Global Awakening: Apocalypse Ender's Chronicle Chapter 1117: The Princess and Her Mission

Alora Virellan, the Third Princess of the fallen Virellan Royal Line, had found sanctuary within Shane’s walls for nearly a year. Though most recruits saw her as merely another soldier, she held vivid memories of being pulled from the suffocating gray fog alongside her trusted protectors.

Her kingdom had been crumbling under a relentless onslaught of zombies at the time. With palace walls breached and the royal banners turned to ash, Alora and her loyal contingent—three shieldbearers, three swordsmen, and three archers—had fought with desperation just to remain alive. They were on the brink of total annihilation when that mysterious mist descended, swallowing them whole.

No soul knew how long they drifted within that strange, suspended environment where time felt absent and the outside world remained silent. Then, in an instant, they were transported into Shane’s shelter, summoned through the power of Master-Grade Recruitment Stones. Ten lives were spared, and ten warriors were granted a new beginning.

Although the Virellan Kingdom had ceased to exist, Alora remained steadfast in preserving their ancestral martial techniques. Being a royal meant little in this new reality, yet she took deep pride in her heritage. She did not require titles; she was satisfied as a Master-Grade Recruit.

"I can accept being a Master-Grade at the very least," Alora remarked to herself. She had witnessed the sheer terror of Epic and Legendary-Grade recruits, and compared to them, she felt she still had much to prove. Nevertheless, she stood above the Common, Uncommon, Rare, and Exceptional ranks, which she considered sufficient for now.

Over the following months, her team proved their mettle through countless zombie raids. Recognizing her leadership abilities, Shane allowed her to command a brigade of fifty soldiers. These survivors had been fortified by dragon blood potions and the Aegis Serum. Unlike the crude Super Soldier Serum that distorted the body into bulky, grotesque shapes, the Aegis Serum refined raw power while preserving the natural physique. Alora appreciated this; she retained her grace and charm without becoming a hulking brute.

Following months of rigorous training, her brigade received authorization to hunt a Zombie Lord independently, without the interference of Foreign Survivors. Previously, they had been restricted to Zombie Kings, and any participation in hunting Lords was strictly in a support capacity. Foreign Survivors—those outsiders like Shane who arrived with unique talents—retained the final authority over such perilous operations.

"We can finally hunt on our own," Alora murmured. With fifty warriors skilled in Aura and the Virellan Sword Technique, they were prepared.

Before the coming battle, Alora sought a moment of tranquility. She traversed the streets of the Eclipse Domain until she arrived at the Mana Brew Café. The interior was cozy, layered with the rich aroma of roasted beans and enchanted brews. Unlike standard coffee shops, this establishment, run by the Foreign Survivor and barista Clara, held a supply of rare Elven Coffee Beans imported through Shane’s diplomatic ties with the Elves. Alora loved them; the coffee was rich and infused with a gentle mana that settled her soul.

Cling~ Cling~ Clink~ She stepped inside, and the staff offered a respectful nod. It was not out of deference to her status as a princess, but rather respect earned by her brigade’s achievements, such as securing a vital salt mine and successfully completing high-stakes missions. Alora ordered her customary cup: a strong Elven brew with a delicate dusting of mana crystal powder.

She took a seat by the window, watching the shelter stir with activity. Survivors busied themselves while Warden Units patrolled the perimeter. Despite the knowledge that the Eclipse Revenant was being targeted by rival clans, the atmosphere remained remarkably composed. "Shelter Leader Shane is a monster. I doubt anyone could defeat him," Alora mused, recalling the times she had observed him in combat. She could not imagine a person who could fly, wield mythical items, control powerful beasts, and command such diverse Survivor Skills falling to any challenger. Because of this, she felt no anxiety regarding their overall safety.

She sipped her coffee, letting the warmth ground her as her thoughts drifted to the strategy for defeating the Toxic Zombie Lord. This adversary would prove more resilient, agile, and cunning than any King she had previously slain, yet she felt ready. "I just hope nothing has been overlooked," she whispered. The absence of Foreign Survivor support made her slightly nervous, yet they had trained tirelessly, honing their Aura and refining their swordsmanship. She chose to put her faith in their hard-earned progress.

A faint smile touched her lips as she thought of her nine original companions who stood faithfully at her side. With forty additional recruits filling out their ranks, they had become a formidable force. As the café door swung open, a group of monks led by the famous Chaloem entered. Having heard of their recent success in defeating a Zombie Lord, Alora felt a surge of resolve. "I will achieve the same soon." Finishing her drink, she paid the tab and stepped back out into the world.

***

The next day, the brigade did not utilize vehicles. Every transport in the Eclipse Domain had been requisitioned by Raze’s division, and Alora refused to risk horses against the hazards of Balanar, the Zombie Lord. The creature’s toxic gas could reduce beasts to rotting meat in seconds. Instead, they traveled on foot, fully equipped. Each soldier wore an enchanted mask capable of filtering out deadly toxins, and their belts were lined with vials of dragon blood potions and specialized antidotes.

The air grew thick and oppressive as they neared the abandoned city. Despite the danger, the mood remained orderly. Alora’s brigade was well-provisioned, carrying dried meats cured in herbs and fresh-baked breads. During their camp on the second evening, the scent of spiced stew filled the air. They worked in tandem; archers handled the meat, shieldbearers brewed tea, and Alora spent time with her swordsmen, sharing tales of the Virellan Kingdom.

Their peace was briefly broken by Runner Zombies emerging from the brush. They weren't fast enough to be a true threat; with a single flick of a sword, one of her men unleashed an Aura Blade, dropping the creatures instantly. As they reached the city outskirts, Jumper Zombies began leaping from the ruins, but the shieldbearers held firm and the archers picked them off with precision. Even when a Screamer’s wail drew a small horde, the brigade moved as a unified entity, cutting down their foes with clinical efficiency.

By the third day, they were deep into the Zombie Lord’s domain. The skyline was jagged with leaning buildings, and the streets were choked with rubble and vines. Alora raised a hand. "Masks on." A faint, lethal green haze began to drift across the road. She secured her mask and took a steadying breath. "This is it. Balanar’s territory."

The unit tightened their formation. Archers occupied the remaining structures, shieldbearers formed a wall in the front, and the swordsmen shielded Alora’s flanks. Every warrior flared their Aura, creating a defensive barrier against the pervasive mist. They advanced in silence—there were no runners or jumpers here, only the sinister hiss of poisonous gas. Then, from the yawning shadows of a ruined cathedral, the target appeared. Balanar loomed over them, clutching the lifeless body of a survivor, clearly disturbed mid-meal.