My Job? Weaving Armour For Undead In Apocalypse
Chapter 38: Build A Faction

Chapter 38: Build A Faction

"It’s just a scratch wound," Felicity said, striding back into the hall, her voice steady despite the faint trace of blood at her ankle. Her eyes, sharp and unyielding, found Nero immediately. "I have something to take care of." The way she glared at him made Nero avert his gaze, a flicker of embarrassment rising unbidden.

Merek’s gaze swept over them all, cold and measured. He raised his hand, holding up the small tin of balm, now nearly spent. His voice, calm yet firm, echoed through the hall. "This is an item that can save a life. But let me make this clear, this is the last time I use it for anyone but myself. I’ve used it on her," he pointed at Felicity, "on him," his finger shifted to Tevin, "and on the professor." His gaze locked onto Nero, piercing and unblinking. "That should be enough generosity."

In that instant, Nero felt it, a crushing weight, as if a mountain itself bore down on him. The energy Merek radiated was overwhelming, several times greater than his own. His breath caught in his throat.

’Could I really be this... weak?’

The thought shook him to his core.

This couldn’t be real. He was the vice president, the one everyone looked up to, the one they relied on. He’d never let that status go to his head, but after a while, it had simply become part of him.

Yet now, as he looked around, he saw it plainly: no one, not a single soul, dared speak against Merek. Even Professor David, wounded and weary, seemed to have silently surrendered his place as leader.

"But..." Nero began, his voice quivering, his shoulders trembling as Merek’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"But what?" Merek asked, his tone low, dangerous.

"The lives of others matter too! Not just yours!" Nero’s voice rose, emotion breaking through. "I don’t understand why you’re so selfish, so unreasonably ruthless! You had your abominations in steel rip apart a high school kid. You abandoned one of our course mates just because she was bitten. You couldn’t even try to be supportive!"

The more Nero spoke, the louder his voice grew, his conviction building like a storm. But Merek cut him short, his voice slicing through the air like a blade.

"You know these people support you," Merek said quietly, his words laced with cold certainty. "They want you to stand up for them. But once I kill you, they’ll abandon you, your notions, your ideals, and follow me. Do you know why?"

He tilted his head slightly, a predator studying its prey. "Because every living being with the slightest intelligence wants to survive. If abandoning someone who’s been bitten means I survive, I’ll do it. If killing a high school kid who tore off the professor’s arm and butchered a student means I live another day, I’ll do it. Without hesitation."

Nero trembled, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"You all want to go to the White Shop camp, don’t you?!" Merek’s voice rang out, loud, commanding, as he looked around at the silent faces. "You want to hide behind walls, get fed, get fat, live in the illusion that you’re safe, and wait for the military to come save you? That’s what you envision, isn’t it?"

A faint, bitter smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

[Incite activated!]

"That’s a lie you’ve fed yourselves," he continued, his voice like iron. "I’ve roamed these streets for a week before I met the rest of you. There are two big camps left in this part of the district, the Great Mall camp and the White Shop camp. One is a mall, the other a hospital. They’re packed so full of people, they might as well be livestock pens at this point. And you think you’ll get food like you do here?"

His words carried an invisible weight, rippling out, tugging at the hearts of those listening. The unawakened felt it the most, their hearts tightening, their illusions crumbling.

"There is no equality in this new world," Merek declared, his voice hard as stone. "You either fight to eat your fill, to live without fear... or you sit in the dirt and beg like a dog. That’s the truth."

"What do we do, then?" asked a woman’s voice, soft, weary, yet still carrying the grace she was once known for. It was Lucinda, the professor who had once been the gem of the university, the one who turned heads wherever she went.

The hottest teacher on campus, as the students would whisper, with her flawless makeup, designer heels, and classy dresses. But now, stripped of it all, no makeup, no elegant clothing, no heels, she looked like nothing more than an exhausted housewife at the end of a grueling Saturday.

A woman who had spent the day scrubbing the house, scolding unruly children, and pleading in vain for her husband’s help.

Merek turned his gaze to her, his expression hard, unreadable. His voice was calm but carried weight. "Prepare yourselves for the inevitable."

And with that, he turned and walked out of the gym, leaving behind a hall filled with uneasy whispers.

The murmurs spread like wildfire, a tide of uncertainty and fear. Nero stood there, his ears catching fragments of what they said. His face twisted, disbelieving, as he realized just how many were starting to side with Merek. It felt like betrayal.

’Why?’ he thought bitterly. ’Why would they support such cruelty? How could they follow someone who showed no mercy?’

"You speak as if I didn’t also kill some high school students."

Felicity’s voice, soft yet steady, broke into his thoughts, pulling him back from the storm in his mind.

Nero spun toward her, his frustration bubbling over. "They were molesting their fellow students! You gave them swift, painless deaths, they deserved it! You can’t compare that to what he did!"

Felicity’s eyes flickered with a strange light, one Nero couldn’t quite understand. A mix of regret, acceptance, and something deeper, darker. "It’s cruel," she admitted, her voice low, "but that’s what kept us alive."

Nero froze, stunned. His heart pounded in his chest. What’s happening to her? This wasn’t the Felicity he knew—the one who clung to compassion, even with the scars of her past. What in the world is Merek doing to everyone?

...

Outside, Professor David stepped into the night, the chill biting at his skin. His gaze lifted to the silhouette standing atop a rusting bus, Merek, watching as his undead dragged away the broken bodies of Ben and the fallen university student. The sight should have filled him with horror. Instead, it filled him with a bittersweet ache.

A faint, tired smile touched the professor’s lips. "For someone acting so cold... you show more care for everyone than I ever did. You’ve risked your life for them over and over. You didn’t have to fight that swarm of rats, but you did. You didn’t have to save those high school kids but you did. Why?"

His voice echoed softly in the stillness as he stopped below the bus, looking up. His eyes met Merek’s.

Merek’s answer came after a moment’s silence, his breath misting in the frigid air. "Because I don’t want to be alone. What would I do if I survived... but everyone else was dead?"

David blinked, words failing him for a moment. Finally, he glanced around at the battered, blood-stained schoolyard, at the buildings that could, if fortified, become a true sanctuary. "Look at this place, Merek. It has everything we need to survive. We can clear the area, strengthen the walls. You could lead these students. You could build your own faction... help your brother."

Merek exhaled again, his breath fogging in the night. His voice was low, resolute. "I’d rather you all stay at the White Shop camp while I focus on myself."

David’s smile turned bitter, and after a long, silent pause, he lowered his gaze, turned, and walked back toward the gym, leaving Merek alone with the night.

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