But Ross didn’t care.
He had already expected this eventuality.
He knew it was only a matter of ti before soone discovered his stronghold, before the world began paying attention to the man who turned death into nothing more than an obstacle.
And that was fine. Let them co, let them see. Let them know where he was.
For now, though, the zombies were just the beginning.
The undead were a test, a distraction, a warm-up.
Ross had bigger plans—far grander, far more dangerous plans that no helicopter or reconnaissance team could ever hope to understand.
While the world fixated on the fortress and the mountain of corpses outside, Ross was already thinking five steps ahead, orchestrating a strategy that would change everything.
The bunker, the trucks, the endless machine gun fire—it was only the opening act.
***
"Ross!"
"Husband!"
"Daddy!"
"Are you okay?"
"Did a zombie bite you, Daddy?"
The mont Ross and his n stepped back into the bunker, they were sward by voices filled with relief, worry, and affection.
The entire base seed to co alive at once—children running forward, wives pushing through the crowd, and even a few elderly family mbers trying to catch a glimpse of him.
The sll of oil and gunpowder still clung to his armor, but the warmth in those cries made it all fade away.
Ross raised both hands, laughing heartily.
"Okay, okay—no rush! Everyone will get their turn! Hahaha! I’m fine, all right? As you can see—no zombie marks anywhere!"
The crowd burst into laughter and sighs of relief, though many still insisted on checking for themselves.
One of his wives tugged at his sleeve, scanning his arms. Another pressed her hands to his chest as if to make sure he was real.
A few of his children, too young to understand the full danger, clung to his legs, their small faces looking up at him in awe and happiness.
Ross chuckled as he knelt to their level.
"See? Daddy’s still the sa. No bites, no scratches, no problems."
He kissed each of his wives on the forehead, then scooped up his youngest daughter, spinning her once in the air.
Her laughter filled the room like sunlight piercing through storm clouds.
His other children gathered around, chattering and pulling at his coat, each one eager to tell him what they’d done while he was away—how they helped clean, how they practiced shooting, or how they prayed for his safe return.
When the noise settled, Ross took a deep breath, his expression softening before turning serious.
He stepped onto a nearby crate to elevate himself above the crowd.
The chatter gradually quieted as everyone turned their attention to him.
Even the soldiers who had fought beside him straightened their backs, their eyes sharp with cold attention.
Ross’s lips curled into a confident grin.
"I have good news," he said, his deep voice carrying through the bunker.
"The kind that will change everything for us."
He reached into the small pouch tied to his waist—a pouch that seed far too ordinary to hold anything important.
But when he pulled his hand back, everyone gasped.
A handful of stones rested in his palm—bloody crystalline, radiant, and pulsing faintly with an inner light.
The glow reflected in their wide eyes, casting soft hues of blue and violet across the steel walls.
"I have got them," Ross said, his tone swelling with pride and excitent.
"Our salvation out of this zombie-infested world!"
The crowd erupted in gasps and whispers.
So leaned forward instinctively, others covered their mouths in disbelief.
Even his wives, who had seen Ross perform impossible feats before, looked stunned.
"These..." Ross continued, holding the heart stones higher for all to see, "are heart stones. The very essence of life itself, ford when energy and will et at the edge of survival. With these, we can survive in this world and flourish."
A wave of emotion rippled through the crowd—hope, disbelief, awe.
So wept silently, others raised their fists, cheering through their tears.
The bunker erupted into thunderous applause, chants, and cheers that shook the air.
Ross looked around, letting the mont sink in.
The heart stones were not just tools—they were power, and power always ca with danger.
But for now, as his family celebrated and his people’s spirits rose higher than ever before, Ross allowed himself a rare mont of peace.
He smiled faintly, clutching the glowing stones in his palm.
The world may be broken, he thought, but it still belongs to .
Ross then looked at his family—and beyond them, to the dozens of n and won who had gathered in the bunker’s main hall.
The air was thick with anticipation, the faint hum of the heart stones still echoing in everyone’s minds.
Their soft glow illuminated Ross’s face as he stood at the center, his presence commanding yet calm.
"They say," Ross began, his deep voice steady and deliberate, "that whoever consus one of these stones will gain power beyond what any human could imagine."
A murmur rippled through the hall.
So faces lit up with awe and excitent, while others tightened with unease.
Even without saying it outright, everyone understood what Ross ant—these stones were not just treasures; they were a gamble, a key to sothing greater... or a door to disaster.
Ross raised his hand, showing the pouch filled with shimring heart stones.
"I have enough for everyone," he continued. "Each of you has the chance to claim this power. The question is—who among you wants to go first?"
The room fell into a tense silence.
The sound of breathing, the faint hum of machinery, and the soft pulsing of the stones were all that remained.
Eyes darted from Ross to the glowing gems and back again.
So of his wives exchanged uncertain glances, while his eldest son clenched his fists, his eyes burning with determination.
Ross smiled faintly. He could already tell how divided they were.
So were eager, almost trembling with anticipation, while others were visibly hesitant.
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