I Revived My Maid, Now She Hungers for My Blood

His wound looked completely rotted through. A nauseating pus, sweet with the stench of decay, began to drip and trickle from his mangled arm, faster and faster.

It dripped onto the shattered floor tiles.

Onto the dust-covered ground.

Forming patches of yellow-green muck with blurred edges.

These spots weren’t waste.

They were an extension of Wilbur’s power as a Third-Rank Corpse-Plague Acolyte.

The moment they touched the ground, they began to spread. Proliferate. Growing wildly at a visible speed.

It was like watching slime mold on fast-forward.

A “pus carpet,” thick and viscous and alive, spread rapidly in every direction with Wilbur at its center.

On the floor, on broken pillars, even on the lower walls and ceiling...

Soon, the entire entrance hall was covered in a layer of foul-smelling, subtly undulating muck!

And it was still climbing, still spreading at an incredible rate, deeper into the mall and up to the higher floors.

This carpet was his senses.

His eyes and ears. His sense of touch.

The moment it touched the Scarred Woman, it would mean—

he had found her.

A cruel, anticipatory smile curled Wilbur’s lips.

The next moment,

the smile was shattered by the giant claw-arm that whistled through the air and smashed toward him!

“Damned zombie!”

Wilbur’s expression darkened. He twisted, lunging violently to the side!

BOOM!

The massive claw grazed his clothes, smashing into the spot where he’d just been standing, even denting the pus carpet!

A cold glint flashed in Wilbur’s eyes.

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His good left hand clenched.

Then, he whipped it forward!

A fist-sized ball of pus, thicker than the rest, with what looked like tiny worms writhing inside, flew from his palm. It hit the just-raised claw-arm dead on.

Splat!

The ball exploded, becoming a massive pool of incredibly sticky, corrosive muck.

Part of it clung to the dark chitin of the claw-arm.

The rest spread like living glue, sticking to the ground beneath it.

The pus began to harden, changing from liquid to a cement-like adhesive in seconds!

Pinning the thick claw-arm in place!

“ROAR—!”

The zombie roared, a mix of rage and pain, struggling to break free.

But the adhesive power of the pus was astounding. In that short time, it couldn’t lift the arm.

A flicker of cold satisfaction crossed Wilbur’s face…

when a sharp slicing sound came from behind him!

A shattered, semi-metallic glass counter was flying at his back!

Wilbur’s face went cold.

He didn’t even turn.

His left hand shot open, and he clenched it tight in the direction behind him!

Splurt!

A huge patch of the pus carpet erupted like a geyser, transforming from liquid to a semi-solid gel in mid-air!

Forming a tough, quivering “pus barrier”!

CRASH!

The glass counter slammed into the suddenly risen barrier!

The shattered wreckage was caught and buffered by the gelatinous pus, then slid uselessly to the ground.

Wilbur used the force to lunge forward. At the same time, his left hand clenched, and the barrier collapsed, flowing back into the carpet.

He dodged the sneak attack without a scratch.

Generally, a big, physical brute like this didn’t have much of a brain. Its fighting style was simple: hit things hard.

Wilbur, as a Third-Rank, had hunted his fair share of these things in the ruins. He knew the type.

But like today…

one that used a plush suit for a wretched ambush.

And knew how to grab something from the environment for a ranged attack…

This was a first.

This thing was sneaky. Weirdly sneaky.

Wilbur’s expression soured.

But he held his battle-ready calm.

He did it again.

His left hand rose, palm aimed at the obese zombie whose one arm was still pinned. It was now trying to wipe the pus from its face with its other, “normal” hand.

Splurt!

Another, more condensed pus-ball shot from his palm.

This time, the target wasn’t the trapped arm. It was the head, which looked small and grotesquely deformed compared to its massive body.

THUMP!

The reeking sticky ball hit the zombie square in the face!

Covering nearly the entire thing in a blur of yellow-green muck!

“ROAR—!!!”

The zombie let out an even more furious, pained roar!

It tried to use its free hand to tear away the thick, sticky gunk that even its instincts found repulsive.

But after a few frantic scrabbles, its hand only got stuck to the bloated, loose skin of its face.

“A zombie is just a zombie…” Wilbur snorted, undisguised contempt flashing in his eyes.

No matter how “smart” it acted, it was still a mindless monster.

His gaze left the zombie and looked up to the mall’s second floor.

To the area obscured by railings and shadows.

There, his eyes met another's. Calm. Steady. A silent clash in the air.

Wilbur’s lips parted slightly.

No sound came out.

But the shape of the word was unmistakable:

“Found you.”

He hesitated no longer. Held nothing back.

With his full power unleashed, pus gushed from his left arm like a living creature!

Once he dropped the distraction, no longer aiming to “kill this zombie in one go” but simply to “contain” it for the shortest possible time…

Wilbur got exactly what he wanted.

The obese zombie roared and struggled in its muck.

But to break free, it would need at least ten minutes.

Ten minutes was more than enough.