The Fool’s Guide to Surviving the Apocalypse

The clearing stretched endlessly before Harry as he took another painstakingly slow step forward, his boots barely brushing the grass. His heart pounded against his ribs, every beat echoing in his ears. Each movement was deliberate—heel to toe, weight shifted with care—his body wound tight as a coiled spring.

His breaths came shallow, his lips pressed together in a thin line. Not a single sound escaped him. The ground beneath his feet felt treacherous, like it could betray him at any moment.

Behind him, the group watched in silent anticipation, holding their collective breath. No one called out. No one made a sound.

That was good.

He didn't need distractions. 

'One step at a time.'

Harry swallowed hard, his gaze locked on the uneven terrain ahead. Every tuft of grass, every subtle rise and dip in the dirt felt like a potential trap waiting to snap shut.

Time blurred.

Three minutes passed. Maybe four.

He wasn't sure anymore. But when he finally dared to glance back, he realized he had covered nearly fifty meters. It wasn't much. At his current pace, it felt like a lifetime.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement.

Tim.

The guy was tiptoeing forward, his face pale and glistening with sweat, but his determination unwavering. Harry's gaze flickered to the rest of the group. They hesitated—uncertainty flickering in their eyes—but resolve was settling in.

Jess and Darrow must have given instructions. The way the others were spacing themselves out, each keeping a cautious distance, was no coincidence.

One by one, more people started following.

It was surreal. A slow, silent procession of survivors, each moving as if they were walking through a minefield. Jess and Darrow took up the rear, their expressions unreadable, but Harry didn't miss the way Jess's sharp gaze kept flicking toward the forest.

She was thinking the same thing he was.

They weren't safe yet.

_____ ___ _

An hour crawled by.

The fortress loomed larger now, its jagged silhouette stark against the bleeding horizon. They had made progress, but it was painfully slow. Agonizing. They had covered half the distance, maybe a little more, but the sky had begun to darken, deep reds and purples staining the clouds as the sun dipped lower.

Harry paused, glancing back over his shoulder. The forest behind them had begun to stir.

The growls were faint at first—distant, guttural murmurs carried on the wind. But they were growing louder.

The creatures were moving. Emerging from the depths of the shadows.

A shiver crawled down his spine. His gaze darted to Jess, who had also stopped. Her expression was grim, her lips pressed into a hard line.

Earlier, the monsters hadn't dared to step beyond the forest's edge. That much had been clear. But now, the shadows were stretching. Every passing second, the sun's retreat gave the monsters more ground to work with.

Harry clenched his fists.

'Damn it. The sunlight theory was right. But it doesn't matter if the sun's leaving us behind.'

He forced himself to move forward, his legs heavier with each step.

When they were less than two hundred meters from the fortress, his stomach sank.

No gates.

No doors.

No ladders.

Just massive, smooth walls rising like an impenetrable barrier.

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, his mind racing.

'There has to be something. A crack. A rope. Anything.'

Panic threatened to claw its way in, but he shoved it down. 'First, get there. Worry about climbing later. One thing at a time.'

The minutes slipped away too fast.

Five minutes left.

They had covered another hundred meters, but a hundred still remained.

And the forest creatures? They were still advancing.

Slowly. Deliberately.

Harry's stomach churned as realization struck him like a hammer.

'They're savoring it. Scums!'

The Jonkeys were prowling, their glowing yellow eyes locked onto the group with predatory intent. The Grimlings were silent, their leathery wings shifting restlessly in the dimming light. And the Endtalkers—

Well, they had just stepped out of the forest.

Even so, the air grew thick with tension, suffocating in its weight. Fear prickled at Harry's skin, but he kept moving.

'Don't think. Just move.'

The darkness pressed in from all sides, bringing with it the looming presence of the monsters.

Everyone around him was tense, their movements stiff and jerky. No one spoke, but fear was tangible—a living, breathing entity among them.

Harry's teeth ground together as his gaze snapped back to the fortress.

'We'll figure it out,' he told himself, gripping the kitchen knife at his side. 'We have to.'

Then—

The growls behind them shifted.

They weren't just getting louder.

They were changing.

Harry stiffened. The Jonkeys had stopped prowling. Their bodies were tense, their muscles coiled. Their yellow eyes gleamed with something almost… anticipatory.

His blood ran cold.

'Not good.'

As if on cue, a Grimling let out a bone-chilling screech, its wings unfurling like torn banners against the sky. The sound was a blade through the air, piercing and merciless.

The Jonkeys responded with guttural roars.

Harry's stomach dropped.

'Here we go…'

Then—

The monsters surged forward.

The Grimlings shot into the air, their wings slicing through the dusk as they dove toward the group. The Jonkeys didn't even bother to close the distance on foot. Instead, they hurled their projectiles—sharpened stones and jagged debris—straight at them.

"RUN!" someone screamed, the fragile silence shattering in an instant.

And just like that—

Chaos erupted.

Harry didn't look back. He couldn't look back. Panic spread like wildfire, the air thick with frantic shouts and the thunder of footsteps.

A sharp whistle cut through the air.

Instinct kicked in—Harry ducked.

A projectile slammed into the ground inches from where he had been standing, dirt spraying into the air.

"MOVE!" Jess's loud voice rang from the back.

His lungs burned, his legs screaming as he pushed forward. The fortress was so close—but it still felt impossibly far.

"Keep going!" Darrow's voice was raw, barely above the pounding in Harry's ears.

Above, the sound of wings beating the air grew louder.

Harry risked a glance upward—just in time to see a Grimling diving toward the group, claws outstretched.

It swooped down—

Narrowly missing a survivor who stumbled, barely rolling out of the way in time.

Another projectile whizzed past, too close.

'They're trying to pick us off before we even get close.'

Then—

The ground rumbled.

Harry's stomach flipped.

'Sh-Shit.'