My Job? Weaving Armour For Undead In Apocalypse
Chapter 40: A Mega Horde

Chapter 40: A Mega Horde

Do not cross!

Merek’s sharp eyes narrowed as he read the three ominous words hastily sprayed onto abandoned cars, the black paint stark against the white metal.

But before he could utter a warning, the driver, lost in the thrill of smashing through obstacles and feeling invincible, roared past the sign, paying it no mind.

Puzzled, Merek leaned back, thoughts churning. That warning could mean only one thing: survivors had been here. But for what purpose had they left the message? Two possibilities played out in his mind.

’It could be a trap,’ he reasoned, ’meant to slow down travelers so bandits could ambush them.’

Or worse.

’It’s a genuine warning... but what in the world were they warning us about?’

Before he could think further, a stammering voice beside him shattered the moment.

"W-what’s that...?" the driver whispered, terror creeping into his tone.

Merek lifted his gaze and his breath caught in his throat.

The highway ahead was gone. Not in the physical sense, but swallowed whole by the living dead. The horde filled the road from side to side, spilling into buildings on either side. It was as if the city had bled out its entire population onto the asphalt.

This wasn’t a group of stragglers. This wasn’t even a horde of a few dozen or a few hundred.

This was a mega horde.

Tens of thousands of bodies shuffled, stumbled, and crawled over one another in a sea of decay. And towering over the mass, scattered like nightmare titans, were dozens of Type Ones, their grotesque, skinless muscular frames glistening like raw meat beneath the waning light.

Merek’s pulse froze. A quick scan, no, a desperate hopeful count already revealed more than twenty Type Ones, and that was just what he could see at a glance. The horde stretched beyond the limits of his sight, a writhing ocean of death.

And where Type Ones of such great numbers walked, Type Twos couldn’t be far behind. Stage-1 evolved were a certainty.

A cold, primal dread sank its claws into him.

"Take that tur—!" Merek’s voice snapped like a whip, his eyes locking on a U-turn just before the edge of the horde.

But before the words fully left his lips, the air split with a sound that made his blood curdle.

A shriek, high-pitched, inhuman, rose from the depths of the horde, so powerful it rattled the bus windows and drilled into their skulls.

The driver cried out, hands leaving the steering wheel to clutch at his ears, eyes wide with terror.

Merek didn’t think, he acted. He lunged, seized the wheel, and yanked it hard to the side.

The massive bus groaned in protest, tires screeching as metal scraped violently against the raised edge of the road. Sparks flew as they carved a brutal arc, the bus lurching into a desperate U-turn.

Behind them, the second bus, though shaken, reacted in time, following the lead. The third bus barely made the turn as the horror unfolded behind them.

And then the students saw them.

Thousands of the dead, surging forward like a tidal wave. The sight struck the students in the last bus like a hammer. Faces drained of color, hope vanished from their eyes, and despair crushed their hearts.

One of them whispered what they all felt.

"This is the end."

All three buses tore down the highway, engines howling, tires eating up the distance as terror clenched every heart inside.

Behind them, the true predators of the horde, the Type Twos, closed the gap with terrifying speed.

These weren’t ordinary zombies. Their mutated forms bristled with grotesque weapons grown from bone and flesh.

Some bore cleavers where hands should be, others had limbs that ended in heavy, hammer-like mauls or jagged axes. A few had forearms that morphed into long, deadly lances, perfect instruments of slaughter.

Merek clambered onto the roof of the lead bus, the cold night air whipping at his coat. His sharp eyes caught sight of Felicity already perched atop the third bus, her hair streaming behind her as she balanced against the wind.

Level 18 now. She’d grown stronger, but Merek could feel the fire in her—a yearning, born from that helplessness she’d felt when Ben attacked them, when she’d seen how vast the gulf between herself and Merek truly was. Even now, in the face of death, that hunger for power blazed in her eyes.

Without hesitation, Merek sprinted across the bus roofs, leaping from the first to the second, and then to the third, landing with a dull thud.

"I’ll handle them," he said, his voice low but steady. "We can’t afford to lose a fighter."

He passed Felicity, raising his arms slightly. At once, the world seemed to respond to his will.

Glass shards from shattered windshields and windows floated, spinning in the air like fragments of a storm.

Broken car doors, bent and jagged, rose as if lifted by unseen hands. Seats, boots, torn metal all hovered around him, waiting for the command.

With a push of his hand, Merek unleashed hell.

The glass shot forward like bullets, piercing deep into the flesh of the Type Twos, sinking into their skulls, their eyes, their throats. The doors, sharp and heavy, became whirling blades of destruction, slicing through whatever they struck, sprays of dark blood marking their deadly path.

Everything spun, a dance of carnage, velocity lending the weapons greater force, greater lethality.

Felicity could only stare in awe as seven of the Type Twos fell beneath the storm, their bodies collapsing amidst the countless normal undead Merek also tore apart.

He stood at the edge of the roof, his coat flaring in the wind, his gaze cold and unyielding as he commanded whatever the world gave him to hold the enemy at bay.

When there was nothing small left to wield, Merek’s eyes fixed on three nearby cars. With a violent motion, he pulled.

Metal shrieked as the vehicles skidded and scraped along the asphalt, dragged by the sheer force of his will.

They slammed across the road, forming a barricade. Then, with a final, crushing gesture, Merek wrenched a massive truck into place, sealing off the path completely.

But the effort took its toll. His breath came short, and his vision swam, double images flickering before his eyes as exhaustion clawed at him.

The bus jerked into a sharp turn. Merek lost his balance, tipping dangerously but before he could fall, Yuki’s steel grip caught him, steady as the grave.

From the shadowed window of a crumbling building, a small group of survivors watched the spectacle, eyes wide with disbelief. Three men and two women, hardened by the apocalypse, but now frozen in shock.

One of the younger women turned to the oldest man, her voice trembling.

"Was that... a human?"

The man’s jaw clenched. He didn’t look away from the roadblock that now caged the horde.

"We need to report this to the boss," he said grimly. "That mega horde was headed for the White Shop camp but because of those freaks, they might come here!"

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.