Regressing Through the Apocalypse with the Third Male Lead-Chapter 11

"Your Highness, you are known for being careful, decisive, and calculating. But what is this?"

"Milady, you were the one who said it yourself—not everything about me can be contained in the mere pages of a book." Florence chuckled, his voice light despite the tension in the air. "And this motorcycle? It’s faster than a wyvern or even the warhorses bred by the imperial family!"

He resisted the occasional urge to steady himself by holding into Freyah’s shoulders. He kept his grip firm on the rear of the passenger seat instead. Freyah was in control, expertly maneuvering the vehicle.

Ahead of them, Harley rode his own motorcycle, leading the way towards San Andres Bukid, where he and his aunt resided. The motorcycles they were using were ones Freyah had salvaged after a deadly encounter with zombies. She had smuggled them out, knowing there were plenty abandoned vehicles left behind after the chaos.

At the moment, motorcycles were far more practical than cars.

It was roughly a five-kilometer ride from her home in Taguig—around a 20 to 40-minute journey depending on road conditions.

"Wyvern, huh?" Freyah burst out laughing. "I’ve heard about horses, but a wyvern? Now that’s straight out of a fantasy novel! I wonder what it feels like to ride one?"

"It’s incredible, I tell you! Soaring through the skies, feeling the wind—"

Florence’s words were cut short when Freyah abruptly slowed the motorcycle to a stop. Harley also halted, noticing the same obstacle ahead.

A massive pileup of cars and jeepneys blocked the entire road. Vehicles had collided chaotically, likely the aftermath of what had happened during the previous night. There was no way through—not even for the nimble motorcycles.

"It looks like we’ll have to walk from here," Freyah announced, stepping off the motorcycle and removing her helmet.

The other two followed suit.

"We’re not far now, but stay sharp. Remember, if you’re bitten, it’s either you lose a limb or you turn into one of them within three minutes. Understood?"

Both Florence and Harley nodded firmly.

Freyah scanned her surroundings, her gaze settling on a single-story house to the left. After a brief pause, she drew a knife from her belt. "Wait here. I’ll check ahead."

Without another word, she plunged the knife into the wall, then another, using them as handholds as she scaled the structure with practiced ease.

From the roof, she could see the extent of the blockage. The jam stretched about twenty meters ahead, leading to a crossroad. More concerning, however, was the slow-moving crowd of zombies closing in—drawn by the sound of the motorcycles. Their unsteady gait and lifeless expressions were haunting, but their numbers were far from ordinary.

Freyah’s eyes narrowed.

Perfect.

The horde was gathering just as she had anticipated. She had vowed to take down every zombie she encountered, no matter how small the effort seemed. Fewer zombies meant fewer chances of mutations. And if these creatures did mutate? A horde of them would be a nightmare no ordinary human could hope to face.

Satisfied with her assessment, she leapt back down from the roof.

Harley jumped slightly at her sudden descent, while Florence remained composed—at least for a moment. In his world, many warriors possessed inhuman strength, so Freyah’s agility wasn’t entirely foreign to him. Though what she did surprised him next that he almost let out a yelp.

"Stay on the roof. I’ll handle the cleanup."

Before either of them could protest, Freyah grabbed both Florence and Harley by the shoulders and, with a burst of strength, hoisted them onto the roof.

Neither had even noticed when she’d prepared the additional knives embedded in the wall for their ascent.

And just like that, Freyah was already turning back toward the horde— two blades in hand, ready for battle.

"Is she even human?" Harley whispered in a mix of awe and fear.

"You didn’t have time to read the manual, so you wouldn’t know," Florence explained, eyes fixed ahead. "She has skills—one can awaken when the apocalypse begins. I just wish she won’t suddenly grab us like that. "

"Skills? Like superpowers?"

"Powers... Yes, something like that." Florence nodded. "I do remember her mentioning you have one too."

Harley’s eyes lit up with excitement. "I have superpowers too? What is it?"

"That..." Florence hesitated, scanning the horde of zombies nearby. "I’m not sure. But I admit, Lady Lima is indeed strong. I can’t just stand here watching while she fights for us. Allowing someone else to protect me without lifting a finger—it goes against my principles as a knight and a mage."

Before Harley could respond, Florence leapt from the rooftop. He yanked a knife embedded in the wall, its blade glowing with a bluish hue. Without hesitation, he dashed toward the nearest zombie, slicing through half its skull. Ice spikes erupted from the wound, freezing the creature solid.

This was his skill as a swordmaster—an ice blade capable of freezing and shattering anything it touched.

He cut through one zombie, then another, and another—until his back collided gently with Freyah’s.

"You really can’t just stay in one corner, your highness," Freyah said without turning, her voice steady. "Does it hurt your pride that a woman is protecting you?"

"Absolutely not, Milady." Florence decapitated another zombie, ice instantly spreading from the point of impact. "In fact, I admire your strength. But I’m strong too. Our contract binds us to support each other—in battle and in war. As long as you have someone who can guard your back and won’t become a liability, it’s better to fight together than alone."

The swarm seemed endless. Yet as Florence fought, fragments of the past surged in his mind—precious memories of a different battle. He saw his half-brother, the crown prince, laughing as they fought side by side. The strongest assassin of the empire, the young knight, the elven princess perched on a tree, loosing arrows with deadly precision. And Kathleen—her water magic shielding them from the rear.

"Right, brother! Hahaha!"

"Hey, both of you! Take this more seriously! Geez." Kathleen had scolded, keeping them safe with her spells.

"Idiots." The elven princess had muttered, firing another arrow with a smirk.

Freyah’s voice pulled him back to the present.

"The first half of the book, when you journeyed to defeat the Demon King, right?" She struck down another zombie with a clean slice. "It was difficult, but with comrades you could trust... it became bearable and you all survived."

"You’re right, Milady." Florence finished off the last zombie, his gaze locking onto hers. "That’s why—no matter what you experienced in the future you came from—I’m here now. You can trust your back to me, just as I will entrust mine to you on this journey."

A low groan echoed behind him. Before Florence could react, Freyah’s dagger flew past his shoulder, embedding itself in the zombie’s skull.

She walked past him, yanking the blade free with practiced ease.

"Yes, your highness. I’ll have your back." Her voice was calm, but she didn’t meet his eyes.

Florence watched her retreating figure, the loneliness in her stance evident despite her words.

"You’ll have my back, you say... Yet you don’t trust me enough to rely on mine. It doesn’t work like that, Milady."

The source of this c𝐨ntent is fre𝒆w(e)bn(o)vel