Evil MC's NTR Harem

Chapter 1045: Chapter 1045 Literature

Ross rose from his chair and looked out to the ceiling and let his divine sense roam onto the ruined cityscape.

The morning light cut through the clouds, spilling across the desolate streets and shattered buildings.

To most, it would’ve been a depressing sight—evidence of civilization’s downfall.

But to Ross, it looked like opportunity.

A grin spread slowly across his face.

Even from this faraway distance, he could already sense it—movement in the streets, signs of small survivor groups gathering supplies, fighting over scraps.

To him, they were not obstacles, but possibilities. Some could be allies, others enemies, and maybe a few... entertainment.

The world beyond his bunker was untamed and dangerous, but that only made it more appealing.

He thrived in chaos.

It was where he could truly stretch his power, test his limits, and remind the world who he was.

Ashley’s situation had been a pleasant distraction, something personal and grounding amid the madness.

But now that she was firmly under his wing, Ross’s focus turned once again to the wider stage.

The apocalypse had stripped away rules, governments, and order—and in its place, men like him could rise without restraint.

He adjusted his jacket, his eyes narrowing slightly as a distant explosion echoed through the streets.

"Looks like things are finally getting interesting," he muttered with a smirk.

Behind him, the bunker was quiet—safe, secure, and full of people who trusted him.

But Ross Oakley had never been content with just survival. He wanted more—adventure, dominance, excitement.

And outside that door, the world was waiting for him to take it.

***

"I need to go find us some food, honey. Otherwise, we won’t last another month," the woman said firmly, brushing a streak of dirt from her face.

Her jeans were torn and caked in mud, and the white T-shirt she wore was grimy and sweat-stained from days of survival.

Every movement she made radiated determination, even in the face of the chaos outside.

The man slumped in a chair, his body battered and weak.

One leg was wrapped in makeshift bandages, his torn clothing barely shielding him from the chill.

"You can’t go," he said, his voice strained and shaky. "It’s too dangerous out there, Miku."

Her hands went to her hips, and she turned to face him fully.

"I don’t have a choice," she said, her tone steady. "If we don’t find food soon, we won’t survive another week, let alone a month. I can handle it."

He shook his head violently, fear etching every line on his face.

"The streets are crawling with them, Miku! You saw what happened to the Johnsons yesterday—they didn’t even stand a chance. I can’t let you go!"

Miku stepped closer to him, her expression softening, but her resolve never wavered.

"I know it’s dangerous. I know what’s out there. But staying here, waiting for food to appear... that won’t save us. We have to act, or we die anyway."

The man swallowed hard, his chest heaving.

He wanted to argue, to beg, to somehow stop her—but he knew deep down that she was right.

In this world, hesitation was death. Every day was a gamble, and they couldn’t afford to let fear rule them.

"I’ll be careful," Miku said, voice calm but firm.

"I won’t take unnecessary risks. I’ll watch every corner, every shadow. And I’ll be back before dark." She adjusted the straps of her worn backpack, checking to make sure the small knife at her belt was secure.

It wasn’t much, but it was all she had to defend herself.

The man reached out, gripping her arm for a brief moment, his eyes filled with desperation.

"Just... promise me you’ll come back."

Miku squeezed his hand, giving him a reassuring smile. "I promise. I always do."

With one last glance around the room, she stepped toward the door.

Outside, the world was silent, almost unnervingly so.

The streets were littered with abandoned cars, shattered windows, and the occasional distant groan of the infected.

Every shadow seemed alive, every corner hiding a new threat.

Yet, despite the danger, Miku walked with purpose, her every step deliberate.

Behind her, the man watched from the cracked doorway, his heart pounding.

He knew she was strong, resourceful, and brave—but in this world, even the strongest could fall.

He could only hope her skills, instincts, and sheer determination would be enough.

As Miku disappeared into the ruined streets, the man leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment.

Survival was no longer just about strength—it was about cunning, timing, and the willingness to take risks.

And Miku... she had all of that.

Miku didn’t head for the obvious places like supermarkets or corner stores.

Everyone who tried that was already dead—or worse. She’d seen it with her own eyes: the moment someone broke through those glass doors, dozens of zombies would come rushing in from every direction, drawn by the sound and scent.

No, she wasn’t going to make the same mistake.

Instead, she chose the quieter route—her neighborhood.

The gated community had once been peaceful, filled with laughter, barking dogs, and weekend barbecues.

Now, it was a silent graveyard.

Cars sat abandoned in driveways, doors left hanging open, and the smell of decay floated faintly in the air.

Her husband’s voice echoed in her head: "Don’t go, Miku. It’s too dangerous."

But what choice did she have? He couldn’t move.

His leg was infected, and their supplies had run out two days ago.

If she didn’t bring something back soon, they’d both starve.

She adjusted the strap of her small backpack and crouched low behind a fallen gate.

"Brrrr..."

The sound came from somewhere nearby—a low, gurgling moan that made her heart freeze.

She peeked carefully around the corner and saw them: a dozen zombies wandering aimlessly along the street.

Their movements were slow and uneven, like broken puppets.

Their eyes were blank, their skin gray and peeling.

One of them dragged a half-torn bag of groceries, spilling rotten fruit across the pavement.