Simultaneous traversal: All Abyss difficulty.

Chapter 791 The Avengers! Assemble! Then Die

ten minutes.

Just ten minutes.

Time, at this moment, has lost its significance as a measure of civilization and has become a disco for the virus's revelry.

Wildfires raged through the streets, turning crowds into hordes of corpses.

A homeless man under the Brooklyn Bridge was arguing with a pigeon over half a piece of moldy bread one second, and the next second, a hand with dirt stuck in its fingernails and a sallow complexion landed on his shoulder.

He turned around in astonishment, and what came into view was an enlarged, rotting face with its mouth torn to the ears and black saliva dripping from it.

"Hey buddy, look at your face."

Before the words were even finished, the heart-wrenching screams were replaced by even louder chewing sounds.

In less than five seconds, a new zombie staggered to its feet, its murky eyes locking onto the terrified, screaming passersby.

The giant advertising screen in Times Square was still playing Stark Industries' clean energy ads on a loop, and below the screen, office workers in suits were crammed into the intersection like sardines.

The green light came on, and the crowd surged forward.

Suddenly, a shrill, inhuman scream rang out from the crowd!

Pushing, trampling, screaming!

But the virus itself spread even faster than the panic.

A man who had been tackled was still kicking and struggling in vain while lying on top of him. The blond, bear-like receptionist from the company, who had just been chatting and laughing, was now being attacked by even more "people" with red eyes.

The coffee cup rolled to the ground, its brown liquid mixing with dark red blood plasma, instantly trampled into a filthy mud by countless stumbling yet incredibly powerful feet.

Ten minutes? No, maybe five minutes, and that wide street, a symbol of prosperity and order, would be completely turned into a bloodbath.

The glass curtain walls of skyscrapers reflect a cold light under the sun; once the pride of human civilization, they have now become prisons of despair.

Inside the office building, white-collar workers locked the fire doors in terror, barricaded the entrances with their desks, and prayed for the army to arrive quickly.

The phone was busy, the network was down, and the scent of death spread silently through the central air conditioning ducts.

However, they underestimated the mutants.

That statement was no joke.

"I hope you don't turn into a zombie in the apocalypse."

Ordinary zombies don't actually pose much of a threat to humans.

After all, this is America, where guns are everywhere.

Unfortunately, some people are not human in the "traditional sense".

A hunched figure, yet moving with ghostly speed, leaped between the shadows of the buildings.

It's the X-Men.

Its former name was "Wolfsbane".

The zombification did not weaken its keen senses; instead, it distorted and amplified them to a terrifying degree.

Its gray ears twitched slightly, and through the thick tempered glass and three floors, it caught the suppressed sobs and rapid heartbeats of a girl in the tea room on the thirty-seventh floor.
"Roar--!"

The zombie wolf let out a short, excited growl, its bloodshot, cloudy eyes locking onto its target.

It doesn't require going through a door.

Sharp claws covered in a layer of grime easily tore through the building's ventilation duct grilles, burrowing inside like a boneless, viscous shadow.

A few seconds later, the reinforced glass window of the 37th-floor tea room, which was said to be bulletproof, was shattered from the inside by a brute force!
Amidst women's screams and men's futile roars, a new hunt unfolds within the supposedly safe fortress. The high-rise is no longer a refuge, but a slaughterhouse where individuals are precisely targeted.

When the belated armored vehicles and tanks roared into the main road in an attempt to establish a defensive line, the sight they saw was enough to make even the most resolute veterans' stomachs churn.

As far as the eye could see, there were only layers upon layers of endlessly surging zombies!

They felt no pain, no fatigue, and beat their flesh and blood against the heavy armor, producing a dull and continuous thud.

"Fire! Saturation fire!"

The commander shouted hoarsely, his voice crackling through the communication channel.

The tank's main gun roared deafeningly, and high-explosive shells ripped through the horde of corpses, sending limbs and pieces of internal organs flying high into the air.

The heavy machine gun fire licked the front of the zombie horde like a red-hot scythe cutting through wheat stalks.

For a time, the number of zombies seemed to be temporarily contained.

The gunner in charge of the tank had just breathed a sigh of relief, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and was preparing to report the results of the battle.

Just as he looked down at the dashboard, a faint, almost imperceptible stinging sensation, like being bitten by a large mosquito, came from the back of his neck, near the collar seam.

He instinctively reached out to pat it.

late.

A gray figure, no bigger than a thumb and wearing a tattered Ant-Man suit, was biting his carotid artery and sucking greedily.

The virus, carried by saliva, is like the most potent venom, instantly invading the bloodstream and rushing straight to the brain along the nerves.

The gunner's expression froze instantly, his eyes shifting from resolute to blank, and then from blank to pure hunger, indistinguishable from the walking corpses outside the car window.

He turned his head stiffly, his gray eyes looking at the loader beside him who was completely unaware.
Inside the steel behemoth, a silent but deadly plague broke out.

Soon, the roar of the tanks came to an abrupt halt. The turret hatch was pushed open from the inside, and several figures dressed in military uniforms, moving strangely, with drool dripping from their mouths, crawled out and pounced on the infantry fighting vehicle that was still firing next to them.

Wailing cries, desperate curses, sporadic gunshots, and chilling chewing sounds instantly replaced the orderly roar of gunfire.

The entire army, like a dam hollowed out by termites, crumbled and collapsed from within.

Humans are not that fragile.

At least, in the eyes of a hero, the current situation can still be salvaged.

"President, listen to me! Please don't use nuclear weapons!"

"I, Captain America, swear to my beliefs that I will, I will, definitely end this disaster!"

Give me three days.

"Avengers, assemble!"

Steve Rogers' iconic Star Shield sliced ​​through the blood-soaked air, smashing a swarm of zombies with tremendous force, bringing a brief glimmer of order to the chaotic battlefield.

Iron Man's palm cannons weaved a destructive barrage in the air, Hawkeye's explosive arrows precisely killed the exceptionally swift individuals in the horde of zombies, and Black Widow and Hawkeye also cleared out the sea of ​​zombies on the periphery.

Their appearance was like throwing a few solid rocks into a filthy swamp, temporarily halting the further spread of the zombie horde, greatly relieving the pressure on the remaining civilians, and giving the desperate people a glimmer of hope.

Captain America weaved through the edge of the horde of zombies, each swing of his shield powerful and heavy, smashing the zombies that pounced on him, breaking their bones and tendons.

"Great! At this rate, we'll clear out the zombies in area G-211 soon! Hey everyone on the roof! Please be patient! A helicopter will be here to rescue you shortly! Just a moment!"

The survivors on the top floor breathed a sigh of relief when they saw the Avengers storming into the street so forcefully.

but
The nascent hope was immediately extinguished by a single action from Captain America.
A sharp, piercing pain shot through Steve's ankle!

He groaned and looked down to see a zombie no bigger than the palm of his hand that had somehow crawled out from the blood and flesh on the ground and bit through his ankle tendon!
(End of this chapter)