Apocalypse: King of Zombies-Chapter 343: Wasn’t much point in living anyway…

Samuel narrowed his eyes, a creeping sense of unease tightening in his chest. Something was off about this girl—seriously off.

"Doesn't she feel pain?"

He could sense it—Mia's presence was intensifying, her aura climbing like a storm about to break.

[Pain Level: 36%]

Crack!

With a sudden surge of strength, Mia clenched her fingers and shattered the Root Barbs that had pierced through her palm. The jagged shards scattered in the air like glass.

"What the hell…" Samuel's face twisted in disbelief.

She's that strong?

Mia's grip on her blade tightened. The crystal core embedded in the hilt pulsed with light, arcs of electricity dancing wildly across its surface. In the next instant, her body flickered—breaking free from the Entangling Roots with sheer force—and shot toward Samuel like a bolt of lightning.

"So fast!"

Panic surged through him. As a wood-type Awakener, physical durability wasn't exactly his strong suit. At that speed, dodging was out of the question.

In a split-second decision, he activated his emergency defense.

"Barkskin!"

His body shrank and withered, skin tightening and wrinkling until it resembled the bark of an ancient tree—tough, gnarled, and nearly impenetrable.

He raised both arms just in time to block the incoming slash from Mia's Tachi.

Zzzzzk—

The blade scraped across his forearms with a strange, grating sound, like a saw biting into timber. It sank in only about an inch.

He'd blocked the killing blow.

Samuel immediately staggered back, putting distance between them.

His skin reverted to normal, but blood still seeped from the gash where the blade had struck. Even with his skin hardened like wood, the attack had broken through.

His face had gone pale, breath ragged and shallow. The repeated use of wood-type abilities had clearly taken a toll. He fumbled for a crystal core and shoved it into his mouth, trying to recharge his energy reserves.

"You guys—hold the line!" he barked at his men.

Even though he was losing ground against Mia, he wasn't panicking. Not yet.

After all, the Black Hand Legion had deployed over a thousand fighters for this operation. The enemy? Barely a few dozen. They could wear them down by sheer numbers if nothing else.

Mia stood tall, Tachi in hand, her sharp eyes scanning the battlefield. An S-rank wood-type Awakener—strong in both offense and defense—wasn't easy to kill.

From the shadows ahead, a wave of Black Hand Legion members surged forward, blades drawn, charging straight at her.

Behind them, elemental energy gathered and launched in volleys—fire, ice, lightning—raining down on her position. Among them were even A+ rank Awakeners.

Everywhere she looked, enemies closed in.

There was no time to rest.

The exits were sealed. There was no way out. All she could do now was fight to the bitter end. It felt like a last stand.

She was holding off most of the enemy's pressure, but the battle behind her was turning brutal. They were already taking casualties.

Chris and the others just weren't strong enough. Especially the survivors they'd rescued—most of them had only just formed their Neurocores.

They had no choice but to rely on Crystal Core Firearms, using Mist's cover to barely hold their ground against the B-rank Black Hand fighters.

Chris's titanium machete was ablaze, clashing with enemy blades in a flurry of sparks. He and Leah had become the backbone of the defense—both of them had formed crystal cores, making them the strongest fighters among the survivors.

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"Brandon, don't be scared! I'm right here—Uncle's got your back!"

"Hey! You little punk, stay with me! Don't you dare fall asleep on me. We've been through hell and back—this ain't the day we die!"

"Brandon, if you really kick the bucket, I guess I'll have no choice but to take care of that online girlfriend of yours…"

"..."

"Cough cough Uncle Chris, I'm not dead, okay? Just a little banged up. Do you have to be so dramatic?"

Brandon was crouched in the back, clutching his elbow. A dagger had punched clean through it, blood dripping steadily from his fingertips. It looked nasty, but it wasn't fatal.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that Uncle Chris was kinda jinxing him on purpose.

"Oh…" Chris gave a short nod, gripping his titanium machete tightly, eyes scanning the chaos around them.

"You be careful too."

The warning wasn't just for show. Somewhere in the shadows, a speed-type Awakener was lurking—fast as a phantom, striking without warning. That bastard had already taken out several of their people, either killing them outright or leaving them too injured to fight.

All around them, the battlefield was a mess of clashing energies. Crystal Core Firearm rounds zipped through the air in streaks of color. Shouts, screams, and the clang of steel on steel filled the night. The fight had reached a fever pitch.

In the middle of the chaos, a flicker of movement—barely visible—slipped through the shadows, creeping closer to their position.

"Uncle Chris! He's back!" Brandon's voice was tight with urgency.

He couldn't fight—his arm was still bleeding from that earlier ambush—but he'd been keeping a sharp eye on the battlefield. And he'd just seen it: a blur of motion, gone in a blink. That same speed-type Awakener. The one who'd stabbed him through the elbow. If someone hadn't pulled him out of the way, that blade would've gone straight through his throat.

Chris's expression hardened. "Get behind me!"

"You think he's still after me?" Brandon asked, voice trembling. The fear was real now—deep, instinctive. That first attack had left more than just a wound; it had left a scar on his nerves.

But as he kept watching, eyes locked on the shadows, he saw the figure again—darting forward at an impossible speed, this time heading straight for Leah and the others.

"Look out!" Brandon shouted.

But it was too fast.

A flash of steel. A blur of motion. And then—

Shhk!

A blade punched clean through a young man's chest. Blood sprayed in a hot arc. His eyes went wide with shock, mouth frozen in a silent scream.

It was the same guy who'd had his balls crushed earlier by a Black Hand thug. He'd survived that, only to—

"Shit!" Chris growled, fury flaring in his eyes. He swung his flaming machete, forcing back the enemy in front of him, then lunged toward the speed-type Awakener.

But the bastard was already gone.

"Keheheh…" The speed-type let out a low, mocking laugh as he vanished into the shadows again, slipping away to wait for his next kill.

Chris and Leah rushed to the fallen young man, dropping to their knees.

"Hey! You okay? Talk to me!"

"I… I…" The young man lay on the ground, blood bubbling from his lips. His chest was soaked in red.

Brandon ignored the pain in his own arm and rushed over, lifting the guy's head gently.

The young man sucked in a shaky breath. "I… I think this is it for me…"

"Don't say that!" Brandon snapped, jaw clenched. "You're gonna make it, just hang on!"

But the wound was bad. Real bad. The blade had missed his heart, but it had sliced through an artery. Blood was pouring out too fast. They didn't have time. He didn't have time.

"It's okay," the young man whispered, forcing a weak smile. "Wasn't much point in living anyway…"

Leah's eyes filled with tears. She wasn't the only one. Even the others—hardened by battle—couldn't hold it in. Especially his ex-girlfriend, who stood frozen, tears streaming down her face.

His skin had gone pale, lips turning blue. Everyone could feel it—his life was slipping away, second by second.

Chris stood up, face grim. "We can't stop now. Everyone—stay sharp. Keep fighting!"

There was no time to mourn. No time to grieve. The battle was still raging.

He grabbed his Tachi and charged back into the fray.

Brandon looked around, eyes scanning the battlefield. Through the thick mist and smoke, he could see silhouettes clashing—blades flashing, bodies falling. Explosions lit up the darkness. Screams and curses echoed all around.

His chest felt tight. Like something heavy was pressing down on him. He couldn't breathe.

Why…

Why could the Black Hand Legion kill so freely? Why did they take pleasure in it? Why didn't they have even a shred of mercy?

Why did people like that even exist?

His vision blurred. Blood loss was catching up to him. His face had gone ghostly pale, and his arm was still bleeding.

And then—just as he was about to turn—he felt it.

A presence behind him.

A shadow.

Moving fast.

Coming straight for him.

…