My Job? Weaving Armour For Undead In Apocalypse
Chapter 47: A Terrifying Possibility

Chapter 47: A Terrifying Possibility

Multiple footsteps echoed through the desolate street, bouncing off cracked pavement and reverberating inside the hollow, broken buildings that lined the path. The world had dimmed considerably, shadows bleeding longer with every passing minute. According to Merek’s estimation, it would soon strike seven o’clock.

Visibility had already become an issue, shapes grew vague beyond a certain distance, swallowed by the creeping gloom. Yet even in this fading light, Felicity gasped as her eyes caught something above them.

She clung to Merek, her arm loosely looped around his neck for balance, and stared wide-eyed at the surreal sight ahead. Three yellow school buses, twisted and crumpled, were stacked and wedged high up the side of a three-story building, like loaves of fresh bread squeezed together. Thick roots, sinewy and bark-skinned, coiled tightly around them, anchoring them in place like grotesque vines from some twisted fairy tale.

Further down the road, the mangled corpses of two colossal gorillas lay still, Stage-1 Silverbacks.

Their immense forms sprawled across the ground, covered in gashes, dried blood, and the other’s face was crushed in. The sheer size of them made Felicity narrow her eyes in disbelief.

"...Are the others alive?" she asked again, voice quieter this time, tinged with hesitation.

"Yes," Merek replied, his tone calm but firm, offering no room for doubt.

Behind them trailed Yuki, silent as ever. From the outside, she resembled an imperial knight, a noble figure clad in armor, now dulled and scratched by war. Her plume, still strikingly lustrous, swayed with grace as she walked. There was a strange beauty to her presence, both haunting and regal.

Yet one detail marred the image: the backpack slung over her shoulder. It looked oddly mundane, almost out of place.

To the untrained eye, the wraiths were simply heavily armored warriors, grim and stoic. Their appearance gave rise to the name title, knights.

But only a handful truly knew the truth: these were not knights at all, but dead souls bound to metal. Walking echoes of lives long gone.

Dead people encased in thick steel, beings that felt no pain, had no need for food, possessed infinite stamina, and grew stronger with every kill. Warriors with combat experience from their past lives, now reduced to haunting echoes of what they once were.

They were nightmares.

Just imagining these wraiths in place of the zombies made Felicity’s breath catch, only slightly, but enough to feel it in her chest. If it were these creatures that roamed the world instead of mindless undead... there would be no surviving them. No chance at all.

Then, a chilling thought struck her. Merek could make them.

Could he one day control dozens? Hundreds? Thousands?

Would that mean thousands of dead souls, sealed forever inside hollow steel? A legion of death-bound husks, made to fight for him?

That didn’t sound humane.

Felicity glanced at Merek, studying the sharp lines of his side profile as he walked calmly beside her. There was something about the way his warm, bright eyes contrasted so sharply with the heavy truths that trailed behind him.

What sort of Job had he gotten? What path had it laid at his feet?

’The path of death,’ she thought grimly. ’It reeks of it.’

"We’re here," Merek said suddenly, turning, and catching her staring. Felicity blinked, caught off guard. His expression didn’t match the ominous thoughts in her mind.

But before she could say anything, voices rang out ahead.

"Felicity!"

"She’s alive!"

Nero came sprinting toward her, relief written all over his face. Lucinda and Carla followed close behind. The rest of the group lingered by three white bungalows, built side-by-side behind short fences, their posture softening at the sight of her.

Nero reached her first, taking her gently by the arms. "Are you okay?"

Merek let her go, stepping aside without a word. He brushed past Nero and made his way to Tevin, giving him a light pat on the shoulder as he passed. Then he approached Professor David, who stood behind the middle building’s fence, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You brought her back," David said.

"Well, no one else was in the condition to do it," Merek replied with a shrug. He slung off his backpack and stepped inside the bungalow. His boots echoed against the floorboards as he moved through the dim space, eyes scanning the room.

Students huddled together in corners, some whispering, others weeping into their hands, barely holding themselves together.

Merek’s jaw tightened.

’If they don’t grow up,’ he thought coldly, ’they’ll drag us down... or they’ll die.’

He let out a long sigh and climbed up to the attic, shutting the creaky door behind him. Dust clung to the corners, but most of the contents that had already been looted or destroyed were tossed aside by the Vultures who now stood at the dark end of the room like statues.

"I need essence cores," Merek said. "Go. Fetch a dozen or two. Do not engage any mutant, zombie, or beast."

The Vultures bowed in acknowledgment. With heavy, synchronized steps, they exited the attic, vanishing into the descending night.

Alone again, Merek exhaled deeply and sat on the wooden floor, eyes drifting up toward the ceiling. It was too dark to see much of anything.

"Yuki," he said quietly. "What do you feel? What about your shell is holding you back?"

Yuki moved forward silently. Then, with deliberate reverence, she knelt on both knees and set her sword gently before her like a priestess laying down her sacred text.

"Strength," she replied. Her voice, though calm, carried a distant weight. "I’ve absorbed enough energy to strengthen this shell, but it still feels... limited. As though I’m stuffed into something too small. It’s bearable for now but if I stay in it too long, it will start to drain me. You focused on my hands and gauntlets before... but my cuirass is just as vital. And it’s not strong enough."

Merek exhaled through his nose. ’So she can talk this much,’ he mused. ’Then again, it’s about her own well-being. And she’s a sword fanatic.’

"To increase your durability, I’d need to compress more steel, double the amount, with more refinement," he muttered. "But I can’t. I just can’t..."

He let his head knock lightly against the wall behind him, frustration simmering just beneath his skin. For some reason, he was stuck, unable to push beyond his current limit.

Then a flicker of memory struck him.

Soul Bind.

That skill didn’t just allow him to command the dead, it also gave him access to their experiences. Their memories.

Knock! Knock!

"We’re waiting for you to decide on the gains from the gorillas!" Tevin’s voice rang. "Fred wants to take one essence core!"

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