Zombie Domination-Chapter 322- Pest

The journey west continued, the landscape growing progressively more desolate and marked by the occasional signs of recent conflict—burned-out vehicles, makeshift barricades, and the ever-present, unsettling silence. They were deep in the disputed territories now, and the tension was a tangible thing, thicker than the dust coating their vehicle.

The relative quiet was shattered not by mutants, but by the rapid, heavy thump-thump-thump of rotor blades. A dark, armored helicopter, its design sleek and menacingly post-collapse, descended from the cloud cover, kicking up a fierce whirlwind of dust and debris. It didn’t just fly over; it moved with clear intent, swooping down to land directly on the ruined highway ahead, blocking their path completely.

"Someone is coming!" Zoe growled, her instincts flaring.

"Identification? Affiliation?" Celestia rattled off, her hands already on her weapons.

"None. Aggressive positioning," Julian replied, his voice cool. He brought the vehicle to a smooth stop about fifty meters from the idling chopper. "Everyone, stay alert. Follow my lead."

Before they could formulate a plan, the helicopter’s side door slid open. Four figures clad in dark, tactical gear with red armbands jumped out, their movements professional and aggressive. They fanned out, advanced rifles held at the ready. The leader, a man with a scar across his brow, gestured sharply with his weapon.

"Out of the vehicle! Now! Hands where we can see them!" he barked, his voice amplified by the dying whine of the helicopter’s engines. "Any delay, and we will consider you hostiles and open fire!"

Julian’s eyes narrowed. This was no desperate survivor group. This was a military-style unit. Fighting them here, in the open, was risky with the helicopter as overwatch. But more than risk, there was opportunity. Who were they? Who did they serve?

"Understood," Julian said, his voice calm. He opened his door and stepped out, his hands held loosely at his sides in a non-threatening manner. "Do as they say. For now."

One by one, his team exited the vehicle, their postures tense but controlled. As they lined up, the armed men’s demeanour shifted slightly. Their tactical scrutiny gave way to blatant, leering appraisal.

The leader whistled, his scar twisting into a smirk. "Well, well. What do we have here? The boss didn’t say anything about picking up a haul this pretty." His gaze crawled over Clarissa, Emma, Veronica, and the others.

One of his subordinates chuckled, lowering his rifle slightly. "No kidding. Scavengers usually look like... well, garbage. These are all prime. Real sexy."

Another grinned. "Might have to do a more... thorough inspection later."

The comments hung in the air, vile and threatening. A cold, murderous stillness settled over Julian’s group.

Julian didn’t change expression. He didn’t shout or posture. He simply stopped complying.

In a movement too fast for the normal eye to follow, he activated Boost. He became a blur. Void’s Edge was in his hand, the black blade seeming to suck the light from the air as he drew it. With the enhanced speed and the brutal efficiency of Critical Chance amplifying his strike, he aimed a devastating, horizontal slash at the leering leader’s neck—a blow meant to decapitate.

Shing!

The strike was intercepted not by the leader, but by another man in the group who had been hanging back. This man’s arm came up, and a shimmering, hexagonal energy shield flared into existence, deflecting the monomolecular edge with a shower of sparks. The force of the blocked blow still sent the shield-bearer staggering back a step.

The leader, his face pale with shock and fury, stumbled back, raising his rifle. "What the hell is your problem?! You just drew a sword! Do you have any idea who we are?!"

Julian stood poised, the dark sword humming faintly in his grip, his expression utterly calm. "You spoke first," he stated, his voice like frozen steel. "You made it personal."

Fey snorted, not even bothering to lower her voice. "Seriously? ’Prime haul’? ’Thorough inspection’? Did you guys rehearse this in front of a mirror? You sound like bargain-bin villains from a pre-collapse streaming show."

Veronica’s eyes were slits of cold fury. "The only thing that needs a thorough inspection is the inside of a grave. Julian, kill them. Now."

Emma cracked her knuckles, flames wreathing her fists. "Yeah! They started it! Let’s finish it!"

The leader, his face mottled with rage, spat on the ground. "You dare look down on us?! We are the Crimson Talons, the enforcers for the Ironblood! You’re nothing but roadkill in our territory!"

The man with the barrier shield, having regained his footing, sneered. "I was going to be merciful. To let you live if you surrendered your supplies and... companions. But now? Kill the man. Take the women. We’ll see how talkative they are later."

Emma didn’t wait for another order. "You’re the ones who’re gonna be ash!" she yelled, thrusting both hands forward. "Pyrokinesis: Inferno Lance!" A concentrated spear of white-hot fire roared towards the barrier.

The shield-bearer laughed arrogantly, bracing himself. "Fool! My Barrier skill can stop anything! Your pathetic fire is—"

CRACK!

The Inferno Lance didn’t just splash against the barrier. Under the intense, focused heat, the hexagonal energy field shattered like glass, the backlash sending the shield-bearer stumbling back with a cry of pain, his arms smoking.

"No way!" he gasped.

"Celestia, Zoe, disable the shooter. Veronica, handle the swordsman. Emma, keep that barrier busy. Fey, support. Aya, Clarissa, protect Dori and Beatrix," Julian’s orders cut through the chaos, calm and precise. "I’ll take the claw user."

He had already identified the biggest physical threat: a hulking man whose right arm was encased in a mechanized gauntlet ending in three vicious, crackling energy claws. The man grinned, his claws glowing with a malevolent red light.

"Don’t resist, pretty boy," the claw-user taunted, licking his lips. "Hand over the women and I might let you live. Hehe."

Julian didn’t answer. He simply moved. Void’s Edge met the swinging red claws in a shower of sparks and a shriek of tortured energy. The claw-user’s grin vanished, replaced by shock.

"Impossible!" he roared, pulling back. "My ’Ripper Claws’ can slice through tank armor! Why didn’t it break?!"

"An unrefined skill," Julian stated, his voice cold as he deflected another wild swipe, the black blade absorbing the violent energy without a scratch. "All power, no precision. Weak." In the opening created by the deflected blow, Julian’s blade flickered out like a serpent’s tongue.

"Aghhh! Damn it!" the man screamed, stumbling back. A deep gash now ran from the corner of his mouth to his ear, blood pouring down his neck. "You cut me! You little—!"

"You will pay," Julian interrupted, his advance relentless, "for the words you aimed at my companions." His next series of strikes was a blur, forcing the claw-user into a desperate, panicked defense.

The shadow at Julian’s feet exploded into a dozen tendrils of frozen darkness, as thin as whips and as sharp as needles. They didn’t attack head-on, they shot out in unpredictable, snaking arcs, aiming for his eyes, the joints of his armor, his weapon hand.

"S-Son of a—! He’s got more skills?!" the man yelped, frantically batting away the probing shadows with his claws. The flexible shadow-tendrils retracted and struck from new angles, each movement leaving shallow, stinging cuts. "What the hell are you?! Some kind of monster?!"

Driven into a corner by the elusive shadows, he roared in frustration. Abandoning defense, he channeled all his energy into his clawed gauntlet, making it blaze crimson, and launched a reckless, full-power charge directly at Julian’s center—a brute-force tackle meant to overpower.

It was exactly the opening Julian anticipated.

He didn’t dodge. Instead, he met the charge head-on, but not with his sword. As the man came within arm’s reach, Julian’s free hand shot out, crackling with concentrated blue-white energy.

"Lightning."

He tapped the man’s chest with his crackling fingertips. A controlled, high-voltage current surged into the assailant’s body, bypassing his armor and seizing his nervous system. The effect was instantaneous.

The red glow of the claws died. The man’s furious charge turned into a violent, full-body shudder. Every muscle in his body locked up, then went completely limp. He collapsed to his knees, a puppet with its strings cut, his eyes wide with agony and confusion. He couldn’t even hold his arms up.

"Gah... wh-what... did you...?" he slurred, his body trembling uncontrollably from the aftershocks.

"You will pay for it," Julian stated, his voice cold as he looked down at the helpless man, Void’s Edge still humming faintly in his other hand.

"Wait! Wait! Let’s talk!" the man babbled, his bravado gone, replaced by raw terror as another shallow cut appeared on his thigh. "I can give you anything! Supplies! Intel! Just spare me!"

Julian remained silent. A final, precise pommel-strike to the temple dropped the claw-user like a sack of rocks, unconscious but alive. Information was indeed needed.

He turned, expecting to coordinate the next move, but the scene behind him was already settling.

The shooter was disarmed and pinned to the ground by Zoe’s foot on his back, his rifle a twisted wreck of silver threads courtesy of Celestia. The swordsman was kneeling, clutching his stomach and retching, his face green from what looked like a precisely brewed nausea potion from Beatrix’s stash, administered by a smirking Fey. Veronica stood over the shield-bearer, his precious barrier generator was a smoking, sparking ruin on the ground beside him, expertly disabled by an enchanted round from her pistol. Emma was casually warming her hands over the last flickers of the barrier’s dissipating energy.

The four Ironblood soldiers, who had swaggered out of their helicopter minutes ago, were now utterly neutralized.

Clarissa was gently checking on a wide-eyed but unharmed Dori and Aya. "Everyone alright?"

"Barely broke a sweat," Emma boasted, extinguishing her flames.

Julian walked over to the groaning, conscious leader and placed the tip of Void’s Edge under his chin. "You mentioned the Ironblood. You will now elaborate. Start with the location of your main camp, and the details of this ’summit’ your bosses are attending."