"On my count, we leave." Henrik whispered once Claudette started moving. The zombie army, including them, followed. They weaved through the streets under Elliot's direction.
The parade turned down a main thoroughfare, past shops and businesses that actually appeared to be operating. Everyone they passed moved with the same nervous energy Rhett had noticed at the gates. People would glance at the zombie parade, then quickly look away and hurry along—clearly already warned about the bowing incident. Children were pulled inside by parents who slammed doors and shuttered windows.
Some even bowed down to the Zombie Queen without it being necessary, which prompted a satisfying grin from Claudette.
And everywhere, on nearly every corner, stood more guards.
The same way Daimon and Natos had been positioned at the mouth of the tunnel the duo had emerged from, around 1-3 guards were positioned at every corner. Some with dangerous weapons, others with clearly powerful quirks obvious just by the way they carried themselves.
The arena district wasn't just contained by the outer walls—it was controlled from within. Every street corner had at least one guard, and Rhett noticed that most of the civilians they passed looked malnourished, desperate.
They had two options. Act like a zombie and follow the parade into wherever Grand had prepared for the Zombie Queen.
Their safety was guaranteed mostly. About a hundred obedient soldiers everywhere they went. If they kept on the act, they would be protected alongside them.
But how long could they keep up the act? What if they needed to eat? Sleep? Use the bathroom? No food would be given to them since zombies don't require that.
Rhett was already starving since his regeneration had used his energy and brought him back on an empty stomach. If he stayed with the zombies, he might face his eternal starvation death he dreaded to even think about.
They had no idea how long they would need to pretend, and the longer they stayed, the more likely they would slip up.
They needed to leave.
But leaving was equally challenging. If Claudette found out, certain death was inevitable, as demonstrated through her reckless massacre against innocent civilians for not bowing down.
Not to mention the guards. If they were even half as challenging as Natos and Daimon, they would be in serious trouble. Others would be alerted, leading to their capture.
Then they'd be dragged into the arena—the one people only mentioned in hushed, fearful tones.
Regardless, their defeat was guaranteed if they went along with the act. The realization that they weren't zombies would be revealed given enough time. Success was practically zero.
Besides, he didn't want to deal with Claudette's pompous madness.
If they tried escaping, despite the odds, they could make it if they were careful and smart.
Still, Rhett couldn't help but be frustrated. Every step he took, it almost felt like he was taken five back. Why was he always moving farther away from his goal? From Lucille?
"3." Henrik muttered calmly, snapping Rhett out of his thought process.
'Right, the count.' He thought as they progressed deeper inside the city. The streets here were tighter, closer to the alleys, providing them with a golden opportunity to escape they couldn't afford to miss.
"2." Henrik said next as the road narrowed so close that they could brush shoulders with the regular prisoners in the domain, even though they shirked away from them.
Even if they didn't know they were zombies, they still didn't want to come in contact with part of the Zombie Queen's army.
"1." Henrik breathed, the tension in the air as high as a taut wire. Rhett's legs were ready to run out of here, but he knew he should be calm if he wanted to escape. He needed to act natural and slip through. Claudette had about a hundred soldiers under her rule, and she seemed too self-centered to care about two 'shoe cleaners.'
Ahead in Rhett's field of vision, after the street cleared out, he saw it—what could have been nothing else but the Arena.
It was nothing more than a washed-up football stadium, and he couldn't see what was going on inside, but when he looked at it, he simply felt a chill run down his spine. The bottom of his mouth felt dry and goosebumps appeared on his skin.
He could simply feel the death. When he saw the people living here, he could feel their fear and suffering. But when he looked at the arena, it was almost like the souls of people trapped there were screaming out in eternal horror.
And that was where Claudette was heading. Even more reason to leave.
But what was the point of all this? The scattered thoughts clawed at him as they walked. He still didn't know what the point of this entire war was. He heard of a villain uprising at the outskirts years ago, and the war gradually became full-blown over the last two years.
From what he'd seen and heard, the villains didn't have any structure. They only destroyed things, killed people, wreaking chaos—just what you'd expect from your textbook bad guy.
But now? They were arranging hundreds of armies, building arenas where people fought to the death. A sort of sustained civilization had been erected over the past week.
Why? If the villains were uncoordinated, they wouldn't have made it this far against the heroes.
In Rhett's mind's eye, he pictured King—that name that passed through whispers, a legend Rhett almost thought was just made-up propaganda, until Henrik told him his experience of being forced and given a quirk to become a human weapon.
He didn't know what King looked like, so he could only imagine him as a silhouette of a dark figure looming over everything. This King figure was the one orchestrating everything, pulling the strings of the Zombie Queen. Of Grand. And of every other villain out there.
But why? What was the purpose—
"Now." Henrik said urgently, snapping Rhett out of his spiraling thoughts.
They slipped away from the main group, Henrik already walking deftly into an empty alley.
The moment they were out of sight of the main parade, both boys dropped their zombie act and broke into a run, ducking down a side street lined with residential buildings.
Rhett looked over his shoulder. No guards, no zombies, no Claudette. They were out of the woods. For now.
Behind them, Rhett could hear the rhythmic marching of zombie feet growing fainter. They'd managed to escape the parade, but they were still trapped within the arena district's walls.
Even if they managed to escape and no one was on their tail, they still couldn't afford to be seen. If the guards who seemed to be watching this place 24/7 saw them and didn't recognize them, they would undoubtedly ask for tribute. And if they didn't have it, they would be forced into the arena.
They ducked through alleyways and side streets, trying to stay out of sight of the patrolling guards. The residential area was a maze of crumbling apartment buildings and boarded-up houses, but signs of life were everywhere. Laundry hanging from windows. Gardens growing in tiny courtyards. The smell of cooking food.
Even in this wasteland, life had found ways to survive, if not thrive.
Voices drifted from a nearby building. Through broken windows, Rhett couldn't help overhearing several people speaking in hushed tones.
"—tribute's due tomorrow, and I still don't have enough—"
"—heard Marcus got dragged to the arena last week for being short—"
"—Grand's guards don't care if you're sick, old, or injured. No tribute means you fight—"
"What if we just left?" a younger voice asked. "Tried to get over the walls?"
Harsh laughter answered him. "Kid, nobody leaves the arena district. Those walls aren't just to keep enemies out—they're to keep us in. Grand owns this place, and everyone in it."
The pieces were starting to come together. This wasn't just a fortified city—it was a massive extortion racket. Pay tribute to Grand, or fight in his arena until you could pay. And if you died fighting...
Well, judging by the Zombie Queen's army, death wasn't necessarily the end of your service.
"Do you even know where we're going?" Rhett asked as they scaled a small wall of a building, narrowly missing the gazes of two guards playing cards.
"Do you?" Henrik shot back—but there was no bite, none of the usual frustration that came when Rhett pushed his buttons. His tone sounded almost emotionless. "I'm just using logic. If the arena is what we're hearing about, people fighting to the death, some of these houses have to be unoccupied. We just need to find the right one. Quickly, before we get caught."
Rhett nodded, but something about Henrik's flat delivery unsettled him. It was a half-assed plan, but it was all they had. Above them, the sun was lazily crawling into the other half of the sky, signaling the coming of evening. Maybe the night would help them traverse better.
After they had crept through the residential maze, avoiding main streets and keeping to the shadows, they came to a building that looked promising. Most of the buildings showed signs of occupation, but many had obviously been abandoned when their owners were either killed or conscripted into arena fights.
With the residential areas being nothing more than tightly packed apartment complexes, there weren't many options other than to pick one of the rooms and hope for the best.
They crept around to the back of the house. The rear window was partially broken, just large enough for them to squeeze through if they were careful.
Henrik went first, carefully clearing away the remaining glass shards before pulling himself through. His movements were methodical, precise—but lacking the urgency Rhett expected. Like he was going through motions rather than fighting for survival.
Rhett followed, wincing as a sharp edge caught his makeshift robe.
"And what if we run into someone?" Rhett asked as his feet touched the ground. "What do we do then?"
At the exact moment he said that, a voice rang through the room they had thought was empty just a moment ago.
"Who are you guys?" A small, timid voice called out. Rhett felt goosebumps rise on his skin as he could feel eyes settle on him. "And why do you feel like... death?"
A flash of white—
Those were the last coherent thoughts Rhett had before his being was flooded with pain and agony.