The battle through the downtown core had been brought, close to half of his medjay warriors had been slain just to cross three kilometers of the city, but when thinking about the fact that they had achieved victory against foes they didn't even know existed mainly the tier 2 and 3 zombies in the stalker and devourer forms.
Just the thought that there were more of these monsters out there or possible even worse forms greater than these two was chilling.
But he still had a mission to complete before he could stop to really worry about this.
Thankfully the higher tiers granted a far greater reward than their tier one counter-parts.
Tier I -> 20 Experience, and 200 Dollars reward for each kill
Tier II -> 100 Experience, and 1,000 Dollars reward for each kill
Tier III -> 500 Experience, and 5,000 Dollars reward for each kill
Just crossing the downtown area had actually netted him more in experience and dollars, save for the lottery win through the fortune spin than the entire day of clearing our walkers from the condo complex.
Thanks to that he'd even managed to level up again gaining the rank of Level 6, though aside from a boost in his HP and Skill points nothing else changed.
Once more the convoy searched for a hiding place so that once more they could spend the earnings to replenish their forces, and this time, Carter would be bostering their numbers, with the goal almost in sight, he decided to double the numbers.
And so 100 Chariots began to race their way out of the downtown core heading towards the university, felling walkers along the way, but not encountering more devourers or stalkers along the way, providing a rather anti-climactic ride considering how tense and dangerous the core had been.
The grounds of the university loomed ahead, standing half-collapsed, their once proud campus sign hanging from it's perch and twisted from the panic of fleeing students and staff who had crashed into the poles in which supported it.
The massive quad, once a place of life, laughter, and academic ambition, was now a graveyard.
Cars were abandoned mid-turn, some with their doors hanging open, others blackened husks, likely torched in desperate attempts to hold back the encroaching tide of the undead.
Bodies—some motionless, others still writhing—were scattered across the pavement.
And the Walkers were everywhere.
Hundreds of them.
They shuffled through the campus grounds in mindless droves, their rotting hands brushing against one another, their low groans blending into a continuous, haunting drone like a chorus of the undead.
Carter's grip on his spear tightened as his chariot slowed to a stop.
The Medjay warriors lined up in front of him, forming ranks while atop their chariots and on horseback the Egyptian archersdrew their bows, their trained eyes scanning for threats.
But there was no sign of Stalkers.
No sign of Devourers.
Carter frowned.
Something was wrong.
The city had been filled with horrors—ambushes, predators, monstrosities—but here?
Only Walkers.
Too many Walkers.
Why?
"Lord Carter,"
Seto, the vice-commander of the Pharaoh's Guard, spoke, his voice low and grim.
"There are… far too many. We do not have the numbers to break through directly. If we charge, we will be overwhelmed."
Carter exhaled, his mind racing.
Charging blindly into a horde of this size was suicide.
They needed a strategy.
His system flashed new data before his eyes:
🛑 System Scan Complete. 🛑
▶ University Population: ~5,000+ (Formerly).
▶ Estimated Active Walkers: 1,200-1,500.
▶ High-Tier Undead Detected: None.
His jaw clenched.
Even if the numbers were lower than expected, a frontal assault would still be costly.
But why no Tier II or III undead?
What was keeping them away?
Carter turned to his commanders.
"Seto, take a third of our forces and form a defensive perimeter here at the entrance, I'll make sure to leave ample extra weapons and ammunition so be sure to hold out. If any more undead wander in from the city, I don't want them pinning us down when we try to pull back."
Seto thumped his chest in salute.
"It will be done, my lord."
He turned next to Atem, Carter looked at the Egyptian charioteers and archers.
"Chariots will act as distractions—circle around the horde, draw them away from the main buildings, keep just ahead of them but so as to not loose their focus, and keep them away from the entry team. Archers, take high ground wherever possible and thin their numbers from a distance. We'll bleed them of their numbers advantage as much as we can in the process."
A ripple of acknowledgment passed through his troops.
The battle was about to begin.
As the third team would be 'lead' by himself, and Solomon his vice-vice-commander comprised of the other section of warriors, who would be the infiltration force who'd be clearing the inside of the building as they hunted the undead within on their way towards the storage room indicated by his sister when last they spoke.
~
With a sharp whistle, the chariots surged forward under Atem'd command, their horses galloping at full speed, kicking up dust as they carved circles around the undead horde.
Arrows whistled through the air, striking true, piercing rotting skulls and snapping necks.
Walkers groaned and collapsed, their bodies trampled beneath hooves as the charioteers darted between abandoned vehicles and crumbling buildings, drawing the mass of undead toward them.
~
Carter, standing with his Medjay unit, surveyed the battlefield with calculating eyes.
Seto's defensive line held strong behind them, cutting down any stragglers that wandered too close.
Slowly, the horde was shifting, being manipulated like cattle.
And as the bulk of them moved toward the commotion, an opening began to form.
"Now's our chance,"
Carter said, gripping his spear.
With his troop of warriors, he charged through the gap created, their footsteps echoing against the empty pathways leading towards the main doors as they slipped into the campus interior.
The walkways between the campus wings were eerily silent, only the faint echoes of battle behind them serving as a reminder that they weren't alone.
They pressed on.
Past overturned benches.
Past shattered vending machines.
Past dried pools of blood leading into dark hallways.
And then—
A noise.
Not a groan.
Not a growl.
But a whisper.
"..."
As his unit got themselves on guard, only Carter was still at relative ease since the system had reported only tier I creatures within the university.
After a squad of five broke off to investigate, they came across the remains of some human survivors within one of the lecture halls.
As the warriors force partially followed inside there was a crunching sound beneath their feet as they trod upon a severed arm still clutching a pen.
As he glanced with, the lecture hall looked more like a slaughterhouse.
Bodies lay piled one ontop of the other, their skin torn, their faces frozen in forms of agony.
But this wasn't the work of walkers...
No, even just a cursory glance could tell there were no visible bite marks, no signs of feeding.
The bodies clearly had, had their throats slit, and at this point the attempts at speech were the last vestiges of the remaining survivors who had been dealt this fate by the culprit whomever they were.
Mass execution.
Carter's stomach twisted as he had to witness the first real human atrocity since the world had ended.
Who did this?
and why?
Had the survivors who managed to hide here turned on one another?
The Medjay warriors remained silent, their stoic faces betraying nothing even as they looked over this gruesome scene, but even still Carter could feel their unease at what they were seeing.
This wasn't random violence.
This was a controlled slaughter.
"Let's keep moving."
He had seen enough, the sooner he could get his sister, the sooner they could get out of here and avoid the murderers possibly still lurking within the building.
The group of warriors carried on leaving the lecture hall behind them.
Ascending the stairwell and entering the second floor, nearing the commons area, when suddenly-
The softest sound of something shifting against fabric reached his and his men's ears.
Solomon's hand shot up signalling the warriors to halt, while the few archers they had began to nock arrows.
Then-
A voice, barely above a whisper came.
"Drop your weapons... now."
Carter's eyes narrowed.
The voice came from behind an overturned desk, tucked into the corner of the commons.
He shifted his weight, slowly turning toward the source.
And that's when he saw them.
A group of survivors—maybe seven or eight—huddled behind makeshift barricades of desks, overturned bookshelves, and vending machines.
All of them were armed.
Most with knives.
One with a handgun—and with a shaking grip on it.
Another, a hunting rifle, the barrel resting on a backpack for stability.
Carter sighed.
They were terrified.
Their faces were hollow, eyes sunken from lack of sleep, gazes clearly ravenous with hunger, and devoid of hope.
They weren't a threat.
Not to him.
He lowered his spear slightly but didn't drop it.
"We're not here to kill you,"
Carter said, his voice calm, steady.
The man with the handgun flinched, his finger twitching near the trigger.
"Then what the hell are you?"
he spat.
"A warlord? The hell are you wearing?! Bronze armor and cloaks like you just walked out of a museum?!"
Carter resisted the urge to smirk.
Yeah, he probably looked like a lunatic leading an army of ancient warriors through the apocalypse.
Not that he cared.
"I'm here for someone,"
Carter said plainly.
"My sister. She's hiding within one of the rooms deeper inside."
A murmur ran through the survivors.
One of them—a girl with glasses and dirty blonde hair—stepped forward hesitantly.
"Wait are you Carter? So that means, Rachael?"
Carter's heart nearly stopped.
"You know her?"
The girl nodded.
"She's alive… for now."
That last part sent a chill down his spine.
Carter clenched his jaw.
"What do you mean, 'for now'?"
The survivors exchanged glances, hesitant.
Then the girl with glasses spoke again.
"Some of the guys she was with… aren't good people."
"Logan?"
Carter guessed.
The girl nodded, her lips tightening.
"Yeah. Him and his buddies. They started hoarding food. Then they started making… rules."
Carter's fingers twitched on his spear.
"And?"
The girl swallowed hard.
"They started talking about taking what they wanted. From everyone else."
A heavy silence filled the commons.
Carter's breath came slow and steady.
He had suspected it.
Had even warned Rachael.
But hearing it confirmed?
That was different.
He exhaled through his nose, controlling the rage bubbling inside.
"How many?"
he asked.
The girl hesitated.
"Seven of them. Armed. Not well, but they have knives, bats, and after they left the room even a couple of pistols. They keep the food under lock and key. If anyone tries to fight back… meanwhile a rebel group formed in opposition and have been waging war against their attempts of taking control, we of course."
Pushing up her glasses a little.
"Belong to the former, not those mindless meatheads, who are just horny bastards trying to get their rocks off at the end of the world."
She didn't need to finish, and yet she still did.
Carter's stomach coiled into knots.
Rachael was standing in opposition to the initial militant group.
And if Logan was even half the bastard he seemed to be…
Time was running out.
He turned to his warriors, his voice grim.
"We move now."
One of the survivors—an older man with a grizzled beard—stepped forward, desperation in his eyes.
"Please… take us with you."
Carter didn't hesitate.
"Stay behind us. Don't slow us down."
The survivors nodded quickly, falling in behind his unit.
And with that, the Medjay warriors pushed forward, their boots pounding against the tiled floors.
Rachael was waiting.
And Logan?
Logan had made a fatal mistake, he had tried to become a king but he'd pricked the sleeping giant and would now reap what he had sown.