Luck stood by the trench, arms crossed as he watched the survivors scrape at the dirt with shovels and pickaxes.
The trench was deeper than before but it was nowhere near finished.
He clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"Forget the trench,"
Luck turned to face the group. "We don't have time. If the Death Parade or the next zombie wave hits before we finish, we're done. We switch to barricading. Right now."
The survivors paused mid-dig, exchanging uneasy looks.
Death Parade was something they had all experienced firsthand — a nightmarish event that turned the city into a living slaughterhouse.
Luck's glare snapped toward him. "You heard me! Drop those shovels! Start pulling all the scrap metal and car frames to the perimeter!
Yuna swallowed but didn't argue. She barked orders immediately. "Move it! Everyone! We're going to reinforce the walls first!"
Hours later, the yard looked like a chaotic workshop. Sparks flew as welders stitched car frames together.
