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Chapter 178

The emergency leadership shelter bunker deep beneath the Second Great Wall at the edge of Ft. Washington sported a maximum occupancy of roughly ten thousand individuals. That meant that of the total 30 odd million residents of the capital city, the bunker could only house .0333333333 percent of the survivors. The grisly math of the situation made bile rise in the back of Akamori’s throat.

Ever since the squad pushed down into the bunker, he and his people had been shoring up defenses. Helping the marines establish more effective lanes of fire that would better allow him and his team to operate while reducing friendly fire. He also ensured they were outfitted with better weapons. Heavier munitions would ensure they had a faster time to kill count. He didn’t want them wasting ammo with follow up shots to drop single targets. Not in a war of attrition.

Taking stock of the situation and the resources he had at his disposal took some time. He had Sirsir who was as close to an area denial expert as he had. Sala was a front line defender, and Yasiin made an excellent spotter and exterminator. They positioned the rest of the marines to support the boys as best as they could and were given assignments their weapons and training could handle.

It was a risk keeping them outside the more secure command post, but he knew there’d come a point in time where they’d need the extra man power no matter how insignificant they might seem. To their credit, the Brotherhood marines were capable and proficient. They set up automatic grenade launchers and heavy machine guns facing down the corridor into the lift. Anything stepping out of those doors was going to face some heavy munitions.

“That’s the last of the weapons emplacements set up, sir.” Sgt. Corthon told him. She had cleaned off the dark bloody smear on her vest and he wondered she found the time to tackle both the defense of the bunker along with cleaning that much blood out of her uniform.

“Now we wait.” He said, looking upwards. There was a deep rumbling coming from above. And a noxious unnatural aura that slowly sank down. It stank of death, but inverted. Akamori’s lips peeled back in a snarl.

“Necromancers. They’re coming.”

Everyone locked and cocked their weapons. Yasiin faded from view as he floated up. Sala clapped his fists together with the dull thud of stone crashing into each other while his aura flared golden. Akamori breathed in and out several times, letting the heat radiate from his body the divine air and fire mixed within his body. The lift door bent out towards them once, twice, three times. Then a massive, misshapen fist punched through it. Akamori held a hand up and everyone held their nerve still.

Overgrown meat paw wrenched back into the lift, then tore at the hole and peeled the lift doors apart like tin foil, tossing their remains aside. A massive flesh abomination lumbered out of the lift, threw its arms back, and roared. It was like a masculine banshee had just howled in his face. All the marines groaned and fell, their souls being assaulted by the magic resonance of the roar. Akamori’s men stood their ground.

He wanted to shove his aura out to shield them, but he wanted to wait and make it count. His sword hand opened in a silent summons, and Thanaton appeared in his grip as though it’d always been there.

The abomination lumbered forward, making room for more normal shamblers to lurch and stumble through. The flow of rotten undead flesh continued like a water faucet opened to full. The end of the corridor was packed shoulder to shoulder with undeath. Akamori waited until they’d advanced a quarter of the way leaving them no room for easy retreat. Both sides were committed now. Sensing the commitment, the abomination broke into a sprint.

Akamori’s hand fell, and the defenders introduced the necromancer controlled horde to the concept of a kill box with an overwhelming volume of fire.

Sala rushed forward, tackling the abomination. The abomination’s flesh was bruised purple with occasional boney protrusions. It drove massive punched down into Sala’s face and side. His stone skin and radiant aura blunting the strikes and healing any damage even as he returned the favor blow for blow.

Akamori glided forward, watching random heads erupt with satisfaction as Yasiin called out targets for the others to avoid. He and Helios fell in shoulder to shoulder and carved through the fetid wall of necrotic tissue. Helios’ twin void axes cleanly carved off limbs and created deep channels in abominations as he ducked and weaved in and around his prey.

Akamori’s blade cast wind slashes that projected out like razor thin blasts of air, chopping down three and four different undead at a time and creating a mobility obstacle for the dead to navigate even as Akamori surged forward. His skin glowed redder and redder than his anger continued to build.

“We’re coming for your friends down there.” It was the necromancer from earlier.

Akamori paused his assault. “Oh good. You’re back.” He was about to retort but an Abomination punched in square in the side of the head. The impact sent him into the wall hard, bowling over dozens of undead.

“Just stay down. Your end is inevitable. You knew that even before coming here.”

The dead fell on him like hungry dogs on a solitary opened can of wet food. Their teeth cracked and fell out of thier mouths against his skin. They pressed in like a suffocating wave of cold.

“I can sense how tired you are. Just let go. Let us take away your pain. Let us take your life.”

“Where’s the eltee?” Sirsir said above the dull roar of his cannon barking explosive rounds into the mob of death. Severed limbs and gore splashed free with each detonation. One round burst near Helios, coating in the dead gunk and he turned on Sirsir with an annoyed expression.

“Really?”

Sirsir shrugged half apologetically. “Sorry scaley.”

“Akamori was pushing forward until an Abomination intercepted him. I lost him in the horde after that,” Yasiin said.

What if he did just give up? There were worse ways to go. Dying in a valiant last stand had its appeal. The downside was having his soul be some necromancers dancing monkey. Not exactly that appealing.

And more than anything, he just wanted to find a nice corner of the galaxy that wasn’t in absolute chaos, curl up by a fire, and do some sketching. That or some more bar fighting. That was fun too, not that he’d let the others know. They probably suspected as much, though.

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He was just so tired of the constant crisis. When did it ever stop?

It doesn’t . Bahumet responded. That is our curse. We are the harbingers of change. When times of strife emerge? We come like a cleansing fire, and sweep away the rot. It is natural to want to stop. I of all have no room to speak, since I too gave up. Even though it was a tactical decision to benefit you in the long run. I didn’t stay in the fight as long as I could have. I gave up.

So why couldn’t he? Why did he feel like if he did, then it would be the end? He could hear his friends shouting his name. They needed him. They counted on him. They weren’t worshippers. They were friends.

And that was enough. But he couldn’t just leave them to this fate. It was one thing if he felt like throwing in the towel. But putting that on his friends? He couldn’t do that. As teeth broke to powder against his skin, and congealed blood oozed down all around him, Akamori sighed on the floor reluctantly.

“I really wish this was over.”

We fight not just because we can, but because we must. For who else would defend these people without us? That is the purpose for which she made us . Bahumet said.

We’re the last line between cold, harsh injustice and innocent people. Frank said.

DESTROY ALL . Thanaton hissed.

Against the lame struggling of the undead, Akamori slowly pushed himself up. His body’s natural resistance to weak damage the zombies were dealing meant he didn’t have to actively defend himself. His passive resistances did that work for him. Unbothered by his ascent, the horde continued to gnaw away at him eagerly.

“Uh. What’s the eltee doing?” Sirsir asked when they saw Akamori stand up from a pile of undead.

Yasiin frowned. That looked like someone who’d tried to talk themselves into letting go and ending it, but being pushed back into the thick of it against their will. His observational prowess laid bare all the obvious signs. He quickly adjusted and cored the head of another zombie and burned the spine out of the ghoul behind it, toppling them both.

Sala grabbed a pair of undead by the feet and used them as improvised weapons, swinging them wildly. They disintegrated slowly with each successive impact on their peers. An arm broke loose here, a leg snapped apart and spun off into the crowd. Eventually Sala was left holding a pair of shins before stabbing a duo of zombies closest to him into their foreheads. The soft crack of rotting bone sounded like snapping twigs.

They’d blunted the flow of dead, but it just kept coming. Most of them weren’t burning high magnitude spells, so magical fatigue wasn’t a huge concern. But eventually they’d grow mentally or physically tired and get sloppy, or make a mistake. To say nothing for thier human counter parts.

Akamori looked around as the zombies continued to chew lamely on his hands, arms, chest, and legs. So many souls. So much hate and jealousy for the living. So many souls twisted to fight, thanks to the necromancers. This world would slowly turn into a cancer in the system. But he was the antibody. He’d fix it all.

They needed to plug the hole and stop the breach. Unfortunately, earth magic wasn’t something any of them possessed. That meant they’d have to improvise. Which didn’t really change the way they operated too much. Ninety percent of what they did sat firmly in the realm of improvisation.

“No…” He muttered.

All sound but the steady beating of his heart filled his hearing. The oppressive silence was broken only by the earth shattering thunder of each beat. Bang bang. Bang bang.

“NO.”

It wasn’t a statement. It wasn’t a request or order. It was a commandment. Every undead hesitated as Akamori’s aura exploded outward, covering the entire corridor and killzone. Undead bodies and limbs flew away from him like fetid shrapnel hurled from a necrotic grenade. He trembled in place as a seething defiance and rage boiled to maximum, spilling out as his flesh ignited into flames that started as orange until they darkened when void magic spilled out as well. The undead backed off hesitantly, giving him room now, no longer trying to gnaw on him uselessly.

“Fuck fate. Fuck Zombies. AND FUCK YOU!” Akamori roared as Thanaton appeared in his hands, wreathed in black flames.

His squad grinned because they knew it was time to really start grinding up the undead. The humans all fell back, scurrying away as their very souls told them they were in the presence of something unfathomably powerful and unknowable. Some rocked themselves back and forth on the ground in the fetal position.

Sirsir conjured up a flask. This one was red with a big skull on it and drank heavily before discarding it casually. It evaporated into nothingness before it even reached the ground.

System Info: You have used Family Recipe: Big Man’s Haste. All attacks have increased speed. Reload and recharge rates are greatly increased. This effect is stackable with other bonuses and abilities. Duration: Extremely long time. Once Big Man’s Haste goes into cool down, all AP is drained until you rest.

“You heard the man. It’s time to get to work.”

Akamori blazed into the mass of undead as Sirsir’s cannon barked out rounds as quick as a machine gun. Clusters of bodies erupted into the air, coming apart wildly as blooms of fire and light flowered behind them. The explosions reduced many zombies to mush and vapor. All the while, Sirsir grinned from ear to ear as his cannon bucked like a running engine.

“Balance of the cycle. Still my hand and render my decree.”

System Info: You have used the Judgement of the Guardian. All offensive spells cost no AP to use. Duration: Extremely long. Once this ability goes on cool down, all AP is reduced.

Yasiin’s sniper rifle turned into a long range void laser, sweeping it across the undead like a hose of disintegration. Where the beam swept? Nothing but atomized particles swirled in its wake. The squad was finally in serious mode. Like the Spartans of Thermopolis, this was their stand.