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TWD: Zombie System
Breathing techniques in Naruto
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Attendance check
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When morning came, chaos erupted in camp. Jasper and Octavia were the first to notice Wells's severed fingers, and their horrified screams quickly drew everyone's attention.
Bellamy stepped forward, trying to calm Clarke.
"Clarke, listen to me," he said firmly, lowering his voice. "This doesn't change anything—we have to stay together."
But Clarke shook her head, her eyes burning with anger. "No, Bellamy. This changes everything."
The crowd gathered. When the truth spread, a boy's voice rang out, sharp and angry.
"Float him!" shouted Lucas, his finger pointing at Murphy.
Clarke turned on him immediately. "That's not what I meant!" she protested, but her words were drowned out by the mob.
Murphy's temper flared. He lunged toward Lucas, but Mark stuck out his foot, tripping Murphy to the ground. The crowd roared with laughter, and the chaos spun further out of control.
"String him up!" someone yelled.
Hands grabbed Murphy, dragging him toward the dropship as he thrashed. His voice was hoarse but desperate.
"I didn't kill him! Listen to me!" Murphy shouted, struggling as the noose was tightened around his neck.
The crowd cheered as Lucas rallied them.
"Bellamy! Bellamy! He should be the one to do it!" Lucas shouted, pumping his fist in the air.
Bellamy hesitated, his jaw tight, then kicked the crate out from under Murphy's feet. Murphy's body jerked violently as he dangled, choking.
From a distance, Finn sprinted into camp. "What the hell are you doing?!" he yelled. "Cut him down!"
Clarke stared at Bellamy in horror.
"How could you?!" she screamed.
Bellamy's expression hardened. "This is on you, Princess. You should've kept your mouth shut."
Nearby, Jones stood frozen, guilt gnawing at him. His hands shook until finally he broke, his voice cracking as he shouted,
"STOP! Murphy didn't kill Wells… I did!"
The camp fell silent. Clarke's eyes widened, and she immediately cut the rope. Murphy collapsed to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. Finn rushed forward, ripping the noose from his neck.
Everyone stared at Jones, the weight of his confession settling like ash over the camp.
Meanwhile, on the Ark…
Oxygen deprivation had begun spreading through the stations.
Back at Aiden's camp…
His people trained relentlessly, sparring in the dirt and sharpening their weapons. Even the youngest, Charlotte, had learned to defend herself. Aiden had brought both Charlotte and Connor with him, but some things never changed—Wells was still dead, and chaos had still erupted among the other camp.
It's time," I shouted, my voice cutting through the morning chill. "Everyone is ready. We've already hunted enough meat this morning, so now… it's time to hunt Grounders. Are you ready?"
Troy and Connor immediately stepped forward, nodding sharply. "Yes!" they said in unison, their confidence unwavering.
The rest of the group shifted nervously, glancing at each other. I could see the fear in their eyes, but also the determination. I raised my hand. "It's alright. You have me. Trust your skills, most of you might struggle when facing them together… except for me. I can take them down immediately if it comes to that. Troy and Connor can hold their ground for a few minutes if needed. The rest… stay sharp and follow my lead."
A few tense seconds passed, the group hanging on my words. Then I raised my chin, letting my confidence show. "Now then—let's go!"
We moved quietly through the forest, me at the front, keeping my eyes sharp and ears open for anything unusual. Fox and Monroe followed right behind me, while I placed Connor in the middle of the formation and Troy at the rear. I arranged them this way on purpose—each position mattered in case we ran into trouble.
Just then, a sudden movement caught my attention. I immediately signaled everyone to get down low.
"What is it?" Monroe whispered beside me.
"Shh," I muttered, keeping my eyes locked ahead. She gave a small nod, while Fox's nervous breathing told me she was more scared than anyone else.
Through the trees, a silhouette emerged. My stomach dropped when I finally made out the shape. Wait… is that a bear?
But no—this wasn't a normal bear. Its body was twisted, its fur patchy, its limbs grotesquely bulked as if stretched by something unnatural. Radiation had warped it into a monster. The sight alone was enough to make my skin crawl.
Disgusting… and dangerous, I thought grimly.
If I hadn't noticed it earlier, we would've walked right into it—and with no guns at our disposal, that would've been the end of us. In the original show, mutated animals were barely mentioned. But here and now, I realized I would have to face them… and avoid them whenever possible.
let out a quiet sigh as the bear finally lumbered away, seemingly just searching for food. Luckily, it didn't notice us—otherwise, we would've been torn apart. Still, I didn't signal the group to move forward right away. Something felt off.
Sure enough, moments after the bear disappeared into the trees, two figures emerged from the brush. My eyes narrowed. Grounders.
They looked like they'd been hiding too, waiting for the beast to pass. Bad luck for them—they just ran into us.
I gripped my spear tightly, shifting my stance as adrenaline rushed through me. Both were men, armed with swords. Perfect. I raised my hand, signaling the others to prepare for close combat.
With a sharp breath, I hurled my spear with all my strength. The weapon flew straight and fast, striking my target square in the head. He crumpled instantly, collapsing to the forest floor.
The second Grounder froze for a heartbeat, wide-eyed in shock, then quickly raised his weapon. A sword. My lips curled into a grin as a spark of excitement shot through me.
Monroe quickly handed me another spear, the rough wood solid and familiar in my grip. Around us, the others spread out, eyes sharp, scanning every shadow for more grounders. I fixed my gaze on the one who remained. He was tense, blade raised.
With a burst of speed, I bolted forward, spear leveled like a lance. The grounder swung his sword wildly, the steel cutting through empty air. I ducked low, feeling the rush of wind as the blade missed my head by inches.
Using the momentum, I twisted my body and rammed the spear toward his midsection. He snarled, managing to bat the shaft aside with the edge of his sword, but the deflection only threw him off balance. I pressed in, relentless, jabbing and feinting until I saw the opening I wanted.
With a sudden pivot, I drove the spear upward. The tip pierced through his chest with a sickening crunch, lifting him off his feet for a moment before I ripped it free. He staggered back, coughing blood, eyes wide with disbelief. I didn't give him the chance to recover.
Closing in, I swung the spear like a staff, slamming the butt of it across his jaw. He crumpled, dazed and broken, and with one final thrust, I buried the blade deep into his throat. His body went still.
Breathing steady, I pulled the weapon free, the blood dripping down the wooden shaft. My eyes lingered on his fallen sword gleaming in the dirt. A small grin tugged at my lips—finally, a blade of my own.
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