Evil MC's NTR Harem

Chapter 1172: Chapter 1172 Marine

Groups that had survived together for months were suddenly torn apart without warning.

”What’s wrong?!”

”How could this be possible?!”

”What happened—what changed?!”

”They’re all dead! They’re all dead—every single one of them!”

Panicked voices echoed through radios and cracked communication networks, many cutting off mid-sentence in bursts of static and screams.

Survivors who had once trusted their methods now stared in disbelief at the carnage unfolding before them.

Entire safe zones fell in minutes.

Defensive perimeters that had held firm for countless nights were breached with terrifying ease.

Barricades were bypassed. Watch posts went silent.

Trained hunters vanished without leaving so much as a struggle behind.

Fear spread faster than the infection ever had.

The truth soon became impossible to ignore.

The zombie hordes had changed.

They no longer wandered aimlessly or attacked in predictable swarms. They stalked their prey.

They coordinated. They waited in ambush, luring survivors into traps with unsettling patience.

Some mimicked sounds—human voices, cries for help, even laughter—to draw victims closer.

Old tactics failed completely.

Stealth no longer worked.

Speed was no longer enough.

Strength alone meant nothing.

The undead were evolving, becoming something far more dangerous than their original forms.

Their movements were sharper, their reactions faster, and their hunger more focused.

They were no longer simply killing—they were hunting.

Pain, grief, and despair engulfed the world like a suffocating fog.

People screamed for answers that never came, clutched loved ones as they fled, and prayed to gods long since silent.

The realization settled in slowly, crushing what little hope remained.

This was no longer a war for survival.

It was the beginning of an extinction.

Of course, Ross had known this would happen.

Since he had enslaved Cyrus Thorn, Ross had come to know everything about the man.

Every secret, every plan, every experiment, and every forbidden technique Cyrus had ever touched lay fully exposed before him.

More importantly, Ross understood the true nature of the method that had given rise to the zombie plague.

He knew its origin.

He knew its mechanisms.

And he knew its inevitable consequences.

The catastrophe consuming the world was not random, nor was it an accident of fate.

It was the aftereffect of a technique—one that twisted life, corrupted death, and forced evolution upon the infected until even the undead were no longer what they once had been.

Ross had foreseen this escalation long before it manifested.

That knowledge was precisely why he had acted decisively, sealing the camp and forbidding all expeditions.

While others reacted in panic and disbelief, Ross had already moved several steps ahead, fully aware of how the plague would worsen... and how much worse it was yet to become.

That was precisely why, several days before the catastrophe swept across the world, he had issued firm and non-negotiable orders.

No hunting or scavenging teams were permitted to leave the Supermarket Camp, regardless of experience or past success.

Patrols were suspended, routes were sealed, and every gate was placed under heightened guard.

The same restrictions applied to Alistair and his group.

Even though his children had spent months risking their lives to rescue survivors and reclaim the city, Ross forbade them from leaving as well.

Their objections were met with a single look—calm, steady, and final. There would be no exceptions, not even for them.

At the time, confusion spread through the camp.

Some people whispered that Ross was being overly cautious.

Others quietly complained, worried about dwindling supplies or abandoned rescue plans.

A few even wondered if fear had finally reached him.

Then the videos began to circulate.

Footage flooded the internet—grainy recordings captured by drones, broken surveillance systems, and desperate last broadcasts.

Entire scavenging teams were annihilated within minutes. Invisible hunters tore through groups that had once been considered elite.

Zombies moved with intelligence, anticipation, and horrifying precision.

Safe zones fell overnight.

As the truth became undeniable, a chilling realization spread among the people of the Supermarket Camp.

Ross had been right.

Slowly, conversations died down. Eyes turned toward him, wide with disbelief.

Some stared as if he had suddenly grown three heads and six arms, unable to comprehend how anyone could have foreseen such a drastic shift so accurately.

His foresight felt unreal—almost divine.

Gratitude followed swiftly.

People thanked him openly, some bowing their heads, others clasping their hands in relief.

A few broke down in tears, fully realizing that Ross’s decision had spared them from the same fate now unfolding beyond the camp’s walls.

Ross accepted none of it.

”It’s nothing,” he said evenly. ”Just a gut feeling.”

He dismissed the praise as casually as he issued his orders, yet the effect was the opposite of what he intended.

His quiet authority deepened, solidifying into something unshakable.

If he spoke, people listened—because now they understood what ignoring him could cost.

His command remained unchanged.

No one was allowed to leave the camp.

Not today.

Not tomorrow.

Not until he said otherwise.

This time, there were no objections.

Everyone obeyed.

And as the world outside descended further into chaos and bloodshed, the Supermarket Camp remained sealed—an island of uneasy calm, preserved by one man’s foresight in a world that had already begun to collapse again.

Even greater tragedy was poised to descend upon the survivors of the earth.

This technique, this unholy creation, was not designed merely to destroy.

Its purpose was far more insidious.

It existed to erode hope, to plunge humanity into despair so complete that even the strongest minds and hearts would falter.

It worked subtly, corrupting the living world from within, gnawing at courage, sowing distrust, and shattering the bonds that kept communities together.

Every act of violence, every death, every loss of faith fed its design.

And at the heart of it all lay the World Heart, the pulse of life and balance in the world itself.

Weakness it suffered under the strain of despair, and when all hope was gone, it would be vulnerable—ripe for the taking.

That was the ultimate cruelty of the technique: it did not simply kill, it slowly strangled the soul of the world, leaving nothing untouched.