Pregnant During An Apocalypse [BL]-Chapter 190 - Hopeless

Shin Kailun sat like a statue, unmoving, even as the infected elephant continued its grotesque feast just meters away.

Every crunch—every snap of bone and sinew—was a dagger in his chest.

He forced himself to look.

He made himself remember every face, every voice, every laugh of the men who now lay in pieces across the cracked concrete.

He would not forget them.

He would carry them in his blood.

The golden hue of the setting sun poured through the broken trees and twisted metal, casting a warm glow over a nightmare. Shadows stretched long and slow as dusk settled.

It would be night soon.

That terrified him more than anything.

His eyes flicked to the two surviving soldiers beside him.

One had blood trickling down the side of his head, his lips dry, his mouth mumbling silent prayers to no god that would come. The other sat crumpled, staring ahead with a hollow gaze, like a child too shocked to cry. They looked like they had already given up.

And maybe they had.

Their rifles were gone—crushed with the rest of the convoy. Only the pistols strapped to their sides remained, each with maybe a few rounds. It was definitely not enough to kill that... thing.

They could not even make a scratch.

Kailun clenched his jaw.

He glanced at the creature again.

The elephant’s massive frame moved slowly now.

Its once unstoppable stride had a limp—its front legs trembling slightly with every step.

The tank had done some damage. Chunks of thick skin were blown open, exposing raw flesh and torn muscle. The left foreleg dragged slightly behind. Its red-bleeding eyes blinked sluggishly, as if struggling to stay open.

Finally, it turned its bulk toward the trees, dragging one half-devoured body behind with its tusk. The earth vibrated gently under its retreating steps, each one a reminder of how close they had come to death.

Kailun held his breath.

It was leaving.

Only when the sound of the heavy steps faded into the woods did he release the breath he’d been holding for what felt like hours.

The air smelled like copper and rot.

He lowered his head and whispered, "yunfeng was right... we never should have come through here... we should have taken a detour.." he closed his eyes in agony.

It was all too late.

If he had heeded the desperate warning his team would have survived.

Kailun’s hand went to his belt. He unclipped the heavy satellite phone, one of the few devices that could still function even after an EMP, its internal shielding and hardened casing protecting it from the pulse. It was cold in his palm.

Holding the satellite phone, his hands still trembling. The cool metal felt heavy. With fingers stiff from tension, he keyed in the emergency contact channel.

Static crackled for a moment before a voice answered on the other end.

"Father?" Shin Shinju’s voice came through, clear but tight. "We lost you for hours. What happened? Are you alright?"

Kailun didn’t answer immediately. His jaw clenched. He couldn’t bring himself to lie. Not to his son.

"I’m alive," he finally said, voice low. "But we lost them. All of them. Only three of us made it out."

Silence followed on the other end, then a quiet, "I’m so sorry..."

Kailun pushed the grief aside. He had no time for mourning.

"Listen to me, Shinju. I need a live feed of the city. All drone surveillance. I need to locate a group of children. Yunfeng last said that he was close to... Sector 12, near the collapsed metro tunnel."

He heard Shinju typing rapidly. "Got it. Ill send in the drones. But... where’s Jai? Wasn’t he with Yunfeng?"

Kailun’s hand tightened around the phone.

"They separated," he said gruffly. "They were all forced to scatter. I don’t know where the others are. Everyone’s lost in this damned city."

There was a pause. Then Shinju’s breath caught, sharp and trembling. "We’ll send a team right awa—"

"No." Kailun’s voice dropped into a firm, commanding growl. "Shinju, listen to me. Whatever happens—do not send reinforcements. Do not step into this city."

"What?! But Father—"

"I said no!" he barked, fierce and final. "This city... it’s cursed. It should be bombed off the map. Whatever came out of the labs or sewers or hell itself—it’s not something you can fight."

Kailun glanced back toward the forest where the elephant had vanished. The ground was still smeared with gore. His comrades’ torn limbs still clung to broken fences. His stomach turned, but he forced himself to look—forced himself to remember.

"Promise me," he said, quieter now, but no less firm. "This is your father’s order. You are not to enter this city. No matter what."

Shinju’s voice cracked on the other end. "Why? Why are you saying this—what did you see?"

Kailun looked at the ruin. His throat tightened. "Monsters... monsters, shinju... you won’t survive here. None of you will."

A heavy silence passed between them.

Then Kailun added, almost like a vow whispered to himself, "I’ll try my best to bring my grandson back. But if I don’t... then let this place burn."

He ended the call before Shinju could say another word.

His other hand gripped the pistol at his side. He checked the magazine—six rounds. Not nearly enough for another confrontation, but enough for a chance. Maybe.

"We should move," he whispered, voice hoarse but firm.

The two soldiers blinked, as if waking from a nightmare. The one with the head wound gave a slight nod. The other hesitated, then swallowed and stood on shaking legs.

Kailun led them from their hiding spot, every step cautious and slow. The dying light of day painted long streaks of blood across the ruined enclosure. The ground was slick and warm beneath their boots.

He paused once more and looked over the battlefield—the burning wreck of the tank, the torn bodies of his men, the trees torn apart by tusks and madness.

"Your deaths wont be in vain," he whispered.