Void Reaper: The Essence Apocalypse

Chapter 65 65: Maybe this is our only chance

Leon kept staring at Natalia for a moment, like he was trying to figure out whether she was serious - or whether she'd just thrown out something that sounded good in theory. But she didn't look away. Calmly, she continued, tipping her chin toward the enormous body of the Crimson Horned Boar.

"If we need large amounts of food, it's right here," she said, matter-of-fact, almost cold. "This isn't a normal animal. Ever since mana started reinforcing our bodies, everything's changed. If we've adapted, then meat from a monster like this can't be ordinary either. It probably still contains traces of mana."

She paused, her eyes narrowing on the boar's corpse - focused, almost hungry.

"Maybe eating it won't just fill our stomachs. Maybe it'll strengthen the body. A small stat boost, faster regeneration… and even if it doesn't, it's still a massive supply of food."

Adam chimed in almost immediately.

"I think it's a good idea. Seriously." He nodded a few times, like he wanted to underline his agreement.

Leon flicked him a brief, mocking look from the corner of his eye.

Of course. What else was new? Whenever Natalia suggested something, Adam agreed on reflex - like a dog waiting for a command.

Marek stayed quiet for a moment, studying the beast's massive body.

"If that meat actually does something…" he muttered. "Then not using it would be stupid."

Elena adjusted the cat in her arms and looked at the boar with faint tension in her eyes.

"If the system and mana are behind all of this," she said softly, "then a creature like that won't have an ordinary body. It might really be worth something."

They weren't talking about viruses or conspiracies anymore. After so many days, everyone knew it wasn't an illness that had changed the world - it was the system, introducing mana, levels, evolution. If their own bodies were changing, then the meat from this monster couldn't possibly be normal.

Meanwhile, the rest of the group was stripping an аптекę - an apothecary - clean. Plastic bags rustled. Someone pulled out more painkillers, bandages, antibiotics, disinfectants. There was urgency, but not chaos. People worked faster than before, like the presence of the evolvers - and what they'd just witnessed with Calista - had shifted something inside them.

Roland stood off to the side, leaning on his wooden cane, looking like he might fall asleep standing up. A few young men kept sneaking glances at him. Frustration was plain in their eyes. He wasn't doing anything. He was just standing there. And yet none of them dared say a word. They'd seen him move faster than their eyes could follow. They'd seen him kill zombies without effort.

After a short discussion, the five evolvers agreed they needed to secure the area first.

"First we lock the perimeter down," Leon said. "Then we'll come back with tools. Axes, saws - whatever we can find. We're not butchering that with our bare hands."

No one brought up meat spoiling. The same thought sat in everyone's mind: This isn't a normal corpse.

If mana could keep something that huge alive, maybe it could act like a natural preservative too - an energy injection that stopped tissue from rotting so easily.

An hour later, the area was relatively clear. The evolvers had systematically wiped out every zombie within a few hundred meters, and the survivors had emptied the pharmacy down to the last shelf. Bags and sacks bulged to the brim.

When they moved on - passing the boar's limp body once more - many of the students looked at it with a mix of fear and fascination.

Their next destination was a nearby restaurant, a few blocks away.

"If we're lucky," Marek said, "they'll still have supplies in the storeroom."

***

In one of the campus buildings - where normal classes had been held less than a week ago - two gaunt figures stood at a window, watching the restaurant several dozen meters away.

The room looked like a hurricane had torn through it. Dried blood stained the walls and floor - stains nobody had the strength to scrub anymore. Tables overturned. Chairs broken. Classroom doors kicked off their hinges. The air still carried a metallic, stale stench.

Over the last few days, the place had become a small hell.

And the only living people left inside it were them.

It had been more than three days since they'd eaten anything. Their stomachs hurt so badly it was hard to even think.

"Arnold… are you sure you want to do this?!" Victor's voice was too loud, trembling, almost desperate.

The other boy turned slowly. Tall, broad-shouldered, with muscled arms he'd built in the gym once for looks - not for survival. He scratched at his stomach, like he could silence hunger with irritation.

"Victor… do we have any other choice?" he answered, helpless but firm. "It's been three days since we ate. My stomach's growling like there's a monster inside it. The cramps are so bad I feel like I'm going to lose my mind."

His jaw tightened.

"If we don't take a risk and try to get food now, we're going to starve to death before those damn zombies even reach us."

Victor leaned against the wall. His face was pale, eyes ringed dark, hair greasy from days without washing. There was helplessness in his stare - the look of someone who'd lived comfortably his whole life and never once had to think about whether he'd have something to eat tomorrow.

"This is sick," he muttered. "Twenty-first century… and we're dying of hunger in here. A week ago, if I was hungry, I ordered pizza. One click in an app. Now…" He let out a nervous, almost hysterical laugh. "Now we're staring out a window wondering if we can run thirty meters without getting eaten."

He went quiet for a moment, then added in a low voice,

"I knew it… if we'd just stayed with them, instead of…"

"Don't say another word," Arnold snapped.

His face hardened suddenly, anger flashing in his eyes.

"You want to go back there? For what? So you can become Ragnar's fucking whore?!"

His voice rose on instinct, echoing off the empty walls.

Victor felt blood rush to his face. The last few days slammed back into him too vividly - screams, sobbing, orders barked like commands. Ragnar, who'd been an ordinary student a week ago, now acting like he owned everything… and everyone.

Victor spat to the side.

"I'd rather starve or get eaten by those walking corpses than go back to that fucking dog," he said. His voice cracked, but he didn't look away. "It's only been a few days and he's already lost everything human in him. He looks at people like meat. Like objects. Not like - like people."

He swallowed.

"He's more of a beast than a huma…"

"Hey." Arnold cut him off, thrusting a hand out and pointing beyond the window. "Look."

Victor froze, then stepped closer, ignoring the pain twisting in his gut.

Down on the street, a larger group was moving toward the restaurant - dozens of people. Civilians in the middle, and around them a handful of figures holding a clear formation. Zombies dropped one after another in their path.

"What the hell…" Victor whispered.

He saw flashes of ice that froze two approaching corpses in an instant. He saw an arrow punch through another skull. He saw an elderly man vanish and reappear meters away - while the zombie beside him simply crumpled to the ground.

And one more boy… on the left side of the formation. Moving almost lazily. Every zombie that got too close lost its head in a single motion.

"That's not a normal group," Arnold said quietly, something new slipping into his voice. "They don't look like a bunch of panicked students."

Victor stared, eyes wide.

"You think… it's safe?" he asked.

Arnold stayed silent a moment, watching as one of the leaders - a boy in a coat, still smeared in places with dried blood - gave short commands that everyone followed.

"Safe?" Arnold snorted softly. "Nothing's safe in this world. But they at least don't look like a pack of animals."

Victor gripped the window frame.

Hunger clawed at his insides. Fear tightened his throat. And somewhere underneath it all, a spark appeared.

"Arnold…" he said slowly. "Maybe this is our only chance."

***

Leon stood a few steps from the restaurant entrance, watching without much emotion as the blood of dozens of zombies slowly ran along the uneven road and gathered into a single heavy, dark red pool that seeped into the cracks in the asphalt.

The last five minutes had turned the street into a slaughterhouse.

Bodies lay at odd angles - some headless, others with shattered skulls, others still rimed with a thin layer of ice where Natalia's magic had struck.

For Leon, it wasn't anything special anymore. After fighting the Crimson Horned Boar, his threshold for shock had shifted far past what it used to be.

A few meters away, Adam was kneeling and pulling his arrows from skulls with the usual mix of focus and disgust. He had to yank one harder where it had wedged between bone; another slid free with a wet sound that made one of the students turn away and vomit against the building wall.

"Careful you don't snap the tip," Marek muttered, leaning for a moment against an overturned trash can and wiping sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. "Right now every arrow's worth gold."

Adam nodded without looking up.

Roland stood off to the side, leaning on his cane, like the whole thing was just a tedious formality. His clothes were lightly frosted from Natalia's earlier magic, and his face looked bored even as his eyes stayed sharp. Every so often, he swept his gaze across rooftops and windows, like he was checking whether something else might decide to leap out.

Only once they were sure the area was clean did Leon look at the restaurant.

The sign hung crooked. One window had been smashed. The door stood slightly ajar. Inside was dim.

"We're going in," Leon said calmly.

The survivors followed, though it was obvious every step cost them more than the fighting did. As they passed the blood-smeared zombie corpses, a heavy stench hit them - iron, rot, and something they couldn't even name. Several people clamped hands over their noses immediately. One girl covered her mouth with her sleeve and looked away, like the sight alone would crawl into her dreams.

"You'll get used to it," Marek threw out half-jokingly, though there was no amusement in his voice. "Or it'll stop bothering you."

It didn't sound comforting.

Inside the restaurant, the floor was slick with blood. Two bodies lay near the tables - one with an overturned chair jammed into its chest. The air smelled of spoiled food and spilled alcohol.

A few survivors had to brace themselves against the walls, their legs going so weak they nearly buckled. This wasn't a movie scene. This wasn't a game. This was real - heavy and sticky and physical, with smells and temperature.

"Breathe," Elena murmured to a student who was shaking like a leaf. "Focus. We're here to get food."

Leon didn't linger on them. He crossed the room and stepped behind the counter, checking the back.

"Fridges," he called over his shoulder. "Check the cold storage. Anything sealed, we take. Cans, dry goods - whatever."

Adam and two students headed into the back. One of them opened the first fridge and recoiled as the smell of spoiled meat hit him.

"Some of this is unusable," he muttered, face twisting. "But there's frozen stuff."

"We take anything that looks even remotely safe," Natalia said coldly. "We'll judge the rest later."

Plastic bags began to rustle. Cans clanked into sacks one after another. Flour. Rice. Pasta. Packs of spices - even sugar and salt. Anything that could matter. A few students worked almost feverishly, like gathering food was the only way to drown out fear.

Roland wandered in at a slow pace, glanced around, and leaned on the counter with a yawn.

"Youth has its perks," he murmured. "Plenty of energy to carry other people's supplies."

A few young men clenched their teeth, but no one spoke.

After a few minutes, panic started giving way to mechanical work. Someone found a stash of sealed cans. Someone else uncovered a crate of drinks. Food was real - heavy, concrete. This wasn't theory anymore.

This was logistics.

Leon came out from the back, looked at the gathered bags, and gave a small nod.