Chapter 42 40: No Place for the Weak - In The Walking Dead as Itachi Uchiha ?! (TWD) - NovelsTime

In The Walking Dead as Itachi Uchiha ?! (TWD)

Chapter 42 40: No Place for the Weak

Author: 1_Amethyst_1
updatedAt: 2025-10-09

3rd Person Pov

Dale was on his knees, one eye swollen. Blood ran down his chin and dripped into the dirt. Marcus had a fist wrapped in the old man's hair, yanking his head back whenever he tried to lower it.

"Where you from, huh?" Vince barked, pacing back and forth with his rifle hanging loosely at his side. "Don't sit there grunting. Answer the damn question!"

Tyler grinned, leaning in from the other side of the fire. "Forget that. Ask the important shit first." He jerked his chin towards Dale. "You got women, old man? Maybe a daughter, maybe a niece?"

Marcus punched Dale square in the face, still holding him by the hair. Blood sprayed from his nose as his head snapped to the side. "You hear that, old timer? We got the whole night to play with you, so you'd better answer."

Dale stayed quiet, refusing to meet their eyes, gaze drifting somewhere far off.

Marcus sneered and ground his boot down on Dale's shot leg. The old man's scream ripped out, echoing across the camp. Instead of pity, it drew grins. The others leaned in closer, feeding off it like jackals. His pain wasn't just noise, it was entertainment, and it brought nothing but joy to the group.

Wade spat into the dirt, eyes flicking toward Randall's corpse still sprawled in the dirt nearby. "Should've kept him breathing. Boy would've told us what we wanted." He glanced back at Marcus, lips curling. "Maybe you oughta learn a thing or two from them, huh?"

Neil shifted uneasily, staring at Randall's body. "You sure this is a good idea? I mean… look at what they did to him."

Travis barked a laugh. "Look at the old man. Bringing our friend back? There's no need to be scared of a group that keeps people like him."

Marcus sneered, yanking Dale's head back by the hair until his neck strained. "Randall was a useless loudmouth. And here—" he shoved Dale's face toward the firelight, making sure everyone saw the blood and swelling, "—we got someone who'll tell us everything." His grin widened. "Ain't that right, grandpa?"

Dale coughed, blood bubbling in his throat before he spat thick and red onto Marcus's boot. His voice came out ragged, more breath than strength, but steady enough to cut through the laughter.

"You bloody animals… you won't get a damn word out of me."

Marcus's face twisted, blood shining on his boot. He yanked Dale's hair back harder, knuckles whitening around the grip. "Big mouth for a man with one foot in the grave."

Vince stepped closer, lips curling into a grin. "Shut him up already."

Marcus's jaw clenched. He yanked Dale's hair back harder and drew his fist, ready to smash it into the old man's face. His arm tensed—

A muffled thud cut through the night.

Marcus froze mid-swing. His eyes went wide, a dark hole opening in the center of his forehead. For half a heartbeat, he just stood locked in place, fist still raised. Then his grip loosened, and he toppled sideways, crashing into the dirt beside Dale.

For a breath, no one moved, no one spoke, just the sound of the fire crackling.

Then Vince shouted, "Shit—he's not alone!"

The circle broke all at once. Rifles jerked up, and men started yelling over each other.

Travis's eyes went wide, whipping towards the tree line. "Where the hell did that come from?!"

"I don't fucking know!" Tyler barked back, jerking his rifle up. "Just shoot!"

Gunfire exploded as men fired wildly into the dark, muzzle flashes lighting their faces in frantic bursts.

Tent flaps burst open. More of Randall's crew stumbled out of their tents, half-dressed, blinking against the firelight. Confusion turned to panic as they saw the bodies on the ground. They raised their rifles without even asking questions and poured more lead into the dark.

Through it all, Dale started dragging himself away on his elbows, inch by inch, trying to crawl out of the circle of chaos while no one was looking.

"Somebody get the damn truck!" Vince bellowed over the gunfire, pointing towards the hulking shape of the armored car parked at the edge of camp. "Go! Move!"

One of the younger men broke from the circle and sprinted for it. He made it three steps before an arrow hissed out of the treeline and buried itself in his neck. The man stumbled, gurgled, and dropped face-first into the dirt, limbs twitching as blood poured from his neck.

"Fuck!" Travis shouted, whipping his rifle towards the right. "More on the right!"

"No, you fucking idiots!" Vince snapped, shoving one of the men away and storming towards the fire. "Extinguish the fire! They can see us, and we can't see shit!"

A few men cursed under their breaths, moving towards the campfire, kicking dirt and stamping at the burning logs.

The fire sputtered as rags and boots smothered it, sparks spitting out before vanishing into smoke. One by one, the flames guttered out until the camp sank into near-total darkness.

For a moment, all they could hear was their own breathing, ragged and fast, and the ringing in their ears from the gunfire.

The fire sputtered and died, leaving the camp swallowed in black. Shapes of tents loomed faint and uneven, but everything else was swallowed in shadow.

In the car earlier, Itachi laid out the plan.

"And when the light dies… only then open your right eye. One adapts to the light, the other to the dark."

"Shit… I can't see a thing," Neil whispered, voice shaking.

"Keep quiet," Wade hissed back, eyes darting across the treeline. "Just listen."

Neil turned, trying to pierce the dark. "You hear tha—"

A flash of movement on the left, and a kunai buried itself deep into the side of his head. Neil dropped without a sound, his body folding to the dirt.

"Left! There's mor—" Travis shouted, jerking his rifle towards where the kunai had come from.

Before he could fire, all he saw was the black tip of an arrow jutting halfway through his neck. His rifle slipped from his hands as a wet gurgle spilled out, as he dropped to the ground.

The camp was disorganized, broken apart in seconds. They didn't know how many were out there, only that they were surrounded. Every muzzle flash lit their own faces, every shot wasted into the dark.

They kept firing, waiting for a scream, some proof they'd hit something. Nothing came. Only silence. Only death.

Push to the left and a crossbow hisses from the right, swing fire the other way, and a kunai comes your way, left and right, like a dance in death's cruel delight.

The survivors began pulling back, firing in short bursts as they stumbled towards the cars, fear gripping them and steering every move.

Then they saw it, the heavy gun mounted on the armored truck, its barrel slowly swinging their way.

The first bursts chewed through them, ripping men off their feet. The crack of the weapon drowned out everything else. Behind the gun was Rick, face set like stone as he swept the line.

That was the signal.

From the front, Shane's suppressed rifle broke the night one more. Men screamed, collapsing in heaps as rounds tore through them.

"He's in the fucking tree!" someone shrieked, pointing at the muzzle flash glowing above the ground.

Panic surged. They tried to scatter, but death came from every side now.

And then Itachi moved.

He slipped from the dark like a shadow peeling off the trees, kunai in one hand, blade in the other. The first man never saw him, only the flash of steel across his throat before he collapsed. Another jerked his rifle up, but a shuriken spun through the dark and buried itself in his face, dropping him where he stood.

A third tried to scream a warning, but Itachi was already there, slipping inside his reach. The blade flashed once, twice, then the man's arm split open to the bone, weapon falling before his chest was stabbed through.

They couldn't follow him. He was never where they aimed. Shadows twisted into shapes they thought they saw, but by the time their fingers pulled the trigger, he was already gone, swallowed back into the darkness, like the night itself was his shield.

Vince's chest heaved, the rifle shaking in his hands as he fired wild bursts into the dark. Blood slicked his face, running from a cut across his brow. Beside him, Tyler clung to his gun like a lifeline.

"Keep shooting!" Vince barked, though his voice cracked with the strain. "Don't stop! Just—keep—shooting!"

Then it hit them, the silence.

Bodies lay scattered across the camp, limbs twisted, faces slack in the dirt, eyes frozen wide with fear. Every last one of them.

Tyler's breath stuttered. His voice came out in small broken pieces. "This… this has to be a dream, right?"

Before Vince could answer, an arrow appeared clean through Tyler's mouth. His eyes went glassy, his body folding in on itself as he fell on his knees.

Vince stared at him for a heartbeat, the silence pressing in. A jagged, broken laugh spilled from his chest. He raised his rifle like he was going to fire, then stopped, the gun slipped from his hands, and clattered to the ground.

"What's the point anymore…" he muttered. "This whole damn world's already dead."

A rifle shot came flying from the treeline. The round tore clean through his head, snapping him sideways before he hit the ground.

The echo of the gunfire faded, leaving nothing but the smell of gunpowder and blood, bodies sprawled in the dirt, fire burned out, and only the stench of death clinging to the air.

From the treeline, Daryl stepped out slowly, one hand clamped over his bleeding shoulder where a stray bullet had hit him.

That's when the ground shifted.

One of the bodies rolled suddenly, arms shooting out to grab Daryl's leg. With a violent pull, the man dragged him down into the dirt. Daryl grunted as his crossbow slipped from his grip. Before he could recover, the man twisted underneath him, locking his arms around Daryl's neck.

He clamped down tight, dragging Daryl against his chest, using him like a shield. Daryl gagged, clawing at the arm, crushing his throat.

"Die, you bitch!" the man snarled, spit flying as he squeezed harder.

Shane raised his rifle but froze. The angle was all wrong. One twitch and he'd put a round straight through Daryl.

Daryl clawed at the man's arm, boots digging into the dirt, but the grip only tightened. Then a single gunshot cracked through the chaos.

The round punched through the man's temple, snapping his head back. Daryl rolled free, gasping for air, coughing hard as he scrambled to his knees.

His eyes shot towards the treeline.

Dale sat slumped against a tree, pistol shaking in his bloody hands, smoke still curling from the barrel.

Dale slid down along the trunk, collapsing onto his ass at the base. The revolver slipped from his trembling hands, his chest rising and falling in ragged pulls.

"Dale!" Daryl rasped, clutching his shoulder as he ran to him, dropping down at his side.

Rick jumped off the armored car, Shane moving in with his rifle lowered, and Itachi stepped out of the woods following after Rick. After a while, they gathered around Dale.

Itachi crouched beside Dale as he checked over the old man's wounds. For a moment, he was silent, then gave a small nod. "Nothing major is hit. You'll live."

Dale let out a ragged breath, leaning back against the tree.

Shane stepped forward, full of rage. "The fuck was going through your head when you decided to come here?"

"Shane." Rick's tone cut him off. "Not now. We'll talk when we're back. Right now, we take what we can and get out before walkers start showing up."

Dale coughed and waved them off. "Go. I'll stay here a bit… need some rest."

The group split off, fanning through the camp. They tore through pockets and packs, stripping the dead of anything worth taking.

"Be careful," Daryl muttered. "Some of 'em might be playin' dead. And make sure they're shot in the head."

Shane frowned, glancing over. "I get the first part… but why the head?"

Daryl grunted, not looking up. "Just shut up and do it."

Shane grumbled, but bent down and started yanking knives, ammo, and rations from the corpses.

Rick moved slower, watching Daryl as he worked. Then his eyes lifted to Itachi, the two men sharing a look before Rick went on to help.

Itachi stepped over to Daryl. "How's the shoulder?"

Daryl snorted, blood seeping through the torn sleeve. "I had worse. I'll live."

Itachi gave a small nod. "Place all the guns in the armored car. We're taking it back."

They piled rifles and ammo into the armored car, siphoned gas into spare cans, and crammed the rest into bags.

For a time, it was quiet, only the four of them moving in sync, to strip the camp of anything valuable.

Then a scream tore the silence.

"Dale!"

They sprinted back towards Dale.

Dale was thrashing, pistol still in his grip. Randall's corpse was on top of him, teeth buried deep into his shoulder. The old man's face twisted in agony as blood sprayed down his sleeve.

Itachi immediately pulled out a kunai and tossed it into Randall's skull with a dull crack.

They rushed to him. Dale was pale as ash, sweat streaked down his bloody face. His whole body shook from the shock and the pain tearing through him.

Rick started pacing in circles, hands pulling at his hair, "No… no, no, no!". He didn't know what to do, didn't know how to stop it.

Even Itachi stood still, just watching the wound on Dale's shoulder without moving.

Daryl moved slowly. He tore the pistol from Shane's belt, the weight almost dragging in his grip. He raised it, arms trembling, the barrel pointed at Dale.

Dale gave him a faint, broken smile. "Don't worry, son… there's no place for people like me left in the world anymore."

Daryl's jaw clenched. His finger tightened.

"Thank you." His eyes wavered, just for a second. "And sorry."

The shot cracked through the camp, echoing off the trees.

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🧪 Author's Note:

Thank you all so much for the support — over 700+ power stones!

Now, a bit about the chapter

This chapter took way longer than I thought… roughly 10 hours to finish XD

I didn't want the enemies to feel generic, like bad guy #1 and bad guy #2. I wanted them to have personalities and traits, to feel alive and real, not just faceless bodies for the MC to crush.

Could Itachi have done this alone? Yep. But I didn't want him to just wipe them all out and end it. That's why I made the fight more tactical, with each character having their own role in taking the camp as a team.

This chapter was told from Randall's group's perspective to show how terrifying it is to face someone like Itachi as a leader, and how quickly they fell apart.

Lastly, Dale, I wanted him to die by Randall's hands to bring things full circle — how he once tried to save a life, and that same life ended up taking his.

Let me know your thoughts in the comments. Did you enjoy the action scenes or not?

🖤 Thanks again for reading!

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