Zombolution: Unleash the Undying Power

Chapter 176: Alfred’s Ungraceful Return

After the intense battle had come to a surprising end, Ophelia sauntered over to where Drakina, now back in her human form, stood. The area around them was still smoldering from the remnants of Alfred’s fiery attacks.

"You didn’t kill him, just threw him out of the Death Land," Ophelia observed, her tone playful yet inquisitive. She tilted her head, looking at Drakina with a curious expression.

Drakina, always composed, nodded in acknowledgment of Ophelia’s statement. She had indeed noticed that her attack, while immensely powerful, had not been lethal to Alfred. Instead, it had served to eject him forcefully from their territory. "I know," Drakina replied calmly. "But it seems I may have underestimated them too much."

Ophelia gave a light shrug, a smirk on her face. "Me too. Looks like our enemies are stronger than we thought."

Ophelia then suggested, "Let’s head back and report this to Zorvax. We need to plan our next move." Her voice was laced with a hint of excitement at the prospect of strategizing their next actions.

Drakina gave a subtle nod, her expression unchanging. "Agreed. Zorvax should be informed about today’s events."

The two of them began walking back towards the direction of Zovania Citadel. As they walked, Ophelia couldn’t help but chuckle to herself, replaying the battle in her mind. "That Alfred sure was a fireball, wasn’t he?" she said, amusement evident in her voice.

Drakina, walking beside her, remained silent, her thoughts seemingly focused on the battle and its implications. Her stoic demeanor contrasted with Ophelia’s more animated nature, yet they moved with a mutual understanding and respect for each other’s abilities.

As they disappeared into the distance, the Death Land slowly returned to its usual eerie calm, the echoes of their battle fading away into the desolate landscape.

---

After being forcefully ejected from the Death Land, Alfred flew through the air, his trajectory carrying him far until he crash-landed near the gate of Pyrohaven. His once formidable flame armor had dissipated during his flight, leaving him looking battered and disheveled.

As Alfred hit the ground with a thud, the guards stationed at the gate were taken aback by the sudden appearance of what they first thought was a meteorite. They rushed towards the site, only to halt in shock when they realized that the ’meteorite’ was, in fact, Alfred.

"Sir Alfred, are you alright?" one of the guards called out, rushing over with a blend of concern and disbelief in his voice. He and his fellow guards had never seen Alfred in such a state before.

Groaning, Alfred slowly opened his eyes, pain etching lines across his face. He propped himself up on one elbow and surveyed his surroundings. Realizing he was just outside Pyrohaven’s gate, he grunted, "I’m okay," though his voice, rough with annoyance and frustration, suggested otherwise.

The guards hovered around him, exchanging worried glances. Another guard, stepping closer, asked tentatively, "Sir, what happened to you?" There was a note of concern in his voice, mixed with a tinge of fear at seeing the usually indomitable Alfred in such a condition.

Alfred’s gaze was distant, his mind replaying the harrowing battle he had just endured. His jaw clenched as he remembered the power and unexpected tactics of his adversaries. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts before he could speak.

Finally, he looked up, his eyes meeting the guard’s. "Tell the captain... increase the defenses," he said, each word measured and deliberate. His voice carried a weight of seriousness that was impossible to ignore.

The guard nodded, his expression turning solemn. "Right away, sir," he said, before turning to his fellow guards. "You heard him. Let’s move!"

As the guards scurried off to carry out Alfred’s orders, he slowly got to his feet, using his sword as support. His movements were labored, a stark contrast to his usual fluid grace. He stood there for a moment, taking deep breaths, trying to shake off the effects of his ordeal.

One guard lingered, watching Alfred with a mix of respect and concern. "Sir, do you need assistance getting back to the castle?" he asked.

Alfred waved him off, a flicker of his typical pride showing through. "No. I can manage," he said gruffly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The guard hesitated, then nodded and hurried off to catch up with the others. Alfred watched them go, his expression hardening. This defeat was a setback, but he was already plotting his next move. He would not let this go unchallenged.

Alfred, now solitary and contemplative, trudged back to his castle. His stride was heavy, each step echoing with a mix of anger and determination. The defeat he had suffered in the Death Land was not just a blow to his pride; it was a stark revelation of a new and formidable threat.

As he walked, his mind was a tumultuous storm of revenge and strategic planning. The existence of unknown Tier 4 entities in the Death Land was a matter of grave concern. He couldn’t help but furrow his brow, his thoughts racing as he pondered this new challenge.

Upon reaching the castle, Alfred was greeted by his chief advisor, who noticed the grim set of his lord’s face. "Lord Alfred, what troubles you?" the advisor asked, his voice laced with concern as he observed the unusual dishevelment of Alfred’s appearance.

Alfred halted, turning to face his advisor. His eyes were intense, burning with an inner fire. "Gather the council," he commanded, his voice firm and resolute. "We have a serious matter to discuss."

The advisor, taken aback by the urgency in Alfred’s tone, nodded swiftly and hurried off to summon the council.

Alfred continued into the castle, his mind working tirelessly. He knew he had to alert the other Tier 4 Ascendants in the neighboring cities. The unity of their strength and wisdom was crucial to devise an effective counterattack.

The doors of his castle closed behind him with a definitive thud, sealing him in his domain of power. Inside, he paced back and forth in his strategy room, each step echoing in the vast hall. His hands clenched and unclenched as he contemplated his next move.