We've reached the most crucial moment; there's no room for error. We're almost there, the results are almost in sight, and we can't afford to fail now.
It's 6:17 a.m. now. We've been fighting for almost 10 hours without eating anything.
Even if there was a short break during that time, it was just closing my eyes.
These people were already exhausted, but they were still holding on by sheer willpower. If they weren't superhumans, they would have collapsed long ago.
But even the best body can feel tired, both mentally and physically.
Prolonged mental concentration and tension are like a taut string that could snap at any moment.
We can only hold on for now, but we don't know how much longer we can hold on.
As energy wanes and physical strength declines, the supernatural abilities emitted begin to change.
Zombies are fearless and feel no pain. Living people, however, feel pain and discomfort.
In such a fierce battle, with zombies and superhumans entangled together, injuries were inevitable.
Some of the superhumans already had wounds on their bodies, some large, some small, some long, some short.
There were even those who were scratched or bitten by zombies; these people had already mutated and were cruelly killed by their companions.
Death is a normal thing in battle, but when it really happens in front of you, the pain in your heart can't be buried by a few tears.
But now it's the end of the world, and death is an ordinary thing.
Death—who hasn't seen it?
In the apocalypse, will there be few deaths?
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