MJ ran to the bathroom and threw up as she cried. Gwen was right behind her, rubbing her back, but she also had a sick look on her face after what they had just seen.
The system usually censors anything involving Allen's privacy, often cutting the broadcast entirely. However, that doesn't apply to blood or gore.
Whether it's blood, serious injuries, or even deaths, the system decides to show them, since almost all the viewers are teenagers or adults.
The Chat had seen the brutal deaths of several Invincibles, the aftermath of massacres, and the zombies from that alternate Marvel world. Even so, many people were not prepared for what they saw.
No one expected to see a zombie like that pregnant woman. Not only was her fate miserable, but her unborn child suffered a similar one.
A harsh, cruel, and inhumane fate.
"W-why?!"
Over the years, MJ had left behind the innocence of a teenager and was becoming a young woman. She had started thinking about her future, and with Allen giving her a ring, she began fantasizing about starting a family.
Perhaps that was why the scene affected her so deeply.
"MJ, are you okay?" Natasha asked, bringing her a glass of water.
"I'm sorry I just felt sick," MJ lowered her head. "Sometimes... I forget how lucky I am to have Allen in my life... but some worlds don't have that kind of luck..."
Gwen sighed. "Allen can't choose which world he goes to. It's a roulette. He could end up in a Disney world or in Warhammer."
"I know," MJ said, recovering. "I feel better now, let's go back."
Natasha placed her hand on MJ's shoulder. "But—"
MJ smiled weakly, yet her gaze was firm. "Allen is in a dangerous situation. We must be with him, even if it's only in spirit."
Natasha was also worried, but she hid it for the girls' sake. She quickly agreed, and the three of them went back to the living room—only to see the Horde.
"This can't be real!"
"Those are zombies too?!"
None of them could believe it. If regular zombies were already dangerous enough, the ones appearing now looked like a nightmare.
....
....
The future of any apocalypse is often defined by understanding one simple thing about the zombies.
Do they run or not? And if they do, how fast?
If they are slow, the future becomes a post-apocalyptic dystopia, where power-hungry lunatics unleash their darkest fantasies in a lawless world. Humanity would eventually survive, though in a twisted way.
On the other hand, if they are fast—it depends on how fast—but in the worst case, humanity would face a constant threat of extinction. Fighting them would be a death sentence, and the only way to survive would be to escape or hide, waiting for death. It's cruel, but there aren't many happy endings in those scenarios.
Previously, Allen had felt somewhat relieved after seeing the limits of the common zombies. Even if there were terrifying monsters like the Volatiles, they were few in number. On the other hand, even if billions of common zombies existed, as long as they were slow and clumsy—blind even—humanity could survive and slowly rebuild society.
That thought vanished the moment he saw what was coming toward him.
The terrifying scream of that zombie had attracted a horde. There weren't many, but they were far more dangerous—wild, extremely aggressive, straight out of a nightmare—because they were fast. Very fast. As fast as Olympic runners!
Something like that was as terrifying as staring a Volatile in the eyes.
They all charged in a frenzy, like bees rushing to defend their queen. They burst through the bushes like shadows, with glowing yellow eyes and only one intention—to tear Allen apart.
It was a desperate situation!
Unable to escape!
Unable to hide!
A situation where most would find only a miserable death. But Allen wasn't most people.
After killing the first zombies with his shotgun and detonating the mine at the witch's feet—the one who had summoned the horde—he faced the horde without showing fear.
"Tsk..." Allen holstered the metal pipe and fired point-blank with his shotgun.
With the second shot, a zombie's head exploded just inches from his face. With the third, he cleared a path through the group, forcing them to stagger back. With the fourth, he blew half of another zombie's head off, and the one behind it had its skull punctured by stray pellets.
Since it was a pump-action shotgun, Allen had to rack the slide after every shot, which made using both shotguns at once impossible—but that didn't matter.
After the fifth shot, he kept in his inventory the Ithaca 37 and drew the Remington M870. The black metal gleamed under the moonlight before it roared, blowing another zombie apart.
This continued, and when the last of the ten shells was spent, a third of the horde lay dead—fifteen zombies killed with ten shots. An acceptable efficiency.
The power of the shotguns was undeniable; however, that kind of weapon required reloading shell by shell, balancing its overwhelming power.
Allen put away the Remington and was left without weapons, but that didn't matter, because he was a living weapon!
"Ahh—"
A zombie tried to bite him from the side, but Allen's elbow crushed its face straight into its brain. Then, with a kick, he sent another one flying.
"Fuck off!"
With a punch charged with fury, Allen smashed through a zombie's head. Since he was already infected—and since he had a cure in his inventory—he didn't care about using his bare hands.
He grabbed a zombie's head and crushed it, grabbed another zombie by the neck and broke it.
He kneed another one, shattering its jaw.
He grabbed one by the face and slammed it against a tree, exploding its skull.
With every kill, Allen became more savage. His vision turned redder—filled with rage, with fury, with violence!
[Allen!]
Hearing the system's voice, Allen came back to himself. Behind him lay a dozen more corpses, all killed by his own hands. He had almost lost himself to the blood frenzy.
Allen panted. "Ah..."
Even the remaining zombies kept their distance, growling but not attacking. If they weren't mindless creatures driven by instinct, Allen would've thought they were afraid.
[Are you alright?]
Slowly, Allen began to regain control of his emotions and suppressed the Harran Virus.
"Yeah... but why am I not cured?"
The advantage of the "beast mode" granted by the Harran Virus wasn't worth the risk, so while staying at Rika's house, Allen had used a Green Herb.
"Don't tell me it was too late?"
[No, but it seems the strain of the Harran Virus that infected you is stronger than we expected, which means a single Green Herb won't cure you.]
Allen analyzed the system's words, reading between the lines. That meant he needed a stronger cure—which made sense, since the Green Herb was only a Tier 1 medicine.
"Shit..."
[Don't worry. Even if the Green Herb doesn't cure you, it can still keep the virus in check, preventing your body from mutating.]
Allen wanted to ask more, but he noticed the remaining zombies growing restless, moving closer. It seemed whatever was keeping them back was fading.
Allen covered his face as his eyes flashed coldly. "I'll end this quickly..."
He straightened his posture.
In his left hand, a knife appeared, its blade reflecting the moonlight with a metallic gleam.
In his right hand, the blood-stained metal pipe shimmered faintly.
Fortunately, even without the Harran Virus, Allen wasn't prey. He wasn't weak. He wasn't meat. He was perfectly capable of fighting any zombie—because he was Allen Walker.
"AHHH!"
A zombie lunged—but before it reached him, its head was pierced through.
"Heh..." Allen scoffed. "You're wrong. It's not before when you should've feared me."
His movements, though infinitely slower than in his normal state, hadn't dulled.
One after another, the zombies came, but it didn't matter. They could only see metallic flashes before their heads were blown apart or crushed.
"Gahhh!–"
They didn't only come from the front, but from behind as well.
A zombie was about to grab him from the back, but Allen turned around, gripping his metal pipe, and smashed its head open.
While Allen was slaughtering the remaining zombies, the witch—the zombie that had started all this—was lying on the ground after stepping on a mine. But unexpectedly, she was still moving.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze, her eyes glowing faintly.
This was the terrifying resilience of a Tier 3 zombie—even explosions and high-caliber weapons couldn't kill them easily.
Allen hadn't noticed her; he was fully focused on the last zombies.
He kicked one that lunged at him, twisting its neck unnaturally. Then he used his metal bar to smash another person's skull.
Blood splattered everywhere; chunks of flesh and bone flew in all directions.
It was a slaughterhouse—and Allen was the butcher!
With only one zombie left, Allen, covered in blood, stared at it silently. The creature didn't attack.
Allen smirked at the zombie's reaction. 'Do they really fear me… or maybe the virus in my blood makes them doubt if I'm even food anymore?'
Whatever the reason, Allen prepared to finish it off—but he froze. His instincts screamed danger.
SKREEEEE!
A piercing shriek loud enough to shatter car windows erupted from behind the zombie. In an instant, the creature was torn to pieces.
Blood splattered everywhere as chunks of dead flesh rained down.
The witch was still alive. Despite stepping on a mine, she had only lost one leg; she was standing upright, maintaining her balance.
Now she acted as if in desperation—grabbing her face as she writhed, crying and screaming like a beast from the underworld.
But it didn't last long before she fixed her glowing eyes on Allen and lunged at him.
GAAHHHH!–
*Bang*
A gunshot rang out, cutting her screams short.
Allen was holding the handle of his combat knife. A thin metal wire ran from it to the blade, which was buried deep in the witch's head.
"I'm tired of your screaming," Allen growled before yanking the handle, retracting the wire, and retrieving his knife.
The witch fell to the ground; this time, she would not get up again.
"The mutant zombie might be dead, but all that noise will bring a horde here."
Allen quickly headed toward the public restrooms.
Once inside, he told the system to cut the broadcast for a while. The system obeyed without asking what Allen planned to do. He approached the bundle wrapped in a blanket—the one that was still moving.
Allen closed his eyes, frowning before opening them again. "This world is testing me..."
He put a poor innocent soul to sleep.
....
(Rika's House)
Saeko remained alert and on guard for an hour until Saya and Rei woke up and came to see her.
Saeko, who had been sitting in seiza with her katana beside her, noticed the girls approaching.
"Hm? What is it? It's not time for the next shift yet."
"Thank you for your hard work, Busujima-san," Rei greeted distractedly while her eyes searched for Allen. When she didn't find him, she sighed. "He's gone, isn't he?"
Saya yawned. "Isn't that obvious?"
Saya had anticipated this move—it was the smartest choice now that the girls knew about the supply boxes and Allen's ability to detect them.
Saeko smiled faintly. "He said he'd use the energy bars to get the two supply crates nearby."
Saya crossed her arms, grumbling. "Those things are basically cheating. After trying one myself, I can say they're nothing like anything I've ever seen before."
Saeko looked out the window. "You're right. They don't fill you with caffeine, don't suppress sleep, and don't trick your body into ignoring fatigue. It really feels like you've had hours of rest or a full night's sleep. Who could've made something like that?"
As a swordswoman, Saeko knew her body better than anyone. She could even sense the smallest changes within it.
"Who knows," Saya thought for a moment before adjusting her glasses. "On average, people spend a third of their lives sleeping. If everyone had those energy bars, humanity would advance by leaps and bounds."
The three girls fell silent. It was supposed to be the apocalypse—their concerns should've been about surviving waves of the undead—but Allen's existence made them question reality itself. Too many things around him defied physics and common sense.
"For now, let's stop worrying about it," Saeko said, unsheathing her katana halfway with a piercing gaze. "But if you decide to stay by his side, be prepared for anything that comes our way"
Rei snorted. "You don't need to convince me. I'm alive thanks to him. I'm not going anywhere."
Saya puffed out her chest proudly. "It can't be helped! Without a genius like me by his side, that idiot would be lost!"
Saeko smiled. "Looks like this will be hard to win..."
Rei and Saya knew exactly what she meant, yet neither backed down in their silent standoff. Who would be the last girl standing remained to be seen.
"Hm? What are you girls doing up so late?" Kyoko appeared, wearing a lace nightgown while holding up Shizuka, who was in her underwear and barely able to stand.
Both women had voluptuous, sensual figures.
"Kyoko-sensei..." Saya said as her eyelid twitched.
They had forgotten that there were two other final bosses to defeat!
Rei forced a smile. "What's going on? Why are you two awake too?"
Kyoko blushed when she realized what she was wearing. "Marikawa-sensei—no, Shizuka-san wanted to go to the bathroom, but because of the alcohol, she couldn't do it alone."
"Hehe, hi everyone~" Shizuka giggled, her cheeks flushed and her eyes drowsy. "Where's Allen-kun?"
"He left..." Saeko said coldly. She had no right to scold the two women for their attire, since she herself had cooked in her underwear before.
"What a shame~ I thought we could continue what we started in the bathroom hehe~"
The three girls stiffened at that, while Kyoko blushed furiously.
"Marikawa-sensei!"
Shizuka pouted, puffing her cheeks. "Mou, Kyoko-san, we agreed to use our first names from now on~"
With all the students dead and Fujimi destroyed, there was no point in calling each other "sensei." From now on, they were equals—it was better to use names.
"I know, but didn't we also agree not to talk about that?" Kyoko panicked. Didn't this dumb, big-breasted blonde realize how terrifying these three girls were—especially Saeko Busujima?!
Saeko's voice came out with a chilling tone. "Oh..."
Kyoko began to tremble. "B-Busujima-san, nothing happened between them! I-I interrupted them before anything could!"
"Huh?! As if we'd believe that!" Saya snapped, blushing angrily.
With a fake smile, Rei stepped closer and placed a hand on Kyoko's shoulder. "We'll be the judges of that. Now, could you tell us in detail what happened?~"
"Hehe, sure… but Miyamoto-san, is it really necessary for you to hold that spear?"
"Don't worry, it's just a precaution~"
'Precaution for what?!' Kyoko screamed internally, cursing Allen in her mind—her troublesome student who only attracted even more troublesome women.
The girls then proceeded to have a long conversation with both teachers.
....
Meanwhile, unlike Allen who had defeated the Tier 3 zombie, and the girls who were still at Rika's house, the shelter had fallen into chaos.
"AHHH!"
"What is that?!"
"Help me! I don't want to die!"
"Teshima-sensei! The axe! Use the axe!"
"Damn it!"
"AHHH!"
"Why… why haven't they come back yet?!"
====
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