The monster's claws never made contact.
In a fraction of a microsecond, Cassian's vacant, glowing eyes snapped to the threat. He didn't even flinch. He simply raised a single, bare hand and caught the zombie's massive, mutated wrist mid-air
The impact sounded like a thunderclap.
The creature roared, trying to overpower him, but Cassian's grip was an absolute vice. The golden lightning arcing across his hair suddenly surged, turning a blinding, violent white. A split second later, a massive, jagged bolt of pure electrical energy shot down Cassian's arm and poured directly into the zombie's chest.
The creature ballooned grotesquely before exploding. A shockwave of thunder shook the entire basement, shattering the remaining light fixtures and blowing a crater into the concrete floor.
Ryker, still slumped against the wall and hacking up blood, saw it coming a mile away. "Oh, you have got to be—"
He immediately clamped his unburned hand over his mouth and nose, tightly squeezing his eyes shut and tucking his head into his knees. It was useless
The explosion rained a torrential downpour of scorched zombie blood, liquefied organs, and charred chunks of flesh across the room. Ryker was instantly and thoroughly coated from head to toe.
The foul, metallic stench of the mutated spray soaked into his clothes and hair, dripping down his cheeks. He slowly opened his eyes, wiping a thick smear of blackish-red sludge away from his eyelids, his expression twisting into pure, unadulterated disgust.
But there was no time to complain about the hygiene hazard.
The sheer magnitude of Cassian's blast didn't just clear the room; the thunderous shockwave rattled the entire compound, echoing through the structure. Directly above them, the ceiling began to violently groan. The floorboards of the first floor creaked under an immense, sudden weight, followed by the terrifying sound of heavy, mutated claws tearing furiously through wood and plaster.
The noise had done exactly what Ryker had feared. The compound was breaching, but they weren't taking the stairs.
With a deafening explosion of splinters, dust, and concrete chunks, the ceiling tore open. A massive hole collapsed inward right in the center of the basement, and the monsters came raining down. Heavy, mutated bodies slammed onto the floor in a shower of debris. About seven of the massive, hyper-muscular zombies tumbled through the gap, snarling and snapping in a feral frenzy as they shook off the dust.
They rose to their feet, trapping them in the enclosed space. Their milky, dead eyes locked instantly onto the naked, glowing beacon of light standing by the basement entrance. The seven monsters let out a synchronized, guttural roar that rattled Ryker's already bruised ribs, preparing to tear the commander to pieces.
Ryker didn't even have time to brace himself. The moment the horde lunged, Cassian's vacant, pupil-less eyes flared with a blinding intensity.
Suddenly, a localized, catastrophic shockwave of pure white-gold lightning detonated outward from his body in a single, deafening pulse. The sheer kinetic and electrical force of the blast vaporized them in a fraction of a second.
The entire basement went white. A split second later, burned flesh rained from the ceiling like black snow, splattering the walls and floor in steaming sheets of viscera. Ryker sat frozen against the wall, his arms still half-raised to cover his face, plastered in a thick, smoking layer of mutated remnants.
He didn't move. He didn't breathe. He didn't say a single word.
The silence that followed was deafening, save for the sizzling sound of fried concrete. Ryker just stared blankly ahead, his mind short-circuiting. He was so utterly baffled, so profoundly shocked by the unhinged, godlike display of destruction from a man who had been crying just two minutes ago, that his brain flat-out refused to process it.
For a long, agonizing moment, Cassian remained perfectly still in the center of the crater. His chest heaved in shallow, ragged hitches. Thin lines of dark blood leaked from his ears and nose, and his arms smoked, angry red burns webbed across his skin. His heartbeat, visible through his strained chest, was barely detectable.
As if finally detecting no more threats in the vicinity, the unnatural tension in his muscles suddenly snapped.
The celestial glow evaporated instantly, leaving behind nothing but the dim, natural shadows of the ruined basement. The heat vanished from his skin, and Cassian's knees buckled. He collapsed forward, crashing heavily onto the scorched concrete floor, unconscious and dead to the world. He was just a regular man again, shivering slightly against the cold ground, stripped of all that terrifying, alien power and covered in filth.
Ryker sat frozen against the wall, the heavy silence of the room pressing in on him. The thick, foul biological detritus slowly dripped from his hair and down his nose, but he didn't even bother to wipe it away.
Ryker just looked at him. For the first time since they had met a few hours ago, he was entirely spellbound in awe. With this man by his side, Ryker felt he actually had a solid chance of surviving this godforsaken apocalypse.
He limped across the scorched concrete to where the man lay motionless. Crouching down, Ryker hoisted Cassian's dead weight over his uninjured shoulder. He actively forced his gaze upward, staring rigidly at the ceiling to ignore the nakedness of the man draped over him.
Stumbling slightly under the weight, Ryker navigated past the smoldering crater and began the slow, grueling climb up the debris-strewn basement stairs.
When he finally breached the doorway and stepped onto the first floor, he froze.
The pristine, high-end mansion they had entered just hours ago was unrecognizable. The elegant marble floors and white walls were now heavily coated in thick, dark crimson blood.
But then, a faint, rhythmic sound caught his attention.
Ryker's eyes narrowed as he scanned the grand foyer. Tucked into a dark corner beside a shattered grandfather clock, a man was crouched on the floor. He was clutching his knees tightly to his chest, rocking back and forth in a frantic, unceasing motion.
As Ryker walked closer, the dim light revealed a tattered military uniform. It was one of the elite soldiers... specifically, the one who was always stationed closest to Cassian. The man's rifle lay discarded three feet away in a pool of blood. His eyes were wide, staring blankly into the shadows, entirely unblinking and bloodshot. He was violently trembling, his lips moving in a silent, terrified whisper as he rocked.
Ryker didn't stop. He didn't offer a word of comfort, nor did he extend a hand. In his world, a soldier who had already let his mind break was as good as dead. Carrying the weight of an unconscious man while dealing with potentially cracked ribs and a blistered hand was already pushing his physical limits.
Ryker walked right past the rocking, traumatized soldier, the wet squelch of his boots against the bloody marble the only sound acknowledging his departure.
As he neared the exit, Ryker's gaze sharpened on the grand entrance. The heavy, reinforced double doors had been obliterated. The gaping doorway was structurally mangled, the frame warped and splintered outward.
Outside was worse. The pristine estate grounds had been transformed into a sprawling, open-air slaughterhouse.
Through the haze, Ryker could see the few miserable souls who had somehow survived the onslaught. They weren't fighting; they were broken. A few scattered figures were huddled in the shadows of overturned military trucks, likely having crawled there in a desperate bid to hide. Others were on their knees in the open dirt, wailing uncontrollably as they rocked over the mangled carcasses of their friends and families.