Apocalyptic Terror

Chapter 7

"Who's there?"

Ethan's voice was so sudden that it made all the thugs turn around at once.

Behind them stood Ethan, clutching his shoulder and walking with difficulty.

When they saw it was Ethan, the thugs were stunned for a moment before breaking into cold smiles.

"Well, well, look who it is. What's the matter, brat? Saw this b***h was about to die and came to join her?"

"Little rat, if you'd run away, we'd have had to put in some effort. But you came right to us. You really are an idiot."

As he spoke, the lead thug with a mohawk grinned cruelly. He let go of Rina and walked towards Ethan with his knife, eyes full of malice.

He'd seen too many people like Ethan before—these idiots who let their emotions get the better of them, who couldn't abandon their companions and always came back to die.

What he didn't notice was the flash of excitement in Rina's eyes when Ethan appeared.

At the same time, the middle-aged man who had been the most grief-stricken after having his arm cut off became even angrier.

Unlike Rina, who realized what Ethan's appearance meant, in his eyes, Ethan showing up like this was simply beyond saving. If he really wanted to rescue them, he shouldn't have come out like this.

He shouldn't have trusted Rina. He shouldn't have believed that someone could stand up to Lawrence.

'He can barely stand. He probably hasn't even gone to find Lawrence but has just been hiding until now and can't help but stand out,' the middle-aged man thought.

"i***t," he cursed out loud, his eyes full of venom.

But it was just as well. They were done for, but this fool who had gotten them all into trouble would join them. Maybe he'd even die more miserably.

Amid looks of sorrow, bitterness, and reluctance from everyone present, the mohawked thug reached Ethan.

He raised his knife contemptuously, pointing it at Ethan.

"Brat, if you beg me and tell me about the meteorite, I might consider letting you live a bit longer. Otherwise, I don't mind skinning you alive and making you watch while we have our fun with this b***h before we send you to hell. What's wrong? Too scared to speak?"

Remembering what Lawrence had said, the mohawked thug licked his lips as he approached.

Simply killing people was boring to him. What he loved most was making these fools watch helplessly as their companions were tortured to death. That look of despair and anguish on their faces was the most delightful thing.

However, contrary to the mohawked thug's expectations, Ethan, who he imagined would be trembling in fear, was now just calmly looking at him.

"Are you done talking? I've actually been wondering who I should keep alive for questioning. Now it seems..."

Bang!

The gun went off.

The approaching mohawked thug's face changed. He sensed danger.

In an instant, his head exploded like a watermelon. The bullet hit him right between the eyes, exiting through the back of his skull in a spray of blood.

Thump!

The body fell heavily to the ground. When they saw the gun in Ethan's hand, everyone present gaped in shock, while the remaining four thugs looked utterly terrified.

'A gun? Damn it. This brat has a gun!' they cursed inwardly.

"Run! Run!"

"No! Let's kill him!"

In their extreme panic, they felt chills down their spines. Especially the thug who reacted fastest. His legs went weak, and he turned to flee.

He recognized the gun in Ethan's hand. It was Lawrence's. No matter how much he didn't want to believe it, he realized their leader was probably already dead!

They were done for!

"Kill him! Kill him now! If we don't kill him, we're all dead!"

Seeing that three of the remaining four thugs were raising their weapons, trying desperately to fight, Ethan's expression remained unchanged. Like a cold-blooded hunter, he fired again.

Bang!

Another shot blew off one thug's head. Facing the next one who had rushed up close, Ethan unhesitatingly drew his knife.

At such close range, there was no need to waste bullets. Even in his weakened state, he could cut down these weaklings with one s***h.

Slice!

The knife entered flesh, accompanied by an extremely shrill scream. This s***h actually cut the charging thug in half at the waist.

Blood sprayed everywhere, with intestines spilling out onto the ground.

No one had ever seen such terrifying strength.

Seeing three men die in just a few seconds, the last charging thug could no longer contain his fear. He fell to the ground with a thud, weeping and begging for mercy.

"I surrender! Please don't kill me. I'm begging you. Please don't kill me."

'This man is a devil,' he thought. If he had another chance, he would have run away the moment he saw Ethan.

Meanwhile, amid the shocked gazes of everyone present, Rina was the first to react. She suddenly shouted, pointing at the thug who had tried to run away first.

"Catch him! He's trying to escape!"

Wild with joy at the sudden turn of events, Rina felt a thrill of hope.

Now wasn't the time to celebrate—she would have rushed over to hug Ethan and cry her eyes out.

At Rina's reminder, the stunned survivors finally sprang into action. Equally excited, they charged like madmen towards the last thug.

They had won. They had survived. Lawrence's men, who had once looked down on them like animals, were now fleeing like stray dogs.

"Catch him! Don't let him get away!"

"I surrender! I surrender!"

***

One minute later.

"Your name is Ethan Whitman, right? Thank you. Thank you for saving us."

"You're amazing. Those demons ate my wife. Sir, I... I don't know how to thank you for avenging me. My life is yours now."

"We survived. We really won!"

***

Ethan found himself surrounded by the crowd, listening to their wild cheers and cries, seeing looks of excitement and awe. After a brief hesitation, he raised his hand to interrupt their gratitude.

He understood what these poor people had endured. Their excitement was a release of the fear and sorrow that had been pent up inside them for so long. At this moment, in everyone’s eyes, he was a hero.

But for Ethan, he felt he had only done what needed to be done, and he had more pressing matters to address.

"I'm sorry I came a bit late," he said with a bitter smile, looking at Rina.

He noticed that quite a few survivors had sacrificed themselves to help distract the thugs.

If he had arrived just a moment later, Rina might not have held on.

"Ethan, don't apologize. What you've done is more than enough. You saved me. You saved all of us. I knew I wasn't wrong to trust you."

Rina shook her head. Her eyes were red as she looked at the gunshot wound on Ethan's shoulder.

In her heart, what Ethan had accomplished was already a miracle.

She couldn't fathom the danger Ethan had faced, or how he had managed to take down Lawrence.

"That's right, Mr. Whitman. You've done more than enough. If it weren't for you, we would have died sooner or later anyway."

No one blamed him. In this apocalyptic world, just being alive was a luxury.

Ethan nodded but didn't say anything more. He turned to look at the captured slave hunters who had been tied up.

He had left two of them alive to question them about the meteorite. If he remembered correctly, the reason Lawrence and his men were here was to search for the meteorite that had fallen not long ago.

Knowing how important those meteorite fragments were, he needed to acquire them to make himself stronger.

Ethan was well aware that, with his current strength, even if he recovered to his peak condition, he wouldn't be able to fight against the military and rescue Anna.

He could never forget the pain of having his heart cut open, the image of Wendy betraying him, and Anna's desperate cries.

He wanted revenge.

This time, he would take his fate into his own hands.

In this cruel post-apocalyptic world, power was everything.