{Predia}
A fertile and beautiful world. Though it had only one continent, that land covered nearly seventy-four percent of the planet. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say the world had only one great "lake," a vast inland sea.
"Worst time to be alive," Dave muttered as he cranked his harvester to maximum power.
He swung it forward, clearing the waist-high weeds in front of him, then shouted toward the manor behind him, "Steve, throw the seeds down."
As soon as he spoke, a figure rushed out.
"Coming, Master."
Steve, both the gardener and butler, quickly untied the cloth bag at his waist and grabbed a handful of seeds. "Grow well, my little darlings."
He scattered them across the soil.
The seeds glowed faintly, and within moments they took root. In less than a minute, they sprouted and surged upward, stopping only when they reached about one and a half meters tall.
Pea Shooters.
No matter how many times Steve saw them, they still felt unnatural. They needed no water, no fertilizer, yet they grew instantly. And they were not ordinary plants. These were mutated lifeforms.
Each had a strange, oval mouth, capable of firing peas with the force of bullets.
In this new age, they were invaluable.
If not for the fact that they could not move once rooted, they might have become the perfect weapon for expansion. Even so, as defensive tools, they were more than enough.
"We need the defenses ready before the zombies gather," Dave said.
Behind him, the mobile manor rumbled. From both sides, rows of spider-like steel claws extended outward, digging deep into the earth like roots. Steel panels unfolded layer by layer, forming a six-story fortress that covered nearly nine hundred square meters.
Looking at it, Dave felt a measure of safety.
This machine was his foundation in the apocalypse.
It had been a year since everything fell apart.
Across the Federation, chaos had spread. Cities collapsed one after another as countless zombies overwhelmed the military.
It should not have happened.
With their technology, the Federation should have crushed such a disaster easily. Tanks were not even necessary. Ordinary weapons should have been enough.
But at the beginning, there were no zombies.
There was only sickness.
People suffered headaches, fevers, then convulsions and comas. Soldiers were no exception. No matter their strength, they fell just the same.
By the time symptoms appeared, it was already too late.
Scientists eventually discovered the cause, a strange substance present in every infected body. It had already spread across the entire world, lingering in the air, the water, even the soil.
No filter could stop it.
Survival depended on one thing alone, willpower. Those who survived the coma would awaken stronger, faster, better. Those who failed became monsters.
Dave was one of the lucky few.
Perhaps fate favored men like him.
With his resources, he survived and built this massive steel manor. When riots consumed the cities, he fled, taking his servants and subordinates into the wilderness.
"Thanks to those environmental girls," Dave muttered, almost amused. "Otherwise, these forests would be gone."
Once, he had despised them, activists who interfered with business. Now, he was grateful. Because of them, the expansion of cities had slowed, and places like this still existed.
And in this new world, cities were death traps.
Too many people, with too many unknowns. Anyone could turn at any moment.
So Dave left.
He was not the only one. Those with power and foresight all escaped, building shelters far from civilization.
Some tried to stay behind, fortifying cities, turning buildings into strongholds.
It did not work.
The zombies evolved too quickly.
Some breathed fire. Some spat ice. Others moved like water, or flew through the sky, or burrowed beneath the ground. Their evolution covered every possible form.
Human methods became useless.
Dave had heard stories, five-meter giants smashing tanks with ease, ghost-like zombies that could bend light and vanish from sight.
The army collapsed from within. Officers turned before orders could be given. The chain of command broke before it could even react.
⸻———X——————
It was not only humans that changed.
Animals and plants evolved as well.
But animals had long been in decline. Most had been domesticated, weakened, turned into pets. The few that mutated were devoured by the undead.
Zombies spared nothing that could be eaten.
So in the end, it was the plants that remained.
Dave preferred to call them evolved plants.
They reproduced rapidly, scattering glowing seeds that sprouted the moment they touched soil. Their instincts were aggressive, yet they targeted only zombies.
Dave guessed it was because both were drawn to the same strange substance.
Whatever the reason, plants could resist.
Even ordinary household plants began to change, cacti, flowers, vines, all attacking zombies that came too close.
Since they posed no threat to humans, Dave collected them.
And they became his defense.
He lifted his weapon, a heavy lawnmower forged from red alloy. It was more than a tool. Its long body resembled a sword, with most of its length formed by a chainsaw blade. With a single pull of the trigger, it roared to life, capable of tearing through flesh and bone.
Dave turned and entered the manor.
To guard against burrowing zombies, he had raised the structure on massive pillars, leaving the ground below exposed.
He and Steve took the lift inside.
In the main hall, Dave walked straight to a steel throne.
"A.I., show me the surroundings."
A projection flickered to life above him, displaying the area around the manor.
Zombies.
Dozens, then hundreds, appearing one after another. More gathered in the distance, drawn toward them.
"Master, should we activate the turrets?" Steve asked.
"No," Dave replied calmly. "Let the plants handle them first."
He had faced countless hordes before. Ammunition was limited, and what he carried would not last forever. Without industry, modern weapons would fade.
The future belonged to the plants.
Dave had already filled every corner of the manor with them, cacti, carnivorous vines, Pea Shooters, forming a living defense.
"We need Cherry Bombs… and Tall-nuts," he murmured. "We're running out of time."
No one understood the speed of evolution better than he did.
If humanity was to survive, it would be through these plants.
⸻———X——————
"These things are weak."
Nelson stood atop a skyscraper, looking down at the unfamiliar city.
Moments ago, he and his army had appeared here.
At first, the sight of countless wandering zombies had surprised him.
Then they charged.
Nelson did not interfere. While adjusting to the suppression of this plane, he let his forces act freely.
The Scythe Demons rushed forward, blades flashing as they tore through the horde.
From above, winged zombies dove from the skyscrapers, but before they could reach the ground, the Gargoyles intercepted them, ripping them apart and devouring their flesh midair.
On the streets below, Abyssal Minotaurs swung their obsidian axes, cutting down massive zombies with ease. Some abandoned their weapons entirely, grappling their enemies bare-handed, and crushing them with brute strength.
Blood soaked the streets.
It was a massacre.
Nelson watched for a moment, then lost interest.
Instead, he spread his senses across the city, searching for something stronger.
Before long, he found it.
In an old residential district, half a building was covered in writhing ivy, thick as veins, binding hundreds of zombies into dry husks.
On a nearby balcony, several towering cacti stood, their bodies twisted and At their center, something like a human mouth opened and closed, firing sharp spines that pierced through climbing zombies.
Nelson narrowed his eyes.
"This…"
It felt familiar.
Like something he had seen before.
A slow smile spread across his face.
"Well," he said quietly, "this is going to be interesting."