Novel Full Chapter 1125 Moonlight
Chapter 1125: Chapter 1125 Moonlight
The group finally reached a massive, once-bustling supermarket that occupied nearly an entire city block.
Its towering sign was cracked, flickering weakly, but the structure itself still stood firm like a stubborn monument refusing to fall to the apocalypse.
This place had become the base of Giana and the rest of her group—a decision made not out of luxury, but pure practicality.
Food was abundant, storage rooms were packed, and the building’s thick concrete walls made it far safer than most shelters scattered around Parkland City.
As Ross and the others approached, they could see the subtle signs of human effort layered over the ruins.
Shopping carts were welded together into makeshift barricades.
Steel shelves had been dragged to block entrances. Wooden planks had been hammered across broken windows to prevent crawlers from slithering inside.
A faint trail of smoke drifted from a burn pit where zombies had been thrown and cremated, leaving behind that sharp, unmistakable scent of scorched undead flesh.
Inside, the atmosphere felt strangely calm compared to the dying city outside.
Lanterns hung from hooks. Several survivors were patrolling with spears and sharpened metal pipes.
The air carried the warmth of cooked food and the distant chatter of people—something rare and almost nostalgic in a world where silence usually meant danger.
The chaos consuming Parkland City hadn’t lessened at all.
If anything, it had grown worse the farther they walked.
Abandoned cars lined the roads like gravestones. Blood trails marked the sidewalks.
Somewhere in the distance, a lone gunshot echoed, followed by the shrill, haunting cry of a zombie pack.
The military still hadn’t reclaimed the city; that much was obvious.
It wasn’t because they didn’t want to—it was because they couldn’t.
Soldiers had been dying in droves ever since the outbreak.
The ones who survived were exhausted, stretched thin, and constantly forced to choose between duty and the desperate need to check on their own families.
Many who attempted to reach their homes never returned.
Their routes had turned into slaughterfields, littered with smashed vehicles and torn uniforms.
Parkland City had become a maze of death where every wrong turn could end in a scream.
Yet despite everything, humanity hadn’t collapsed.
A sliver of hope remained, small but blazing stubbornly.
The discovery of the heart stones had changed the tide, even if only slightly.
People awakened strange powers—some strong, some weak, but every ability counted.
These stones gave humanity an edge against the monsters, a way to fight back instead of just running and hiding.
Little by little, safe zones grew. Survivors were found and rescued.
Certain districts were slowly cleared out and reclaimed from the undead.
It wasn’t a grand victory, not yet, but it was progress.
A step forward in a world that had almost forgotten what progress felt like.
That was why places like this supermarket mattered.
They weren’t just shelters; they were reminders that people could still work together, adapt, fight, and survive.
As Ross looked around, seeing the determined faces of the survivors and the fortified walls they had built with their own hands, he understood something clearly:
This wasn’t just a base.
It was proof that humanity refused to be erased.
"Let’s go." Ross stopped the vehicle with a sharp tap of the brakes and stepped out, the door swinging open with a heavy thud.
His boots hit the cracked asphalt, and the air around him seemed to shift—dense, oppressive, full of a quiet pressure that made even Giana and the others shiver.
The rest hurried after him, forming a loose line behind his tall figure.
They barely got the chance to adjust to the new surroundings before the undead began shambling toward them.
What happened next was the same terrifying pattern from earlier.
Every zombie that got within ten meters of Ross froze mid-step... and then collapsed.
Bodies imploded, skulls flattened, rib cages caved in as though an invisible hammer descended from the sky.
The creatures were crushed so completely that their corpses resembled broken pies splattered across the pavement.
Blood fanned out like dark petals around them.
It was effortless.
It was casual.
And it was terrifying.
Ross didn’t even look at them.
He simply continued forward, walking straight toward the supermarket’s main entrance—a pair of thick metal sliding doors that had been barricaded from the inside.
Heavy beams, chains, and welded plates reinforced it. It was supposed to withstand a horde.
It did not withstand Ross.
The moment he approached, the metal groaned loudly, shaking violently before both doors bent inward as if struck by a giant’s fist.
With a deafening bang, they flew open, the reinforced locks snapping like they were nothing more than old twigs.
Inside, five armed guards jumped up in shock.
"What the—?!"
"Who are you?!"
"Wait—stop—what do y—"
They didn’t even get to finish their words.
The moment they raised their guns, something invisible and brutal slammed them downward.
Five bodies hit the ground with sickening cracks.
Their limbs twisted at impossible angles, bones tore through skin, and blood pooled instantly beneath their broken frames.
Not a single one survived.
"Ross!"
Giana, Ace, Joy, and the rest stiffened, their faces pale as sheets.
Their hearts hammered painfully in their chests.
They had expected resistance from the supermarket’s defenders, but they never imagined Ross would eliminate them in the blink of an eye.
Zombies were one thing—mindless monsters.
Humans were another.
Seeing Ross kill people with the same casual cruelty sent chills down their spines.
It wasn’t just strength.
It wasn’t just power.
It was something darker... colder... primal.
"Don’t pity them." Ross didn’t even spare the corpses a glance. His voice was low, steady, laced with a cold anger that felt deeper than rage. "They’re animals wearing human skin."
He stepped forward, his boots splashing in their pooled blood, and paused only for a moment.
His eyes narrowed, as if peering into the memories of the dead.
He could see.
He didn’t need proof.
Their crimes clung to them like a foul stench.