My 100th Rebirth a day before the Apocalypse novel Chapter 611

Another two hours or so passed, bringing them to nearly eight hours into the "Beginning of the End" battle.

The strain was becoming unbearable. Though they could rest in brief moments when exhaustion set in, the relentless toll on their bodies and minds only grew.

Fatigue weighed heavily on their muscles, and their spirits were battered, each soldier and warrior feeling the mental and physical toll of the prolonged fight.

Yet, despite it all, they found the strength to push forward—motivated by the love they had for their families and the hope of a future together.

The human body, however, has its limits. One by one, soldiers and warriors began to collapse, convulsing before passing out, leaving the medics scrambling to keep up.

Even Duke, who had been sent to the western wall to rest and recover, had recharged quickly.

Yet, driven by his eagerness to return to the fight and his concern for the two teenagers holding the line, he couldn’t stay away.

He rejoined the frontlines, only to collapse once more. This time, he convulsed and passed out, and the sight of him falling made Kisha’s worry intensify.

Unable to focus solely on her own side, she too pushed herself too hard, ultimately finding herself on the brink of collapse, just like Duke.

Chaos quickly spread through their ranks. With both the western and southern walls losing their pillars of leadership, soldiers, and warriors grew increasingly nervous.

The absence of Duke and Kisha fueled their fear—how could they hold the line without them?

One mistake after another followed, and slowly, despite the lack of a commanding leader, the zombies began to advance.

They neared the wall once more, scaling it with increasing determination. As the pressure mounted, the warriors and soldiers buckled under the stress.

The zombies, relentless and uncaring, climbed over their fallen comrades, turning lifeless bodies into mere stepping stones as they steadily reached the halfway point of the wall.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What do we do now? The City Lord’s down!" one of the soldiers shouted, panic in his voice as he hurled a grenade over the wall.

"What else can we do but fight?!" another soldier snapped back, his voice tinged with frustration. "Our City Lord has been on the frontlines with us for over seven hours straight. It’s no surprise she’s fallen ill! It’s because we’re not strong enough that we’re dragging her down!"

"I heard the Vice City Lord’s down too!" someone else cried out, his voice breaking with worry.

"We have to hold the line until they return! Push forward!" another shouted, rallying the troops.

"Shit! I can’t die here!" someone else yelled, fear creeping into their words as the pressure mounted.

As the warriors and soldiers bickered on the wall, caught between their fight and mounting fear, the medics worked tirelessly to tend to those who had collapsed—Kisha and Duke among them.

Both were taken to separate tents, where Eric Gilberts personally oversaw their care. After thorough examination, he found no physical injuries beyond the signs of extreme exhaustion and stress.

It was as if their bodies had simply shut down, like an overworked machine that had overheated and could no longer function.

At the fifteen-hour mark, the soldiers and warriors on the wall were completely drained, like withered trees desperately holding their ground against a relentless storm.

The winds and rain had battered them for so long that they were on the verge of breaking, and inevitably, they did.

The defenses on both the western and southern walls began to crumble. _{freёwebnoѵel.com}

Kisha hadn’t anticipated this. She hadn’t fallen because of exhaustion—she still felt relatively fine.

If she had even felt the slightest hint of fatigue during the more than seven hours of nonstop fighting, she would have allowed herself a brief rest.