Global Awakening: Apocalypse Ender's Chronicle Chapter 1161 1161: The Rest

The price requested was steep indeed…

One hundred zombie cores per individual. With Akame's group comprising thirty-eight survivors, this amounted to a staggering 3,800 cores.

A wave of unease rippled through the crew, fully aware of the monumental challenge in amassing such a quantity. After all, they too utilized Zombie Cores, and hoarding too many was simply not feasible.

Akame convened his men, needing their collective input for this crucial matter…

"We must discuss this. While survival is paramount and worth more than any core, we need to be pragmatic. Thirty-eight of us… that's an immense number of cores to gather."

His second-in-command, Ronan, a strapping man marked by a scar across his cheek, stepped forward. "Captain, there's no way we can gather that many in the given timeframe. Even with the ongoing event, it will take considerable time, as not every Zombie drops a core."

A second voice chimed in… Darlene, the second vice-captain, renowned for her sharp tactical acumen. "Perhaps we could offer something else instead? We possess treasures salvaged from the sea. Spirit Stone figurines, and the Epic-Grade Bell. These artifacts hold value far exceeding mere cores."

Taurus, a younger crew member, added with a hint of nervousness, "If we combine one thousand cores with those items, it should suffice. The figurines are known to ward off plagues and illnesses. The Bell can detect poisons. They will surely recognize their considerable worth."

Akame's head dipped in slow agreement. "Yes. That shall be our approach. One thousand cores, alongside the figurines and the Bell. It is a fair proposition, demonstrating our willingness to contribute beyond just raw materials."

With the course of action decided, the crew commenced their task of gathering.

Soon, they navigated the war-torn landscape, treading with caution amidst the scattered remains of zombies, piles of vampire ash, and the broken forms of dragonoids and wyverns.

'The stench is overwhelming…' Akame mused, finding the odor emanating from the dragonoids even more potent than that of the zombies.

The combined reek of blood and smoke rendered the air almost unbearable, yet they had no choice but to endure.

They observed the survivors from the shelter working with remarkable alacrity…

Looters efficiently stripped weapons from fallen vampires, harvested cores from zombies, and carefully pried scales from the carcasses of wyverns.

Another contingent focused on repairing traps and fortifications, resetting the mechanisms that had been activated during the intense battle.

It was an awe-inspiring spectacle.

After all, it had only been a few days since the commencement of this significant event.

Akame's men were utterly astonished. This astonishment intensified upon confirming the presence of the advanced robots.

Indeed, the bipedal robots moved with flawless synchronization…

Their glowing optical sensors or scanners left no detail unnoticed. They were instrumental in the cleanup efforts, proving to be among the most effective workers thanks to their immense strength...

Then, their attention was drawn to the elves standing resolute on the ramparts, their bows still emitting a faint, ethereal glow of elemental energy.

Super-soldiers were observed effortlessly carrying massive loads of corpses as if they were mere trifles, their augmented physiques radiating palpable power.

And among the human contingent, some bore the unmistakable mark of draconic essence… A faint shimmer could be seen on their skin where scales were present.

"This place…" Ronan muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "It resembles a fortress from an entirely different realm."

Despite not being an official member of the shelter, Shane's presence was acknowledged, leading Pascal and Hannah to bring him along.

Shane and his team were instrumental in defending the fortress until the conclusion of the Cross‑Apocalypse Event, making him an integral part of the shelter for the time being.

Following a brief introduction, Akame offered a respectful bow. "Captain Pascal, Quartermaster Hannah, Survivor Shane. I am Akame, captain of my vessel. We hail from the sea, nearly depleted, and we seek refuge here. We are prepared to offer compensation."

Pascal's gaze was unwavering. "The price is considerable. As you may have been informed, it is one hundred cores per individual."

Akame assented. "We cannot meet that exact quantity. However, we present one thousand cores, alongside precious treasures from the ocean depths. Two figurines meticulously carved from Spirit Stones, possessing the ability to repel plagues and sickness, and an Epic‑Grade Bell capable of detecting poisons or harmful agents in provisions. These artifacts are exceptionally rare and will undoubtedly bolster your shelter's defenses."

Hannah's eyes sparkled with interest. "Spirit Stone figurines… and an Epic Bell. Those sound remarkably valuable."

Shane observed Akame, his thoughts unspoken…

Given their maritime origins, they might possess knowledge about the elusive Eden Island, which he was actively seeking.

However, with the ongoing event, he would likely need to defer questioning them until the situation stabilized…

"Your resilience in fighting for three days at sea is commendable. It speaks volumes of your capabilities. Should you commit to contributing, your entire group will be permitted to remain here."

A palpable sense of relief emanated from Akame. He bowed once more. "We shall provide the payment and dedicate ourselves to working with unparalleled diligence. For now, however, a period of rest is essential. We have been engaged in continuous combat since the event's commencement."

Pascal exchanged a knowing glance with Hannah and Shane before nodding in agreement.

"Very well. Please prepare your payment, after which we shall escort you to your designated quarters, ensuring you receive the rest you require."

Akame released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his heart thrumming. At last, following days of relentless struggle, his crew could finally find respite.

***

Meanwhile, within the makeshift hangar situated just outside the main shelter, a scene of considerable activity unfolded…

The rhythmic grinding of machinery and the voices of the maintenance crews resonated beneath the colossal frames of the Trident Mechs.

Although engineered for naval engagements, these formidable machines had proven remarkably effective on land, capable of slicing through wyverns and dragonoids with devastating precision.

Shane entered, his battle armor still bearing the scorch marks of combat, and found the pilots congregating near their mechs.

Amon, the squadron's ace pilot, leaned against his mech's leg, shaking his head ruefully. "The Tridents performed admirably, but the wyvern ichor… it's incredibly adhesive, clogging the joints. Each movement feels like grit grinding between gears," he lamented, a thread of frustration weaving through his words.

Ryn concurred with a grim nod. "Indeed… Their blood possesses peculiar properties. My mech's servos emit a squealing sound with every articulation. The blood solidified far quicker than anticipated. The maintenance team will need to meticulously cleanse it before the subsequent assault."

Standing beside him, his sister Lyn added, "Furthermore, the acidic residue from the wyverns' wings has afflicted the armor plating. My sensors indicate corrosion. If left untreated, the structural integrity of the frame will be compromised."

Kira, the youngest of the group, echoed their sentiments from a nearby bench. "Half our onboard weaponry is rendered ineffective on land. The torpedo launchers, the depth-charge mechanisms… they're merely dead weight here. We must adapt, lest we face combat with diminished armaments. Request its removal, that we may maneuver more freely."

Amon offered a wry smile upon hearing this. "We cannot simply discard them. Although designed for the sea, not the land, we shall make do. The Tridents possess sufficient versatility. Nevertheless, I demand a thorough cleaning of every joint and a polish of every plate. Should the next wave intensify, we cannot afford any mechanical failures."

The maintenance crews, acknowledging the instructions, immediately began moving hoses and solvents to commence the arduous task of removing the hardened wyvern ichor.

Instantly, sparks flew as engineers diligently replaced damaged components, while others meticulously patched armor plating with mana-infused steel.

The pilots exchanged weary glances, solidarity etched on their faces.

Their valiant efforts had been significant, yet the chilling realization remained: the Cross‑Apocalypse was far from its conclusion.

At that precise moment, Shane arrived, appearing equally fatigued.

"Your performance has been exemplary. The Tridents were pivotal in shifting the momentum today. I shall personally bestow rewards upon each of you once this ordeal concludes. And it will conclude soon."

The pilots immediately snapped to attention, their demeanor shifting upon the arrival of their Clan Leader.

After offering their salutations, Shane continued his address…

"I anticipate the next onslaught will involve multiple Vampire Lords. Be vigilant and prepared."

Amon's eyes widened, and he shared a look of apprehension with the other pilots…