Threads of Fate Across Universes

Elio adjusted his grip on his axes. Shane spun his kukri in his hand, settling into a stance that meant trouble for anyone stupid enough to come near him—living or dead.

And still, the walkers closed in.

Dozens. No—hundreds.

Their bodies pressed together in a writhing, mindless mass, their hunger choking the air with the scent of rot. The firelight flickered across their bloated faces, their clawed hands reaching, grasping.

Elio exhaled sharply. "This is bad."

Shane snorted. "No shit."

Then the horde swarmed.

The first walker lunged, but Shane was faster. His kukri flashed, slicing clean through its skull before he pivoted, bringing his elbow up to shatter the nose of another. Elio didn't hesitate—his axes arced through the air, biting into flesh and bone, severing limbs and caving in skulls.

They moved together like a single force—Elio's brutal efficiency meeting Shane's raw power. They weren't just fighting. They were ripping through the dead, cutting a bloody path through the sea of bodies.

But it wasn't enough.

For every walker they cut down, five more took its place.

And then—Elio felt it again. That wrongness.

The shift in the air.

He stole a glance toward the others. Rick, Glenn, and Daryl were fighting to keep the group safe, their backs to a rock outcrop, a desperate last stand.

But the walkers didn't care. They didn't see them.

Because all of them—all two hundred and fifty—were focused on him and Shane.

Elio's stomach twisted.

What the hell was happening?

A walker slammed into him, nearly knocking him off balance. His boot skidded on the blood-slick ground, and before he could right himself, another corpse grabbed at his arm, pulling—

Shane was there, kicking it off him before driving his kukri into another's temple. "Get your head in the game, Everett!"

Elio growled, yanking his arm free and cleaving his ax into a skull.

But they were surrounded.

The horde was pressing in, cutting off every escape.

Shane's breathing was ragged. Elio's muscles burned. They were fast, but not limitless. Their movements slowed—fraction by fraction. It wasn't enough to just be skilled. Not against these numbers.

And then—

Ding!

A sudden chime cut through the chaos, sharp and unnatural.

Elio's breath hitched.

Shane froze.

For a moment—just a moment—everything stopped.

Then, a voice.

Mechanical. Flat.

"Achievement Unlocked: Breaking Your Limits."

Elio's heart slammed against his ribs.

"What the—" Shane barely had time to react before the voice continued.

"Congratulations, Shane Walsh and Elio Everett."

Elio's pulse roared in his ears.

"You have officially reached Superhuman Level 1."

Something shifted.

A force—powerful and undeniable—slammed into Elio's body. His vision blurred, the world tilting. Every nerve in his body burned—not in pain, but in power.

His muscles locked, his skin tingling, his mind expanding in ways that didn't make sense.

And then—understanding.

A deep, instinctive realization that something in him had changed.

The voice spoke again.

"Rewards have been granted."

"Shane Walsh: Enhanced Strength and Ability, Level One."

Shane jerked, inhaling sharply, his hands clenching into fists. His entire body tensed, his muscles rippling with something new. His eyes darkened, his breathing rough—like he was adjusting to something massive.

Then—

"Elio Everett: Telekinesis, Level One."

Elio froze.

And in that instant—something clicked inside him.

The world slowed.

His vision sharpened.

And for the first time—he felt it.

A weight. A presence. The air itself responding to him.

He turned his gaze to the walkers, the horde still pressing forward. He focused.

Something lurched.

A walker stopped—mid-step—its body jerking unnaturally.

Elio's heart pounded.

Did he just—

Another thought. Another pull.

The walker flew backward, slamming into the others like a cannonball.

Shane snapped his head toward him, eyes wide. "The fuck did you just do?!"

Elio barely heard him. His mind reeled. He lifted his hand—his fingers twitching—and suddenly, the air moved.

Bodies lifted off the ground, hurled into the horde like ragdolls.

The dead screeched.

Shane let out a breathless laugh—low, dark, thrilled. "Well, hell—that's new."

Elio didn't answer. He was still processing.

But the fight wasn't over.

They locked eyes—Elio still panting, Shane still gripping his kukri like it was an extension of himself.

Then Shane rolled his shoulders, flexing his fingers.

Elio felt the power in him now—something raw, unshackled.

And Shane—Shane was grinning.

The dead were still coming.

But now?

Now they had no idea what they were up against.

Elio exhaled, his grip tightening on his axes.

Shane cracked his neck. "Let's finish this."

And then they attacked.

Together.

Stronger than ever.

Superhuman.

The fight was a massacre.

Elio's body moved faster than it ever had, his axes carving through the dead like they were nothing. He didn't think—he just acted, instinct taking over. His feet barely touched the ground, each movement fluid, precise. Walkers collapsed around him, heads split, limbs severed, bodies sent flying as he unleashed his new power.

And beside him, Shane was a beast.

Each strike he landed was devastating—every punch shattered bone, sent bodies hurtling through the air like they weighed nothing. Walkers came at him in waves, but Shane didn't slow, didn't hesitate.

They fought as if they had been born to do this.

Then—

"Elio!"

He turned—just in time to see a walker lunge for Shane's back, its rotting teeth inches from his shoulder.

Elio didn't think. He acted.

His fingers twitched.

The ax ripped from his hand, spinning through the air like a missile.

THUNK.

The blade buried itself into the walker's skull, stopping it mid-lunge.

For a second, everything paused.

Then—without warning—the ax ripped itself free, flipping through the air—straight back to Elio's hand.

He caught it without even looking.

Shane turned, blinking at the fallen walker. Then at Elio. Then back at the ax in his hand.

Elio smirked. "I am worthy."

Shane snorted, shaking his head. "Freakin' nerd."

But before Elio could respond, Shane moved.

(Shane's POV)

His body felt light.

Stronger. Faster.

Like he was built for this.

He slashed his kukri across a walker's face—felt the blade carve clean through. But when he tried to pull it free, it stuck.

No time to yank it out.

Another walker lunged—Shane didn't think. He swung his fist.

CRUNCH.

The thing's skull caved in.

Not just cracked—completely collapsed. The body flew backward, slamming into another walker with enough force to send them both tumbling over.

Shane grinned. "Oh—hell yeah."

He didn't need weapons anymore.

He was the weapon.

Another walker rushed him. Shane turned and punched.

The impact exploded its head like a melon.

Then he punched another—sent its body twenty feet through the air.

He laughed.

Elio, meanwhile, was in his element. His axes were moving on their own, flying through the air, slicing through walkers like a storm of steel. Heads dropped. Limbs flew. He barely had to move—his weapons did all the work.

They were unstoppable.

And from the outside—it probably looked like something else entirely.