Apocalypse: King of Zombies

Disguised as Boneclaw, Ethan walked alongside Hydrissa toward the ancient fortress, weaving through the dense, rotting tide of the Zombie Horde. Up ahead, a clearing opened up—etched into the ground were glowing runes, strange patterns twisting and intersecting like veins of light.

The moment Ethan laid eyes on it, he recognized it instantly. It was a Ritual Array—one he’d seen back on Earth. A portal that could connect this world to his own.

Once upon a time, Gorthas had known Nightbane.

He’d tricked Nightbane into gathering Radiant Crystals and carving out the same kind of Ritual Array. But when Nightbane tried to activate it, the ritual was sabotaged. Just as he began to emerge from the portal, Ethan had smashed him back through with the Star Map tablet...

Ethan hadn’t expected that one day, he’d end up on the other side of that same Ritual Array. The irony wasn’t lost on him—it stirred something deep, a strange mix of nostalgia and grim satisfaction.

Inside the fortress, they entered a grand hall. Towering stone pillars lined the space, and the chamber stretched wide and high, echoing with the low growls of the undead.

Around twenty Zombie Kings had gathered—this was the core of the nest’s power. The weakest among them were still SS-class monsters.

Including Hydrissa, there were three SSS-class beings present—each one a Voidborn Undying, the elite of the elite.

Ethan blended in among the Zombie Kings, keeping his head low, eyes sharp.

And there he was—Gorthas.

He stood above them all, gaunt and withered, his face a map of deep lines and sunken eyes. But the aura rolling off him was anything but frail. It pulsed with raw, oppressive power.

”Finally... we meet,” Ethan thought, watching him.

But Gorthas didn’t notice a thing. Why would he? The idea that someone would dare infiltrate Heartland alone, just to assassinate him? Unthinkable.

It wasn’t even on his radar.

His attention was locked on the chaos outside—the four other Regions had begun to surge with their own Zombie Hordes, converging on Heartland.

”Our scouts report that a Horde has reached the edge of Heartland,” Gorthas announced, his voice low and gravelly.

”Who?” one of the Zombie Kings growled, eyes narrowing.

Gorthas replied, ”The weakest of the four—Westmarch’s so-called Overlord... Meteorfall.”

A ripple of disdain passed through the hall.

”Him?” one of the undead scoffed.

Everyone knew Westmarch was a wasteland. Thirty years ago, it had been bombarded by three Dreadnought-class Starcruisers. The fact that any zombies survived at all was a miracle. Combat strength? Practically nonexistent.

But Gorthas wasn’t so quick to dismiss them. ”Even a wolf goes all out when hunting a rabbit. We can’t afford to be careless. Send some elites to keep an eye on them.”

”Westmarch zombies can’t even get enough to eat. They’re walking corpses among corpses,” one Zombie King sneered. ”Boss, let me go. I’ll wipe them out in minutes.”

The others joined in, snarling and howling.

”Let me go too—I’ll bring you Meteorfall’s head.”

”I want in. I want to see how they die.”

”A bunch of starving, broken-down freaks... and they dare challenge us?”

”...”

Gorthas watched his underlings with a satisfied smirk. Their bloodlust was high, their confidence overflowing. But he wasn’t about to send just anyone.

”Hydrissa,” he said, turning to her. ”You go. I trust you. But listen—if Meteorfall doesn’t make a move, neither do you. Don’t leave the territory. I won’t be able to back you up in time.”

”Understood,” Hydrissa nodded. She wasn’t stupid—she knew exactly what he meant. The situation outside was like a swirling vortex. Step out of line, and you could get sucked in with no way out.

With a few Zombie Kings in tow, Hydrissa left the hall.

The room quieted slightly, the tension easing as their numbers thinned.

Gorthas let out a sigh. ”What a shame...”

The remaining Zombie Kings exchanged glances, curious.

”Boss?” one of them asked. ”Something else bothering you?”

”It’s nothing,” Gorthas said, shaking his head. ”Just thinking... if only Ragnar and Ravager were still around.”

He used to have four Voidborn Undying under his command. Ragnar had been sent to Eastreach to hunt Xenobeasts—Gorthas had hoped he’d return with an SSS-class crystal core.

But he never came back.

Gorthas had asked around. The answer? Ragnar was killed by Xenobeasts. But the more he thought about it, the more it didn’t sit right. Something about it stank.

Then there was Ravager, sent to Westmarch not long ago. He vanished without a trace. No word, no signal. Probably dead too.

Now Hydrissa was off watching Meteorfall, which meant only one SSS-class subordinate remained by his side.

Gorthas sighed again. ”No more corpses to command...”

Still, Heartland was rich in resources. New powerful zombies were always rising. A few of the Zombie Kings were already on the verge of breaking through to SSS-class.

”Boneclaw,” Gorthas said, turning his gaze toward Ethan. ”Right now, you’re the one I’m counting on the most. You’ve absorbed enough crystal core energy. You’re just one step away from breaking through. I want you to reach Voidborn Undying level—either before the war starts, or during it.”

His voice was full of hope and expectation.

Ethan looked up, surprised. Of all the names to call out—he hadn’t expected that.

Under normal circumstances, Boneclaw would’ve bowed, thanked him for the encouragement, maybe thrown in a little flattery.

But Ethan?

He was thinking something else entirely.

Maybe... this was the opportunity he’d been waiting for.

With Hydrissa gone, taking a handful of Zombie Kings with her, the ancient fortress suddenly felt a lot emptier. Only Gorthas and one other Voidborn Undying remained. The rest of the Zombie Kings? Barely worth counting in a real fight.

Ethan stood silently among them, calculating. After a moment of thought, he muttered under his breath, ”Voidborn Undying... not that impressive. Breakthrough or not, I can take them down.”

That got attention.

”Oh?” Gorthas raised an eyebrow, and even the other Zombie Kings turned sharply, stunned by the sheer audacity of the statement.

Was he serious?

No zombie had ever dared to talk down the Voidborn Undying like that. Not unless they had a death wish.

Gorthas’s expression darkened. This wasn’t something he could let slide. ”Boneclaw, I know you’ve got talent,” he said, voice low and warning, ”but don’t let it go to your head. Arrogance comes with a price.”

”I’m just telling it like it is,” Ethan replied coolly. ”Voidborn Undying aren’t all that.”

Gorthas’s face twitched. He was practically speechless.

Not all that?

Even he wouldn’t dare say something that reckless out loud.

Clearly, Boneclaw had gotten too comfortable in Heartland. He hadn’t seen real war. Real blood. Real death.

Well, as the boss, it was his job to fix that.

”Gravemount,” Gorthas said, turning his head slightly.

At the base of one of the massive stone pillars sat a hulking figure. Even seated, he was as tall as the other Zombie Kings standing upright. His upper body was bare, muscles coiled like steel cables, thick and corded with power.

This was Gravemount—Gorthas’s last remaining SSS-class Zombie King.

”Boneclaw,” Gorthas said, his tone almost fatherly, ”maybe you’ve never fought a real Voidborn Undying before. Let Gravemount give you a little... lesson. Sound good?”

Ethan shrugged. ”Sure, why not.”

This was playing out exactly how he’d hoped.

He glanced at Gravemount’s towering frame, then at Gorthas’s withered form, and finally swept his gaze across the rest of the room—the lesser Zombie Kings, all watching with a mix of curiosity and bloodlust.

He was already mapping out the kill order in his head.

But Gorthas... Gorthas wouldn’t go down easy. Even if Ethan managed to land the killing blow, it would cause a massive commotion. There’d be no hiding it.

And once the alarm was raised, the others would come—Endless, Nightwraith, and the rest of the Deathless Sovereigns.

His own undead forces were still en route. They wouldn’t arrive in time to back him up.

So the plan was simple: strike fast, then run west—toward Meteorfall’s territory. Let that poor bastard take the heat for a while.

Decision made, Ethan stepped forward.

The other Zombie Kings instinctively parted, clearing a path as Gravemount rose to his full, monstrous height. His massive form loomed over Ethan, and a wide grin split his face, revealing rows of jagged, yellowed fangs.

”You...” Gravemount growled, voice like grinding stone, ”ready for this?”

...