Apocalypse: King of Zombies

The battlefield froze—like someone had hit pause on the entire war.

Tension crackled in the air as everyone locked eyes on the figure in white.

”The hell… It’s him again!”

”That’s the Zombie King!”

Howard’s face went pale. His gut twisted with dread.

”Shit! He’s going for the Starbreaker Cannon!” he shouted, finally snapping out of it. But it was too late. Way too late. There was no stopping it now.

Ethan stood calmly atop the Guard Mech, eyes scanning the massive weapon before him. He looked almost… impressed.

”So this is humanity’s big gun, huh?” he murmured. ”Gotta admit—it’s a beast.”

Then he raised his fist.

A surge of blood-red energy exploded around him, roaring to life like a wildfire. The pressure that followed was suffocating—an overwhelming force that made the air itself feel heavier.

This was the power of a Zombie King.

And after absorbing three SSS-grade crystal cores, Ethan wasn’t just strong—he was a monster.

He threw a punch.

It wasn’t just a strike—it was like a titan had been unleashed. The air tore apart in front of him, black rifts splitting the sky as space itself seemed to scream in protest. Everything in the path of that fist felt like it was about to be erased.

BOOOOOOM!

The entire Dreadnought-class Starcruiser shuddered violently. Metal groaned and buckled under the force, the sound like nails on a chalkboard—if the chalkboard was made of steel.

The energy shield flared wildly, runes flickering like dying stars. Then—snap—it collapsed. The shield blinked out, and the intricate runes shattered like glass.

It was like watching The Skywall fall all over again.

The shockwave blasted outward, tearing through the sky. Clouds scattered like they’d been punched by a god.

Ethan’s single punch had driven the entire Starcruiser down over a hundred feet.

And the main cannon? Crushed. The alloy was crumpled like a soda can, the barrel caved in and twisted beyond recognition.

Ethan tilted his head, eyeing the damage.

”Eh… probably still fixable. Might need it later,” he muttered to himself.

But before he could admire his handiwork any longer, a flash of lightning lit up the sky.

A powerful aura surged toward him—fast.

”Monster! Die!” Harren’s voice roared through the air as his lean figure streaked toward Ethan, wrapped in crackling arcs of electricity.

A lightning-type Awakener. And a strong one, judging by the speed.

He was on Ethan in a blink, lightning splitting the sky behind him.

But Ethan didn’t meet him head-on.

He’d already done what he came to do.

With a smooth motion, he dropped back, letting gravity pull him down. He landed effortlessly on the ground below, right in front of Bloodveil and the other Zombie Kings.

THUD THUD THUD THUD!

Several Guard Mechs slammed into the earth behind him, landing like titanic beasts.

Ethan stood tall in his white shirt, calm and composed, surrounded by hulking machines of war.

Laura leapt down from one of the mechs, landing gracefully at his left.

On his right, a shadow rose—Little Shadow, silent and menacing.

Three Zombie Kings now stood together on the desolate battlefield.

The sight was nothing short of epic.

Bloodveil, watching from the side, couldn’t help but feel a chill crawl down his spine.

”This guy…” he muttered, eyes wide with awe.

The sheer presence Ethan commanded was terrifying. Even his zombie underlings radiated power.

This—this was what a true overlord looked like.

He glanced over at Umbradrake, who stood awkwardly with just a single Howler behind him.

Yeah… maybe he should’ve seen this coming.

But the ones feeling the most pressure were the human elites—Howard and the others. Their faces were grim, their bodies tense, like they were staring down death itself.

Even the wind seemed to carry a weight now.

Then Ethan spoke, breaking the silence with that same calm, almost casual tone.

”Well, if it isn’t my old friend. How’s life treating you?”

Howard’s jaw clenched. His fists tightened. Rage boiled in his chest.

The shame of what happened at The Skywall still burned like acid in his throat.

”Cut the crap!” he snapped.

But Ethan didn’t flinch. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, voice still smooth.

”How’s your son doing? Any progress with the cure?”

That hit like a punch to the gut.

Howard’s eyes went bloodshot. His heart twisted.

Trent.

Back in the Inner City, Ethan had infected his son—turned him into a zombie and left him in a lab like some kind of sick experiment.

Months had passed. The Hawke family hadn’t given up. They’d been feeding him fresh meat every day, trying to keep him stable. But he was evolving—getting stronger. Closer to becoming a full-fledged elite zombie.

And still… no cure.

”You’ve got some nerve even bringing that up,” Howard growled, voice shaking with fury.

Ethan gave a soft, almost regretful sigh.

”Ah… that’s a shame.”

Howard’s forehead pulsed with rage. He was ready to explode.

To him, Ethan’s words were pure mockery—twisting the knife.

But in truth, Ethan wasn’t mocking. He was genuinely… curious. Maybe even concerned, in his own twisted way.

Now, the two sides stood locked in a deadly standoff.

The air was thick with killing intent.

Thirty years.

It had been thirty long years since the last great war between humans and zombies.

And now, the flames of that war were about to be reignited.

”Today,” Howard growled, his voice low and burning with fury, ”I’m ending this—with you.”

Heat rippled off his body in waves. Flames licked up from his skin, growing hotter, wilder, more intense with every breath. The ground beneath him began to crackle and scorch.

High above, on the deck of the Dreadnought-class Starcruiser, Harren stood with his hands clasped behind his back, calm and composed. As the man who had once led the charge in the last war, this scene felt almost quaint to him.

Back then, they’d deployed three Dreadnought-class Starcruisers and launched a full-scale assault on Heartland.

Now? Just a few of The Voidborn Undying had shown up. A far cry from the war of old. Even with the Starbreaker Cannon damaged, Harren didn’t seem the least bit concerned.

”Prepare to hunt the Zombie King,” he ordered, voice cold and steady.

”Yes, sir!” came the unified response from the human forces behind him.

Without hesitation, Harren leapt from the Starcruiser, his coat billowing behind him like a banner.

The other human Awakeners followed, diving from the ship in waves.

Thousands of aircraft launched from the Dreadnought’s hangars, swarming into the sky like a living cloud of steel and fire.

More Awakeners dropped from the ship, some riding mechs, others free-falling with energy flaring around them.

BOOM!

Heavy Guard Mechs slammed into the ground, cracking the earth beneath them, sending up clouds of dust and debris.

The human army surged forward, their momentum unstoppable.

The Dreadnought-class Starcruiser above looked like a massive hive, with wave after wave of warriors pouring out of it.

Each Awakener radiated power, their energy pulsing visibly around them. These weren’t rookies—they were elite, handpicked for this mission. They moved in tight squads, advancing with deadly precision.

The whole scene felt like a siege—an overwhelming force bearing down on the battlefield.

Bloodveil’s eyes darted across the sky, scanning the incoming forces. His expression grew tense.

There were S-rank Awakeners among them. More than a few.

Even with his Absolute Domain, he knew he couldn’t hold out if they came at him one after another.

He leaned toward Ethan, sending a mental signal laced with unease.

”Hey, uh… you sure you can handle this? ’Cause if not, I’m out. No offense, but I’m not looking to die just ’cause I picked the wrong side.”

Their so-called ”Backstabbing Alliance” was shaky at best. One wrong move, and it’d fall apart like wet paper.

Ethan didn’t even glance at him. ”Then go.”

”…Huh?” Bloodveil blinked, caught off guard.

No protest? No bargaining? No guilt-tripping?

He’d half-expected Ethan to try and sweet-talk him into staying—or at least offer something in return.

But nothing.

That… was unsettling.

Did Ethan really think he could take on all of humanity by himself?

Before Bloodveil could dwell on it, a deep, guttural roar echoed from behind them—rising like a tidal wave of death.

The ground trembled.

The air thickened with killing intent.

From the black fog behind them came the sound of a thousand undead voices screaming in unison, a monstrous chorus of rage and hunger.

”The Southvale Zombie Horde is here!” Bloodveil spun around, eyes wide.

Above, red-eyed crows shrieked as they circled the sky, their cries sharp and piercing.

From the depths of the fog, countless dark shapes surged forward—fast, relentless.

Then came the sound of an electric guitar—raw, distorted, and loud as hell. The riff screamed through the battlefield like a war cry, rising higher and higher, until it became a full-blown anthem of slaughter.

The Zombie Horde charged.

A black tide of death, pouring over the hills and valleys like a living tsunami.

Their faces were twisted in manic glee, eyes glowing with bloodlust. In the swirling fog, they looked like demons crawling out of hell itself.

Bloodveil’s jaw dropped.

These weren’t your average zombies.

They were evolved—faster, stronger, smarter. And there were so many of them.

An endless sea of death, ready to drown everything in its path.

”Holy hell… That’s one hell of a Zombie Horde…”

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