Apocalypse: King of Zombies

Led by a squad of elite zombies, Ethan and Bloodveil made their way toward the zombie nest hidden deep in the desolate mountains. The path twisted and turned, winding around massive boulders, until finally, an entrance came into view.

It was pitch black inside—like a cave swallowed by shadow.

Ethan stepped in. The air turned cold and damp, the interior hollowed out into a wide, open chamber.

The place reeked of zombie menace. In the center, someone was slouched on a stone platform, legs propped up on a nearby boulder, casually munching on something like he was snacking on sunflower seeds.

Ethan squinted. The guy wasn’t eating seeds—he was crunching on chunks of rock. Not just any rocks, either. These were meteorites, glowing faintly with swirling radiation.

”Addicted to space rocks, huh?” Ethan muttered to himself.

”Boss! Two Voidborn Undying are here to see you!” one of the zombie underlings reported, shuffling forward.

”Mm.” The figure—Meteorfall—grunted in acknowledgment, slowly lifting his head.

His face was a mess of lumps and ridges, with a few stubborn tufts of hair clinging to his scalp. He looked... rough. Like a horror show that forgot to end.

”Meteorfall,” Bloodveil called from behind.

”Bloodveil?” Meteorfall blinked in surprise, then quickly stood and walked over.

”Bloodveil, what are you doing here? I thought it’d be one of the Zombie Kings from Heartland.”

”It’s been a while. I figured I’d drop by and check in,” Bloodveil replied smoothly, ever the diplomat. They’d met before—weren’t exactly friends, but there was some history.

”Well damn, Bloodveil showing up at my dump? That’s an honor,” Meteorfall said, suddenly all smiles. He held out a chunk of meteorite. ”Want a bite?”

”Uh... no, no thanks! You go ahead,” Bloodveil said quickly, taking a step back. The stuff was radioactive—definitely not his flavor.

Ethan watched the exchange, sizing Meteorfall up.

Yeah, that face was unforgettable. This guy clearly wasn’t your average undead.

Outside, Black-Skin Zombies were practically storming his front yard, and here he was, chilling with a snack like it was Sunday brunch.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. ”You’ve got a whole swarm of Black-Skin Zombies crawling all over your territory. You’re just... not gonna do anything about that?”

Meteorfall waved it off. ”Eh, what’s the point? I’ve only got so much bloodstock to feed my crew. Can’t support too many underlings anyway. And honestly? Having a bunch of Black-Skins around isn’t the worst thing. This place is a dump—no other Zombie King wants it. That means I’m safe.”

Ethan blinked. Well... that was a take.

This guy was clearly walking a path no other Zombie King had even considered.

Bloodveil leaned in and whispered, ”He got hit in the head by a meteorite. Might’ve knocked something loose... Doesn’t think like the rest of us.”

”Yeah, I can tell,” Ethan muttered.

Just then, Meteorfall seemed to finally notice Ethan properly. He gave him a once-over, curiosity lighting up his grotesque features. ”So, Bloodveil... who’s this guy?”

”He’s from Southvale. My ally,” Bloodveil said, jumping in. He didn’t waste time—laid out their plan straight: they were forming a ”Backstabbing Alliance” and gearing up to go to war with Heartland.

They wanted to know where Meteorfall stood.

Any other zombie with half a brain would’ve been stunned, weighing the risks, calculating the odds.

But Meteorfall? He just slapped his hand down on the boulder beside him, eyes gleaming with emotion.

”Thirty years... You know what these thirty years have been like for me?”

”Stuck in this godforsaken wasteland of Westmarch, starving day in and day out... I’ve been waiting all this time for a shot—just one shot...”

”...”

Thirty years ago, Westmarch was bombarded by human artillery.

The previous Overlord of Westmarch was killed in the chaos.

That’s when Meteorfall rose from the ashes—clawing his way up through the ranks until he claimed the throne for himself.

Sure, he’d managed to survive—hell, even thrive—in this barren wasteland, but that didn’t mean he was content. Every Zombie King stuck out in the fringes dreamed of one thing: breaking into Heartland. That was the real prize.

Bloodveil quickly stepped in to cool things down. ”Easy, brother. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This isn’t some back-alley brawl—we’re talking full-scale war. If we lose, our crystal cores are toast.”

”No worries. My skull’s tough as hell. Wanna feel it?” Meteorfall leaned in, offering his lumpy, radiation-scarred head like it was a handshake.

”...I’m good, thanks.” Bloodveil recoiled, waving his hands like he was dodging a biohazard. He wasn’t about to touch that radioactive dome.

Still, it was obvious—Meteorfall was on board.

But Ethan wasn’t about to take him at his word. ”If your skull’s really that tough, why not prove it? Take out one of Heartland’s Voidborn Undying. Show us you’re serious.”

”Sure. No problem!” Meteorfall agreed without missing a beat.

Even Bloodveil looked surprised. Judging by his appearance—and his aura—Meteorfall didn’t exactly scream Voidborn-level power.

But then again, every member of the ”Backstabbing Alliance” had started by hiding their true strength. It was practically tradition at this point.

”Actually,” Meteorfall added, ”I got a signal from Heartland not long ago. They said they were sending a Zombie King to check in on me. You’ll get to see me in action soon enough.”

”Sounds good,” Ethan nodded.

Right on cue, a low rumble echoed through the sky—something big was approaching. The air buzzed with the unmistakable presence of another Zombie King.

”They’re here already?” Bloodveil raised an eyebrow. ”Well, that’s convenient.”

Meteorfall didn’t look surprised. Heartland had already given him a heads-up. In fact, when Ethan and Bloodveil first showed up, he’d assumed they were the ones Heartland had sent.

As the sound of the approaching aircraft grew louder, Ethan vanished—just blinked out of sight like he’d never been there.

”I’ll leave this to you,” Bloodveil said, glancing around before slipping deeper into the nest, cloaking his presence completely.

Now, the only ones left in the mountain’s hollow belly were Meteorfall and a few of his elite zombie underlings. It was like Ethan and Bloodveil had never even existed.

Meteorfall’s murky eyes flickered with a sharp glint. Ethan’s sudden disappearance had caught him off guard.

That stealth... was no joke.

But he had more pressing matters now. He waved to his crew. ”Come on. Let’s go greet our guest from Heartland.”

”Uh, wait—what?” one of his underlings stammered. Just a moment ago, their boss had been lounging around, chewing on space rocks. Now he was suddenly ready to join Bloodveil’s crew and go to war with Heartland?

”Boss, isn’t this a little... rash? You didn’t even ask what kind of power Bloodveil and his friend are packing. Shouldn’t we at least get the full picture before jumping into a war?”

”No need,” Meteorfall said, turning to look at him with a knowing smirk. ”You don’t actually think they came here to ask for my opinion, do you?”

”Uh...” The underling froze, then realization hit him like a sledgehammer.

This wasn’t a negotiation. It never was.

In Necroterra, no one gets to stay neutral. Not for long.

Meteorfall had seen it clearly—if he’d hesitated, even for a second, he might not have walked out of that cave alive.

He’d survived in Westmarch this long because he understood the rules of the game.

Undeath is theater. And survival? That’s all about performance.

”Let’s go. I want to see what kind of Zombie King Heartland sent this time.”

With that, Meteorfall led his crew out of the nest and into the open, gazing up at the stormy sky.

A streak of light tore through the clouds.

It was a massive Bulk Freighter, descending fast—and packed with zombies.

...