Read Novel Full Chapter 1167 Aviation
Chapter 1167: Chapter 1167 Aviation
"Yes, Father!" Alistair responded, straightening his back.
The younger siblings bounced with impatience, trying to hide their nerves behind excitement.
Adrenaline mixed with curiosity, creating an energy that buzzed through the group.
They had grown strong under Ross’s guidance, but this would be their first real test—an exposure to the outside world beyond walls, gates, and the bunker.
Brandon approached, giving each child a reassuring nod.
"We’ll be fine," he said calmly. "Just stay alert, stay together, and trust your instincts."
Alistair grinned, his confidence renewed. "We’ve waited for this for a long time. We can handle it."
Ross studied them for a long moment.
He could see the eagerness in their eyes, the spark of courage, and the sense of responsibility beginning to settle in.
For a father, for a leader, that pride was both satisfying and nerve-wracking.
Out there, things could go wrong in an instant—but he had no doubt that his children were ready to take the first step.
More than that, Brandon was there with them also.
Finally, he stepped back.
"Then go. And remember—your adventure is only as safe as your discipline allows it to be."
With that, the group set off, a mixture of children, mothers, and Brandon moving together into the uncertain world outside the bunker.
The ruined streets of the city stretched ahead of them, a mix of danger and opportunity, shadows and sunlight.
For the first time, the children saw the world beyond their safe boundaries—and with it came the thrill of independence, the weight of responsibility, and the first taste of real adventure.
As they disappeared into the horizon, Ross remained behind, watching with a calm but watchful eye.
He knew that whatever happened out there would shape them—not just as survivors, but as leaders, protectors, and eventually, as his successors in a world that demanded strength, courage, and cunning.
***
"Ahhhhh—!"
The zombies surged forward in a shambling, relentless mass, their guttural cries echoing through the streets like a chorus of the damned.
Rotting limbs flailed, teeth gnashing, and eyes clouded with hunger.
They collided with each other in their frenzy, stumbling over fallen comrades yet never losing momentum.
Alistair and his siblings sprang into action.
Some of them wielded elemental powers, hurling blasts of fire and shards of ice that tore through the closest zombies.
Others drew firearms, spraying bullets into the advancing horde.
The loud reports of gunfire and the sizzling impact of energy attacks lit up the dark, ruined streets, illuminating rotting faces and shattered buildings in flashes of chaos.
Despite their efforts, the commotion only worsened the situation.
From every ruined alleyway and broken doorway, more zombies stirred.
Drawn by the noise and the smell of battle, they shuffled toward the group in increasing numbers.
"More are coming!" one of the children yelled, fear ringing in their voice.
"We’re going to get overrun!" another shouted.
"What are we going to do?!"
Panic spread like wildfire.
Although Ross’s children possessed supernatural abilities, their powers were limited.
Ross had granted them only a single Heart Stone each, enough to awaken their skills but not enough for prolonged combat.
Growth and greater strength demanded more consumption of the precious stones, a luxury Ross had not provided because, until now, there had been no real threat.
Their eyes flicked to Brandon, silently begging him to intervene.
But he stood unmoving, his expression calm and unreadable, like a statue observing the chaos around him.
Then, a sound cut through the panic—a high-pitched sound that seemed to slice the air itself.
"Whooosh!"
An invisible, razor-thin string arced gracefully around the group. It moved faster than the eye could follow, a deadly dance of precision and intent.
The first zombies that crossed its path were sliced cleanly from head to toe, their severed bodies collapsing in a gruesome display.
Gasping in shock, some of the children stumbled backward, while others stared wide-eyed, frozen in awe.
"Mom!" Anya’s cry rang out above the chaos, a mixture of relief and amazement.
She had never seen her mother fight, never imagined the raw power she could wield.
Her fear melted instantly into astonishment and pride.
Mari stepped forward, her movements calm and deliberate, exuding an aura of controlled power that made even the eldest of Ross’ children feel the weight of her presence.
"I’m here, Anya," she said softly, a reassuring smile gracing her lips despite the carnage around them.
Her combat uniform clung to her form, practical yet impossibly flattering, emphasizing the strength and elegance of her body.
It did little to hide her figure, but there was no time for distractions—the power she radiated was palpable, a force that demanded respect and awe.
With a flick of her wrist, more invisible strings slashed through the air.
Zombies that had begun to regroup were shredded mid-step, their decayed bodies falling like broken dolls.
The crowd of undead fell into chaos, unable to comprehend the precision or speed of her attacks.
Alistair and his siblings continued to fight, their own powers amplified by the morale boost Mari’s intervention provided.
Bullets and elemental blasts flew in tandem with her strikes, the battlefield becoming a symphony of destruction orchestrated by both mother and children.
Even Brandon finally allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch in a faint smirk, acknowledging the overwhelming force now at their side.
The tide of battle, which had seemed hopeless moments ago, now tilted decisively.
Mari’s calm determination was a beacon amidst the chaos.
Every movement, every strike, conveyed her mastery.
The children watched, awestruck, as she carved a safe path through the horde, their own courage renewed simply by witnessing her power.
The zombies’ numbers were still daunting, but with Mari at the forefront, the group began to feel something they hadn’t in what felt like forever: hope.
Little by little, they pushed forward toward the city, each step earned through sweat, blood, and sheer will.
The streets were a nightmare of carnage.
The stench of rot and death was almost unbearable, clinging to their clothes and seeping into their lungs, making every breath a struggle.
Some of Ross’s children began to falter, their stomachs rebelling against the nauseating odor, and they vomited onto the cobblestones, weak and shaken.
Yet the smell was only part of the horror.
Around them, zombies were being ripped apart with brutal efficiency, their grotesque limbs flying through the air as the children’s mothers moved through the battlefield like unstoppable forces of nature.
Each strike, each motion, left no doubt that these monsters had once been human.
Faces twisted in agony, frozen expressions of despair—these were not mindless husks; they had lives, families, and stories that were now obliterated in an instant.
The children’s eyes widened as they noticed that the victims weren’t limited to adults.
Even little ones—children barely old enough to walk—had succumbed to the virus or curse that had turned them into zombies.
Their small, decayed forms were shredded as easily as the adults, leaving nothing but mangled limbs and scattered bones.
The sheer precision and overwhelming power of their mothers’ attacks were terrifying, awe-inspiring, and unforgettable all at once.
For many of them, this was the first time they had truly seen their mothers fight.
They had never seen them fight at all, never had any glimpse or hints whatsoever, but nothing had prepared them for the scale, the speed, or the mercilessness of what they were witnessing.
Their mothers moved with a fluid grace that belied the carnage they wrought, invisible weapons slicing through undead bodies in seconds and other myriad abilities, leaving destruction in their wake.
Even in the chaos, the children’s voices couldn’t be contained.
Shock, awe, and disbelief mingled in hurried whispers.
"I can’t believe our moms are this powerful!" Anya gasped, her voice trembling as she looked at Mari cutting through zombies as if they were nothing more than paper dolls.
"Me too," another sibling added, shaking their head. "I don’t even understand how they reached this level. We all got our Heart Stones at the same time, and yet—look at them!"
"Maybe Father favors our moms more," a third suggested quietly. "Maybe he gave them more Heart Stones, or more resources. We only got one each."
They didn’t realize the truth.
Ross’s essence had amplified their mothers’ bodies in a way that far exceeded what he had passed on to them as children.
His power had layered over theirs, magnifying their abilities exponentially.
When that essence passed to his children, the effect was far weaker in scale.
Though Ross’s children were immortal and strong, their powers were only a mere fraction of the devastating capabilities their mothers now wielded.
The young men and women watched, wide-eyed, as the undead fell in piles around them.
Some of them stumbled back in horror as body parts flew past, narrowly missing them, while others couldn’t help but stare, paralyzed with a mix of fear and fascination.
They had never imagined how ugly the outside world has become.
The reality of death—once abstract, almost distant—was now inescapable, brutal, and visceral.