That was it—a sense of security.

Despite their previous numerous disagreements with Luna Dawson, complete with petty rivalry and suspicion, they knew with absolute certainty at this moment that only she could hold off the relentlessly pursuing Tier Four Zombies. Only Luna could carve out a path of survival for them on this road of death, paved with blood and despair.

Every member of the Omni Squad was enveloped in this bizarre sense of protection provided by a “temporary teammate not to be trifled with.” Their faces cycled through shades of pale and flushed. Their hearts were a tangled, overwhelmingly complex mess of reluctance, regret, and terror. However, before they could sort out their convoluted emotions, a massive explosion of sound suddenly erupted.

CRASH!

A giant billboard, easily dozens of square meters in size, was violently ripped from the earth by the half-buried earthworm zombie.

The earthworm zombie, as massive as a small hill, slowly crawled out of the dirt. Its arms were covered in countless, densely packed earthworm bodies. Those tiny earthworms frantically writhed and tunneled across the surface of its skin, radiating a nauseating, putrid stench. Although it was the farthest from the convoy, it was the most ferocious. It hoisted the heavy billboard, veins bulging on its arms, and hurled it toward the convoy with all its might!

Dense metal spikes sprouted out of nowhere on the billboard. Carrying a devastating momentum, it sent countless zombies in its path flying, directly crushing the packed horde into a meaty pulp. The ground trembled violently under the impact, sending mud and water flying. Even the air hummed from the sheer vibration.

Through the car window, Luna Dawson took in the entire scene. Her previously calm eyes instantly grew grave, and her grip on the steering wheel tightened.

They were less than three hundred meters away from crashing into the pharmaceutical factory! She knew perfectly well that the reason these Tier Four Zombies were launching such frenzied attacks was that they feared something inside the factory. Not daring to approach the facility recklessly, they could only seize the narrow window before the convoy arrived to desperately intercept them, intending to trap them all here. These ravenous monsters were terrified of losing their prey at the finish line.

Luna slammed down the window and shouted to Kevin Keane in the passenger seat, “Coach Keane! You drive!”

Without waiting for his response, she moved like a blur. As agile as a leopard, she dove out the window, flipped smoothly onto the roof of the car, and leaped. Rollo flashed through the air, catching her mid-jump, and the two instantly plunged into the chaotic battlefield.

At the same time, the Little Tiger, who had been resting in Kevin’s arms, let out a loud “MEOW.” It nimbly slipped into the custom carrier on Luna’s chest, its little paws expertly clicking the buckles into place. Clinging tightly to her chest, its amber eyes stared warily at the surrounding zombies.

Using the elasticity of its vines, the Little Sweet Potato made a few quick hops and hooked onto Luna’s ear. Its leaves rustled softly as it stuck close to her, stepping together into the gore-filled battlefield.

Kevin Keane’s face darkened with grim resolve, his eyes heavy with gravity. The moment Luna vacated the driver’s seat, he extended a long leg, smoothly stepping on the gas pedal while sliding over. At the same time, he reached out and took the steering wheel. The entire maneuver was seamless. He simply shouted out the window to Luna in a deep voice, “Don’t worry!”

At critical moments, all he could do was trust her—trust his teammate.

Luna turned back, giving a slight nod toward the convoy. Her voice was clear and resolute. “Take everyone to the factory and wait for me.”

Before this, Luna had never been surrounded by so many High Order zombies. And they were such bizarre Patchworks, no less.

In her past life, zombies were zombies, and Aberrant Beasts were Aberrant Beasts; such hybrids had never existed. As for High Order zombies, even after two years in the apocalypse of her previous life, she had only ever heard rumors of a Fifth Order. In reality, no one had ever seen a Fifth Order, and even Tier Four Zombies were rare. When it came to evolution, nature was brutally fair to all living creatures—those who successfully advanced to the High Order could be counted on one hand.

During her previous escort mission that spanned hundreds of kilometers, acting as living bait alongside hundreds of thousands of people for over half a month, she had only encountered four of them. Yet here in Decron, in just a single day, they had already run into several right near the safe zone.

She wondered what exactly the underground laboratory in Decron was researching to produce these High Order Patchworks.

All her doubts and ponderings were fleeting. In the span of just a second or two, the giant billboard wielded by The Burrower came crashing down with unstoppable, overwhelming force.

CRASH!

SQUELCH!

The deafening boom of metal slamming into the ground mingled with the wet, sickening sound of tearing flesh. Dripping with the pulped remains of crushed zombies and slinging flying severed limbs and entrails, the billboard arrived right in front of Luna in the blink of an eye. Dragged along the ground, it produced an ear-piercing screech of twisting metal that made everyone in the convoy’s heads ring, as if their eardrums were about to burst.

William Walsh stared fixedly at the terrifying scene chasing behind them. Fear, resentment, and a profound sense of insignificance in the face of an unknown, powerful monster were all laid bare on his face.

He had once prided himself on his wealthy family background. Before the disaster struck, his family had caught wind of a potential biochemical crisis from high-level officials and had stocked up on several supply caches early on, giving them plenty of confidence. After settling the family safely, his father had plunged straight into the laboratory, vowing to produce great research that would shock the world. Even the superpowers that he and his sister awakened were considered outstanding. They had lived a charmed life since the apocalypse began, never having been reduced to such a pathetic state.

But today, as he witnessed these monsters—creatures whose genes had been tampered with and bodies spliced together by human hands—the deep-seated terror of being dominated by the zombie apocalypse surged forth once more, wrapping around him in suffocating layers.

In the distance, the dragging footsteps of millions of zombies rose and fell like a heavy, stifling drumbeat pounding directly against his heart, making his body tremble uncontrollably. A stark realization suddenly washed over him: the fact that he had survived this long was never due to his own strength, nor was it luck. It was entirely thanks to the mountain of resources his family had hoarded and the protection of the state’s temporary safe zones.

His memories churned uncontrollably, dragging him back to the very night the apocalypse broke out.

His mother had been sitting in front of the monitors, keeping a close eye on everything around their underground safe house. A security team of over a hundred bodyguards stood watch in shifts. It should have been an impenetrable fortress, but it all collapsed in an instant.

Those bodyguards he saw every day, along with his mother, suddenly underwent a drastic shift in temperament. With bloodshot eyes, they began frantically tearing and biting at one another. The entire underground safe house was instantly engulfed in chaos, filled with bloodcurdling howls and desperate cries for help.

It was only thanks to Ian Wyatt, who had maintained absolute calm in the command room and deployed forces methodically, that William and a dozen other uninfected survivors were able to fight through the night with firearms. After exhausting every last ounce of their strength, they finally managed to clear out all the mutated personnel.

He would never forget the moment his mother was shot in the head. Even then, she was still stubbornly chewing on the cheek of their driver, Uncle Miller. Her once-gentle eyes, completely consumed by bloodthirsty madness, remained fixed on the stairway leading to his and his sister’s rooms even after death. That night was the darkest moment of his life. The sheer, utter helplessness of stepping into hell—of crying out to heaven and earth to no avail—swept over him again tonight in the exact same way, threatening to swallow him whole.

Just as his mind reeled, gripped by terror, he couldn’t help but turn his head toward Luna, who was charging toward the rear of the convoy. There, he witnessed a sight that would be etched into his bones, one he would never forget for the rest of his life.

A towering cyclone suddenly erupted, steadily supporting a massive waterspout that pierced straight into the heavens. It was as if the very space between the sky and the earth was being churned by this immense power!

Luna stood silently in the very center of that giant waterspout. Her clothes whipped in the wind, and a majestic aura of superpower energy swirled around her.

The superpower attacks from the surrounding Fourth Order monsters were completely blocked out by the raging torrent. Her long black hair was caught in the rushing water, swirling and dancing upward. Her expression was filled with an awe-inspiring, resolute coldness. She looked like a descending deity, radiating an untouchable, majestic presence.

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