Apocalypse: King of Zombies

At that moment, Ethan was lounging at home, bored out of his mind, mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

”Chased by a dog?”

He perked up when he heard the commotion downstairs. That was weird—seeing something like that in the middle of the apocalypse? Practically unheard of.

His figure flickered, and in the next instant, he appeared downstairs.

”What kind of dog chased you?” Ethan asked bluntly.

Big Ears jumped in, speaking fast, ”It was a Husky! And there was this Big Head too…”

”Huh?” Ethan raised an eyebrow, even more confused now.

Then, the four zombies under Big Ears launched into a dramatic retelling of their night—gesturing wildly, voices rising and falling, painting the whole scene with vivid detail. First this happened, then that—it was like watching a bunch of kids gossiping after school.

Ethan pieced it together.

The ”Big Head” they mentioned was actually one of the Zombie Kings from San Diego. Apparently, some humans who had fled Japan had stumbled into their territory.

Back during the battle in San Bernardino, Ethan had taken out one of San Diego’s Zombie Kings—a bloated brute known as the Butcher. But after that, things had gone quiet. Suspiciously quiet.

That alone said a lot. The Zombie Kings in San Diego clearly knew how to keep a low profile. Unlike Nightmare, who was newer to the game and way easier to provoke. Nightmare’s foundation was shaky, and his Zombie Kings weren’t exactly top-tier.

But San Diego? Pre-apocalypse, it had a population of over three million. Add in the flood of refugees from Mexico, and it dwarfed Los Angeles in sheer numbers.

There had to be more high-level Zombie Kings lurking there. No one knew how many. No one knew what they could do. That kind of unknown? It was terrifying.

Ethan couldn’t help but feel intrigued.

He’d already absorbed most of the crystal cores he’d hunted down in Texas. His strength had grown, but now he needed something new—something challenging.

”Maybe... it’s time to check it out for myself.”

...

The sun crept over the horizon, casting a golden glow across the land. The forest, still heavy with dew, slowly stirred back to life.

Deep in the woods, a group of humans huddled at the base of a tree, exhausted and shaken. Their faces were pale, eyes haunted. It was Hiro Saito and the others—survivors of a nightmarish escape.

”That was insane... I can’t believe we accidentally wandered into a zombie nest.”

”Yeah, and those zombies weren’t just your average walkers. They were evolved—way more advanced than anything we saw back in Japan.”

”No kidding. We seriously underestimated how dangerous this place is.”

”...”

Hiro’s expression was grim. His mind drifted back to Japan, to the fastest-growing zombie nest they’d encountered. The Zombie Kings there were Samara and Mad Dog—ruthless, unstoppable. Later, they even recruited another King called T-Rex. Together, they tore through everything in their path. Hiro’s own shelter had fallen to them.

He still didn’t understand how they’d risen to power so fast.

But even so... compared to what they’d just faced here, those guys felt like child’s play.

What truly crushed their spirits, though, was the horrifying realization that there wasn’t a single living soul in the entire region.

They’d spent the whole night on the run, passing through multiple towns and cities.

Not one human.

The silence was deafening. It gnawed at their sanity, left them feeling like the last people on Earth.

”Are we... really the only ones left?”

The loneliness, the fear, the overwhelming sense of being lost—it was suffocating.

This was the apocalypse in its rawest form.

Hiro looked over at his daughter, Naomi. Just seeing her gave him a reason to keep going. He reached out and gently ruffled her hair.

”Daddy’s gonna keep you safe. No matter what.”

”Okay,” Naomi whispered, nodding. Her big eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

They’d started out with dozens of people. Now, barely a dozen remained. And some of them were injured.

One young man, the one with the tumor on his shoulder, was in bad shape. The swollen mass had turned into a festering boil, oozing thick black blood. His face was ghostly pale, drenched in cold sweat. He was barely hanging on.

He didn’t have much time left.

Hiro scanned the area around them. ”At least it’s daylight now. Mutant beasts and plants won’t be as active—we should be relatively safe.”

The group collectively let out a breath of relief.

A man wearing a black headscarf spoke up. ”We should take advantage of the daylight, try to find some food in the forest. Then look for a safe place to hole up for the night.”

”Yeah, good idea,” Hiro nodded. ”Let’s move together. Please—let’s all make it through this. I’m counting on you.”

Everyone got moving. A few of the injured used branches as makeshift crutches, hobbling along as best they could.

The forest wasn’t barren—there were wild vegetables and fruits to be foraged, and if luck was on their side, they might even catch a small herbivorous mutant beast.

Worst case? They could still chew on roots and tree bark.

Naomi wandered a bit, eyes scanning the forest floor. Something shiny caught her attention among the fallen leaves.

It was a plastic water bottle, glinting in the sunlight.

”Whoa!”

Her eyes lit up as she rushed over and picked it up. Before the world ended, she might’ve scolded someone for littering in the wild.

But now? It was a sign—proof that humans had been here.

”Daddy, look! I found a water bottle! Do you think... maybe there are still people alive in this forest?”

”Maybe,” Hiro said with a soft smile. He hadn’t sensed any other living humans besides their group, but he didn’t want to crush her hope.

As they moved forward, the trees began to thin out. Small mounds of earth rose from the ground, and ahead, stone markers stood in rows.

”A cemetery?” Naomi’s eyes flickered with curiosity. After eight months of surviving the apocalypse, she’d seen more corpses and zombies than she could count. A graveyard didn’t scare her anymore.

She stepped closer, examining the headstones. The inscriptions were all in English, so she couldn’t really read them.

Some graves still had withered flowers, bits of fruit, or candy left behind—offerings from mourners long gone. But the rats had already picked those clean.

Naomi didn’t find anything useful.

But then, something caught her eye.

One grave had a black-and-white photo propped up in front of it. It was a portrait of an elderly woman—deep wrinkles, stern expression.

The picture was caked in dust and grime from years of wind and rain, making the face hard to see.

Naomi stepped closer, curiosity tugging at her. She picked up the photo and gently wiped it with her sleeve, wanting to see the woman’s face more clearly.

As she cleaned it, the image slowly sharpened.

But then—something felt... off.

She stared at the photo.

The old woman, who had looked so serious just a second ago, now had the corners of her mouth curled up—stretched unnaturally high, all the way to her cheekbones. Her eyes had narrowed into slits, forming a twisted, eerie smile.

”Ahhh!” Naomi screamed and dropped the photo, stumbling backward in panic.

”Naomi! What happened?” Hiro’s hand flew to the hilt of his katana, his body instantly tense.

”She—she smiled at me! She was smiling at me!” Naomi cried, her voice shaking.

”What??”

Hiro frowned and looked down at the photo on the ground.

It was just an old woman. Stern-faced. Nothing unusual. Just a picture.

Even in a world this messed up, they hadn’t run into anything truly supernatural—at least, not yet.

”Naomi... maybe you’re just exhausted. We’ve been running all night. Your nerves are shot.”

...