Finally, after hours of desperate fighting that seemed endless, the tide began to turn. On the battlefield, the zombies' once surging momentum began to show signs of fatigue. The previously reckless, frantic charge began to slow. The zombies' movements were no longer as swift and powerful, their steps becoming heavy and slow, their attacks no longer as dense and deadly. The once tightly connected, continuous waves of attacks began to show gaps and gaps. The glint of madness in the zombies' eyes seemed to slowly dim. Their roars were no longer as deafening, but filled with weakness and despair. The warriors keenly noticed this change, their previously tense nerves finally relaxing slightly, but they never lowered their weapons. Though their strength was nearly exhausted, the psychics saw the zombies' weakening momentum and a flame of hope rekindled within them. They forged their weary bodies and continued to use their powers, seizing every opportunity to weaken the enemy. The common people also mustered their last bit of courage, seizing this opportunity to launch an even more fierce counterattack against the zombies. They swung their weapons again and again, each attack tinged with a desire for victory. The atmosphere on the battlefield remained tense, but the shadow of death that hung over everyone's hearts began to dissipate. Everyone knew that although the zombies' offensive momentum had weakened, the battle was not over. Only by persevering to the last moment could they truly usher in the dawn of victory.

The psychics keenly sensed the weakening momentum of the zombies' attack, their eyes instantly ignited with a fierce determination. Without hesitation, they seized this rare opportunity and launched a final charge. Like wild horses unleashed, like tigers unleashed, they charged towards the zombie horde with unstoppable momentum. At this moment, the radiance of their powers shone once more, more dazzling than ever before. The fire psychics waved their hands, and blazing flames erupted from their palms, gathering into a vast wave of fire, illuminating the dark corners and illuminating the entire battlefield like daylight. The blazing flames seemed to come alive, lunging at the zombies with rage, leaving a sea of fire wherever they passed. The lightning psychics raised their heads and roared, and thunder roared in the sky. Thick bolts of lightning struck down from the clouds, like divine punishment. These lightning bolts intertwined, forming a vast electric grid that, with a crackling sound, enveloped the zombies. The ice-type psychic thrust his hands forward, instantly congealing countless sharp ice spikes that gleamed with a chilling brilliance under the psychic light. Like a volley of arrows, these spikes hurled themselves at the zombies at astonishing speed, freezing the air wherever they passed. Other psychics also unleashed their powerful powers, their beams intertwining like razor-sharp swords, piercing the zombies' hearts. The zombies screamed in despair under this powerful assault, their defenses crumbling as they collapsed. The psychics' figures loomed in the psychic light, their roars resounding through the air. With unwavering faith in victory, they launched a final charge against the enemy. The battlefield was filled with the psychic light and the warriors' roars, as if announcing the imminent victory of the battle.

As the superpowered launched their final, electrifying charge, ordinary men followed closely behind. Though their figures lacked the dazzling brilliance of the superpowered, they were filled with the same unwavering determination and fearless courage. Their clothes were soaked with blood and sweat, their bodies covered in scars, and exhaustion etched deep into their faces, yet their eyes burned with an unyielding fire. They clutched their broken or crude weapons, the very weapons that had sustained them in this fight. Some carried chipped swords, others wielded worn spears, and still others held only stout wooden sticks, yet in their hands these weapons seemed weightless. With heavy yet determined steps, they followed the superpowered's lead, charging towards the still-horrifying zombie horde. Each step forward demanded immense effort, yet they never hesitated. As they approached the zombies, they unleashed a final burst of strength, casting all fear and exhaustion behind them. Those wielding machetes swung with all their might, their blades piercing the zombies' bodies, splashing black blood. Those holding spears thrust forward with all their might, their spears piercing the zombies' chests and pinning them to the ground. Those wielding wooden clubs lashed frantically, their clubs clattering against the zombies' bones with a dull thud. Their cries mingled, forming a powerful, awe-inspiring force. Each attack was a desperate struggle for survival, each blow a defense of their homeland. They used this final strength to deliver a fatal blow to the zombies, demonstrating the astonishing courage and tenacity of ordinary people in desperate situations. Though their power was limited, their unity and determination coalesced into an unstoppable torrent, forging ahead courageously with the superpowered warriors towards the dawn of victory.

With everyone's concerted efforts, the last zombie finally fell to the ground. At that moment, time seemed to freeze, and a brief silence descended upon the battlefield. The psychics paused their movements, their bodies heaving with fatigue from the prolonged battle, breathing heavily, yet their eyes gleamed with relief and triumph. The radiance of their powers gradually dimmed, and sweat streamed down their foreheads, mixing with blood and dust, leaving streaks of blood on their faces. The ordinary people also stopped their attacks, their weapons drooping limply. Some crouched or slumped on the ground, their eyes filled with relief at having survived and grief for their fallen comrades. Their clothes were tattered, and they bore wounds of various kinds. Blood slowly seeped out, staining the torn edges red. The entire battlefield was a shambles, littered with zombie remains and black blood, emitting a pungent odor. The flames still crackled in places, emitting black smoke that mingled with the thick dust, obscuring vision. In the silence, no one spoke, no one cheered. Everyone simply stared at the spot where the last zombie had fallen, as if to confirm whether this nightmare was truly over. Only the sound of the wind and the faint groans of the wounded echoed in the air, making the silence seem even more heavy and oppressive. Yet, behind this silence lay a victory forged by the unity and unyielding spirit of the people. They supported each other in despair, composing a paean of bravery and fearlessness with their lives and blood. The fruits of this victory, though heavy, were inestimable and priceless.

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