Click! The gun was empty of bullets. Leah looked on in despair as she realized she couldn't kill herself. she had already offended Damien and he would surely kill her. She just didn't want to suffer at his hands. Fortunately she was saved from Damien's unrelenting stare when someone broke in from the shelter area.
"The beasts are here!!! Where is Lord Bane!?" he asked. Damien awoken by the noise turned to stare at the person. He could not continue to sulk and moan. he couldn't continue to descend into madness. The world was broken and full of opportunities. As a prime capitalist he needed to pull himself together and take all he could.
Nothing satisfied him more than the power he gained from his control over the economy. How the politicians fawned and how the average joe adored him. It wasn't like murder and torture were new to him. It was only that he was on the receiving end this time and he couldn't accept it. As his father once said. No man is more dangerous than a rich man who used to be poor on the verge of loosing his riches.
He had never been poor, but he most certainly was full of life. He did everything to save himself before and he would do even more now to do so. The world source showed him things, things he deemed impossible before. All he needed to do was survive and he would take them all for himself. No matter the circumstances.
"Come and tell me what is going on." commanded Damien. It was okay to go mad for a while, he would blame it on his brain not fully recovering from being in cryostasis and not that he was weak willed and fearful of pain and suffering. Yes it was that.
"Which green onion are you? Where is Lord Bane? If there is a delay and the shelter is damaged, I'll let the Lord know it was you who delayed the message!" the messenger berated sharply.
Quiet. There was no sound even from the whimpering Leah as all in the room stared in disbelief at the messenger. This guy just came in and provoked this unstable lord. The man has been flying around and killing and beating people up naked and he hasn't even noticed. This guy was just rushing to die.
SHIINGG!! An arm fell to the ground and blood started spurting from the shoulder the arm fell of from.
"AAAAAAAaaahhh!!!" the messenger started screaming. Damien hadn't been kind as before the world went to shit and he was crazier after his experience with Bane. Immediately the statement was heard and processed, he conjured a katana and sliced off the man's hand from the shoulder.
Staring with deep malice into the man's eyes and with the most indifferent look on his face.
"If you make another sound it would be your head next." the man barely able to keep himself together, nodded desperately. Damian proceeded to place the katana on his shoulders.
"Tell me what is going on." he commanded. Unknown to him he was unleashing his awakened aura to the maximum in his erratic state.
"The beasts have arrived and the defense line ma be broken at anytime now! We need Lord Bane to repel them!" gasped the man between panful and languished breaths.
"Lord Bane is dead." Damian simply stated.
"How!? Why!? When!?" The man's shock visible on his face and his mouth wide open as he slumped to the ground. The unknown messenger's last words as he died from the excessive blood loss.
Ignoring the man on the floor Damien asked the other two surviving guards to tie up Leah and get him some clothes. Fully dressed in black overalls with combat boots the guard got from God knows where he walked out of the pit room.
Immediately he was hit by the chaos, the noise, the screams, roar and groans around. Gunshots seemed to sound out from everywhere. Just the sound made it seem as if all hope was lost . It was all a lot to take in. Nevertheless he proceeded to walk to the front line whilst thinking about how best to use his ability to their advantage. They needed a way to forcefully and quickly clear out the zombies in the front line so that the guns could reach the beasts. If enough of them died at a location they would immediately mark it as dangerous and leave. Unlike the seemingly mindless zombies, the beasts were quite intelligent and knew how to seek benefits and avoid misfortune.
Thinking about his ability a mean sinister smirk appeared on his face. The world was up for grabs and he would rule and dominate it. His weapon ability was broad and powerful. No one would catch him weak again.
Looking at the zombies, Damien noticed their fanatic desire for every drop of fresh blood exposed in the battle. Once a fighter was injured they pounced on them frantically as compared to non-injured ones. He got an idea and looked at the tied up Leah. "Bring her here." he commanded. A dark light seemed to flash in Damien's hand as he tried to conjure a grenade. The bomb from earlier was powerful but not practical because of the weight an it's lack of portability. After 5 seconds he had conjured just one. It was too slow and he knew why. He needed to scan one with his ability or have enough knowledge of one to conjure them faster and easier.
Damien scanned the surroundings and jogged to the weapons depot nearby. He needed to speed up before the zombies breached the blockade. As the only awakened in the shelter he was the lord by default. Every minute that passed he lost more warriors and increased the ratio of useless people in the shelter. He wouldn't condone that. Looking at the mess of guns and bullet chains in the boxes at the depot he noticed a rectangular looking device twice the length of an average adult palm. Looking at the inactivated LED screen, it was a timed explosive. Damien picked it up and scanned it with his abilities. A large smile came unto his face. He immediately conjured five more copies of it with ease.
When Damien turned around, the guards who followed him looked at him with awe in their eyes. When Bane led them all they could see was his personal strength and fearsome combat ability. A boss like Damien could increase the combat ability of all the fighters in the shelter simply with his ability to produce copies of weapons and ammunitions. Leah was dragged in front of him and made to kneel in front of him. The six bombs were strapped to a combat vest. As Damien fiddled with the explosive controls he smiled at Leah, "Pick five people who would wear this from the dependents." commanded Damien. Eyes widening in shock, Leah Immediately wanted to refuse but was slammed with the butt of a rifle.
Giving an appreciative nod to the perceptive guard, Damien sneered at Leah and said "Choose or wear it yourself!" Immediately she lost her spirit and couldn't decide.
"Put it on her!" he said.
"Them! Just Them!" shouted Leah, pointing at a group of three women and two disabled men.
With a wild smile on his face, four other explosive strapped vests were conjured and handed to her.
"Help them get dressed up for the fireworks." he said.
Leah was shoved roughly towards the five clueless people. She took the vests and walked towards them. "Make sure they are at the front line in two minutes or you will replace them!" growled Damien at the perceptive guard.
Finally Damien appeared at the front of the blockade and was immediately greeted by a zombie claw. Stepping back slightly, he conjured a blade and sliced of the hand of the zombie. Unfortunately it wasn't human and thus lunched itself relentlessly at him regardless of the injury. The guard blew the zombie's head off mid-flight; however, its momentum carried the body forward, and it collapsed against Damien, splattering him with its remains. With a grunt of annoyance, he shoved the corpse aside and wiped a smear of black fluid from his cheek with the back of his hand. Although awakened couldn't be infected and turned to zombies, the mess was an inefficiency. He was in work mode.
"You!" Damien's voice cut through the din, sharp and devoid of emotion. He pointed the tip of his conjured blade at the perceptive guard who had assisted him. "Get the line organized. Concentrate fire in three-round bursts. Aim for the legs of the larger ones; let them crawl. I want every bullet to count."
He then turned his attention to a discarded automatic rifle. He picked it up, feeling its weight and balance. It was a tool, and he was a master of tools. As he checked the magazine, his mind worked with cold efficiency. These fighters were assets. Frightened, poorly equipped, but assets nonetheless. An asset's value was determined by its use.
Meanwhile, Leah moved with a grim purpose. She snatched the vests from the ground and approached the first of the five chosen dependents. Her face was a mask of stone as she shoved a vest into the hands of a weeping woman.
"Get up," Leah hissed, her voice a low, brutal rasp.
The pleas and moans from the group were pathetic whispers against the roar of the battle. Leah handled them with brutal efficiency, her sharp movements and cold indifference silencing their protests more effectively than any threat. She didn't look at their faces, only at the front line, her own life hanging by the thread of their obedience.
The other fighters at the barricade saw it happen. A cold dread, heavier than any fatigue, settled in their stomachs. They exchanged quick, wide-eyed glances. This wasn't like Bane, who tortured for pleasure. This was something else. This was cold, calculated, and terrifyingly practical. They weren't just serving a new Awakened lord; they were tools for a monster who saw the world as a balance sheet. Their obedience became sharper, their movements more rigid.
"They're in position, Lord!" the perceptive guard yelled over the gunfire.
Damien didn't turn. He fired a short burst from the rifle, noting the weapon's recoil and discharge of energy. Data absorbed. He glanced at the small, rectangular detonator he had conjured, a perfect copy of the one from the depot. He saw the five figures, now shoved into place at the weakest points of the barricade. They were human shields, live bait, and the fuse for his grand solution.
"Fall back! Ten paces! Now!" Damien commanded.
The fighters scrambled back without hesitation. Damien raised the detonator. His face was utterly calm, his eyes fixed on the surging tide of undead. He was a capitalist on the verge of a hostile merger, and this was simply the cost of acquisition.
He pressed the button.
For a heartbeat, there was only a flash of light, multiplied by five. The force of the explosions tore through the front ranks of the zombies, the light and sound overwhelming everything. The screams of the five were swallowed by the singular, deafening roar.
But the true effect was on the structure itself. The simultaneous blasts at the base of the support columns of the floor above—the underground car park—were more than the old concrete could bear. With a great, grinding groan, a massive section of the ceiling fractured. Rebar snapped like twigs, and tons of concrete and asphalt collapsed downwards, right at the entrance to the shelter. The avalanche of debris created a new, permanent, and impassable wall.
The shockwave and the terrifying sound of the collapsing structure echoed out into the car park. The Ratamons, intelligent enough to recognize a superior threat, shrieked in alarm. The sudden, overwhelming violence spooked them. The swarm hesitated, then broke, turning and fleeing back into the dark passages from whence they came.
In the aftermath, a ringing silence descended upon the shelter, broken only by the crackle of small fires and the settling of dust. Smoke and the stench of ozone filled the air.
Damien stood in the center of it all, untouched. He let the conjured rifle and detonator dissolve into motes of light. He looked at the mountain of rubble that now sealed their entrance, at the smoking remains of the zombie horde, and at the terrified, awestruck faces of his new subjects. A slow, sinister smirk touched his lips.
The battle was over. His reign had just begun.