Global Awakening: Apocalypse Ender's Chronicle Chapter 1144: The Next Apocalypse

Shane swiftly seized the radio, calling out to the other vessel.

"Tundra, status report. What’s happening on your end?"

A moment of static followed before Tundra’s voice cut through. Though his tone was steady, a hint of irritation laced it. "All clear. The murlocks caused no significant damage. Frankly, my own detonations were more disruptive than their attack. But rest assured… is built like an unbreachable fortress. Even a Mana Cannon would shatter against this hull. Vasco can attest to its resilience."

Shane was aware of this fact, given the elves’ reinforcement of the ship against such impacts.

Regardless, hearing Tundra’s voice brought him a sense of relief. "Excellent. Keep the crew calm. We cannot afford any panic right now."

"Already managed," Tundra responded. "Everyone’s awake now. Lily and Elsa were quite vocal about me not waking them sooner. But the deck is secure. We are safe."

A slight smirk touched Shane’s lips as he shook his head. "Understood. Remain vigilant. We’ll require all hands ready when we approach the islands."

He placed the radio down and turned his attention back to Harry, who was steering the ship.

The captain was already expertly maneuvering the sails, maintaining their steady progress. Providence wasn't making rapid headway, and neither was Excellence. With the heavy mechs on board and the need to avoid drawing unwanted attention, maintaining a high speed was not their primary objective.

This was common knowledge amongst navigators of the perilous Apocalypse seas.

They had to adhere strictly to the safe passages. Straying from the designated routes meant venturing into the domains of Sea Zombie Kings or even Lords. Engaging in such conflicts was best avoided, even with the considerable armaments of Providence and Excellence, unless absolutely unavoidable.

There was no strategic advantage in expending their strength on unnecessary confrontations. The seas presented enough inherent dangers without actively seeking out more trouble.

The ocean was an immense expanse, and initiating a battle could swiftly escalate into widespread chaos.

***

Later that evening, Shane found himself immersed in studying the chart once more. While he had committed much of it to memory, he continued to scrutinize the various symbols denoting the islands ahead.

Their closest waypoint was now within reach. It was an island marked with the symbol of a Black Tower.

Rowan, the merchant who had provided him with the map, had explained its significance. Islands bearing the Black Tower symbol were reputed to house ancient edifices, remnants from the era preceding the Apocalypse.

Legends spoke of potent treasures or invaluable artifacts hidden within these structures, though they were frequently protected by formidable dangers.

Shane traced the other symbols scattered across the parchment, mentally cataloging the potential challenges that lay before them...

Broken Chains indicated the presence of prisons or sealed repositories, where dormant entities might still linger.

Crescent Moon signaled volatile islands influenced by tidal forces and lunar phases.

A Pair of Wings suggested the habitats of mutated avian creatures or airborne zombies.

Dead Fish denoted nothing more than contaminated waters, desolate zones incapable of yielding any catch.

Eye Symbols pointed to locations of observation or enigmatic mysteries.

The Crown Symbol signified islands already claimed by established rulers or organized factions.

The Biohazard Mark, predictably, pertained to regions afflicted by corruption or hostile terrain.

A Skull Symbol marked the territories inhabited by powerful mutated zombies, potentially Kings or Lords.

The Wooden Ship Symbol implied areas littered with shipwrecks, subject to treacherous currents.

And numerous other designations existed.

Each symbol served as either a cautionary notice or a vital piece of intelligence for their expedition...

For the present moment, however, their trajectory was firmly established.

Their initial objective was the island bearing the Black Tower. Shane carefully refolded the map and gazed out towards the distant horizon.

"Rowan mentioned that treasures or artifacts might be located there," Shane murmured to himself. "Or perhaps something more perilous. Regardless, we shall soon uncover the truth."

Harry cast a knowing glance his way. "You seem rather… eager."

Shane offered a gentle nod. It was impossible to conceal his burgeoning emotions.

"I don't hold out hope for finding Sofia's trail there, but this journey promises a strong beginning."

***

Meanwhile, on the very island marked by the Black Tower symbol, a contingent of Survivors was engaged in reconnaissance of the surrounding area...

It had been three months since Tris’s shelter materialized on this island.

Initially, none of them comprehended the bizarre circumstances of their arrival.

The shelter had been displaced with astonishing suddenness. However, their formidable, dragon-defying walls continued to emit the same potent energy capable of repelling Dragon’s Breath…

Yet, the environment felt distinctly altered from the Dragon Awakening Apocalypse they recalled. Indeed, the surrounding landscape was unsettlingly unfamiliar.

A few days later, contact with local Survivors confirmed a surprising status: their shelter was designated as a Neutral Shelter!

This revelation baffled them, as they were intimately familiar with the implications of a Neutral Shelter designation! They had even conducted trade with such entities previously!

However, for reasons unknown, they found themselves unable to access their usual systems here. Core functionalities like the Clan System, World Chat, Regional Chat, and several others were unavailable. Only essential features such as Inventory, Character Status, Skills, Talents, and a select few others remained accessible.

Regardless, their shelter, and by extension, they themselves, were no longer affiliated with any clan, nor did they belong to the dragon factions that Tris had once been associated with.

"This is truly strange..." Tris voiced his thoughts one evening, seated around a crackling fire with his small group.

He vividly recalled the critical choices presented to him back on Earth.

The Apocalypse Options featured Dragon Awakening, A.I. Rebellion, Demon Invasion, Magic War, Ragnarok, and Zombie Outbreak.

While he had truly desired the Demon Invasion Apocalypse, he instead selected Dragon Awakening, hoping to remain in proximity to his colleagues who had made the same choice.

Indeed, during the selection process back on Earth, they had conferred and agreed upon this particular apocalypse, as most of them had only three choices, and Dragon Awakening was the sole common option.

However, that decision had come at a significant cost.

His colleagues had materialized in disparate regions, scattered throughout the dragon world. Tragically, most perished before he could even encounter them.

Now, he found himself in this new reality. And this reality was no longer the Dragon Awakening.

An unforeseen accident had irrevocably altered their circumstances.

It transpired that one of the gate stones he had procured from a clandestine dragon trader had detonated.

The resulting blast annihilated their entire shelter, and once the dust settled, they discovered themselves no longer within the dragon world.

His commanders could no longer detect any dragons; instead, they sensed the chilling presence of the undead... countless zombies swarming the seas, with a sparse few lurking on the island.

Following several months of diligent investigation, they had become certain: they had been inexplicably transported into the world of the Zombie Apocalypse!

Tris massaged his temples, recalling the sheer pandemonium of that fateful night.

"We were flourishing... then that stone shattered everything," he lamented.

He had possessed a total of six shelters within his domain, and the one that accompanied him was not even the most formidable, but merely his third strongest!

Tris could only let out a weary sigh, acknowledging the futility of dwelling on the past.

Nevertheless, his Land Owner Talent had proven to be their salvation.

This unique ability enabled him to claim small parcels of land and re-establish fortifications. Remarkably, even in this alien world, the talent remained fully functional.

He had successfully carved out a secure zone, erected an additional defensive perimeter, and founded a modest shelter. Although a formal Clan establishment via a system was impossible, he had ingeniously replicated the structure using official documents and membership tokens!

Regardless, this sanctuary, which he had christened the Draconic Fort, prospered in its own unique fashion. It boasted arable farmland, accessible fishing grounds, and several strategic defensive towers.

The island, though not vast, provided ample resources for their sustenance. He had even enlisted numerous scavengers, fellow survivors, and local inhabitants to bolster their population.

Nika, his capable second-in-command, approached him. "Leader, the scouts have returned. More undead washed ashore today. Not a significant number, but they are more formidable than the usual ones."

Tris's brow furrowed. "Sea zombies once more?"

"Indeed. They are advancing from the west. It is possible we may soon face another King-Tier opponent..."

Tris rose, adjusting the folds of his cloak. "Then we shall greet them with open arms if they dare to approach. Ensure our defenses are fully prepared."

The clan members sprang into action, diligently preparing for the arrival of a powerful Zombie. After all, this had become a predictable pattern: a swarm of dozens or hundreds of low-tier zombies would emerge, followed by advanced-tier threats, preceding the appearance of Zombie Generals, Kings, or Lords.

They had adapted to endure.

Ballistae were positioned atop the ramparts, and archers took their places along the parapets. Farmers, abandoning their tools, grasped spears firmly...

Every individual understood their critical role.

As anticipated, a contingent of Advanced-Tier Sea Zombies emerged!

"Mermec Zombies!" the scouts urgently cried out.

As the abominations lumbered out of the surf, Tris raised his hand, signaling calm.

"Hold your fire until they are within close range. Do not squander precious arrows."

The zombies fixed their vacant stares upon the defenders and, soon after, began clawing at the sand, pulling themselves forward with arduous effort. Upon reaching the perimeter of the shelter's defenses, Tris gave the decisive command.

"Now!"

A volley of arrows soared, ballista bolts impacted with sickening thuds against decaying flesh, and the vigilant defenders surged forward with ferocity.

Given that there were only approximately fifty Mermec Zombies, the engagement was swift, brutal, and highly effective. Within mere minutes, the unholy creatures were decisively vanquished.

Nika meticulously wiped her blade clean. "Three months in this place, and it feels as though we have been locked in perpetual combat."

Tris nodded in agreement. "We must accept this reality. This is our world now. At the very least, they lack the formidable scales characteristic of the dragonoids..."

***

Later, in the solitude of his chambers, Tris meticulously examined the fragmented remnants of the gate stone responsible for their calamitous transfer. The shards emitted a faint, spectral pulse, as if in silent mockery of his plight...

"What exactly are you?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Why did you transport us to this forsaken land? We are utterly incapable of constructing even a rudimentary vessel to escape this place... No, perhaps venturing out is not the wisest course of action. We know nothing of what lies beyond."

A profound sense of frustration began to consume Tris.

Yet, he could not entirely dismiss the unsettling premonition that the explosion had not been a mere accident. Someone, or perhaps some entity, had deliberately orchestrated their arrival here.

And if that suspicion held true, then his paramount desire was to comprehend his ultimate purpose in this desolate realm.