Apocalypse : Transmigrated With Milf System-Chapter 39: Ruel’s Future Plan

The low roars of zombies receded, and the sun shot to the sky.

Ruel, who was sleeping like a log had finally opened his eyes.

He woke up to find Anya already awake, dressed in a tight blouse and hot jeans.

She seemed bashful about the events of the previous night and was eager to change the subject.

"The day is up," Anya said. "What are your plans for today?"

Ruel stretched, considering her question. "Well, I don't have anything of special interest to do," he replied casually.

Then, a thought struck him. "What about those people you wanted me to deal with?"

Anya fell into deep thought. After a moment, she spoke, her voice contemplative. "The people who need to be dealt with, they shall be dealt with."

"But now, I no longer have any interest in ruling over this base."

Ruel feigned astonishment, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? Why is that?"

Anya's gaze softened, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. "Well, until yesterday, I didn't have any goal, except following my husband's, I mean, ex-husband's path to rule this base.'

"But now, I am free of that responsibility."

"Hey, then do you already consider yourself my woman?"

Hearing his nonchalant question, Anya replied, "Ye.. yes.. From the moment that you marked me, I was already yours," she said bashfully, feeling her heart race.

Then she said in a low voice, "From now on, I will follow you wherever you go."

"Well, at least you know who's your man now." Ruel paused momentarily and continued, "But you don't need to follow me or leave this base."

Anya was confused by his statement. "So, you don't want to take me with you?" she asked hesitantly, her eyes clouding over with a hint of hurt.

"Is.. it... because I am already married, or is there some other reason?" She wanted to understand Ruel's intentions, the thought of being used and discarded like a disposable object causing her considerable distress.

"Well, it's nothing like that," Ruel clarified, though his mind was filled with a lecherous fantasy of being surrounded by beautiful women.

"My plan is to establish my own base"

"A place where I'm surrounded by my own people. "

"But to achieve that, I need to seek out more power." In his mind's eye, he envisioned himself surrounded by gorgeous milfs, conquering women from all over the world and bedding mature cougars..

Then he continued, adopting a tone of self-importance, as if he was about to do a great service for humanity.

"So, until I can realize this plan, I need someone to look after this base. "

"There's already a workforce here that will be needed for the construction efforts, and you're familiar with most of them."

"Therefore, my immediate goal is to eliminate any troublemakers and threats within this base, ensuring its stability so that you can oversee things until my return."

Anya was silent for a moment, then asked, "So what do you want me to do?"

"You don't have to do much," Ruel replied. "Just let the base develop as it is, and I will help you from time to time."

Anya raised an eyebrow. "Then how will you help me when you are far away from me?"

Ruel smirked.

-

The morning sun casts a harsh light on the faces of the assembled crowd.

A diverse group of survivors stood filling the open space.

The sheer number is almost overwhelming, a sea of faces stretching towards the stage, a stark visual representation of humanity's struggle in this broken world.

A makeshift stage, constructed from salvaged materials, stands at the center of the base.

Ruel, Anya, and Elara standing on the stage with no expression on their face,

which was contrary to the faces of the masses.

The survivors are waiting, their collective breath held in anticipation.

They were informed of a life changing reform that would be announced today,

which would change the livelihood of the urvivors of the base.

The weight of their survival rests on the words about to be spoken.

Anya steps forward, her voice ringing out with a newfound confidence. "People of the Eagle Base,"

she announces, her gaze sweeping across the crowd.

"Today marks a new beginning for us. From this day forward, we will have a new system of order and purpose."

A murmur ripples through the crowd, a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"When this base was first opened," Anya continues, "you were the first to be received."

"You came here seeking shelter, and you found it. "

"But you also found yourselves in a place where many of you were without any clear goals and hope for survival."

"Surviving day to day on miscellaneous tasks, trading meager goods, and digging for scraps of food for water and other necessities. This is no longer the way."

Anya's voice grew much heavier as she continued. "Now, that changes."

"Every person in this base will be given a purpose, a task suited to their abilities."

"We will organize ourselves, and we will work together."

She pauses, letting her words sink in. "Among you, we have those with knowledge and skill. "

"We will have doctors to heal the sick,

"farmers to cultivate the land,"

"explorers to chart the unknown,"

"hunters to provide for us,"

"blacksmiths who would forge us weapons and utensils."

"And patrollers to protect us. Each of you will play a vital role in building our future."

=

hearing the announcement done by anya, the crowd reacted in a wave of conflicting emotions.

The unemployed among them wear excited fates, their eyes filled with newfound hope.

Others, who had profited from the old system, are fearful of losing their advantage.

Some remain neutral, their expressions unreadable.

In the shadows, those who once held power, their faces betray a malicious intent, their eyes glinting with dark plans.

They exchange knowing glances, a silent communication passing between them.

Suddenly, a shout rises from the crowd, a lone voice of dissent.

"No!" The cry is quickly picked up by others, and voices begin to coalesce against Anya's words.

At first, it's a small number, a ripple of discontent, but it spreads rapidly, growing in volume and intensity.

Soon, nearly half the population is chanting, their voices a cacophony of opposition.

Among the crowd, there were some group of individuals who had different reactions.

These were the faces of the former power holders.

They wear smiles, a chilling confirmation of their involvement.

Without a word, it's clear they orchestrated this uprising, seizing the moment to launch their countermove, a blatant attempt to regain control.

-

Ruel, standing tall, observes the unfolding chaos.

His gaze sweeps across the crowd.

With his enhanced keen perception and clairvoyance skill.

Images flash in his mind, confirming the orchestrated nature of the riot, pinpointing the instigators and their connections.

His perfect memory locks onto the details of each individual involved, their faces, their movements, their subtle cues.

He identifies the core group responsible for inciting the unrest, their expressions of feigned outrage a stark contrast to the satisfied smirks he had noted earlier.

Without a word to Anya or Elara, Ruel moves with sudden, terrifying speed.

A glint of steel appears as he draws his sword from his inventory.

The blade hovers in the air beside him, suspended by an unseen force.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, utilizing his telekinesis, he unleashes a brutal assault.

The sword becomes a blur of motion, slicing through the air towards the targeted individuals who had spearheaded the riot.

The scene erupts into a cacophony of horror.

The first man is cut down before he can even scream, the sword bisecting his torso with a wet, sickening thwack.

His gurgling cry, "Ghhkk...!" is cut short as he collapses in a pool of blood.

A woman's shriek, "Aaaagh...!" pierces the air as the blade decapitates her neighbor, the severed head bouncing grotesquely on the makeshift stage with a sickening thud.

"No! Please! Mercy!" a man begs, his hands outstretched, but the sword plunges into his chest with a crunch, the force of the blow throwing him backward.

His plea turns into a blood-choked gargle, "Uuurghh..."

The swiftness and brutality of Ruel's actions are overwhelming.

Those targeted by the attack are butchered without hesitation, their shouts of defiance turning into screams of pain, terror, and disbelief.

Blood splatters across the faces of the onlookers, warm and sticky.

The metallic tang of it fills the air, mingling with the acrid smell of panic and spilled viscera.

Mothers clutch their children, shielding them with their own bodies, their faces contorted in silent horror.

The ground becomes slick with blood as the wounded writhe, their cries for help, "Help me! Please...!" ignored.

One man's leg is severed, and he lets out a high-pitched scream, "Eeeeeee!", the stump gushing blood.

People scream and scramble, a wave of bodies surging in every direction, desperate to escape the sudden carnage.

"Run! Run!" they yell, their voices hoarse with fear.

The crowd becomes a chaotic mass of flailing limbs and terrified faces, their earlier rebellion forgotten in the face of this merciless slaughter.

The sounds of their desperate flight - the pounding of feet, the tripping and falling bodies, the wet squelch of blood underfoot - create a symphony of terror.