The sky was red like burning ash. The ground trembled under the steps of the Zombie King. His body was a mountain of rotting flesh and bone. Each breath spilled black smoke.
Before the monster stood a man with a sword. His armor was broken. His face was pale and hollow. Yet his eyes still held light.
The people watched from the ruined walls far behind. None dared to speak.
The man took one slow step forward. The sword in his hand shook, but he raised it higher. The king roared and swung his massive arm.
The air split. Stone and dust flew. The man slid aside and struck. His blade cut deep, but not enough. Black blood hissed on the ground.
He gasped for breath. The crowd prayed, though no one believed anymore. The king raised his arm again.
The man smiled. He whispered something to himself. Then he ran straight into the monster's chest. Light burst from his sword. The world turned white.
When the light faded, the king was gone. Only the man's sword remained, standing upright in the ash. The people stared in silence. Somewhere, a child began to cry.
"What the fuck. You have all the plot armor, cheats, and strength, yet can't kill a stupid Zombie King."
Except him, of course. Judas Iscariot.
He was one of the smart ones who turned around and ran after the hero fell. Even if Judas had no attributes, he had a jet board.
So he had traversed a mile before others scrambled to escape.
However, he only succeeded that much before a huge shadow hovered above him.
"Don't look back," Judas prayed to himself, but a huge hand scooped him from the ground and…
Crunch.
The Zombie King spat after a bit, grimacing.
"Taste. Like. Shit."
*
* *
A young man was startled awake from his sleep. He had pale green eyes and long blonde hair. He looked around in a daze.
The room had a muddy smell. The roof was made of straw and dark wood, patched unevenly, with thin lines of light spilling through the gaps.
The walls were rough stone, cool and damp to the touch. A wooden table stood near the window, its surface cracked and stained by years of use.
He sat up slowly. His body ached as if he had been crushed beneath something heavy. The blanket covering him was coarse, smelling faintly of smoke and sweat.
A faint breeze slipped through the window and brushed his skin with the chill of early morning. He could hear the distant cluck of hens and the low groan of cattle outside.
On a shelf above the bed sat a small clay pot and a few wooden bowls. The floor was uneven, made of packed dirt.
He could taste dust in his mouth. His head throbbed. When he tried to stand, his knees trembled, and he caught himself on the table.
He looked down at his hands. They were younger but calloused. His heart began to race.
He stepped to the small mirror of polished metal resting on the table. The reflection showed a stranger's face staring back.
"Why are you in my reflection? No. I'm transmigrated?" Judas exclaimed. "Oh my god, I look like a supermodel." He flexed his hands as the chiseled muscles bulged forth.
The current him towered over six and a half feet, with defined muscles that outshone even the king of thunder, Thor.
Suddenly, memories started to appear in his mind. After some time, Judas groaned.
"A farmer of Querilla Village. No attributes. And this world is also facing an apocalypse. What kind of luck is this?" he cried internally.
He stumbled back and sank onto the bed again. Outside, someone was chopping wood. The rhythmic thud echoed softly through the walls.
For a long moment, he sat in silence until the door of his house was knocked on by someone.
The knocking came again, a little louder this time. Judas rubbed his eyes and dragged himself to the door.
When he opened it, an old man stood outside with a kind smile and a wooden cane in his hand. His hair was white, and his clothes were plain, the rough linen of a village worker.
"Ah, you're finally awake," the man said. "You must be the new farmer, Judas, right? The one who bought the southern field?"
Judas blinked. "I guess I am. Who are you?"
The man chuckled softly. "I'm Harven, the village head. You should come to the square, lad. The soldiers are here today, and they're giving away wives."
Judas froze. "What?"
Harven nodded as if this were a normal thing.
"The kingdom's orders. Every able man must have a wife before the new moon. It's a part of the Apocalypse Preparation Act. Come along now, before all the good ones are gone."
Judas stared blankly at him for a moment, his mind struggling to keep up. "Wives… as in, women?"
"Of course," Harven said, already turning down the dirt path. "The soldiers brought a few from the outer villages. Don't ask too many questions, boy. Just come."
Judas sighed and followed. His bare feet sank into the soft soil as they walked. Around them, the morning had come alive.
Smoke rose from chimneys, and the faint smell of bread drifted through the air. Chickens clucked and scattered as they passed.
While walking, Judas began to remember. In this world, no one could be forced to fight in the apocalypse.
That was the decree of the Apocalyptic Guild, the organization that ruled over every kingdom. No kings or lords could send men to die.
But there was a loophole. The soldiers didn't force anyone to fight. They simply gave them wives.
Once a man married, he was bound by duty to protect his family when the apocalypse came. A cruel kind of trick, Judas thought. Marriage as a weapon of war.
By the time they reached the square, a small crowd had gathered. Farmers and merchants stood in a loose circle.
A few children peeked from behind their mothers' skirts. In the middle, six women stood in a line, guarded by soldiers in dull steel armor.
The tallest soldier stepped forward and raised his voice.
"By order of the Apocalyptic Guild and the Royal Army, all unmarried men of this village can select a wife today."
Judas scratched his head, thinking. "You have to be kidding me. Who wants a wife and to be drafted to fight the apocalypse?"
Without waiting, he turned around to leave. That's when he heard a female voice directly inside his head.
"Humans are truly disgusting. Especially men. How dare they use women as a commodity?"
'Who… who's speaking in my mind?' He looked around warily.
"Is it my fault for being a halfling? No one will choose me, just like everyone in the last city. What will happen to me now? I'd rather choose to die than become a plaything for those soldiers."
This time, Judas followed the voice and locked eyes with the girl standing at the end of the line.
She had a thin frame, tearful eyes, and fluffy wolf ears that twitched as he looked at her. Even though her face was covered in dirt, it couldn't hide her beauty.
Judas was gobsmacked.
"He is looking at me! Will he choose me? If he did, I would devote my entire life to him."
Judas opened his mouth wide.
'I can hear their thoughts!'