I Revived My Maid, Now She Hungers for My Blood

Also, something most didn’t know:

‘The Chaos House’ had a brutal hidden rule.

The ‘zombie’ targets absolutely could NOT touch the ‘civilian’ targets!

If the shooter didn’t drop the ‘zombies’ before they made contact,

the rules called it an outright fail.

‘The Scalpel’ had run ‘The Chaos House’ before.

His method here was the gold standard for everyone—he’d carry a small polished mirror, toss it in the air the second he entered, use that flash of a view to map all thirteen targets in the whole chaotic room.

Then, he’d use his insane speed to pick off nine ‘zombie’ targets one by one in 5.9 seconds flat.

That result was already legendary.

‘The Scalpel’ later admitted ‘The Chaos House’ was too random. He couldn’t promise that kind of run every time.

Go over 7 seconds, and no matter how fast you were before, your whole score got tossed. With his style, he wouldn’t pick this risky run unless he was up against someone who really pushed him.

So now,

Pandora’s choice looked, to a lot of people, like a ‘do-or-die Hail Mary.’

After all, if she didn’t pick this, she probably couldn’t beat ‘The Scalpel’s’ time.

But…

even if she did, how could she possibly outgun ‘The Scalpel,’ whose raw speed was clearly faster?

In the stands, ‘The Scalpel’s’ hardcore fans were practically drooling, waiting to see ‘The Baroness’ eat dirt.

They had zero doubt she couldn’t even clear the basic challenge of ‘The Chaos House’!

For a moment, the quarry’s loud cheers turned sharper, more mocking.

But,

those sounds never even reached Pandora’s ears.

Cheering or booing, any sound not about shooting got completely locked out. It couldn’t touch her.

Plus,

the second she stepped into ‘The Chaos House,’ her spiritual power had already flowed like mercury, seeping into every corner!

In a flash,

the whole shifting, tangled 3D layout of the room snapped into perfect clarity in her mind.

All the visual tricks—strobe lights, fake fog, blind spots meant to mess with shooters—did nothing to her unnatural, supernatural sense. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Even the cleverly hidden tracks, layered with decoys and cover, were laid completely bare, feeding all their data straight back to her.

The Chaos House?

No.

In Pandora’s head, it wasn’t chaotic at all.

All thirteen targets, she ‘saw’ them.

The nine ‘zombie’ targets among them, the threats, were already tagged by her spirit, labeled clear as day.

This was the hardest part of ‘The Chaos House’ for most.

For Pandora, it was nothing.

But just seeing it wasn’t enough to win.

Her gun hit hard, but its mag was smaller than most. Reloading took her longer, too.

So, to play to her strengths and dodge her weaknesses,

she had to… use her 7 bullets to kill 9 ‘zombies’…

But was that even hard?

A small smile touched Pandora’s lips.

She moved.

“What is she doing?!”

Right then,

‘The Baroness’ on the field did something that made every jaw in the place drop.

She didn’t raise her gun to aim.

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She… closed her eyes.

“Is she crazy?”

A shocked gasp ripped from the stands.

The announcer almost choked on his pre-written ‘what a shame’ line.

But,

the next second,

Pandora moved.

That moment with her eyes closed was just the quiet before the storm.

Now—

the storm hit!

Her body, light as fog, wove with impossible grace through the packed, swirling mess of targets!

But when her hand snapped up,

the feeling was the same—

Bang!

Even with her eyes shut,

it was like she ‘saw’ a brutal line perfectly lining up three ‘zombie’ target paths!

One bullet

punched through three ‘zombie’ foreheads at once!

Then,

another shot!

After Pandora slid past a ‘civilian’ target by half a step, that precise round hit another ‘zombie’ hidden perfectly behind it!

And…

again, not just one.

One bullet… took out two.

The next 4 seconds were her show.

Bang! Bang!

She didn’t even look. Her left hand held the gun in a reverse grip. The muscles in her arm, just below her collarbone, tensed at an angle normal people couldn’t make.

With a millisecond’s difference, two bullets smacked two ‘zombie’ targets charging a central ‘civilian’ from the left and right.

By now,

some in the crowd got it.

Pandora wasn’t “reacting.”

She was just running the perfect moves she’d already mapped in her head a thousand times.

Every step, every raise, every breath

was a needed piece of one huge, perfect puzzle.

Even in that chaotic, fast-moving swarm,

they were… completely under her control.

Time froze.

When Pandora stepped out of ‘The Chaos House’ and back into the sun, the clock stopped.

The final time locked in—4.6 seconds!

A full 1.3 seconds faster than ‘The Scalpel’s’ 5.9 seconds!

Remember, ‘The Scalpel’ was the speed king, the seven-time streak holder! His 5.9-second run was seen as a miracle, a hard limit.

But Pandora beat his time by over a second.

This wasn’t a win. It was domination.

As for total time, Pandora’s final clock was 1 minute 31 seconds!

The reason was obvious.

That result matched the insane difficulty of ‘The Chaos House.’

Pull it off, and your time got way shorter than taking the long, winding other path.

So the one who’d been trailing ‘The Scalpel’ the whole way

finally,

with this, pulled off a crazy comeback.

The second the final time locked in,

the whole place went dead silent.

The packed crowd in the stands seemed stunned by the result, forgetting to breathe.

It was only when the announcer’s stiff, slightly disbelieving voice crackled through the speakers that—

“‘The Chaos House’, ‘civilian’ targets, zero hits. ‘Zombie’ targets, all clear. ‘The Baroness’… wins!”

In a flash,

roaring cheers, like a volcano blowing its top, erupted and swept the whole quarry.

………………

Today’s ‘Death Sprint’ would be the only thing anyone at the Echo Quarry talked about for a month.

“The Baroness beats The Scalpel” was going to be the hottest story in the Ruined City.

The quarry bosses moved fast.

Not long after the match, Pandora got the winner’s trophy.

It looked like a fancy carved gold cup, but was really just a big block of solid chocolate wrapped in gold foil.

Honestly, chocolate—packed with energy, tasted great—was big in the Ruined City, and Pandora liked the prize.

As for the “Private Custom Grade” gun mod prize for the four-win streak,

Pandora took the special voucher straight to the “Smithy” next to the quarry.

The gun needing the work was

the trusty pistol that just won her the match.

Its shape was close to a Colt M1911A1 from her old life.

Though here, it didn’t go by that name,

so for her own sake, Pandora just called it her own way—“the Colt.”

“‘The Colt’? Good name!”

“Smith” was a brawny guy, muscles on muscles. Looking at “the Colt” Pandora put carefully on the table, his eyes held pure respect.

Pandora could tell he was a real gun nut.

“How d'you want it modded? Bigger mag? Faster fire rate? Better accuracy when you’re shooting fast?” “Smith” asked her thoughts while carefully wiping “the Colt’s” cold frame with an oiled cloth.

Pandora already knew.

“The Colt’s” power was its raw stopping force—every shot hit like a truck.

If she wanted faster shots, why not just pick a gun made for that?

So if she was modding it, the path was clear—

Bigger!

Even bigger!

Bigger is better, harder is finer!

As for “the Colt’s” flaws, like the small mag, the slower sustained fire…

She had other, better ways to fix that. No need to change the gun itself.

But,

good techs like “Smith” often had their quirks,

so Pandora didn’t just blurt out her blunt idea. She asked for his take first.

“You’re asking me?”

Smith paused, then scratched his messy hair with thick fingers.

“Me… I’d push what this gun already does best! You know, its power’s already no joke.”

“Most clients want me to fix its weak points, but… I wanna see if we can make this thing hit even harder!”

Smith sounded a bit hesitant, even unsure.

But his eyes told a different story—they burned looking at “the Colt.”

He’d handled tons of guns like this.

And he’d been in the stands for the match.

That fierce, elegant, violent style had lit a fire in his head!

Truth was, before Pandora even walked in, he already had a solid mod plan in mind.

But…

He couldn’t decide for the client.

At most, he could suggest.

But what’s the best thing for a gun modder?

If “Smith” answered, it’d be…

The client wants exactly the crazy thing you dreamed up!

“Alright! Do it like you said!”

“I like your plan.”

God damn!

Listen! How perfect was this!

“Smith” held back his excitement, even thanked Pandora honestly.

He didn’t know Pandora felt the same way right then.

And when this “bigger! harder!” idea came from him first, Pandora knew—

This mod was a done deal.

But,

the work wouldn’t finish right away. It’d take at least three to five days.

This wasn’t just swapping a spring or adding a muzzle piece.

The core step meant carving a whole new set of custom ritual circuits into the gun itself!

To make it really hold some supernatural punch—

That’s why the “four-win streak” prize was such a big deal.

Otherwise, Pandora could just buy and bolt on parts herself. No fuss.

Holding down her buzz, Pandora turned to get some more shooting in to lock in that winning feel,

when she stopped mid-step.

Not far off, someone stood there, watching her quiet.

A guy with a normal, kinda friendly look—

“The Scalpel.”

The Scalpel walked over, steps steady.

A warm smile was on his face, his eyes holding no jealousy or soreness, just clean, technical respect.

“Congratulations,” he said first, owning the loss straight up. “Losing my streak to you? No regrets. Honestly, I’m glad I got to shoot against someone like you. Learned a lot.”

Pandora was a bit surprised.

But thinking on it, it fit.

The Scalpel was the real deal, a pure shooter. What he wanted was the peak of the skill itself, not just rep or cheers.

He took the L light.

“Actually… if you’d picked ‘The Chaos House’ too, I might not have won,” Pandora said, playing it modest.

She meant it.

But not totally.

Because The Scalpel’s run today might not have been his absolute best.

But… hadn’t she held back too?

When it came to hidden cards, she had a few herself.