World: [The Walking Dead]
Main Objective: Connect to the World Core and trigger the Descent of Honkai.
Honkai Awakening Time: 3 days
In the warden's office, Selene sat in a chair and pulled a pack of beer from her spatial storage, tossing one each to Merle and Daryl.
Neither man hesitated. Beer was a rare treasure in the apocalypse. They both thanked her, cracked the cans open, and took long gulps.
"Although the camp has been temporarily built, our supplies are still far from enough," Selene said, catching both men off guard. "Doesn't the boss have superpowers?"
Selene frowned slightly. "Do you think my resources are infinite? We have enough for this year—what about the future?"
"Get ready. I've marked nearby towns on the map. Go collect supplies—anything and everything you can find. The more, the better."
"How you do it is up to you. Contact me by radio if anything happens."
"Got it. We'll move out right away." Finishing his beer, Merle stood and began preparations.
...
Night fell. Merle and Daryl watched several military robots loading supplies onto a truck, their expressions a mix of amazement and satisfaction.
"This town's loaded. Got everything we need—hell, even a high school down the road," Merle said, pointing at the map with a grin. It was clear today's haul had been great.
Looking at the truck already packed to the brim, Daryl was equally pleased. He never thought he'd see the day when they had too many supplies to fit. "We'll come back tomorrow. It's full."
"Yeah, let's head back to camp..."
Bang!
Just then, a gunshot echoed from within the town, cutting their conversation short.
The two men exchanged glances. "Let's go!"
...
On the other side of town, in an open field outside the high school, Otis was half-carrying the limping Shane as they stumbled forward.
Behind them, a horde of zombies shambled in pursuit, mouths open, releasing foul groans that filled the air.
They had managed to retrieve the medicine and respirator needed to save Carl from the medical van, but on their way back, they ran straight into a swarm of walkers. Now, cornered and exhausted, they were being chased toward the outskirts.
"Damn it, Otis, how much farther to the car?" Shane panted heavily, sweat dripping down his forehead. After constant running, he was at his limit.
Under normal circumstances, they could have easily outrun the walkers. But when escaping from the school, Shane had jumped from a height and twisted his ankle.
If it were any other day, the injury wouldn't have mattered much—he was a cop, used to physical strain—but now, with his stamina drained, the fall had done real damage.
The walkers inside the school had already begun moving toward the noise of the gunshot. Shane's injured foot left him in an incredibly dangerous situation.
But he couldn't stop. He couldn't die. Carl was waiting for that medicine—his life depended on it.
"Not far! We need to move, those things are getting closer!" Otis urged, dragging Shane along. Their vehicle was just ahead—if they could reach it, they'd live.
But Shane's injury slowed them down. Even with Otis helping, their pace was no match for the pursuing horde.
The walkers were closing in fast. They fired back repeatedly, but their bullets were running low.
Shane turned his head, staring at the sea of rotting faces behind them. His expression twisted in despair. At this rate, they'd never make it. Then his gaze flicked to Otis—and froze.
He had to live. No matter what it took. Even if it meant doing something unforgivable.
He couldn't outrun them. But he could make someone else slower.
Otis didn't notice Shane's look. He was still focused on keeping them both moving, his face etched with guilt. After all, he was the one who had accidentally shot Carl—his conscience was already heavy with remorse. That was why he had volunteered to accompany Shane on this mission.
"I'm sorry," Shane muttered under his breath.
"What?" Otis didn't catch it.
Shane's eyes were filled with guilt—but stronger than guilt was his will to survive. He quietly raised his gun toward Otis's leg. Just as he was about to pull the trigger—
Bang!
A gunshot rang out. Shane froze, startled—it hadn't come from him.
His eyes widened. A truck came roaring toward them, screeching to a halt between them and the horde. Several robots jumped off the back, their rifles blazing as they unleashed a storm of bullets at the approaching walkers.
Gunfire roared in unison. Under the suppressive barrage, the horde that had been about to overtake them was mowed down like wheat before a scythe.
"Hahaha! Well, Officer Shane, you sure look like a mess right now."
A familiar mocking voice called out. Shane turned around in disbelief. "Mer... Merle? You?"
"What, not happy to see me? I can leave if you want," Merle said casually.
Shane looked at the robots and didn't have time to question it. A bitter smile tugged at his lips as tension drained from his face. At least he hadn't had to commit the sin he'd almost chosen. "No... I'm glad. You came just in time. Thanks, Merle."
Surviving in the apocalypse was important—but if one lost everything that made them human, then living would be no different from being one of the walking dead.
"Daryl, help Shane up. Let's move."
...
They quickly evacuated the school. Originally, Merle had planned to head straight back to the prison camp, but at Otis and Shane's request, they instead drove toward Hershel's farm.
"How'd you end up here? What about the CDC?" Merle asked from behind the wheel.
"Carl was shot. We came to find medicine. The CDC... it's gone," Shane replied grimly. At the mention of Carl, worry crossed his face. "Merle, step on it. Carl's waiting—we're his only hope."
Merle grunted but didn't argue. After spending time with Selene at the prison camp, he had changed—not by much, but enough. Seeing Shane's desperation, he simply pressed harder on the gas.
Daryl asked from the passenger seat, "And who's that?"
"Otis," the man answered heavily. "I... I'm sorry. I accidentally shot that kid."
Otis's face was full of guilt, his voice trembling. "I was aiming for a deer... I didn't see the boy... I didn't mean to—"
"Enough!" Shane cut him off sharply, then placed a hand on his shoulder. "Now's not the time for guilt. I know it wasn't on purpose."
Merle, still driving, glanced at them through the mirror. "Shane, what exactly happened?"
"It was an accident. Because of it, we went to Otis's family farm. Rick came with me, but I don't know if he made it there."
He paused for a moment before continuing, "You were right—the CDC's gone. It's nothing but rubble now. We've got nowhere to go... all we can do is keep searching for someplace safe."
As he spoke, Shane's gaze drifted toward the military robots sitting silently in the truck bed. "And Selene? What's with those machines? Did you guys find a shelter or something?"
"That's classified," Merle said flatly. "Out of old camaraderie, we'll get you back to the farm. After that, we've got to return and report."
The atmosphere in the vehicle grew heavy. Shane didn't press further, only muttering quietly, "We got separated. Sophia... she's missing."
"What about the others?"
Everything was playing out just like before. Carl's sudden injury had forced Shane and Rick to leave the group temporarily for the farm.
Merle frowned slightly. "We'll talk about it when we get there."
The farm wasn't far from the town. In less than an hour, they arrived.
Because of Merle's intervention, Otis survived—and Shane returned much earlier than he had in the original timeline.
At that moment, Rick was sitting on the porch steps, face haggard and full of self-blame. His bloodshot eyes stared at the ground, both hands gripping his head as he muttered to himself, "It's all my fault... chasing the CDC, getting us caught by walkers... if I hadn't gone, Carl wouldn't have been shot... we wouldn't be scattered... it's all my fault..."
The sound of an approaching engine snapped Rick out of his daze. He bolted to his feet and ran outside.
"I brought the medicine and equipment! Carl's gonna be fine! Hold on!" Shane shouted, rushing toward the house with a large bag in hand. Seeing the exhausted Rick, he clapped his shoulder. "He's gonna make it."
Whatever tangled mess existed between Rick, Shane, and Lori, one thing was undeniable—Shane's bond with Rick, and his care for Carl, were genuine.
The commotion drew attention from the people inside. Hershel, his white hair disheveled, came out of the house and took the heavy bag from Shane's arms.
He noticed Merle and Daryl—unfamiliar faces—but assumed they were part of Rick's group. There was no time for questions.
For now, only one thing mattered—saving Carl's life.