Surviving the Apocalypse: All I Want Is to Find a Husband-Chapter 193: The Iron Fist

His body convulsed as she ripped his soul away, devouring his soul that formed as a black pearl. She smiled. "Thank you for the dinner."

[You have killed an evildoer: +120 XP, +25 coins.]

[You have harvested a soul: +70 XP, +15 coins.]

Another body hit the ground, crumpling like a puppet with its strings cut. His mouth hung open in a silent scream, his lifeless eyes still carrying the last trace of horror and disbelief. Medeia crouched beside him, her fingers delicately twirling the black pearl between her fingers.

[You have killed an evildoer: +120 XP, +25 coins.]

She popped the soul into her mouth like a sweet candy, feeling its bittersweet essence slide down her throat, warmth spreading through her body as its energy merged with hers.

[You have harvested a soul: +70 XP, +15 coins.]

The soldiers around her weren’t just weaklings. They had been trained, conditioned to face the horrors of the apocalypse. But Medeia could tell, they had only ever fought monsters of a lower grade.

Pathetic.

They relied too much on their guns, their bullets tearing through the mist in blind panic. Did they really think metal would save them from the abyss?

But not all of them were easy prey. The older, more experienced men moved differently. They weren’t just shooting aimlessly, but they were listening, waiting, adapting to their surroundings.

And the Captain?

He wasn’t a man who had lucked into his position. No, there was a reason he led this squad.

By the time seven of his men had vanished into the mist, he had already pieced together the pattern. His sharp gaze cut through the chaos, muscles coiled like a predator sensing the real danger for the first time.

"Form up! Now!" he barked, his voice slicing through the battlefield. "Don’t turn your backs on the enemy!"

His fingers tightened around his weapon, his jaw set with frustration.

"What the hell are we dealing with?"

"Sir! Should we retreat?" one of the soldiers stammered, breath coming in short, ragged gasps. "The mist, it’s getting thicker! And ... too many of us have disappeared!"

"We need more backup, Sir!"

The Captain let out a sharp, irritated breath. "No! No one retreats unless I give the order!" His voice was cold, unwavering. His soldiers were dropping like flies, and yet, turning back wasn’t an option. He had made a promise to the General, one he intended to keep.

"I swore we’d bring those weapons back," he growled.

But Medeia could tell, this wasn’t just about keeping a promise. There was something else he wanted from the General. A promotion? A reward?

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter.

Storming an enemy base and stealing their weapons? With less than fifty soldiers?

Medeia almost felt insulted. They actually thought they could pull this off?

A slow smile curled on her lips. They had underestimated the Red Star Alliance.

She couldn’t blame them. Her faction was still young, its name barely a whisper in the wind. No grand reputation. No fearsome legacy. To outsiders, they were nothing but a band of nobodies, who would easily be crushed.

That mistake had already cost these men their lives.

Still, it was only a matter of time before the Red Star Alliance became known. The more battles they won, the more their reputation would spread. And with reputation came danger.

If the military kept underestimating them, fine. She’d use that to her advantage. But if they took her faction seriously, if they saw them as a real threat ...

They’d come back with full force.

Medeia’s grin stretched wider. If the military wanted to play games, she’d give them a reason to hesitate before making their next move. Fear was the most powerful weapon, after all.

But to make that happen, Medeia had to make her base look like a threat that couldn’t be taken lightly—one that wouldn’t be eliminated just by sending more troops to their doorstep.

Her crimson eyes glowed through the thick mist. "Maybe," she whispered. "I should send your General a special gift."

With that thought, Medeia moved like a shadow through the fog. Her Abyssal Sword sliced effortlessly through flesh and bone. The soldiers never turned their backs on her, but it didn’t matter.

She didn’t need them to.

She could strike from the front and still steal their souls just the same.

[You have killed an evildoer: +120 XP, +25 coins.]

[You have harvested a soul: +70 XP, +15 coins.]

One by one, the soldiers crumpled to the ground, their bodies convulsing as she ripped their souls free.

As their numbers dwindled, the Captain refused to waste any more bullets firing aimlessly into the mist. Instead, he drew the sword strapped to his back, and the more experienced soldiers followed his lead.

Unlike the weaklings she had slaughtered moments ago, these men weren’t blind. They could sense her and they could dodge her attack.

The thick mist, once her perfect hunting ground, was no longer an advantage.

As if reading her thoughts, Lucian swept the mist away, revealing Medeia’s figure in front of the soldiers.

"She’s not a monster," the Captain muttered, his jaw clenched tight. "You’re a shifter."

Medeia blinked. How unexpected. She had been called a demon countless times before, but this man—this experienced soldier—had come to a different conclusion.

He assumed she was a mutant, one with the ability to shift into a hellish creature rather than being one.

"That’s right, Captain." She lowered her sword, taking deliberate steps toward them. "I do apologize for not greeting you with tea and cookies, but I have a terrible habit of disliking uninvited guests, especially ones who arrive at my doorstep with guns."

Her gaze flickered over the bodies sprawled across the ground, crimson pooling beneath them.

"You see, it really sets off my sense of danger." She sighed, feigning disappointment. "And the only way to ease that anxiety is to get my adrenaline pumping."

One of the soldiers, his hands gripping his weapon a little too tightly, swallowed hard. "T-There’s no way ... she killed them all by herself?"

Medeia twirled her sword between her fingers, her grin widening. "Who else?" She spun in place, arms outstretched like a performer at the end of a grand show. "You were all far too easy to kill, anyway."

The Captain’s grip tightened around his weapon. His expression darkened. "Let’s see if that’s true."

’Check his status,’ she ordered the system.

[Name: Garick Holt

Age: 48

Ability:

Iron Manipulation (Grade-S) — Effect: Manipulate the Iron within a radius 2 kilometers.]

Oh, his ability sounded fun.

Before Medeia could say a word, Garick had already snatched her sword with his power. The Abyssal Sword now rested in the Captain’s grip, trembling slightly, as if enraged by the forced separation from its rightful owner.

"Oh, that’s unfair," Medeia pouted. "I wasn’t even on guard."

Garick sneered. "You’ll die on the battlefield the moment you lose focus."

Medeia rolled her eyes. "But that would be boring. Fighting should be fun—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Garick moved his hand slightly. In a blink of an eye, he plucked a dagger from a fallen soldier and hurled it straight at her throat.

Medeia didn’t flinch.

The blade stopped mid-air, mere inches from her skin, as if it had slammed into an invisible wall. It hovered there, trembling, before falling uselessly to the ground.

"Oh, Captain," Medeia sighed dramatically. "I must’ve forgotten to mention one tiny detail."

A tall figure suddenly emerged behind her back. Lucian’s sharp gaze swept over the soldiers like a predator surveying its prey, his expression unreadable, until his eyes landed on the one who had dared to raise a weapon against Medeia.

"I’m never alone," said Medeia with a smile.

Lucian lowered his head, whispering beside her ear, "Shall we end this quickly?"

"Oh, honey," she purred. "Where’s the fun in that?"

Lucian stepped back, his posture relaxed as he leaned against a broken wall, watching the scene in front of him in silence. He could step in if he wanted to, but Medeia told him that she wanted to do it alone.

Then again, it wouldn’t be fair if he didn’t let his lover enjoy herself.

Medeia was already moving before anyone could blink. Her form blurred as she darted forward, closing the distance between her and the soldiers in mere seconds.

Garick swung his sword at her, but she dodged effortlessly. With a subtle flick of her fingers, she signaled Lucian.

He barely lifted his wrist before the Abyssal Sword wrenched itself free from Garick’s grasp, soaring through the air and landing smoothly back in Medeia’s waiting hand.

She caught it without effort, spinning it once before tilting her head at Garick. "Surprised?" Her lips curled into a smile. "You’re not the only one who can move things in this world."

Garick had the ability to manipulate iron, a powerful and versatile skill, especially for stealing weapons and trapping enemies. Against most opponents, it would have been a nightmare.

But once again, this was Lucian.

And in front of Lucian, a mere Grade-S ability was nothing.

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