The evolved undead were naturally better than humans. Some were even stronger than chosen individuals. The problem was the chosen’s strange abilities.
Breaker was Blaze’s strongest pawn, yet it got its arm blown off by a bullet.
It was a good thing the gun couldn’t withstand the force, or else all of them would’ve been cooked.
But that’ll change in a month.
The Collective’s update would hit the world in less than a month. Blaze had a feeling humans might get their hands on strange weapons when that happened.
The hunch was based on Neha’s plan.
She wanted to wait a month before fighting the zombie king, and Blaze expected something to happen then.
If they can take on the zombie king, whatever it is, then I’m not safe either.
Blaze had a plan on his own to stop them, but he wasn’t arrogant enough to think everything would go his way.
It was better to expect the unexpected and plan accordingly.
That’s why he was busy toying with the chitin plates. It was one of the by-products produced by the separator after processing ant corpses.
They were the most rigid and durable substance Blaze had seen. Apart from perhaps a monstrous tortoise shell.
Maybe I should go hunt the tortoise next... no, stay focused on one thing.
Not only did chitin provide resistance from stabbing and slashing attacks, it was also completely immune to acid-based attacks.
It was great considering acid and fire were deadly to the zombies.
The system suggested that it be used to reinforce the corpse wall. It would improve the integrity of the structures.
However, Blaze had other plans.
The four-armed undead wobbled towards Blaze. The latter got up and began taking measurements of its torso.
After that, Blaze walked to the pond and dragged two frogkins that weren’t doing the humping dance.
Since they didn’t want to reproduce, it wasn’t a waste to kill them.
Soon, Blaze had their rubbery skin and long sinew in his hand. He carefully made holes in the chitin plates before attaching them to the frogkin’s skin with the help of sinew.
By the time Blaze was done, the armor looked like a cockroach’s broken back. It would have looked much better if a craftsman had worked on it. Producing them would be faster as well, but zombies couldn’t craft anything.
Blaze was perhaps the only exception to that, and he wasn’t about to make of his own creation.
It’s a prototype. Besides, the undead don’t care about aesthetics.
With that thought, Blaze forced it on Raven. Thankfully, the rough measurements weren’t off, and it didn’t restrict the zombie’s movement.
Now, time for the test.
Blaze didn’t hold back and hit it with all his might. Yet, his claws didn’t even leave a scratch on the armor.
However, he wasn’t satisfied. He stood behind a spike trap and gestured Raven to walk forward.
It stepped onto the trigger plate and was hit by the full force of the spike trap. Raven braced for impact, but was still thrown into the air like a ragdoll.
Blaze didn’t flinch, he merely squinted his eyes to look up.
He stepped aside as Raven landed where he had been standing seconds ago. The crash definitely broke some of Raven’s bones, but it was nothing Marrow couldn’t heal.
Blaze was more worried about the armor instead. He squatted down, examining every inch of the chitin plates.
A few scratches, nothing much.
He smiled, patting Raven’s broken head.
Marrow, patch him up please, and send some skeletons my way.
Meanwhile, at the base.
Alaric was in a room. Well, at least it seemed like a room.
Three bunk beds were placed next to each wall, while the fourth wall had trash piled up against it, as there was no other place to put the trash.
The six beds were shared among twelve people.
Some burly guys had taken over two bunk beds, leaving only one for the eight of them. Fortunately, the chosen people had taken a liking to Alaric, so he wasn’t one of the eight unfortunate ones.
Still, it was an upgrade from the campsite he had been living in.
But this guilt won’t go away.
Alaric turned sideways and saw three people crammed in one bed. It was an elderly couple and what looked like their grandson.
Their presence was surprising, considering the strict recruiting policy the base had.
Someone must have sponsored them, like Neha did for him.
It wasn’t fair, but life never had been fair.
Fairness was a mere illusion created by humans to fool themselves.
It only took an apocalypse to make everyone revert to their natural roles.
The weak groveled on the ground, fighting for what little resources they had. While the strong drowned in the pleasures of life.
That’s also why he had made peace with Blaze’s death.
His son died because he was weak.
That was all there was to it.
All the willpower he had before to look for Blaze’s corpse eroded as hours passed. His survival was more important, and Neha... provided that to him.
Had it not been for her, he would still be out there, fighting the zombies.
She saved him from misery.
Now that he thought about it, she was distraught after Blaze’s death.
Maybe by looking after him, she was paying off Blaze’s debt for saving her life.
"Perhaps I was wrong," he mumbled. "Neha is a nice girl... if only Blaze realized it sooner..."
"Yo unc! You want some food?"
A voice interrupted Alaric’s thoughts.
He peeked below and saw it was one of the burly guys.
Covered in tattoos, they really didn’t look like people who would care for someone like him. Yet they did.
Before Alaric could reply, the guy tossed an apple to him before walking out.
The elderly couple looked at him. They were clearly hungry.
Now that I think about it... I haven’t seen them eat at all.
Alaric looked at the apple, then sliced it open. The old man’s tired eyes came to life as he looked at Alaric pleadingly.
Alaric watched him before tossing a half under his blanket to eat later.
The light in the old man’s eyes dimmed again as Alaric chomped on the fruit without a care in the world.
Maybe... being privileged isn’t so terrible.