Apocalypse: King of Zombies

At the moment of the explosion, Leia had seen it with her own eyes—Ethan’s figure swallowed whole by the blast, no sign of him escaping.

The Crystal Core Bomb had packed more punch than she’d expected.

A few students, overwhelmed with relief, ran toward her, tears streaming down their faces.

”Instructor, I think we did it!”

”That Zombie King’s gone! He’s gone!”

”We can finally go home!”

”...”

Leia nodded, her expression softening. A wave of post-battle exhaustion and survival washed over her.

”Yeah… that was way too close.”

But then her gaze shifted, and her voice dropped.

”Still… Damon’s gone. He’s not getting back up.”

The group turned toward the body lying not far away—cold, still, and unmistakably lifeless.

Leia’s eyes lingered on him, a deep sadness flickering in her gaze.

He’d been her most promising student. If he hadn’t died here, he would’ve grown into a formidable warrior for humanity.

”What a waste…” she murmured.

”Yeah… it really is.”

Then—

A voice. Calm. Unhurried. From just ahead.

Leia and the others froze, their blood turning to ice.

That voice. That voice.

They’d never forget it.

Like puppets on strings, they slowly turned their heads.

And there he was.

Ethan.

Walking toward them, white shirt still pristine, not a speck of dust on him. His face unreadable, eyes distant, detached.

”This… this can’t be real…”

Leia and the students stared, horror etched into every line of their faces.

Hope had been a fragile thing—and now it shattered like glass under a hammer.

The Crystal Core Bomb had been powerful, yes. But all it had destroyed… was a projection.

An illusion.

The truth stood right in front of them, cruel and undeniable.

”He… he didn’t die…”

”But… how?”

”Is this… is this what it means to be a Voidborn Undying?”

”...”

The light drained from their eyes. A second wave of despair hit them like a tidal wave.

Voidborn Undying wasn’t just a title. It was a sentence.

It meant one thing: you can’t kill it.

Zombies that evolved to this level… were nearly impossible to destroy.

Ethan studied the humans in front of him. Even though they were enemies, he couldn’t help but acknowledge something in them—their refusal to give up, even when the odds were hopeless. That kind of spirit… deserved a sliver of respect.

”You’ve graduated.”

His voice was quiet, almost like a benediction.

”ROOOAAARRR—!”

Before the words had even settled, Hank and the other zombies let out furious howls.

They’d been beaten down, tossed around by the blast, and now they were pissed. Rage boiling over, they charged.

Leia was still badly injured. The students were drained, barely able to stand.

They could only watch, helpless, as the undead closed in—snarling, twisted faces growing larger in their eyes with every step.

To hunt zombies… you had to accept the risk of being devoured.

And now, Hank and his pack tore into the survivors.

Screams rang out—raw, agonized, desperate. But they were quickly drowned beneath the guttural roars of the undead.

Moments later, silence.

The battlefield was a ruin. Scorched earth, shattered stone, and the massive crater left by the Crystal Core Bomb—all that remained.

A graveyard of hope.

Corpses of the humans lay scattered across the battlefield, twisted and broken, limbs bent at unnatural angles. Blood soaked the cracked earth—some of it theirs, some of it not.

Hank stood among the carnage, his hulking frame splattered with gore. Most of the wounds were superficial, but he looked like he’d been through a meat grinder—bruised, battered, and definitely not happy about it.

He glanced at Ethan, awe flickering in his bloodshot eyes. ”Boss… damn, I didn’t know you were that strong.”

”They were just weak,” Ethan replied flatly.

”Then why didn’t you just take them out from the start?” Hank grumbled, rubbing his swollen jaw. ”Would’ve saved me a beatdown.”

Ethan’s tone didn’t change. ”I wanted to test their strength.”

”Oh…” Hank nodded slowly, starting to get it.

But then he paused, frowning. Something didn’t sit right.

Wait a minute…

Testing their strength meant I had to get my ass kicked.

And when we hit that pig farm at Solaris Citadel? Who took the fall? Me.

Every damn time, it’s me.

He muttered under his breath, ”I should just change my name to ’The Official Punching Bag’…”

One of the lesser zombies shuffled over, trying to cheer him up. ”Hey, that just proves you’re useful! You’re definitely gonna be the top lieutenant under our new boss.”

”Eh? You know what… you’re not wrong.” Hank’s eyes lit up, like someone had just handed him a promotion. ”Yeah. Yeah! I am useful!”

Meanwhile, Ethan’s attention had shifted to the human aircraft nearby. From the outside, it was clearly more advanced than the ones developed by Genesis Biotech—larger, more powerful, longer range. Sleek design, reinforced hull. Impressive.

The humans of Originis weren’t to be underestimated.

Truth be told, Ethan had a high opinion of Leia and her team. They were skilled, coordinated, and brave. They didn’t back down, even when the odds were hopeless. That kind of spirit… it meant their academy had probably produced more than a few elite Awakeners.

He’d have to keep an eye out for them in the future.

But that was for another time.

Right now, he had more pressing matters.

Hank suddenly tensed, his expression shifting to concern. ”Boss… we made a hell of a racket just now. That explosion? No way it didn’t alert Dreadpaw’s horde. We should probably get the hell outta here.”

”No need.”

”What? Why not?” Hank blinked, confused.

Ethan’s gaze drifted toward the horizon. ”Because they’re already here.”

”Wait, what?!”

Hank’s eyes went wide as he whipped his head around.

Sure enough—tiny black dots were swarming in from the distance, spreading across the hills like a plague. Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands. A tidal wave of undead, sprinting across the rust-red terrain, leaping over rocks and ravines with terrifying speed and hunger.

They’d been starving for a month. Now they were ravenous.

One figure—a towering Zombie King—climbed atop a jagged hill, his silhouette stark against the sky. Even from afar, his eyes locked onto them.

”HAAAAANK!!!”

The roar tore through the air like a thunderclap, echoing across the wasteland.

”Aw, shit…” Hank’s face went pale—well, as pale as a zombie could get. He could feel the fury radiating off them, like they wanted to rip him apart and chew on the pieces.

”We’re screwed… they found us… what the hell do we do now?!”

”A bunch of half-starved zombies losing their minds? Nothing to worry about,” Ethan said coolly, completely unfazed.

Everything was going exactly as he’d planned.

The Crystal Core Bomb had been loud—too loud. The shockwave probably echoed for miles. Of course it had drawn attention. Of course Dreadpaw’s horde had heard it.

They were already on the brink of madness from hunger. Any longer, and they’d start mutating into Black-Skin Zombies—mindless, unstable, and completely useless.

And Ethan didn’t want that.

Right now, they were still viable. Their Neurocores and crystal cores were intact—still edible, still valuable.

Perfect timing.

The undead flood surged closer, a massive swarm of bodies and snarls. Not just Dreadpaw’s horde—other nearby corpse nests had joined in too. They’d all caught Hank’s scent. And they were desperate.

Within minutes, the once-barren Exile Zone was overrun. The zombies formed a massive semicircle, surrounding Ethan and his crew. Their howls filled the air, a wall of sound and fury.

Seven figures stood alone, facing down a sea of hundreds of thousands.

At the front, Dreadpaw emerged, flanked by several other Zombie Kings. His presence was suffocating, his rage palpable.

”Finally… I’ve found you.”

...