Yuche didn’t linger on what was possible or not possible.

There wasn’t time to stand there trying to make sense of something that had already happened twice in the span of a few seconds. Whatever it was, whatever had just worked in his favor, it was still working—and right now, that was the only thing that mattered.

Understanding could come later, if there was a later.

Another zombie climbed into view, its fingers dragging against the concrete as it hauled itself higher along the wall. It was closer than the last one had been, its movements faster now that it had something solid to pull against, its body adjusting with an efficiency that made it harder to ignore what had changed.

Yuche’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched it, tracking the way its weight shifted, the way its grip found purchase where it shouldn’t have been able to. He let the moment stretch just long enough to confirm what he was seeing before acting.

This time, he didn’t wait for instinct to take over.

He raised his hand again, slower and more deliberate, his fingers forming the same shape as before, but now with intention behind it.

His posture shifted subtly as his shoulders squared, his weight settling forward just enough to steady himself as if he were bracing against something real, something with recoil and resistance even if he couldn’t feel it.

He picked his target carefully, was tracking the rhythm of its climb, and like any good shot, he waited for the perfect timing.

Then he bent his thumb like he was pulling on the trigger.

The zombie’s head snapped back.

The hole appeared instantly, clean and precise, and its grip failed just as quickly as its body dropped away from the wall. It didn’t cling or twitch this time. It simply fell, as if whatever force had been holding it together had been cut clean through.

Yuche held still for half a second, watching it fall, confirming the result before moving on.

Then he let out a slow breath through his nose.

"Okay," he murmured quietly, the word more grounded now, less uncertain.

There was no confusion in it this time. He wasn’t going to tell himself that it really didn’t happen.

Now all there was to do was acknowledge that bullets were coming out of his fingers and move on.

Another zombie climbed higher, its hand reaching for a narrow seam in the wall that gave it just enough leverage to pull itself up another foot. Its movement wasn’t clumsy anymore. It was direct, efficient, every motion serving a purpose.

Yuche didn’t hesitate.

He raised his hand again, the motion already smoother, already more controlled as his body fell into a rhythm that hadn’t existed minutes ago.

His fingers aligned, his gaze locked onto the next target, and his thumb pressed down with a growing sense of certainty that came not from understanding, but from repetition.

The result came immediately.

Another body fell.

This time, he didn’t pause.

He shifted to the next.

And then the next.

Each movement sharpened as the hesitation disappeared completely, replaced by something colder and more focused. His breathing began to sync with the motion, each shot tied to a steady exhale, his attention narrowing until the world below became nothing more than movement, distance, and timing.

Yuche adjusted his stance slightly, planting his feet more firmly as he leaned into the motion. His balance shifted in small, precise corrections, his body compensating without thought, as if it had already accepted this as something natural.

Another shot.

Another fall.

The rhythm built quickly, steady and controlled, his arm remaining raised now as his fingers made small adjustments between targets. The motion flowed from one to the next without interruption, each "shot" landing with the same silent precision that no longer surprised him.

The zombies didn’t stop.

They didn’t slow.

They climbed over the bodies that fell, using them as leverage, their fingers finding new holds where none should have existed. For every one that dropped, another took its place immediately, the movement constant and relentless as they gained ground with a persistence that didn’t feel mindless anymore.

Yuche’s expression hardened slightly as he tracked the climb, his eyes narrowing as he adjusted his aim higher along the wall, compensating for the way they were stacking, the way the path upward was forming beneath them.

He didn’t look back, he didn’t check for confirmation on the kill, he didn’t need it anymore.

Because this wasn’t a fluke. It wasn’t luck. It was something he could do. Like Lingyun’s fire.

Another zombie reached higher than the rest, its hand stretching toward the final ledge just below the rooftop, its fingers curling over the edge as its body pulled upward with a sudden burst of speed.

Yuche’s hand snapped up immediately, faster now, the motion clean and controlled as his focus sharpened further.

He fired.

The head snapped back.

The body dropped.

Yuche didn’t lower his hand.

He simply shifted his aim to the next one and pressed his thumb down again, maintaining the rhythm as if breaking it would give them an opening they couldn’t afford to give.

Behind him, the tapping at the door resumed.

Not louder.

Not faster.

Just... present.

A soft, deliberate sound that moved along the metal as if whatever was on the other side was mapping it piece by piece, testing, learning, searching for something it hadn’t found yet. The pattern wasn’t random anymore. It shifted, adjusted, returned to points it had already touched, as if confirming what it already knew.

Yuche didn’t turn.

He couldn’t.

Because the moment he stopped... the moment he let even one of them get too close...it would all be over.

Another shot. Another body falling.

But the gap didn’t hold for any length of time. It never held.

For every zombie he took out, more replaced it, their bodies stacking, shifting, building a path upward that grew more efficient with every passing second. The climb wasn’t slowing. It was improving.

Yuche swallowed hard, forcing his focus to stay locked in place as he lined up his next shot, his jaw tightening as the pressure built...not from fear, but from the awareness that this wasn’t enough on its own.

"Can’t stop now," he murmured under his breath even as his hand started to tremble. "I have to keep going."