Apocalypse: King of Zombies

CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!

The ice started to splinter, thin fractures spiderwebbing outward at lightning speed. Then—BOOM!—a decayed, clawed hand burst through the surface.

”Raaaargh!”

The frozen zombies, as if suddenly awakened, let out savage howls and began clawing their way out of the ice.

”Told you something was off,” Big Ears said, eyes narrowing.

Shrimpy gave him a thumbs-up. ”Big Ears, you’re a damn legend!”

Within seconds, the once-smooth ice was crawling with zombies—dozens, maybe hundreds. Their bodies were crusted with frost, jagged ice crystals clinging to their heads, chests, and elbows like makeshift armor.

The Ice-armored Zombies let out a chorus of guttural screeches and charged straight at Ethan’s crew.

Bulldozer was the first to get hit. The attack sent him into a frenzy.

Built like a tank, he barreled forward like a raging bull, smashing into the oncoming horde. Zombies flew in every direction. His fists, each the size of a cinder block, came down hard on one of them.

CRACK!

The blow shattered the zombie’s icy armor, sending its body flying backward like a ragdoll, crashing into a cluster of its own kind and knocking them down like bowling pins.

Ethan’s elite zombie squad surged in behind him. These weren’t your average shamblers—they were hardened veterans, battle-tested from sweeping across the U.S. like a plague. Their combat skills were top-tier.

But Ethan quickly noticed something: these Ice-armored Zombies weren’t pushovers. The frost coating their bodies made them tougher, more resilient. His elite squad was evenly matched.

Then Laura moved.

Her figure blurred, leaving afterimages in her wake. Her alloy claw-blades flashed through the air, slicing zombies into chunks with surgical precision.

Wherever she passed, black blood sprayed like a fountain. She was a one-woman slaughterhouse.

In minutes, the ice was littered with corpses, the ground stained crimson.

”RAAAAAARGH!”

A thunderous roar ripped through the air, drowning out the chaos. A wave of killing intent swept across the battlefield like a blizzard. Something big was coming.

From the center of the frozen river, ice exploded upward. A massive hole cracked open, fractures spreading like lightning bolts.

A hulking zombie clawed its way out of the pit.

It was roughly the same size as Bulldozer, but its head, chest, and thighs were encased in thick, jagged ice armor. The stuff looked solid as steel.

”Who the hell are you freaks, invading my territory?!” the Frostplate Zombie King growled, his voice like gravel scraping metal.

Ethan locked eyes with him. ”We’re from Los Angeles.”

”Los Angeles?” The Frostplate King tilted his head, confused. After a long pause, he muttered, ”Never heard of it.”

”…Seriously?” Ethan blinked. Judging by the guy’s size and build—almost a mirror of Bulldozer—he was clearly a power-type. Which probably meant his brain wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders.

Still, the guy had decent strength, and his troops weren’t half-bad either. Looked like his whole crew was elite.

”I’ll give you one chance,” Ethan said. ”Swear loyalty to me.”

The Frostplate King narrowed his icy eyes, unmoved. He scanned the battlefield. Snow was falling harder now, thick flakes drifting down like feathers.

His underlings were still fighting, but Bulldozer and Laura were tearing through them like a buzzsaw. It was a brutal, bloody clash.

”Winter is coming,” the Frostplate King growled. ”The North… kneels to no one!”

”…Huh?” Ethan raised an eyebrow. This guy was really sticking to the whole ’northern pride’ thing.

Fine then.

Just as Ethan was about to respond, a deafening roar erupted from behind him—like a tidal wave crashing through the mountains. The snow trembled in the air, and the ground began to quake beneath their feet.

The main horde had arrived.

During the earlier skirmish, Bulldozer had sent out a distress signal. The rest of the zombie army had picked up the pace—and now they were here.

Zombies poured in from every direction, a black tide flooding the landscape. There were so many, it was impossible to see where the horde ended.

And in the sky above, mutated flying beasts circled like vultures.

At the front of the charge were several Zombie Kings: Little Shadow, cloaked in pitch black; Sprout, with a glowing green crown of vines; and Elegy, riding atop a mammoth-sized undead elephant.

Each of them radiated power, their presence commanding and fierce.

The moment they appeared, the Frostplate Zombie King froze—literally and figuratively. His face went blank, his body stiffened, like he’d been flash-frozen all over again.

This… this many?

It finally hit him—this wasn’t just some random upstart Zombie King.

This was a monster. And he’d brought an army.

So much for that whole ”never kneel” speech.

The Frostplate Zombie King’s defiant attitude crumbled in an instant, his bold declaration forgotten like yesterday’s snow.

”Wait, wait—boss! Let’s talk this out!” he shouted, waving his hands frantically.

”Oh?” Ethan raised an eyebrow, amused. ”Guess you’re not as dumb as you look.”

The Ice-armored Zombies immediately stopped fighting. Bulldozer and Laura halted their slaughter, and just like that, the brief but brutal battle came to an end.

The Frostplate King jogged over, all smiles and nervous energy.

”Big misunderstanding, boss! Total mix-up!”

”Relax,” Ethan said. ”I’ve got a few questions for you.”

”Ask away! Anything you want!” the Frostplate King replied eagerly, practically bowing.

”Where exactly are we?”

The Frostplate King paused, gathering his thoughts.

”This is the Northern Wastelands. Keep heading forward and you’ll hit a city called Mirevale. It’s surrounded by endless swamps—real nasty terrain. The place used to be crawling with Black-Skin Zombies. Real territorial bastards, took over the whole city because of the resource scarcity.”

”But word is, a couple of Zombie Kings came up from the southern deserts and wiped them out. One of them’s a fusion-type—goes by the name Ninetail Viperlord. Cold-blooded freak with nine snake tails. Ruthless as hell. Real powerhouse.”

”Ninetail Viperlord?” Ethan muttered, the name triggering a flicker of memory—an old ”test subject” from back in the day.

A Zombie King with nine snake tails was definitely rare, but after what he’d seen on the island of Tasmania—mutated freaks beyond imagination—it didn’t even crack the top ten weirdest things anymore.

”What about the other side of the swamp?”

”Other side?” The Frostplate King hesitated, then said, ”That’s Redgaze Zombie King’s territory. He’s the undisputed overlord of the North. No one dares challenge him. But lately, he’s been clashing with some foreign Zombie Kings—ones from outside the U.S. They’ve been poking at each other, back and forth. No full-scale war yet, just skirmishes.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed.

Redgaze Zombie King. That name was in the archives—one of the only Zombie Kings in the U.S. who could rival Ethan in power.

And according to intel from Crow, Redgaze had indeed been butting heads with a Canadian Zombie King. The ”mutual harassment” phase meant they were still testing each other, not ready for an all-out war.

Just like Ethan and Nightbane had done before—probing, preparing, waiting for the right moment.

”Perfect timing…” Ethan murmured, already thinking three moves ahead.

Behind him, Bulldozer scratched his head. ”So that means… we’re not in Redgaze’s turf yet?”

”Right,” Laura said, analyzing the situation. ”We’ll have to cross the swamp first. But before that, we’ll probably run into this Ninetail Viperlord and his crew.”

”Let’s move,” Ethan said, not wanting to waste any more time. Mirevale was the next stop.

The Frostplate King hesitated, fidgeting. ”Uh… so, what about us?”

”You’re leading the way,” Ethan said flatly.

”Uh…” The Frostplate King looked like he’d just swallowed a chunk of ice. He and his crew had been driven out of Mirevale by those two powerful Zombie Kings—and now they were being told to march right back in?

…