Apocalypse: King of Zombies

Bloodveil had barely shaken off the psychic assault when a wave of searing pain crashed over him. His skin was completely gone, peeled away like scorched paper, and thick, mutated crimson blood seeped from every inch of his exposed flesh.

He looked like hell—literally.

”Fuck it… I’m not going down like this!”

Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to stay upright, channeling every ounce of energy he had left. His unique blood surged outward, wrapping around his body like a living shield.

From the outside, he looked like a grotesque, pulsating blood orb.

Using the brief moment to catch his breath, Bloodveil staggered backward, forcing his way out of the edge of the toxic red mist.

His zombie underlings finally exhaled in relief.

SSS-class The Voidborn Undying—yeah, they’re tough bastards. Not easy to kill.

But Bloodveil was in rough shape. His skin was gone, raw red muscle exposed to the air. His face was especially gruesome—gums bared, teeth gleaming white against the blood, like some nightmare creature dragged out of a horror flick.

”Shit… there goes my badass image,” Bloodveil muttered with a twisted grin, half-joking, half-mourning his lost cool.

One of his minions immediately gave him a thumbs-up. ”No way, boss! You’re still the coolest. Always will be, in my book!”

Bloodveil blinked, a little taken aback. That actually… kinda touched him. Maybe these guys weren’t total idiots after all.

The same minion quickly added, ”Not just corpse-cool—our Bulk Freighter’s the coolest too!”

”Uh…” Bloodveil’s expression froze.

But there was no time to dwell on it.

”Move! The toxic mist’s coming back—get your asses outta here!”

”Got it!” the horde of underlings shouted in unison.

The world around them was drenched in crimson fog, like they’d been dropped into some blood-soaked hell. Zombie screams echoed from every direction—howls of rage, terror, and agony.

And it wasn’t just the mist. Nerissa’s elite Voidborn Undying were charging in, cutting through the chaos like demons. Behind them came a swarm of SS-class Zombie Kings and a dense wave of elite undead.

Heartland’s zombie horde was a nightmare unleashed. The toxic mist didn’t hurt them—in fact, it seemed to supercharge them. Their eyes glowed red, their movements wild and frenzied, like they were high on pure rage.

They tore into Eastreach’s forces like wolves into sheep, ripping them apart in seconds.

”Goddamn it! We can’t match them at all!” Bloodveil growled, frustration and helplessness twisting in his gut.

Heartland’s zombies were on a whole different level—more evolved, more numerous, and with way more high-tier monsters. Even if Eastreach’s undead fought to the death, they couldn’t do much more than slow them down.

In just a few minutes of fighting, nearly a million Eastreach zombies had been wiped out.

And Heartland’s slaughter showed no signs of stopping.

But then—something shifted.

A new energy stirred in the battlefield. Bloodveil’s eyes narrowed as he noticed it: every time a zombie died, a stream of black, ghostly resentment rose from the corpse and slithered across the ground, like smoke with purpose.

All of it was flowing in one direction.

”What the hell…?” Bloodveil muttered, turning to follow the trail.

That’s when he saw it.

Hovering in the sky behind them was a massive Command Cruiser. And standing on its hull, silhouetted against the blood-red sky, was a teenage boy with a katana in hand. His medium-length hair whipped in the wind, and his eyes burned with fury—pure, focused rage that seemed to ignite the very air around him.

The resentment gathered at his feet, swirling like a storm.

”Cut,” the boy said softly.

His katana came down.

The pent-up fury exploded outward in a wave of black energy. A fan-shaped blade of darkness tore through the battlefield, sharp enough to split the sky.

Ricky’s charged strike hit like a goddamn freight train.

Everything in its path—Heartland zombies, elite or not—was sliced clean in half. Even some of the SS-class Zombie Kings didn’t make it out alive.

Then came another voice—cool, calm, and deadly.

”Domain of Tides… endless and eternal.”

A girl stepped up beside Ricky—Aria. Her katana shimmered with blue light, and she swung it in the opposite direction.

She was already SS+ class, and with that specially-forged glowing blade, her power was pushing SSS territory. Her strike carved through the enemy ranks like a tidal wave of death, dropping Heartland zombies by the dozens.

”How about that? I definitely killed more zombies than you,” Aria said with a smirk, flicking the blood off her glowing katana.

Ricky gave her a sideways glance. ”Eh, not bad. Let me build up a little more resentment energy, then we’ll talk.”

Just then, the Command Cruiser rumbled as it touched down on the battlefield. The hatch hissed open, and several figures stepped out—members of the White Robe Order.

Bloodveil’s eyes went wide, stunned. ”Wait a second… You’re that guy—Ethan’s loyal little human follower?!”

”Yeah, that’s me,” Ricky replied casually.

They’d crossed paths before, deep in the heart of Xenorift. They recognized each other instantly.

But Bloodveil frowned, clearly confused. ”What the hell are you doing here? This is my battlefield!”

”Master said you were getting your ass kicked,” Ricky said bluntly. ”Told me to come help out. Also said… you’ve got a lot of resentment energy piling up over here.”

Bloodveil froze for a second, something about that didn’t sit right.

Wait… Had Ethan planned this all along?

He mulled it over, then turned his gaze toward the Heartland front. The enemy’s power was overwhelming—Zombie Kings everywhere, a Deathless Sovereign leading the charge, and four Voidborn Undying elites tearing through the ranks.

And Ethan sent two humans?

That wasn’t backup. That was a death sentence.

”…Your master just trying to get rid of you?” Bloodveil asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ricky shot him a glare. ”What the hell are you talking about?”

Far off in the distance, Nerissa had already sensed the human presence. She didn’t even flinch. In fact, she looked downright insulted.

Sure, Ricky and Aria might be top-tier talents in human civilization—but to a Deathless Sovereign of Heartland? They were just two juicy targets waiting to be crushed.

In a battle of this scale, she didn’t even need to acknowledge them. When they got close enough, she’d swat them like flies.

Bloodveil was thinking the same thing. He glanced around—aside from Ricky and Aria, the rest of the White Robe Order looked like they’d barely survive a bar fight, let alone a warzone.

”You two seriously think you can take down Heartland’s Deathless Sovereign?”

”Nope,” Ricky said without hesitation, shaking his head.

Bloodveil’s expression darkened. ”Then yeah, your master’s definitely throwing you away.”

But Aria stepped forward, calm and confident. ”We can’t beat her… but we can call someone who can.”

Bloodveil blinked. ”Who?”

Aria pulled out a sleek communicator, brought it to her lips, and spoke clearly: ”We’ve reached the Heartland front. Engaged with a Deathless Sovereign. Requesting immediate support.”

The moment her voice cut off, a blinding light flared in the distant sky—like a second sun had ignited on the horizon.

It was falling fast, growing larger by the second, radiating pure annihilation.

A Starbreaker Cannon.

It tore across the heavens like a divine judgment, screaming toward the battlefield.

Nerissa’s eyes widened. The blinding white light washed out the world, erasing all color, all shadow.

The massive energy sphere plunged into the red mist.

”Scatter!” she shrieked, her voice slicing through the chaos as she sent out a desperate command.

BOOOOOOM!

The explosion hit like the wrath of a god. A shockwave ripped through the battlefield, vaporizing everything in its radius. Zombies were obliterated in an instant. A towering mushroom cloud rose into the sky, blotting out the sun.

It had happened so fast, Heartland’s forces didn’t even have time to react. The death toll was catastrophic.

As the dust began to settle and the smoke thinned, a massive shadow loomed over the battlefield.

The surviving zombies looked up—and froze.

Descending from the sky like a falling star was a colossal warship, its hull gleaming with the scars of countless battles. It wasn’t just a ship.

It was a legend.

The last Dreadnought-class Starcruiser of human civilization had arrived.

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