My 100th Rebirth a day before the Apocalypse novel Chapter 433

In his mind, this was a high-stakes gamble, a strategy to lure out the other threat lurking in the shadows—the zombies.

Duke knew the mutated rats weren’t the only danger in the city.

The undead were scattered across the city, many were wandering aimlessly.

But they were drawn to sound.

Loud noises like the explosions he was creating would undoubtedly reach their decaying ears, pulling them toward this side of the city.

And that was exactly what Duke wanted. He was counting on it.

If he could attract a horde of zombies to the area, they would clash with the mutated rats, creating chaos and infighting between the two monstrous forces.

The rats, in their aggression and hunger, would likely turn on the zombies, and the zombies would do what they always did—attack anything that moved.

It was a risky play, but one Duke believed could buy them time and provide an opportunity to escape while their enemies were distracted, locked in combat with one another.

The warriors had no idea that this was Duke’s plan.

All they could see was the danger growing with each deafening blast.

They braced themselves for what might come next, their eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of incoming zombies or more rats.

Duke, however, remained calm, methodical.

His eyes, sharp and calculating, never wavered from the chaos below.

Duke was playing a dangerous game, but he needed to know—would the zombies and mutated rats join forces against him and his warriors?

If they did, it would be the worst-case scenario, an alliance of monsters that would ensure their doom.

His plan, risky as it was, would backfire spectacularly, and the relentless barrage of grenades would turn out to be nothing more than a stupid, reckless choice.

But Duke wasn’t one to leap blindly into action.

He’d thought this through—at least as much as he could in the chaos.

If the rats and zombies were coexisting peacefully, then it stood to reason that the rats wouldn’t attack the undead.

They would treat the zombies as fellow inhabitants of the city, perhaps avoiding them altogether.

Yet, from what he had seen so far, there was no sign of cooperation between the two.

He had never seen any indication that the rats considered the zombies anything but another source of food, and if they were as territorial as he believed, they would likely turn on the zombies the moment they entered their domain.

That was his bet—that the rats, aggressive and ravenous as they were, wouldn’t pass up a meal, even if that meal was the decaying flesh of the undead.

If his assumption was right, the mutated rats would see the zombies as invaders and attack them on sight.

The rats might be mutated, but they still operated on basic survival instincts. And those instincts told them to eat.

But then came the question that gnawed at him, one he couldn’t shake: would the zombies simply stand there and allow themselves to be slaughtered by the rats?

Were they mindless enough to let that happen? He’d seen zombies before, and they weren’t exactly known for their strategic thinking or their ability to defend themselves.

They attacked whatever was in front of them.

They moved toward noise, toward life, and attacked anything living.

But the rats weren’t like any other creatures the zombies had encountered.