Regressing Through the Apocalypse with the Third Male Lead-Chapter 55: Volume 2 -

"Alright! Everyone Hop in!"

As soon as they reached the top of the rocky, winding road, Thomas waited for everyone to settle back in their seats.

"That was incredibly hard!" Cheryl exclaimed, sweats streaming down her face. She grabbed a water bottle from her backpack and took a long drink.

"Yes..." Cheryllyn panted, wiping the sweat from her brow as the others settled down to their sit.

"You two can still go back,"

Freyah smirked, her face betraying no sign of exertion the twins had clearly endured. She was completely dry, a stark contrast to their sweat-drenched bodies.

Sweat beaded on their foreheads, but their eyes were wide with determination as Cheral and Cherellyn shook their heads. "ABSOLUTELY NOT!" they insisted, their voices ringing with defiance.

Freyah’s laughter echoed, joined by the others, as they teased the twins. Monica grinned, "This is just the first of many challenges, " she said, her tone playful but firm. Gwenette smirked, adding "And many more trucks to push!" They were trying to subtly intimidate Cheral and Cherellyn into giving up and going back to the safety of the village, but they knew the twin’s stubborn determination was already set.

"Is everyone okay there!?"

Thomas yellow from the driver seat.

"Yes uncle!"

"Yes!!"

They all agreed, shouting back, and Thomas started the truck, driving away once more. The vehicle lurched and swayed erratically as it bumped and rattled its way along the rocky, uneven roads and steep inclines. Freyah and the others had to hold tightly so they wouldn’t get thrown out by the force it’s making.

"Hold on! We’re nearing the road!" Uncle Thomas shouted, his voice barely audible over the truck’s rattling. The announcement prompted Cheral and Cherellyn, along with Monica and Gwenette, to stand, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the road ahead. Relief flooded their faces as they saw it.

"FINALLY!" They exclaimed in unison, Excited.

***

Unknown place and Unknown time

"Please grant us our prayers..."

The cloaked figures, forming a circle around the unconscious woman, chanted their prayers in hushed, reverent tones. A soft ethereal light began to emanate from the ground beneath her, growling steadily brighter.

Then, a thick, inky black smoke began to coalesce, a swirling, malevolent cloud that enveloped the woman’s body, obscuring her from view.

The chanting escalated to a frenzied crescendo, a cacophony of sound that ripped through the air just as the woman’s body was flung violently into the air, a grotesque puppet on invisible strings. From the heart of the swirling, malevolent black cloud, a colossal skeletal creature erupted, its form a horrifying parody of life.

Its burning eyes, twin embers of hellfire, blazed with incandescent malice, searing into the very souls of those who witnessed its arrival. The air itself seemed to crackle and writhe under its baleful gaze, a tangible manifestation of its wicked power.

"ROARRR!!!" The creature’s roar was a physical blow, a wave of raw, dark energy that slammed into everything, suffocating the very breath from their lungs, leaving a chilling coldness that seeped into their bones. The stench of decay and sulfur filled the air, a nauseating perfume accompanying the creature’s terrifying presence.

The cloaked figures, their faces obscured by shadow and fear, pressed themselves into the earth, their heads bowed so low they were almost buried in the dust. A palpable dread, thick and suffocating, emanated from them, a silent testament to the creature’s absolute dominance.

Their bodies trembled, not merely from fear, but from the very weight of its malevolent energy pressing down on them. The air crackled with a sinister anticipation, the stillness heavy with unspoken dread and the suffocating weight of their utter subjugation. The silence, broken only by the creature’s ragged breathing, was far more terrifying than any sound.

***

1:40 pm

Despite the wind whipping fiercely against their faces, a palpable tension filled the air, a stark contrast to the outwardly peaceful scene. All were seated in the back of the truck, a precarious calm clinging to them as their journey continued. The heart of the matter, however, remained intensely focused, a silent current running beneath the surface of their apparent tranquility.

"Exactly where are we heading, Lady Lima?" Florence asked, his gaze fixed on Freyah. A subtle exchange of knowing glances passed between her two best friends, a silent communication that hinted at unspoken knowledge.

Freyah, her expression unreadable, replied, "Uncle Thomas said we are going to the coast, Your Highness." The simplicity of her answer belied the gravity of their destination, the vast, unknown ocean awaiting them at journey’s end.

"If we’re lucky," Freyah added, her voice barely audible above the wind, "there might be ships or boats there." Her words, however, were swallowed by a sudden, violent jolt that threw everyone forward. The truck lurched violently, its brakes screeching in protest as it shuddered to a halt.

"Ow!"

"Ouch!"

"What was that?" Gasps and cries of pain erupted from the back of the truck.

As soon as the initial shock subsided, Freyah scrambled to her feet, followed by her companions. And there, blocking their path, was a horrifying sight: a horde of shambling, decaying zombies, their rotting flesh glistening in the dim light, their eyes burning with a ravenous hunger. The air hung heavy with the stench of death and decay.

"Who’s going to handle this!?" Uncle Thomas’s voice, strained with panic, boomed from the driver’s seat. His question hung unanswered, the weight of their desperate situation pressing down on them.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Freyah leaped from the truck, her movements fluid and practiced. The others followed close behind, tumbling out onto the dusty road, their hearts pounding in unison. They cautiously examined the horde of zombies ahead, a grotesque mass of decaying flesh and exposed bone, which, from their relatively safe distance, appeared oblivious to their presence. The air hung heavy with the stench of death and decay, a palpable reminder of the danger that lurked before them.

Florence’s eyes, blazing with fierce determination, scanned the ranks of the undead. "Such a massive horde," he muttered, not in fear, but in grim assessment. This wasn’t a surprise; it was a challenge.

Freyah met his gaze, her expression resolute. "Indeed, Your Highness," she replied, her voice low and steady, devoid of any tremor. Fear was a luxury they couldn’t afford. This was a fight for survival, and they were ready. The air crackled with anticipation, not of dread, but of the thrill of the impending battle.

"How could such a massive horde have gathered here?" Monica asked, her voice laced with confusion, her eyes wide as she took in the horrifying spectacle before them.

Gwenette, her gaze sharp and assessing, offered a grim explanation. "Perhaps these unfortunate souls were also heading to the coast, seeking refuge... only to find a far more terrifying fate awaiting them." Her words hung heavy in the air, a chilling commentary on the brutal reality of their situation.

The twins nodded in agreement, their faces grim and determined. The unspoken understanding between them was palpable. Meanwhile, Harley, Eman, and Uncle Thomas tumbled out of the truck, joining their companions, their faces a mixture of grim determination and barely suppressed adrenaline. The air crackled with a tense energy, a silent acknowledgment of the danger they all faced.

Freyah meticulously examined the horde, her keen eyes missing nothing. The sheer number of zombies wasn’t simply a random confluence of the undead; it was far too organized, too focused. This wasn’t a mindless gathering; it was a deliberate concentration, a carefully orchestrated convergence. It wasn’t the proximity to the coast that drew them here; it was something far more sinister.

The road they were currently on was, in fact, a considerable distance from the coast, a detail that further fueled her suspicions. Something was profoundly amiss, Moreover, she noticed an unsettling pattern in the horde’s movement; they weren’t simply shambling aimlessly; they were moving in a slow, spiraling pattern, almost as if drawn towards a central point.

"Wait a second,"

Freyah commanded, raising a hand to halt her companions. Her voice, though quiet, carried an undeniable authority, instantly silencing the murmurs and whispers that had begun to circulate among the group. Her sharp gaze, fixed on the spiraling horde, held a glimmer of understanding, a dawning realization of the insidious truth behind the seemingly random gathering of the undead.

"Everyone, prepare yourselves,"

Freyah commanded, her voice low and urgent, her eyes narrowed in grim recognition. "This isn’t an ordinary horde; I’ve seen this before." A chilling certainty settled over her, a grim familiarity with the unsettling pattern unfolding before them.

This wasn’t a random gathering of the undead; there was a central point, a focal point drawing them together like iron filings to a magnet. Something was at the heart of this spiraling mass of decay, something that explained the unnatural concentration of the zombies.

Florence, his keen eyes mirroring Freyah’s, instantly grasped the implication. He saw the subtle cues, the almost imperceptible patterns in the horde’s movement, the unnatural stillness at the very center. "Lady Lima..." he breathed, his voice barely a whisper, his eyes filled with a mixture of apprehension and dawning understanding.

Freyah nodded, a silent confirmation of his unspoken question. All eyes were now fixed on the center of the spiraling horde, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. And there, amidst the grotesque mass of the undead, sat a creature of unspeakable horror: a Level Ten evolved zombie, its appearance deceptively human, yet horrifyingly altered. Its veins, grotesquely bloated and pulsing with a sickly, unnatural light, were clearly visible beneath its skin, a stark testament to the monstrous transformation it had undergone. It sat there, seemingly asleep, yet radiating an aura of immense power and chilling menace, the very heart of the spiraling vortex of death.

***

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