Capítulo 83: Runesmith (final)

The world around me had long since fallen into ruin. The days had passed in a blur, years bleeding into one another. Ten years—ten long, grueling years—I had spent preparing, training, and strengthening myself to the point where I stood at the pinnacle of my power. My armor, once pristine and untested, was now a battered and scarred shell. The crimson plate, which had once gleamed like the fires of a forge, was now marred by countless scratches and dents, the result of battles fought relentlessly against a tide of enemies I never expected. The once-beautiful helmet, its intricate runes carved into the polished surface, was dented, cracked, its edges chipped like the remnants of shattered glass. Yet even in its ruined state, it still protected me. And so did I, or at least, I thought I did.

The stubble on my chin was a constant reminder of how time had moved on without pause. I had always been a fastidious man—well-groomed, meticulous—but after years of solitude, I had lost track of such things. There were no more people to impress, no more faces to smile at. Just the relentless grind of survival. My reflection in the tarnished metal of my gauntlet seemed foreign, the hardness in my eyes far deeper than it ever had been before. I had surpassed the limits of my past self, my strength now leagues beyond what I once thought possible. I had built this power with blood, sweat, and tears. And yet, despite all my efforts, it was still not enough.

I had made preparations—more than anyone could have imagined. I had crafted runic equipment of unimaginable power, and I had even prepared a trump card, a last-ditch effort that would be my final weapon. One use, one chance, to turn the tide, to do something the world would remember. I had hoped, in my arrogance, that it would be enough.

But nothing could have prepared me for what came next.

The disaster was not an army, not an invasion, not some monstrous beast or hidden cult. No, this time the disaster was humanity itself. Or what humanity had become. Zombies. A pestilence, a disease that spread faster than any fire could burn, an infection that tore through the land like a plague. It wasn't just a few infected; the entire world was being turned into mindless husks, roaming the earth in search of their next victim. They were humans, once, but not anymore. Now, they were the living dead—cursed creatures who could only hunger for the flesh of the living.

And I thought I could stop it.

The stronger the human, the harder they fought off the infection, but no one was immune. The bites, the blood, the terror. It was inevitable. They resisted, they fought, but eventually, every last one of them succumbed. The infection spread like wildfire, turning the entire world into a wasteland of death. The air was thick with despair, the sound of desperate screams filling the once-vibrant cities, now decimated by the undead.

I had made it this far, using my strength, my cunning, and my skill. I had fought with all my might, cutting through waves of the undead. But this time, it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. Not when the stakes were this high.

***

By the time I understood the scope of it, there was only one city left. Just one. The last bastion of humanity. The last place where survival still clung to existence like a dying ember. I watched from a distance as the infected closed in, their numbers growing every day.

The few survivors who remained in that city... they were too few to fight back, too few to fend off the inevitable tide. That's when I decided.

I couldn't stop this. Not directly, at least. The infection was already too far gone, the undead already far too numerous. But I could at least offer them one last chance—one last hope.

I gathered them together, the remaining humans of that city, every last one who still had a heartbeat, a soul, a will to live. I sent them into the dungeon. The dungeon where the undead lich waited. The creature that had been behind the decay of so much of the world. The lich, though a monster, had a mind of its own—intelligence unlike the mindless undead that now roamed the earth. The lich, a being with knowledge of the old world, would understand the value of the cure. And if anyone could hold the cure until the time was right, it was the lich.

I placed my trust in them, the last survivors of humanity. I gave them my trump card, my one final act of defiance. A single-use weapon, powerful enough to wipe out all the Master-ranked zombies in one blow and severely injure aGrandmaster-ranked being, if the defenses were broken. I stored it safely in a spatial bag, the kind that would preserve it indefinitely. There was no expiration date. No time limit. It could wait for the day when it was needed.

I had only one condition: the lich was to safeguard it. Should I reincarnate—if I ever got another chance, after the blood had spilled and the ashes had settled—then the lich would be there, waiting with the weapon. It was a long shot, but it was the only shot left. I didn't expect to survive this.

The last city... they would be safe for now, hidden away in that dungeon. The lich would have the cure for the remaining humans, that could be mass-produced. The future would be in their hands.

But for me? My time had come.

I knew there was no escaping the fate that awaited me. The infection had already taken hold. My body was a battleground of twisted mutations, the greenish hue of zombification creeping into my vision. The poison of it was already spreading through my veins, corrupting my mind, my soul. The moment I had been bitten had sealed my fate. I was done for.

But I wasn't going to go down like this.

I stood tall, my battered crimson armor reflecting the dying light of the world around me. My once-pristine helmet was cracked and scarred from the countless battles I had fought, the uncountable hours spent trying to hold back the tide of death. Now, all that was left were four Master-ranked zombies, the last remnants of the humans who had fought so hard to survive.

These weren't the mindless creatures I had fought before. No, these zombies had retained something of their former selves—enough intelligence to make them dangerous. Enough knowledge to recognize me as their enemy.

But even they weren't enough to stop me.

I had failed. I knew it. I had tried my damned best, but in the end, I couldn't stop the infection, couldn't stop humanity from crumbling under the weight of its own mistakes. But if I was going to die, then I would take as many of them with me as I could.

Behind them, the skeletal remains of six other Master-ranked Zombies lay strewn across the ground, their bodies having been turned to ash by my own hand. Even in this dire situation, there was no time for satisfaction. They were nothing more than fuel to my rage, a testament to my efforts, but nothing else. I had fought for ten years to reach this point, and still, it wasn't enough. I had failed. All of humanity had failed.

My hands tightened around the hilt of my spear, the weapon that had served me through countless battles. The weapon that would be the last thing I used before I was overtaken by the same fate that had claimed so many others. I had no illusions of survival. There was no escape. No more time to fight.

I had made my peace.

And I would take as many of them down with me as I could.

I had one last option.

I could feel the green hue in my eyes intensify as the infection took hold. My body was weakening by the second, my limbs trembling, my vision blurring. I couldn't delay it any longer.

With one last breath, I activated explosive life energy, using my life affinity I poured all life essence, my life span into a singular explosion.

An overwhelming surge of power erupted from my body, blasting outward in every direction, like a tidal wave of destruction. The force of it sent shockwaves through the air, rattling the bones of the undead around me. The Master-ranked zombies, their monstrous forms thrown off balance, staggered back, their decaying bodies no match for the sheer force I unleashed.

The air around me crackled with energy as the weapon's power built to its peak, a violent explosion that tore through the earth, splitting the ground open beneath my feet. The sky seemed to darken, clouds swirling ominously overhead as the world itself seemed to tremble in response.

But even as the power surged, I knew this would be my end.

I could feel the energy pulling at me, draining me, as though my very life force was being siphoned into the explosion. My body burned with the strain. My vision blackened at the edges, the edges of my mind unraveling. This was it. There was no turning back.

The Master-ranked zombies, their once-intelligent eyes now wide with a mix of rage and fear, struggled against the force. But they were no match for the power of my final strike. In the span of a heartbeat, the explosion reached its apex, and I watched as the four zombies were consumed by the blast. Their bodies were torn apart, their flesh shredded, their bones turned to dust. The power of the explosion was so intense that the very air seemed to catch fire, and for a brief moment, everything around me was bathed in a blinding, hellish light.

And then… nothing.

The world went silent.

I collapsed to my knees, my vision fading as the last of my strength drained away. I could feel the weight of the infection in my body, spreading like wildfire, consuming my very soul. But I had done it. I had killed them. All of them.

The Master-ranked zombies, the last remnants of humanity, were gone. There would be no more. Their twisted minds, their hunger, their madness—gone.

But the cost had been too great. I had given everything. My life, my strength, my very essence. There was nothing left for me now. The darkness closed in, and I welcomed it.

As my mind slipped away, I thought of the last survivors, the ones I had sent into the dungeon with the cure. They would be the last hope. I had given them the weapon. I had given them the cure. If there was a chance for humanity to rise again, it would be in their hands.

But for me? There was nothing left. The infection had claimed me, just as it had claimed everything else. I had failed.

The final thought that passed through my mind was not one of regret, but of resolution.

I had fought. I had fallen. But at least, in the end, I had taken them down with me. Then as I took my last breath I saw an imaginary screen, the same as my previous life.

{True name: Chains of liberation}

{Na@#$: #$%^& &*@#}

it seemed he could see more, but it was all jumbled up.

And with that, everything faded to black.