Todos los capítulos de The Apocalypse Chef and the Iron-Hearted Soldier: Capítulo 21 - Capítulo 25

The rhythmic crunch of white sand under their boots was the only sound in the vast, sterile silence of the Dead Zone. Dimas squinted at the horizon, where the massive, ribcage-like silhouette still loomed, though it seemed no closer than it had an hour ago."Hey, Raf," Dimas croaked, his voice sounding like sandpaper on stone. "That ribcage thing... you sure it’s not moving away from us?"Rafael wiped a layer of fine, chalky dust from his forehead, his suit jacket draped over one arm. "If it is, it’s doing it very slowly. But honestly? I’m more worried about the fact that I can’t feel my own tongue anymore. How much water do we have left?""None. We finished the canteen three miles back," Dimas said, patting his empty bag. "I’m starting to think 'Dead Zone' was a literal description of the hospitality here.""I’d kill for a lukewarm soda," Rafael muttered. "Hell, I’d even take a lukewarm beer. Just something liqui

The deep, bruised crimson of the sky didn’t just hang above them; it felt as though it were descending, a heavy curtain of velvet and iron closing in on the horizon. The white sands of the Dead Zone had lost their pristine, ghostly glow, now reflecting a sickly, iridescent burgundy that made every dune look like a congealing wound."It’s getting harder to breathe, Raf," Dimas gasped, his hand clutching the strap of his spice bag so tightly his knuckles were white. "The air... it tastes like copper. Like I’m standing in a slaughterhouse."Rafael didn’t slow his pace, though his boots sank deeper into the sand with every step. "That’s the mana density, kid. The System is pumping the atmosphere full of raw essence to prep for the Gala. It’s like a pre-heat cycle for an oven.""A pre-heat cycle? You make it sound like we’re the ones getting roasted," Dimas said, his voice hitching as he glanced up. The massive ribcage in the

The violet mist swirled around the two figures, one a disheveled survivor with sand-dusted clothes, the other a pristine image of corporate perfection. Dimas gripped his knife, the handle slick with sweat, while his double—the Optimized Dimas—simply adjusted his silk tie with a clinical, terrifying grace."You’re really stuck on the 'hallucination' thing, aren’t you?" the replica asked, his voice smooth and devoid of the tremors that plagued Dimas’s own. "It’s a very human defense mechanism. Denial. It’s inefficient, but I suppose it’s all you have left.""Shut up," Dimas spat, his eyes darting toward the shimmering tear in reality behind the double. "I don’t care about your 'optimization.' I care about the guy you took. Where’s Rafael?"The replica smiled, a gesture that looked like it had been rendered by a high-end graphics card. "Rafael is currently being... reassessed. Think of him as the guest of