My Job? Weaving Armour For Undead In Apocalypse
Chapter 46: Reason To Survive

Chapter 46: Reason To Survive

’Is this really worse than being dragged out of your peaceful world and thrown into the corpse of a man who took his own life? A man whose burdens I now carry like a second skin?’

Merek squinted, a flicker of exhaustion in his eyes.

’Whether I like it or not, I’m saddled with his memories... his emotions. His regrets. Compared to my situation, you still have more hope.’

He sighed heavily, the breath leaving his lungs like smoke from a dying fire.

"Have some faith," he said, his voice low but steady. "At the very least, we’ve been given the chance to grow stronger, to survive this inhumane world. Giving up now... right after taking down a Stage-1 zombie, something that could’ve wiped out our entire group in minutes? I’d call that nothing but foolishness."

"I barely survived," Felicity whispered, her tone trembling with raw honesty. The balm had done what it could, soothing her wounds and numbing the worst of the pain but her ankle remained swollen, the healing incomplete. The ache still pulsed with every small movement.

"I barely survived my first fight too," Merek said gently, leaning in. "But l kept going. What about your family? Don’t you want to live... for them?"

Felicity closed her eyes, as if warding off a memory too bitter to face. Then, slowly, a scowl crept across her face. "Family?" she scoffed. "When the apocalypse started, I felt free, for the first time I can remember. Free from my family’s clutches. Free from their expectations. And finally free from the constant stares and pestering from men, because now they’re all too busy running for their lives to chase after me."

A smirk flickered across her face, cold, ironic, almost beautiful in its defiance. "You know what was really funny? The bodyguards my family sent to protect me. They were the first to turn. The first to become zombies. Poetic, isn’t it?"

But her expression quickly dimmed. The light in her eyes faltered.

"But when we faced that Stage-1 Type Two... and nearly died... I realized something. That wasn’t even the worst this world has to offer. That was just the beginning. If that was Stage-1, what in the world are we supposed to do when we meet Stage-2? Stage-3?"

Her voice dropped, hollow and resigned. "What’s the point of surviving... only to end up torn apart and eaten like meat?"

Merek leaned back slightly, eyes drifting toward the ceiling. "Honestly? I don’t plan on being eaten. I won’t be. I’ll survive. I have to."

He saw it again, his world. The city skyline under a sunset glow. Skyscrapers catching the light like mirrors. Digital billboards flashing nonsense about celebrity gossip. Cars honking in traffic. People rushing down sidewalks, headphones in, coffee in hand. Peace. Purpose. Normalcy.

A world where he once dreamed of becoming a great artist.

For him, hope wasn’t abstract, it had a name. Earth. A place he believed was still out there, waiting for him. A home he could return to.

"If you don’t have a reason to survive," he said after a pause, glancing sideways at her, "then I can give you one."

Before Felicity could question him, she felt it, her own hand rising. Her index finger curled against her thumb, drawn back like a spring aimed at her forehead.

"What are you—?"

Flick!

"Argh!" she yelped, jolting as a sharp sting blossomed in the center of her forehead. A vivid red mark bloomed almost instantly.

She stared at him, stunned. She’d flicked herself with all her strength. And even though her enhanced body was far more durable now, the pain still lanced through her like a wasp sting.

"You—!" Her pupils trembled with disbelief as her other hand began to move, this time toward her cheek, poised for a slap.

She turned to him, wide-eyed, only to see his face completely nonchalant, almost bored, like he was simply adjusting a clock or brushing dust from a table.

Her heart pounded in outrage, but at the last moment, the slap became nothing more than a light tap on her cheek, gentle and mocking.

If she had recovered her full essence, he likely wouldn’t have been able to manipulate her body so easily.

But as she was now, weakened and still healing, she couldn’t stop him, not if he chose to toss her against the wall, or even slam the couch into her.

"I’ll kill you," she hissed, biting her lip hard, her pride burning hotter than her injuries.

"Is that enough reason for you to survive?" Merek asked, tilting his head, his tone deceptively innocent, like he had no idea how absurd his provocation sounded.

Felicity glared daggers at him. "You just wanted to mess with me."

"Maybe," Merek said with a shrug, utterly unbothered.

Her scowl deepened, fire flaring in her expression. "Don’t you dare die. Not before I repay every damn thing, the debt I owe you, and this humiliating weakness you made me feel."

"Die?" Merek let out a soft, almost amused laugh. "You don’t have to worry about that. If only one man stands at the end of all this..."

He leaned back, eyes shining with quiet, unwavering resolve.

"...then I’ll make sure that man is me."

He rose to his feet and approached the exit. "I’ll be back."

Merek stepped out of the house, the air already beginning to cool as the sun dipped lower on the horizon. His eyes locked on the corpse of the Stage-1 Type Two lying still. Without hesitation, he walked straight to it, boots crunching softly over the asphalt road.

Behind him, the steady, metallic footsteps of Yuki followed, each step ringing like a familiar, reassuring chime in his ears.

"Cut it," Merek said flatly, voice low but firm.

Without a word, Yuki obeyed. A clean swipe of her blade tore zombie’s skull in half, the steel singing through the air before thudding softly into corrupted flesh. Merek knelt, unfazed, and with practiced precision, pried the essence core from the skull.

It was warm to the touch, pulsing faintly, like a heart trying to beat.

After wiping away the filth with a cloth, he studied it more closely. Now that his essence sensitivity had grown, he saw it clearly. Delicate strands of multicolored light flickered from the core’s surface, tiny tendrils dancing outward, only to curl back in and vanish.

This was pure essence, life condensed and spiraling in purification, the raw power that made these cores so sought after. The reason why people consumed them so recklessly, often without proper cleaning or preparation was because once out, the core purifies itself.

But Merek had always preferred his own, squeaky clean. Even if he doesn’t keep the habit, a hundred percent.

The door creaked open as he returned inside. The warm interior greeted him, dimly lit by the orange hue of the fading sun bleeding in through the windows. Felicity was still on the couch, ankle propped up and arms loosely crossed.

Merek walked in, sat beside her, and extended the core.

"The sun’s setting," he said. "Swallow it. We’ll rejoin the others afterward."

Felicity eyed the core for a moment, then took it from his hand without a word.

Not even a quarter of the way down her esophagus, the core melted, liquefying into radiant energy that surged through her body. She gasped quietly as the essence poured into her veins, seeped into her muscles, reinforced her bones like liquid fire forging iron.

[You have consumed a Level 26 Stage-1 Type Two Essence Core!]

[You have risen to Level 19!]

[You have risen to Level 20!]

[Your Job has reached its limit. Job Evolution Mission has been updated.]

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