Apocalypse: King of Zombies

”Mr. Nathan,” PhD said with a sly grin, ”I’ve always thought you had potential.”

”Uh…” Nathan froze for a second. Did he just call me Mr. Nathan?

Did that mean… he wasn’t going to die?

The realization hit him like a wave. Relief surged through his chest, and he felt like a man who’d just dodged a bullet. He nodded repeatedly, thanking PhD with genuine gratitude.

As for those enhancement materials? Nathan couldn’t care less. Most of his men were already dead—there was no one left to enhance. And truth be told, he’d never really planned on using them anyway.

Right now, staying alive was all that mattered.

And just like that, the Los Angeles invasion came to an end.

Mad Dog, still aching with worry for Ethan, immediately stepped forward. ”PhD, where’s the boss now?”

”He’s in Canada,” PhD replied.

Mad Dog turned his gaze toward the distant horizon. Canada was still a long way off.

PhD continued, ”The boss led the Zombie Horde straight through here, steamrolling Genesis Biotech’s North American HQ and flattening Blackhand City, the Black Hand Legion’s base. I’d bet the fighting in Canada’s still brutal. It’s time we headed over to back him up.”

”Yeah. Let’s do it.” Mad Dog nodded hard, eyes burning with determination.

He was ready to lead the Zombie Horde north, to follow in Ethan’s footsteps—and retrace the path of his conquest.

...

Somewhere in Canada.

Snow-capped mountains stretched across the horizon, their peaks cloaked in white year-round. A sharp, icy wind howled through the air, sending flurries of snow dancing across the sky.

”It’s snowing…”

Ethan stood at the summit, wrapped in a white fur coat that blended him into the landscape like a ghost. He looked like he belonged to the mountain itself.

He’d found traces of human activity in this range, but the snow and wind had erased all signs. Not a soul in sight now.

Down at the base of the mountain, though, a few Canadian zombies wandered aimlessly. The brown rock face was riddled with dark, gaping holes.

The wind howled again, low and mournful.

Those holes had been dug by Big Chompers back in the day—he’d used them to stash ”treasures.” But now, other Zombie Kings had taken over the area, and the Star Map stone slabs he’d hidden had been looted by the local undead.

This place had become a zombie nest. Not a huge one—maybe a few hundred zombies, definitely under a thousand. The low-level ones shuffled through the snow, while the more agile elites slithered and crawled through the tunnels.

Suddenly, the snow on the ground began to shift. A head popped up through the surface—dark-skinned, scruffy-bearded, with a pair of unmistakably huge buck teeth.

He glanced around nervously, his beady eyes darting back and forth.

”Yeah… this is the place. I buried the stone slab here. Then some damn Zombie King came and stole it…”

The memory of that humiliation made his chest tighten with frustration.

That Zombie King bullied me…

Big Ears bullied me too…

They all bullied me…

But before he could wallow any further, the nearby Canadian zombies had already picked up on his scent. Their throats rumbled with low growls, signaling an intruder.

”You little mole, you’ve got some nerve crawling back here,” snarled one of the elite zombies, spotting Big Chompers poking out of the snow.

”Don’t bully me… please don’t bully me…” Big Chompers instinctively curled up and covered his head.

The Canadian zombie sneered, his face twisted with menace.

”This area’s ours now. Whatever’s here belongs to us. What the hell are you doing back?”

”I didn’t wanna come back either,” Big Chompers said honestly. ”They made me. I’m just here to grab something.”

The Canadian zombie scoffed. ”This is our turf. That means everything here’s ours too. Whoever sent you—tell them to come say it to my face.”

”Oh… okay then.” Big Chompers was nothing if not straightforward. He hopped out of the snow and stepped aside, revealing the entrance to the tunnel.

The cave yawned open like a bottomless pit, pitch-black and ominous.

Then, a wave of killing intent rolled out from the darkness.

Something was coming.

Something dangerous.

”Whoosh—”

A sharp gust sliced through the air as Laura shot out of the tunnel like a bullet.

She landed smoothly, her slender frame crouched low, eyes wild with a manic gleam. Murder radiated from her gaze. Her sleek, silver alloy arm gleamed in the snowlight, ending in long, razor-sharp claws that screamed danger with every twitch.

”Is that… a Zombie King?” one of the Canadian zombies muttered, stunned.

He could feel it—this wasn’t just some random undead. She was powerful. A warlord-level threat, no doubt about it.

But what the hell was a Zombie King doing way out here in the middle of nowhere?

Before they could make sense of it, a deep, guttural roar echoed from the pitch-black tunnel behind her. A thick black mist surged out, rising over thirty feet into the air.

Then came the flood.

Zombies poured out of the cave like a tidal wave—each one exuding raw, lethal energy. These weren’t your average shamblers. These were elite units. Killers. And among them, a terrifying number of top-tier enforcers.

The narrow cave mouth became a fountain of death, spewing out wave after wave of monstrous figures.

Their bloodlust was suffocating, blanketing the entire valley in a choking aura of violence. The Canadian zombies began to tremble, their bravado crumbling into sheer panic.

”Shit… where the hell did this Zombie Horde come from?!”

The horde kept coming, quickly surrounding the Canadian group. Among them were familiar faces—Little Shadow, Sprout, Shroom—each a Zombie King in their own right.

Big Ears and Shrimpy were there too, part of the infamous Overlord Squad, along with their underlings like Gatorax and Fear.

Hundreds of glowing, predatory eyes locked onto the Canadian zombies, sizing them up like prey.

”So these are the ones who stole the slab?”

”They look weak as hell…”

”Even if they surrendered, I wouldn’t waste my time with ’em.”

”Pathetic…”

The Canadian zombies scanned the crowd, their earlier arrogance completely wiped away. Now, all that remained was fear—pure, bone-deep fear.

Then Ethan appeared.

He stepped forward, dressed in white, his presence calm but commanding. He stood at the front of the horde, flanked by his fellow Zombie Kings.

The Canadian zombies flinched as he approached, instinctively backing up a few steps.

”Boss, it was them,” Big Chompers said, his voice full of grievance. ”They stole the slab and said if you wanted it back, you’d have to come talk to them yourself.”

”...” The Canadian zombie who’d spoken earlier shot Big Chompers a death glare, silently screaming, Would you just shut the hell up already?!

Ethan gave a small nod, his voice cool and even. ”Alright. I’m here. So… let’s talk.”

The Canadian zombie forced a smile, his face twitching with fear. ”R-right… of course. We’ll tell you everything. No problem.”

Faced with such overwhelming power—Ethan, the Zombie Kings, and the monstrous horde behind them—resistance wasn’t even a thought. All they felt was soul-crushing dread.

Ethan didn’t bother with small talk.

”Where’s the slab?”

”It’s… it’s with our boss,” the Canadian zombie stammered.

Ethan’s brow furrowed slightly. He hadn’t sensed any other Zombie King in this nest.

”Where is your boss?”

”He… he ran away!”

”Ran?” Ethan raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised.

Behind him, the other Zombie Kings exchanged looks.

”Damn, that guy’s fast…”

”We didn’t even come looking for him yet. How’d he know to run? Is he psychic or something?”

”Feels like we’ve run into another pro. That escape tactic’s next-level—puts my ’Ultimate Survival Protocol’ to shame.”

Ethan ignored the chatter and pressed on.

”Where’d your boss run off to?”

”I don’t know!” the Canadian zombie blurted, shaking his head like a bobblehead. ”I swear, I have no idea!”

...