Apocalypse: King of Zombies

”Heh! You gotta be kidding me.” Hexarm let out a scornful laugh, arms crossed with smug confidence. Behind him stood four of the Voidborn Undying—his ultimate trump card. With backup like that, he had every reason to be cocky. ”Razorclaw, looks to me like you’ve got a death wish.”

”Huh??” Razorclaw’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of surprise flashing across his face. He hadn’t expected Hexarm to still be this arrogant, even while surrounded.

His underlings were just as pissed.

”Big Razorclaw! This bastard’s asking for it!”

”Yeah, he’s got a death wish for sure.”

”Let’s teach him a lesson he won’t forget.”

”…”

”Fine, fine!” Razorclaw’s gaze turned vicious, a murderous aura radiating from his body. ”Let’s see what you’ve got. Boys—rip them to shreds!”

At his command, the Zombie Horde behind him let out a collective roar, like a pack of bloodthirsty beasts unleashed. They surged forward, charging with terrifying momentum.

But none of them noticed the green beneath their feet—subtle, shifting, alive. Hidden among the weeds were countless vines, coiled and waiting.

”Vine Domain!”

Sprout made the first move, kicking things off with a bang.

In an instant, the ground erupted in a wave of green. Vines burst from the soil like a tidal wave, surging forward with unstoppable force.

The writhing mass of vines slammed into the Zombie Horde, skewering some like meat on a spit, wrapping around others’ necks and yanking them into the air—snapping vertebrae with sickening cracks.

Out of the enemy’s hundred thousand-strong horde, Sprout alone could take out ten thousand.

Razorclaw’s eyes widened in shock. ”What the hell is that?!”

”Boss, it’s a mutated plant-type! Looks like we’re dealing with a fusion-type Zombie King!” one of his underlings shouted, eyes darting nervously.

Razorclaw’s brow furrowed. He could feel it—this fusion-type’s aura was no joke. Definitely SS-rank or higher.

No wonder Hexarm was acting so smug. He’d found himself a serious ally…

Still, Razorclaw wasn’t impressed. He figured Hexarm had just stumbled across some backwoods fusion-type and gotten lucky.

”Let’s go. All of us.”

”Got it!” his crew responded in unison.

With the enemy Zombie King making a move, Razorclaw had no choice but to step in himself. He charged forward with his elite squad, aiming to cut through the vines and stop the slaughter.

They weren’t weak—most of them were S-rank or higher.

The zombies moved with deadly precision, unleashing their powers to tear through the oncoming vines, finally slowing the massacre of their horde.

Razorclaw in particular was a blur. His speed was insane, leaving afterimages in his wake. He tore through the vines like a living lawnmower, his claws slicing through the thick growth with ease.

Leaves and grass flew everywhere, raining down like confetti.

But the vines were dense, fast-growing, and relentless. Even after all that, Razorclaw still hadn’t reached the end.

”There’s more?!”

The vines kept coming, slithering in from all directions like monstrous serpents.

Razorclaw didn’t dare slow down. He pushed forward, burning through stamina like crazy. But finally, the green ahead began to thin out.

”I’m almost through!”

A surge of excitement hit him. With a final slash of his claws, he shredded the last cluster of vines. Leaves exploded around him as his vision cleared.

He’d made it—he’d cut straight through the Vine Domain and reached the other side.

Panting, Razorclaw paused to catch his breath, muttering under it, ”Finally…”

But his eyes were already scanning the area, burning with rage. He was looking for that damn plant-fusion Zombie King. He was gonna make them pay.

”Just wait till I get my claws on you…” he growled, baring his fangs.

But then he saw them—figures standing ahead, blocking his path.

At the front was a female Zombie King, cradling a guitar in her arms. Her fingers hovered over the strings, ready to strike a deadly chord.

”Turn it up… and let’s make ’em bleed.” Elegy’s fingers strummed the strings, and a pulse of raw, aggressive music exploded into the air.

Behind her stood the Saber Corps—three thousand elite zombies, handpicked and battle-hardened. They stood like statues, radiating a chilling, disciplined bloodlust.

But the moment the music hit, they came alive.

Each one gripped a lightsaber, and with a synchronized hum, blades of searing light ignited in their hands. The battlefield lit up with a thousand deadly glows.

”Kill them all!”

The elite zombies roared in unison and surged forward like a tidal wave of death.

Every last member of the Saber Corps had entered the fray.

”Wait, what the hell?!” Razorclaw’s expression twisted in confusion. He was completely thrown off.

What the hell was going on?

Before he could even process it, a gust of wind howled past his ear—followed by a fist the size of a cinder block flying straight at his face.

Razorclaw’s instincts kicked in. He turned just in time to see the hulking figure of Bulldozer barreling toward him.

With no time to dodge, he crossed his arms to block.

BOOM!

The impact landed like a freight train. Pain exploded through Razorclaw’s arms as the sheer force of the punch launched him backward like a ragdoll.

He flew over a hundred feet, tumbling across the ground before slamming into a massive boulder, cracking it in half. Only then did he finally come to a stop.

Bulldozer’s beady eyes locked onto him, glowing with menace.

”Another damn speed freak…”

Meanwhile, the Saber Corps—three thousand elite zombies wielding blazing lightsabers—had already torn into the Zombie Horde.

Fueled by Elegy’s psychic resonance, they fought like they were high on pure adrenaline. Their strength, speed, and reflexes were all boosted by at least thirty percent.

On the other hand, the enemy horde was falling apart.

The sound of Elegy’s guitar wasn’t just music—it was a weapon. The haunting melody drilled into their minds like a curse, disrupting their focus, dulling their reactions, and even stiffening their limbs.

The difference was night and day.

The Saber Corps carved through them like hot knives through butter. Lightsabers flashed, slicing zombies in half, cleaving skulls, and sending limbs flying.

Blood sprayed. Guts spilled. Heads rolled.

Some zombies were cut clean at the waist. Others had their skulls split open like melons. The battlefield looked less like a fight and more like a butcher’s workshop in hell.

It was a massacre.

Razorclaw stood frozen, stunned by the carnage unfolding before him. His mind struggled to make sense of it.

What… what even was this?

Weapons?

They’d fought countless battles across Frostmere, big and small. But nothing—nothing—like this.

This wasn’t a battle.

This was slaughter.

...

High up on a nearby ridge, Ethan stood watching the chaos below, arms folded, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. The lightsabers were performing even better than he’d expected.

Against a standard horde, they were absolutely devastating.

”So, what do you think, Bloodveil? Not bad, huh?” Ethan turned to the figure beside him.

”…” Bloodveil didn’t answer right away. He just gave Ethan a look, like, Why the hell are you asking me?

”…Meh. It’s alright, I guess,” Bloodveil finally muttered. ”But I still think raw power matters more. Relying on gear? That’s just a crutch. You couldn’t pay me to use one of those things.”

”Oh? Got some pride, huh?” Ethan chuckled. ”Respect.”

Back on the battlefield, Razorclaw’s face had gone grim. He was starting to realize just how deep this went.

If it had just been a plant-type Zombie King, he could’ve chalked it up to some wild mutation, a lucky fusion in the wilderness.

But these zombies with lightsabers? This was something else entirely.

They weren’t randoms.

They were organized. Equipped. Trained.

Backed.

”What the hell is going on…?” Razorclaw muttered, his mind racing.

And then he noticed it—off to the side, that same hulking brute in metal armor, glaring at him like a predator eyeing its prey.

”What’re you staring at?!” Bulldozer bellowed, voice like a war drum. ”Focus up!”

He charged again, each step shaking the ground, raising his massive fist like a wrecking ball.

Razorclaw’s eyes narrowed. No way he was taking that hit head-on.

With a swift backflip, he launched himself out of range, landing a safe distance away.

Yeah, Bulldozer was strong—but Razorclaw had speed. And speed meant control. As long as he kept moving, that brute couldn’t touch him.

He exhaled, tension easing slightly.

This was the power of a speed-type Zombie King.

But just as he started to relax, a low, raspy laugh echoed from behind him—like rusted metal scraping against bone.

”Keh keh keh… So that was you… talking shit behind my back, huh?”

...