Girl's Doomsday Rebirth Revenge & Survive novel Chapter 221

Of course, they had their eyes on Tyler’s weapon stash.

Denton had always stayed by Tyler’s side. After the apocalypse, he was in charge of guarding several weapon storage points, and I kept close contact with him.

But Denton was still young and sometimes careless. It didn’t take long before Cyril caught him.

By the time Tyler realized Denton had gone missing and began searching everywhere, the boy had already been captured for quite some time.

Tyler finally picked up some news from Patricia. He followed the clues and found Cyril’s base.

Now, Tyler had Denton by the collar, but dozens of guns were aimed right at them.

Cyril had just been kicked to the ground and was still struggling to get up.

Tyler stepped on him hard while holding Denton tightly with one arm. Surrounded by a few dozen guns, he gave a cold smirk.

Then, a thunderous explosion shook the ground behind them.

In seconds, more blasts followed.

Pieces of iron and debris flew into the air, glowing with sparks that rained down and set nearby buildings on fire.

“The ammo depot! It’s been blown up!” someone shouted.

Cyril struggled to get up. His heart felt like it was being torn apart.

That was the ammunition he had spent months gathering, and now it was gone in flames.

Before he could move, Tyler lifted his boot and slammed it down again. The sharp crack of breaking ribs echoed through the chaos. Cyril screamed in pain.

“Cyril! Cyril!”

His men yelled, their faces twisted with anger.

But no one dared to shoot.

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Their leader was still under Tyler’s boot, and they had already seen what he could do.

His aim was terrifying. One glance, one pull of the trigger, and a man would fall dead.

No one dared to take a step forward.

“Put out the fire! Now! Go!” Cyril shouted hoarsely, clutching his chest.

Tyler didn’t answer. He looked down at Denton, half–conscious in his arm.

The boy was around five–foot–eight, tall for his age but still lean and awkward, all long limbs and bones. His hair hung messily over half his face.

In the freezing weather, he wore only a thin shirt. His lips had turned blue from the cold.

Across his collarbones and chest were deep red lash marks–layer upon layer of them.

His face bore a long scar. It was clear; his wound had been split open again and again until it began to rot.

Tyler could feel the heat coming off Denton’s body.

Denton was burning up with fever.

Still, the boy managed a weak smile when he saw him.

His eyes, bright even through the pain, lit up as he whispered, “Tyler.”

Everything that his enemy had done to the boy made Tyler’s chest twist with rage.

He looked down at Cyril, lying on the ground. Tyler pressed the muzzle of his gun against the man’s forehead. “The next ones are the power station and the boiler room.”

Before Cyril could react, Tyler pressed the detonator in his hand.

A second later, two thunderous explosions ripped through the base. The power station and the boiler room went up in flames.

“Put out the fire! Go!”

Cyril shouted at the top of his lungs. His face twisted in panic and heartbreak.

It hurt him more than dying ever could.

This base was his empire. He had built it up from nothing.

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Cyril even felt thankful for the apocalypse. It gave him the power he’d never have in the old

world.

Here, he was king. He could steal, kill, and command. The military didn’t scare him.

All that power wasn’t enough for him.

He always wanted more.

Cyril feared that his power came only from the weapons he controlled.

And weapons could run out.

That was why he had gone after Denton and found out the locations of Tyler’s hidden armories.

He thought it was a smart move, but he had brought death to his doorstep.

Tyler had already killed dozens of his men from the shadows.

Like a predator in the dark, striking while chaos reigned, swallowing them one by one.

Now, he’d blown up their ammo depot, their boiler room, and their power station.

“And the grain warehouse,” Tyler said coldly, his thumb pressing closer to the detonator.

“Wait–wait! Please don’t!” Cyril shouted, panic flooding his voice. “You win! I’ll let you go! All of you! Just don’t blow up the warehouse!”

Tyler stared at him without a word, his face hard as ice.

Cyril’s voice shook as he kept begging, “What do you want? Tell me! Whatever’s left in my base -take it. It’s all yours!”

He was terrified now.

Losing the power station and the boiler wasn’t the end of the world. He still had supplies and spare parts to rebuild them.

Even the weapons weren’t completely gone. His men still had a few hot rifles left, enough to

intimidate others for a while.

When Denton refused to give up Tyler’s ammo locations, Cyril had already started other plans. He’d hired two men who could make homemade guns. He’d begun trading with local warlords in nearby cities, hoping to swap food and fuel for weapons.