Chapter 36: Reinforcement

The main gates of Crowns Academy had become a slaughterhouse.

Blood painted the stone pavement crimson, mixing with shattered concrete, spent bullet casings, and broken iron bars.

Bodies lay scattered across the entrance—some motionless, others still twitching as desperate cries for help echoed through the acrid smoke.

"Hold the line!"

A middle-aged security guard swung his dented steel baton with everything he had, crushing the jaw of a lunging zombie before kicking a second one backward into the dirt.

His breath came in ragged, wheezing gasps, yet he refused to yield a single inch.

Behind his trembling back, dozens of terrified students huddled together.

Some held bloody kitchen knives, others clutched splintered chair legs, while the rest could only cower in fear.

They weren’t soldiers or martial artists—they were just kids trying to survive the end of the world.

A high-pitched howl suddenly split the air.

Three Silver Horned Wolves smashed through the shattered iron gates like bolts of grey lightning.

Their claws scraped against the asphalt, leaving deep trenches before they lunged straight into the dense crowd.

"Scatter!"

It was too late.

One student barely turned before a massive, razor-sharp claw tore through his ribcage. Blood sprayed across the faces of those behind him, and he collapsed without even making a sound.

Another wolf leaped into the air.

Boom!

It landed directly in the center of the student formation. The heavy impact threw several teenagers off their feet, and before they could scramble back up, the slaughter began.

"No!"

A female lecturer rushed forward, swinging a heavy fire axe with both hands.

The steel blade buried itself two inches deep into the wolf’s shoulder, but the beast barely flinched. Instead, it snapped its head sideways.

Crunch!

Its jaws locked around her forearm. Bone shattered like brittle glass.

Her scream echoed across the gateway as the wolf flung her aside like trash. She crashed into a concrete bus stop overhang and never moved again.

"Keep fighting! Don’t let them through!"

Another guard roared, slamming his riot shield into an infected’s chest before driving his baton through its eye socket.

One. Two. Three.

His arms had gone completely numb, yet he kept swinging, because behind him, his teenage daughter was huddled among the survivors.

Not everyone remained brave.

A young man suddenly threw his lead pipe to the ground. "I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!"

Ignoring the guards’ warnings, he broke ranks and sprinted toward the side service entrance. He didn’t make it five meters.

A pale zombie tackled him from behind, and his screams lasted only seconds before being drowned out by the sickening sound of tearing flesh.

Several girls looked away, vomiting violently into the dirt.

Nearby, a girl around sixteen desperately tried dragging her bleeding friend by her collar. "Come on! Get up! We’re almost out!"

"I can’t..." The injured girl sobbed, clutching a deep bite mark on her leg.

A Silver Horned Wolf spotted them.

It dropped low, its emerald eyes locking onto the pair, and charged.

The first girl instinctively threw herself over her friend’s body, spreading her arms wide. "I won’t let you—"

Shhk!

Silver claws flashed. Both girls went limp together, their blood pooling into the cracked stone.

The remaining defenders slowly gave ground. Step... by step... by step. Every meter surrendered cost another life, and every scream made the silence that followed feel heavier.

Far above them, the blood-red clouds churned violently. White lightning flashed through the crimson sky, followed by low, rolling thunder, yet even nature’s fury couldn’t drown out the whimpers of the dying.

Behind an overturned delivery van, a little boy hugged his younger sister tightly. "Don’t cry, Lily... don’t cry... Big brother will protect you..." His voice shook so hard he couldn’t even convince himself.

Then, the ground began to tremble.

At first, nobody noticed—everyone was too consumed by the desperate struggle for breath. But the vibrations grew heavier.

Boom... Boom... Boom...

The surviving wolves suddenly froze, their claws raised in mid-strike. Every zombie stopped its advance, turning its head toward the interior of the campus.

The gateway fell dead silent.

The monsters dropped low to the ground. One wolf whimpered, its ears pinning back against its skull. Another took three steps backward, its body shaking.

Fear. For the first time, the monsters looked terrified.

The exhausted survivors stared in utter confusion, unable to process the shift.

Then, a roar echoed from deep within the academy grounds. It wasn’t the howl of a wolf, nor the guttural hiss of a zombie. It was a massive, resonant vibration that made the air itself hum.

BOOM!

The earth shook once more, and every remaining beast and zombie at the gate turned around and sprinted back into the academy, fleeing whatever was coming from the center of the campus—leaving the stunned survivors behind in the dust.

——————————

High above the ruined city, the rhythmic, heavy thrum of rotor blades beat against the blood-red sky.

Thump-thump-thump-thump!

Three dark military transport helicopters flew low beneath the cloud line in a tight V-formation.

Below them, plumes of black smoke rose from burning high-rises, and abandoned highways were choked with miles of rusted cars.

Civilization was crumbling in real time.

Inside the lead helicopter, twenty fully armed elite soldiers sat in tense silence.

Their assault rifles were held tight, but their eyes were wide with anxiety. Some stared out the open bay doors; others quietly clutched silver dog tags or religious charms.

Nobody spoke.

At the front of the cabin stood a broad-shouldered man wearing a heavy, dark military trench coat over an officer’s uniform.

His hair was silver at the temples, but his posture was as rigid as an iron spear. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, calmly watching the ruined skyline.

"General," a young adjutant stepped forward, saluting. "We are less than three minutes from Crowns Academy."

The General gave a small, measured nod without turning. "Any radio response?"

The officer’s face darkened. "None, sir. Every frequency we try returns static or dead air."

Another operator lowered his headset with a bitter grimace. "The entire district has gone dark, General."

A heavy quiet settled over the cabin. Everyone knew what radio silence usually meant in an active outbreak zone.

The General finally spoke, his voice calm and completely steady. "They’re alive."

The conviction in his voice was absolute. The surrounding soldiers exchanged quick glances, but nobody dared question him.

The adjutant hesitated before asking, "Sir... with respect... how can you be so certain?"

A faint, quiet smile touched the General’s weathered face. "Because my children don’t die easily."

Several soldiers immediately understood. The General’s eldest son and youngest daughter were both students at Crowns Academy—Oren and Nyren Ashford.

"I hope you’re right, sir," the officer muttered.

"So do I," General Ashford replied softly, his eyes fixed on the distant gates.

Sitting across from him on the bench was another young man, appearing to be in his early twenties.

Unlike the nervous soldiers, he sat quietly with his eyes closed, his breathing perfectly regulated despite the helicopter’s heavy turbulence.

A long black coat was draped over his shoulders, and resting across his knees was a sleek, narrow black sword in a dark leather sheath.

The officer glanced at him before turning back to the General. "Young Master Asher hasn’t said a word since we left the military base."

General Ashford let out a quiet chuckle. "That’s just how he is."

The young man slowly opened his eyes—they were dark, calm, and completely sharp.

"There wasn’t anything worth saying," Asher replied, his tone neither cold nor warm, but carrying a natural, effortless confidence.

The officer cleared his throat nervously. "I... see."

General Ashford looked at Asher with a small glint in his eye. "Still worried about your brother, Adrian?"

Asher rested his hand lightly on the hilt of his black sword. "Adrian is too stubborn, but he isn’t weak enough to die to wild beasts."

He looked out the open helicopter door toward the approaching academy grounds, his grip tightening slightly around his sheath as the aircraft began its final descent.​