled back, fumbling with her weapon and breathing heavily. The Widower's black smoke was horribly inconvenient; it made the air seem more suffocating than it was. Shaking her head and lifting the heavy weapon up, she let out a puff of effort as they dragged themselves forward and clashed again.

This time, she felt her axe sink deep into her opponent's skin. The tension on her shoulders released with visible relief and she moved to pry off her weapon whose blade she had embedded into the undead's shoulder. 

But the fight wasn't over yet. 

As soon as she pulled, the zombie let itself be dragged along with it and lashed out at her. Screeching, fighting tooth and nail. She parted it from her blade with a kick on its chest and slid a step back. 

What just happened? She tried to unscramble her mind to think and only arrived at the answer when she saw the zombie's fatal wound closing. 

The second wind ability. What an inconvenient thing to encounter now.

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

Once she got up, it was a matter of one clumsy attack clashing against another. Caution had been thrown to the wind; all that mattered to either was to finally kill the other. The zombie lunged at her and she blocked it, staggering against its weight. With a sudden burst of strength, she pushed it away from her. Caught her breath as it stumbled back. And chased after it, only to find herself cleaving through air.

One final blow from her and it was all over. HP was no longer a major concern, as long as she still wasn't below half. Her eyes flicked over to the gradually thinning mass that was spilling out of the stage. Or perhaps it should be. Once she finished her fight, it was just a matter of dismissing her axe and getting herself out of here as fast as possible. She'll worry about what comes after when it was already happening.

Catching her breath, she heaved her axe up and they clashed once again. 

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

It was still alive. Black smoke parted from the movement of the charging zombir.

But she was sure that attack would have killed it. It hadn't been enough? Mishiro tugged at her heavy axe but was sent tumbling back by the undead coming at her with full force. The girl fell with her back against the ground and cried out at the sensation that spread across her spine.

Growling. Something dragging across the ground.

Her head spun, black spots dancing in her vision, but she fought to stay conscious. She rolled to the side and made a grab for her axe. Something tore at the left side of her face but she didn't bother to check what it was. Her armored hand closed around the handle of her weapon. 

--Too heavy to lift. 

Well then. 

Mishiro leaned further to the side and aimed an elbow strike at the side of the zombie's head. 

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

The small bit of HP that didn't heal irked her. Very irrationally. Mishiro tossed the empty bottle to the side and licked her lips. That hadn't been so bad; it was surprisingly better than the energy drink and she thought she didn't even taste any of the alcohol. Perhaps this one had a better brand attached to it.

Low energy. Her opponent, still as persistent as ever but clinging to the last few bits of its HP. Draining her energy on a Sword Art would bring about another wave of fatigue, but opting for basic attacks would drag this fight on longer than it should.

Mishiro had been fortunate none of the other undead had noticed her, but she didn't know how long her luck would last. She needed this done, and she needed it fast.

This time, she was on the offensive. The Widower's veins ran a deeper red and black smoke poured out of its blade. She didn't even care if it attacked her, all she needed was to have it done. The zombie's advance faltered in surprise when she sprinted forward and hefted her axe up for a heavy blow. 

Her attack sent another shockwave through the black fog and for a second, she paused and squinted.

Silence.

Then a loud wail as an enraged zombie burst out from the smoke to attack her.

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

Down to one, but this was still no time for celebration. Her HP was at the lowest point it had ever been in since the start of the event and she didn't have her armor to protect her. No teammates, either. She had never been in this situation; the last time her HP had dropped this low - or perhaps even lower than that - she had Jinx to keep the rest of the enemies' attention and help on the way.

Another awkward swing of her weapon, but she was fighting more defensively this time. The undead knocked itself against the flat of her axe head. Another heft; and she had it off of her for the time being with a hilt stab to its head.

HP potions, HP potions... Mishiro had to unscramble her mind for a second to remember outside consumables did not work. Instead, she pulled out a cider from her battle-ready inventory.

Wasn't cider alcoholic?

Her survivability was of more concern at the moment, she thought as she uncapped the bottle and drank.

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

Her heart sank. 

The only way out was up and two zombies still stood in her way, but she quelled her growing panic. Thinking with a clouded rationality would only bring her worst fears to life... not that they weren't already. 

She quickly searched the area. Mishiro was sure she could clear that jump if she returned her axe to her inventory and found a foothold of some sort. Perhaps the treasure chest? Dull gray eyes landed on the fallen object a small distance from her.

The undead were getting up again. She tossed Roman's coat to the side and it dismissed itself to her inventory before it could touch the ground. They went in for another attack, wailing, groaning, with their arms stretched out.

One at a time, she assured herself. Take them on one at a time like she was used to and she should be fine. She locked onto the one that had gotten a few paces ahead of its ally. Waited. And hefted up her heavy axe in a clumsy but strong rending slash.

Two halves fell to the ground. Its ally shrieked and flung itself into an attack against the lone player.

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

It wouldn't get off. A small, broken sound escaped her throat as the undead sank its teeth in and ripped off flesh. She slid one foot back before it could push her down any further and struggled against its hold. Fear slowly began to overtake her and so did her fatigue. At the corner of her blurring vision, the other drew closer with its mouth hanging open in anticipation.

The Widower fell from her grasp. 

She snapped her leg up and crushed an iron boot against its knee. Clenching an armored hand into a fist, she punched it in the gut and again in its throat. She twisted to the side as soon as its grip loosened and delivered an elbow strike to its head. The zombie fell back as she tore herself free from its hold, and another kick sent it crashing against its teammate.

Mishiro retrieved her axe and uncapped an energy drink. 

Two left of the original four. The rest of the zombies underneath the stage had taken one look at them and decided they weren't going to fight over a single morsel. It was too dark, her vision too clouded, to see them, moreso with the black smoke spewing from her weapon after its repeated use, but she could glean the mass of undead's movement. She was alone, with no time to put on her armor, and HP at 3/4ths. Chunks of her flesh were missing and the sensation was almost starting to resemble pain.

Retreat was clearly the best option. 

She shrugged off Roman's coat. Yet another one of his favorites ripped, and this time, it came with the added bonus of foul-smelling zombie liquids and gore. Mishiro stuck her hand into its inside pocket and...

Missing.

She found her teleport crystal glowing on the ground beneath the large mass of undead.

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

That hadn't been enough. But she at least afforded enough respite to pull herself up. Mishiro stabbed the hilt of her axe into the ground and leaned against it, panting. Black spots danced in her vision as she lifted her head and came face to face with the snarling visage of a zombie. Another recovered from the attack she'd made in haste and joined it. Then another. Then another. Flames of hunger danced in their eyes.

How was she supposed to handle this--?

Her heart was pounding. She wrapped an arm around herself and slid back a step as they advanced. Dull gray eyes hurriedly searched the area above her. There was much movement from above and the tent was only illuminated by lanterns and candlelights, but she could make out the edges of the collapsed wooden floor.

At least a few inches from her head.

They were much closer now. She pulled her axe from the ground and a threatening red energy coursed through the webbed design of its blade. With grunts of effort, the undead lurched forward as one in an inhumane burst of speed.

She didn't even wait for them to come into the range she was comfortable with. Twice, she unleashed a wide, sweeping stroke with her axe and ripped wounds through their rotting flesh. Imitating the little spin Arabelle did with her scythe, she guided her weapon upwards and split two undead heads from the rest of their body.

Headless bodies fell to the ground with a thud and disintegrated. 

However, her lack of experience had her ending the Sword Art at too close of a range. She grit her teeth and tugged at her axe, trying and failing to pull herself back as one of the other two growled and threw itself forward.

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

The floor beneath her feet... shifting.

Mishiro followed the unusual activity to the center of the circular stage where the movements were strongest. The floorboards lifted up with a heavy groan, bending upwards to its full capacity, and sunk back down. She remembered it: those strange sounds from earlier, but clearer this time around. As if it was breathing - no, as if something underneath was pushing against it.

A wooden stage--brought and assembled by the travelling circus--temporarily erected over the fair grounds--and where had the undead been emerging from all this time?

Cold dread settled in her chest.

Leave. Leave. She had to-- And the floorboards finally snapped. Undead monstrosities spilled out of the opening in front of her, blocking her way back to the rest of her team. She only caught a glimpse of the dark mass clawing its way out of the orifice, swallowing up the treasure chest they had been resting beside earlier, before she spun on her heel and ran the opposite direction. 

The fragile wood beneath her cracked and she felt the horde of the undead gaining on her, grabbing at her loose hair, at the tail end of her coat, at her legs - and when the ground sunk beneath her feet, she threw herself forward and landed

...on nothing. 

The edge of the floor was at her fingertips, but she could only grasp at thin air. She fell back, dragged down by the tendrils - hands? - latched around her legs.

Into the darkness.

They were everywhere. Clawing at her, holding her down, sinking their teeth into anything they could reach. She cried out in protest and strained against their grip. Tears of desperation filled her eyes. Her health bar was draining. Her strength, gradually beginning to fade. She reached out, for something-- something--

Her armored hand wrapped around the Widower's handle.

She squeezed her eyes shut and released the energy that had been gathering within in a violent red explosion.

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

She never fell asleep. Mishiro laid her head on Arabelle's lap and remained there for the entirety of the break's duration with one eye - quite literally - open. How could they even fall asleep in the middle of all this? Whenever she closed her eyes, the sound of battles from various parts of the audience area surrounding the center stage flooded her senses.

And those strange sounds - like a low growl, like a distant rumble, like something scratching against wood - whose source she couldn't pinpoint.

--And the sound of Arabelle's alarm, drowning out the rest.

After a slight delay, she sat up and ran a hand through her black hair. Dull gray eyes glanced up at the status bars on the top left field of her vision. Energy full, but still that debilitating feeling remained--

--creeping in from the edge of her vision,--

--spreading out from her core--

--and slowly dragging her down.

Mishiro got up and almost staggered. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep finally catching up to her. It was nothing an espresso shot or the energy drugs she once found in her shared inventory couldn't solve... if only she had access to either of them. Blinking once, twice, she shook her head and remained still until the haze clearer. 

This will have to do.

The girl moved to the other end of the stage. The unofficially named Team Arabelle had declared it as a relatively safe zone earlier, so they treated it as such. She had taken off her armor pieces but left her stockings and armored boots on, leaving her in the sleeveless black turtleneck and tight black shorts that comprised of the garments she often wore underneath the armor. A teleport crystal dangled from a hook on the inside pocket of the coat she threw over her attire for decency. 

Mishiro retrieved the Widower and refreshed her buff. Gray eyes remained on the semi-transparent windows in front of her even as her teammates gave a startled movement at the other end of the stage. Skill points. Invested.

She dismissed her menus and looked down at the audience area, waiting for Arabelle to give the signal to start.

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

--And before she could even land a hit on it, the last undead disintegrated at the touch of Shikama Douji's blade.

"Thanks," Mishiro breathed. She quelled her disappointment, releasing it like the tension on her shoulders. None of them seemed to care about conserving energy now; they had discarded their current strategy in favor of wiping out their current group of mobs as quickly as possible. They would have better luck the next time they headed back out. Hopefully. She looked over her shoulder to check on An before facing forward to follow after Arabelle as their team leader led them past groups of players battling mobs and the mess of torn decorations and fallen chairs that now littered the ground.

She stopped dead. 

Standing in their way was a lone zombie. It dragged itself forward, favoring its left food, and its head and tongue lolled to the side. Apparently, the last battle had led them a bit too far from the stage. Taking any detours would lead them to more populated areas of the audience area. They had to fight their way through. Mishiro gripped her axe and the next thing she knew, she was rocketing forward with red flames consuming her weapon and stabbing its blade through the zombie's chest. She recovered, pulled her blade off, and kicked off its chest and launched herself backwards.

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

"Tch." This one wasn't even trying to hit them back. It had its eyes on Arabelle and was even chasing after the other girl while paying her and An no heed. They needn't worry about defending, only about finding an opening and exploiting it. It should be easier in theory... so why were they doing even worse than before? Mishiro could count multiple instances where she killed a zombie herself, and defending from attacks no less.

Maybe it was the exhaustion and the darkness creeping in from the edge of her vision. It wasn't a headache, that was impossible in SAO, but she could barely keep her vision focused.

An missed her attack. Arabelle sent her assigned target to its death. The last zombie clawed its way towards the scythe wielder and very nearly landed its reckless attack. Mishiro appeared behind it and sent another basic swing its way.

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

"I am fine," she answered insistently. Saying that with her head resting on an armored hand did not make for the very convincing show though."Physical effects are minimized in-game. I can survive many of their hits with my armor and it's not like my performance would be hindered by this. I can still fight."

She was met with two pairs of very concerned stares. Perhaps the lack of sleep had finally gotten to her; she couldn't recall any other situation where she tired so easily in combat. But... it was just a small sensation that may or may not have made her a bit sluggish in her movements. No concern, she could push through it. She knew how to fight and she knew how to adapt.

Eventually though, Arabelle brought up an option she could at least easily agree with. And she would be lying if she said resting on the stage was entirely unappealing at the moment. "Fine. I shall remain at a distance, then."

--And she watched from a distance as Arabelle only killed half, leaving the rest at full HP. As she thought. She wasn't the only one who was tired from the last fight.

"I guess you do need my help after all. Rejoining the fight."

With black smoke emanating from her axe, she swung it up in an uppercut only for the undead - still lively at its full HP - to evade the slower attack as soon as it came. 

She was sensing another long drawn-out fight in the horizon.

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

Zombie no. 43 burst into data fragments. Mishiro leaned against her axe, exhausted, and trying to regain her bearings. In the end, they were the ones who won yet she felt completely, utterly defeated. Maybe it was the prospect of being the mob's target the entire time and constantly having to be on her guard, or that it took ages just to finish off the leftovers from Arabelle's initial attack. 

At her current state, she didn't even have enough energy to respond to Arabelle's joke. Made in poor taste? Probably. And it probably hurt a bit, too. But she didn't care at the moment. All she wanted was to nap at one of her cafe's tables surrounded by the bittersweet, comforting smell... of... coffee...

Mishiro caught herself before she could fall. Then she made her way over to a chair and sat down. "I'm ready for another round. Just... give me a moment."

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

For a split second, she thought An did it. Then her vision cleared and she saw the girl's dismayed expression and the undead going straight back to... her. Mishiro inched backwards, only for the back of her knees to hit the edge of the plastic chair. Falling back, the zombie wasted no time in following and trying to pin her with its weight but she managed to wedge her axe between the two of them and push it off just enough for her to roll to the side and pull herself up into a crouch. She snatched up her axe and went straight for its exposed back, but only succeeded in embedding her blade deep into the muddy soil.

Oh, she had landed on that? With a displeased expression, she flicked mud and dirt from her hair and armor and then gripped her axe's handle with both of her hands. 

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

Mishiro stumbled to the side and had to slam the handle of her axe into the ground and use it as temporary support. She leaned against it and felt her own cold armored hand brush against her cheek, bringing about an uncomfortable chill. Her head was whirling. But no - the undead... the undead was a blur in her vision, a smudge but distinctive enough to be recognized, and it was still advancing.

She took in a deep breath and pulled her axe from the ground to meet its blow. Behind her opponent, she thought she saw a flash of green and black. Arabelle? Mishiro strove to hold it in place long enough for the scythe wielder to make contact, but as if it read her mind, it surged forward with a sudden burst of strength, its mouth snapping at whatever it could reach. She didn't wait. Her foot snapped up and connected with its chest, and as it was stumbling backwards, she spun around on her other heel and brought her weapon down, cutting a long diagonal line from its shoulder to the other side of its torso. She watched its HP bar as she stumbled back, panting. Maybe... just maybe... 

"An, go for the kill!"

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

An felled hers. She should be rejoining them now, or perhaps standing at a safe distance and waiting for her energy to regenerate. Now it was just the two of them, dealing with a mob that should have died to either one's attacks long ago. "Don't," Mishiro responded to the girl's insinuation with an exasperated sigh. "You do know that means you'll have to suffer along with me."

She deflected another maddened barrage of attacks with her axe. It was focused on her and almost completely ignoring Arabelle, so... her stance slightly loosened. Backing up just slightly enough, she shoved the undead away and just as quickly, clashed blows with it once again. This time though, she held it in place. Her arms shook under the weight pressing down on her, but she managed enough strength to push against her foe and call out, "Arabelle, now!"

Where the zombie should have been, Arabelle sliced through thin air. 

It had fallen backwards, suddenly letting go of her, as if it had predicted - as if it knew she was getting it into a position where her teammate could assuredly land an attack. But that also meant, it didn't have control of its movements. She wasn't about to let that idea of hers go to waste. Igniting her axe, Mishiro slammed the blade downwards with as much force as she could muster.

❄❄ BINGO BOOK

Mishiro gave her friend a deadpan look.

"Thanks for trying to assist," she repeated monotonously. "You would be the best team leader ever... if only you can land an attack on this mob. Don't call me a hypocrite either. I openly accept that Zombie 43 has gained absolute evasion and therefore cannot be hit by any attack from me." She had been keeping count in her mind. Knowing their progress could be helpful at some point... or she could just hand over the numbers to Arabelle later on just to hear the girl brag about it to her friends. "You actually have accuracy, so you can beat it. I'm cheering on you, Arabelle."

There was only a small amount of sincerity in that tone. They were getting nowhere at this point, and even Mishiro had resorted to her deadpan humor to alleviate her frustration. She leaped from her chair as the persistent undead came at her and knocked it over with its aimless swipe. Landing behind it, she quickly spun on her heel and delivered a downwards swing on its back.

By sheer luck, the undead had fallen forward with the chair and she struck the ground instead.

❄❄ BINGO BOOK