Chapter 313 - 313: 312. Broken fangs

Guild Receptionist Clara nearly toppled off her heels as she scrambled up the stairs, clutching a mountain of reports from across Eldoria. She burst into the guildmaster's office, panting.On the chair sat Liloth Alvado, idly twisting her crimson silk hair around one finger, her face the very picture of boredom.

"Guild Master!! There's an emergency!!!" Clara shouted. "I–it seems there's a zombie apocalypse breaking out!!"

Liloth jolted to her feet, eyebrows raised. "A zombie apocalypse? No way!"

Such a thing was unheard of in their time. They had only read about it in history books—records of an ordeal that had supposedly taken place thousands of years ago.

"People are turning into grotesque undead!" Clara babbled. "Walking corpses that stink like rotting carcasses! The reports say they're multiplying by biting others!"

Liloth's expression hardened. "Gather every knight and every hunter still fit to fight! Evacuate the citizens to the Academy Stadium—children and the elderly first!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Clara's heels clicked furiously as she spun around, barking orders and dragging every available hunter into action.

The city was already drowning in chaos. Cries rang from every corner, undercut by the slick, sucking sounds of zombies dragging themselves through the streets, their tendons snapping, flesh peeling off in wet chunks, and their bones grinding against stone with each step.

Those still uninfected rushed desperately toward the Magic Academy Stadium. Knights and hunters struggled to escort them, but spotting the infected in the midst of a stampede was no easy task. Fear consumed the city. Citizens hid wherever they thought safe, refusing to trust even the hunters—some of whom had already turned and joined the horde. At a glance, it seemed half the kingdom had fallen.

Then, as despair thickened, their heroes arrived. The S-rank hunters stepped onto the battlefield, blades and magic already at the ready.

"These zombies are our people!" Liloth shouted, sword in hand. "Restrain them! Don't kill them! We'll find a way to turn them back to normal!"

Aria groaned, shoulders slumping. "Ugh… smelly, rotting corpses aren't really my thing. Can't I just fry them all with lightning and be done with it?"

"No, you can't!" Liloth snapped. Then her gaze shifted to Freya, who stood silently, head bowed. "Don't tell me you're still sulking about your mother's disappearance. She was the principal, and one of the strongest people I've ever known—she's alive somewhere, and she'll return. For now, focus on the kingdom!"

"…She will never come back," Freya muttered under her breath, more to herself than to anyone since she knew where her mother could be right now.

Aria sighed as the horde pressed closer to the Academy. "Great. Guess we'll have to do this the hard way. If only Veyna Drisari was here—her bow would've been perfect for this mess."

Liloth ignored the ache of that memory. There was no doubt that she was missing her old fallen comrade as well, but....

"Move out!" she barked.

They leapt from the high building, Freya forming a slanted ice slab for them to land and slide down. Hitting the ground, the trio clashed with the tide. Freya froze dozens in place, Aria bound them with lightning chains, and Liloth cut through those left standing with precise, devastating side-slaps of her blade.

"The S-ranks are here!!"

"We're saved!!"

"Long live our heroes!!"

Hope rippled through the terrified crowds, and even the knights felt renewed strength—until the impossible happened.

The restrained zombies began to twist and convulse. The most update n0vels are published on ????????????????????⁂????????????????⁂????????????

With sickening cracks, they tore at their own limbs—snapping bones and ripping their flesh, black ichor gushing out of them like tar. All so they could free themselves from the lightning binding chains. Yet even with shattered arms and dangling legs, they forced themselves upright. Their limbs reattached at grotesque angles, leaving them lurching forward in a broken, swaying gait that was somehow even more terrifying.

"W–what the actual hell?!" Aria gasped. "They're moving again!"

Freya snarled, ice spreading beneath her feet. "Leader, this is pointless! Restraints won't hold them—decapitation will! Why can't we just kill them all before it spreads further?"

"No!" Liloth roared. "These are family, friends, children! We hold them until the Priestess arrives—her prayers may still save them!"

The hope that had briefly sparked in the crowd sputtered out as quickly as it came.

"Even S-ranks can't stop them?!"

"Are we all going to die?!"

"Where's the new S-rank? That boy Asher! Why isn't he here to protect us?!"

But Asher was already fighting for his life elsewhere.

He lay flat on the ground, his body trembling as control slipped from his grasp.

My divine protection… why isn't it purging this infection?

Then he realized.

No—it is working. Just too slowly to keep up.

Behind him, his foe cackled, convinced he was finished. But Asher, with shaking limbs, pushed himself to his feet. Half his face sagged grotesquely—skin rotten, eye hollow, mouth slimy and dangling. His arm and leg were worse, moving like the jerky limbs of a broken puppet.

I need to finish this before it bites me again.

He stretched out his still-functioning hand and growled: "Hellfire of Decimation!"

BANG!

A massive ball of molten fire erupted where the Double stood, imploding with a deafening roar. The shockwave shattered ground and trees alike, leaving a crater as if a meteor had struck there from the skies. Scorching heat swept across the battlefield like the breath of an angry demonic dragon.

Zombies all around groaned, their flesh blistering from the steam.

Asher smirked. "Fire. Figures. That's their weakness. Don't let them bite you!"

But he quickly remembered—only Sharon could wield fire, and her mana reserves were too thin to protect everyone. Anna was a healer. Derrick wielded wind and without his staff, he could hardly control that element. Lorraine had ice and water. Rose was for curse magic, and his mother was just a scout.

"Damn it!"

"Sharon! It's all on you! Hold them off—I'll end this fight and come help!"

Sharon summoned her fire spirit, Pufflet, sending it blazing into the fray.

Meanwhile, Asher turned to the smoking ruins of his blast. His instincts screamed and told him the foe wasn't finished. So, he decided to use a skill he acquired a long time back but never really used. It'll come in handy when dealing with a foe that's good at hiding beneath the shadows.

Appraisal. Activate.

His right eye gleamed gold, revealing hidden truths through the haze.

Smoke.... rubble... dead trees, and then—

A chimera-hybrid catfolk zombie.

The instant he saw the result, the Double lunged from the smoke, jaws wide, ready to bite off more chunks of meat from him again. But this time, Asher was ready.

He planted his feet firmly to the ground, gathered every ounce of strength into his fist, and slammed it into the creature's face. Bones shattered, teeth cracked and spilled, some lodging down its throat as the punch sent it flying back, smashing through debris in a storm of dust.

As it choked and writhed, coughing on its own broken fangs, Asher glared coldly.

"You're weak."

TBC