I, Kendo Misato, somehow got transported to a new world. And just a moment ago, I somehow survived a zombie attack… and the person - or zombie, however you want to call him - is no longer a zombie but a Knight. And I'm just too surprised, like… damn.
The Knight seems genuinely surprised too, and for some reason, he seems traumatized. He's shaken to his core - lips trembling, eyes wide open, skin looks deathly pale - and the most incredible thing is that his left hand seems to have grown back. He looked at his new left hand, followed by a general body check-up in a frantic manner, and then he looked back at me again. This process repeated a few times in just a few seconds, and then he started to act super crazy.
He started gagging and spit out some blood. Well - to be precise, that's my blood. His eyes started to tear up. I'm too stunned to ask him what happened, but I felt that he's in pain - I don't know whether it's physical or mental pain, but it must be a crippling kind of pain. Something beyond my comprehension. But why? What caused him to break down like this? If he's relieved to be human again, shouldn't he be overjoyed instead of breaking down?
A thousand questions flood my mind. What happened? How did the zombie revert back to a normal human? And how did my wound—clearly fatal by earthly standards—heal in just seconds? My train of thought stopped the moment the man started crying uncontrollably.
Tears stream from his eyes. "Wha… what did… what did I do…" his words squeezed through his tears and labored breath. His breathing is uneven, he's struggling to breathe as his body continues to convulse, and his tears and snot pour down his face.
"My… my god… what did I do to you…" he looked at me with the eyes of a broken man. I felt frozen in surprise. I've never seen someone fall apart like this. It's heartbreaking, and for some reason, I have the urge to turn my face away. His grief feels too raw, too real.
But… I don't think anything terrible happened yet. He bit me - yes, and it hurt like hell. But now he's not a zombie. My hand was wounded badly, yet it healed in a few seconds. So why is he crying? And why is he looking at me as if he attacked something sacred?
Still gasping, he tried to breathe normally as I cautiously approached him. I know, I'm terrible at comforting people, but I can't just stand there. Then all of a sudden, his expression changed into anger. He yanked at his helmet and, after a few attempts, loosened the clips—or whatever mechanism held it—and threw it aside. His face was now twisted with fury, tears still streaming. Now his face was stretched with anger. I never knew before that anger and tears made such a terrifying combination.
And then he started to bash his head on the ground repeatedly. Hey… what the hell is he doing?! I rushed to him without thinking.
"Sir… sir, what are you doing?" I tried to stop him by firmly holding onto his shoulders.
Luckily, he didn't seem to have any wounds, but his forehead was all red from slamming into the ground. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of emotions—relief, happiness, sadness, anger, self-loathing. A number of conflicting feelings flashed across his eyes, and for some reason, I was reminded of the saying that the eyes are the windows to the soul. I tried to wipe away the tears and snot from his face with my bare hands, though I would've felt immense disgust about it any other time. But this time, I felt like I had to comfort him. I felt that the man held many things beyond my understanding.
"My lord… why are you so kind towards this thankless sinner?" he asked in a trembling voice as his eyes kept draining tears.
"Sir, I think you've mistaken me… I'm not a god or something. I'm just a human, like you." I replied, doing my best to sound rational. But he shook his head in denial. What's the problem with him now? And looking at his somewhat relaxed face now, I think he's a middle-aged and well-built soldier, with a neatly trimmed mustache and receding blonde hair. With fair skin and brown eyes, he must have been a handsome figure in his youth—and for some reason, I felt a tinge of jealousy toward him.
"Your holiness, what you did is impossible for any mortal. I appreciate your humility, but you are not a mere human. If you'll pardon my insolence, may I ask… are you a divine priest then? You are certainly not a hero, if I may dare to assume," the Knight said. His tone was painfully reverent, as if he's talking to an angel from heaven.
Fortunately, now it seems like he's emotionally stable. But he's thinking of me as a divine figure. I like the irony though—an atheist got isekaied and is now confused for a divine figure!! And how can I convince him that I'm nowhere related to divine stuff? Still, I'm getting interested in his remarks about heroes and divine priests. So I decided to have a formal introduction with the Knight.
Extending my right hand for a handshake, I introduced myself. "Nice to meet you, sir. I'm Kendo Misato, a young man from another Earth."
I instantly felt awkward doing it, thinking he'll see me as a weirdo for saying that! But he just looked at my extended arm, not knowing how to respond. Oh, my bad—he must not know about the custom of a handshake, I thought, reminding myself once again that I'm in a new world.
But lucky for me, he got the general idea even though he didn't take the handshake. After a few seconds, I awkwardly withdrew my hand, and he stood up in a military pose, introducing himself with his left hand pressed to his chest, his face serious and disciplined. Really… you don't have to be this tense… I told myself.
"I am Klimt Adler, the captain of the 6th Battalion of the Territorial Army of the County of Licrus. May I have the pleasure of calling you Sir Misato?"
Eww… that's a little uncalled for. I mean, calling me by my first name out of the blue is a little cringe. So I told him that if he likes, he shall call me Mr. Kendo. But he insisted on calling me Sir Kendo. Okay… fair enough. Now that part is over. And the real headache is how to initiate the rest of the conversation. I'm a totally new person to this world, and Mr. Captain must have huge expectations about me.
Talking with strangers was never a strong point for me, but for some reason, after befriending someone, I could maintain conversations somewhat decently. So I started scrambling to find a good topic - like where am I, or does he know anything about the events that happened before the apocalypse took place, and so on.
But I don't feel like there are a lot of good opening questions. Just like me, Captain Klimt too is a newcomer in a sense. He was a zombie, and whatever happened to him—being a mummified undead—must have been so painful and traumatizing. There are only a few topics that might not trigger another panic attack from him.
And that's when I felt my throat drying up. From all the previous panic and tense encounters, I'd become thirsty. But looking around, all I could see was grey. The sky, the trees, the bushes, and even the ominous mist enveloping everything, has a shade of ominous grey. It seemed impossible to explore the world even a little in this situation. And then an idea hit me—why can't I recreate my mysterious power? It's worth a try anyway.
Ignoring the eyes of Klimt, which were full of admiration and loyalty, I started to remove my shoes. I knew the grey flaky grass and the soil with its sick shade of black would make my feet dirty and most likely smelly, but in order to survive, I needed to go beyond my comfort zone.
When my bare foot touched a patch of grass, its grey blades felt like firm ash mixed with some sort of goo. Ignoring the sensation, I closed my eyes and listened to my heartbeat.
Focusing on myself and meditating seems so easy in an eerily silent post-apocalyptic world. For some reason, I'd already gotten accustomed to the nasty odour of zombie apocalypse lingering in the air around me. Listening to my heartbeat and carefully controlling my breath, I slowly tried to recreate that initial moment of emergency and visualized the same mysterious power now flowing from my heart to my legs… Nothing.
I tried again, after taking a deep breath. This time, I exerted a little more pressure on the ground, and the decaying stems and blades of the grass pressed back on my bare foot. I visualized a mysterious energy flowing from my heart to my foot, and this time, I felt something.
It started as an unusual warm sensation in my chest, and my heart began to beat in a frantic rhythm. Something began rushing from my chest—something warm and alien—towards my bare foot.
Afraid to open my eyes, fearing it might break my concentration, I envisioned the force being transmitted to the ground. Then I heard Klimt gasp, and I slowly opened my eyes. What I saw was surreal.
A region of land around me, within a few feet in radius, had turned back to its natural self. The grass had become green and alive, the soil turned dark brown, and even the air seemed clearer—the bad odour barely noticeable.
The light stung my eyes a little. For some unknown reason, not just the mist on the ground, but the whole mist in the cleansed region had vanished, even from the sky above. The oddest analogy I can give is that it felt like the eye of a cyclone—but without the winds and destruction—and there was even a comforting breeze. However, for some inexplicable reason the sky remained grey in colour, as if it permanently lost the blue colour to the mist.
To my surprise, there was a remarkably sharp gradient between the reclaimed green land and the zombified grey. A razor-thin line marked the transition, as if an editing tool had restored color in a grayscale world. Even the mist was being prevented from seeping into the now-green zone. I couldn't grasp all of this completely, but now I was sure—my cheat skill is at least quite handy.
I slowly looked back at the captain, and he was just standing there, frozen. Umm… it's not a big deal though… I just wanted to find some water and that's it.
"Err… Mr. Klimt… Sir… Do you know where I can find some water?" I asked him. He shook his head, clearly in disbelief. Then he cleared his throat to shake off the shock and surprise. It seemed like Mr. Klimt was deep in thought for a few moments, looking all around, possibly searching for landmarks. He tried to speak but stopped himself. He repeated this twice before finally giving me an answer.
"If we are at the outskirts of Lexell City, on the west side, there is a pool of water a few preeves away… most likely to the east."
Oh, excuse me… what's the meaning of "preeves"? Is that their unit of distance? As I puzzled over it, he continued with the same concerned tone.
"But that water body is used by the commoners, Sir Kendo. I don't think it's fitting for a divine messenger like you."
He's oddly concerned about stuff like that?! Then, in a humbler tone, he added, "Sir Kendo, please don't call me 'sir.' Just Klimt is enough."
Oh, come on! Water is water. There's no such thing as water for nobles and water for peasants - unless you actually treat peasants like trash… Wait, does he see me as a noble now? I almost groaned in protest but held myself back. Captain Klimt probably sees me as some kind of divine figure now, and I don't want to belittle his devotion.
"This is just a zombie apocalypse survival situation now, Mr. Klimt… I think none of that matters. Let's just focus on staying alive," I said, trying to steer him away from all that nobility nonsense with some honest, buddy-to-buddy talk.
"Zombie? …Sorry, Sir Kendo, what is that?" he asked, clearly puzzled.
Ah, my bad. "Zombie" is obviously a term from recent Earth fiction. How could I expect it to exist in another world? Wait… how am I even able to talk to him and understand what he's saying? Isn't this one of those mysterious powers all isekai protagonists get? Still, I would've preferred meeting a cute hot elf babe over a zombie as my first contact in a fantasy world!!
While I was lost in thought, Klimt seemed to be deep in his own. Then he looked at me with a newfound sense of determination.
"Sir Kendo, let me be your shield in this… umm… zombie apocalypse. Let's make finding water our first mission."
"Mr. Klimt… thank you. I, Kendo Misato, am genuinely moved by your kindness and loyalty," I replied with both humility and a hint of teasing.
That seemed to fluster him a bit. He quickly turned east and pointed. "This way, Sir Kendo."
And so we began walking—Klimt in the lead, shield at the ready.