Apocalypse: King of Zombies

In the dark-red world…

Three days had passed since Ethan and the others entered this pocket world.

In those three days, they’d ridden the Flamebirds like a mobile strike force—splitting Infernal tribes again and again, slaughtering pack after pack, and hauling in crystal cores by the truckload.

The world itself was big, but life was scarce. Aside from the Infernals, they’d only run into the ”Redshell beasts” Ember had mentioned three times total—things that looked like a turtle and a pangolin had a messed-up hybrid baby.

They were a nightmare to kill.

Insanely high defense, and they could burrow. Even when Ethan’s group jumped them hard, they’d managed to kill fewer than a hundred.

Really drove home a simple truth: anything that was still alive in a place like this had earned it.

Other than those Redshells, they’d basically seen nothing else.

The Infernals, though?

There were plenty.

Millions, easily.

In three days, they’d hit dozens of tribes and collected over three hundred thousand crystal cores.

But they couldn’t keep farming them like this anymore.

Their ”divide-and-harvest” tactic had become infamous among the Infernal population. At this point, trying to pull the same trick again was just asking to get buried.

Worse—some of the smaller tribes had started forming alliances because of them.

Now huge numbers of Infernals were sweeping the region in carpet searches, hunting them down. The moment Ethan’s group showed their faces, they’d be facing a rolling pursuit from every direction—endless Infernals pouring in until they ran out of luck.

Ethan clapped his hands once. ”Alright. This is enough. Let them breathe.”

Then he smirked. ”We should head back out. I’ve still got Yamato guys to kill.”

It wasn’t fear.

They’d just… filled their bags.

”Works for me,” Chris said.

Everyone nodded, and the squad started moving carefully toward the exit.

And yeah—they were walking, not flying.

Even the Flamebirds were crouched low, padding along like oversized red chickens trying not to be seen.

Not because they were scared.

They were just sick of flying and wanted to stretch their legs for once.

With Ethan’s True Sight guiding them, they skirted around a massive Infernal force by cutting through a narrow mountain ravine. Only after they were clear did they mount up again and take off toward the exit.

Even with all that caution, the instant they lifted into the air, distant Infernals spotted them.

Shouts rose. Shapes moved.

Fire lit the horizon.

Thankfully, they were too far—nothing could reach them.

The squad pushed their mounts hard, streaking toward the Void Realm’s exit at full speed.

Ethan considered looping around to throw off pursuit… then scrapped the idea.

No point.

That exit was going to be discovered sooner or later anyway.

And honestly? If Yamato Empire wasn’t wiped clean by the time he got back, maybe these Infernals could ”help” finish the job.

As for whether anything spilling out would threaten Atlas Federation…

Not really a concern.

Yamato Empire sat on a massive island, surrounded by ocean on all sides. The Infernals couldn’t fly, and crossing open sea wasn’t exactly easy for ground-based monsters.

Not unless the world wanted to get a lot uglier.

It didn’t take long before the exit came into view.

Ethan’s group plunged through—along with a huge flock of Flamebirds in their wake.

Meanwhile, inside Yamato Empire…

The whole country was practically throwing a party.

Three full days.

Those devil-like monsters from the Atlas Federation still hadn’t come back out of the volcano.

Which meant only one thing.

They were dead.

It was the kind of good news that made people sleep better. The kind you celebrated.

Across the major compounds, the atmosphere finally loosened. People stopped jumping at every siren and shadow and started living ”normally” again—at least, as normal as the apocalypse allowed.

Inside a mansion at the heart of the Edo City compound, Ryuji Takahashi finally allowed himself to relax after days of white-knuckle tension.

Then a subordinate burst in, pale and frantic.

”Bad news! Prime Minister! They’re out!”

Ryuji’s head snapped up. He glared. ”Who told you you could barge in? I said no one enters without my permission!”

”S-sorry!” The man bowed so hard it looked like his spine might crack, then blurted, ”Prime Minister, it’s really bad—those Atlas Federation people came out of the volcano! And they brought a huge flock of giant red birds!”

”…What?”

Ryuji shot up from the couch like he’d been electrocuted. ”What did you just say? Say it again.”

”Those Atlas Federation people… they came out!”

Ryuji went rigid.

”How… how is that possible?”

”Aren’t they supposed to be dead?”

His face twisted with disbelief, like reality had personally insulted him.

He whirled on the subordinate. ”Notify Takeo and the others. Command center. Now.”

”Yes, sir!”

Minutes later, Yamato’s top brass were packed into the command room again, talking over each other the second they walked in.

”Takahashi-san, is it true? They’re back?”

”They really came out?”

Ryuji’s expression was dark. ”Stop talking. Watch.”

The main screen flickered to life.

It was security footage from inside a major compound.

Above the walls, a swarm of Flamebirds circled like a living red storm. Then fire poured down—sheets of it—turning screaming crowds into nothing.

The compound erupted into an ocean of flames.

It was slaughter without blood.

Not because it was merciful—because the victims didn’t even leave bodies behind. There was no gore on the ground. The fire ate everything. Even the evidence.

In the command room, fists clenched. Knuckles went white. Eyes locked to the screen like they could will it to change.

”What the hell are those things?” someone rasped. ”Why are they massacring Yamato warriors like this?”

The Infernals had killed too, sure—but they killed to eat. They didn’t waste abilities. Their pace was brutal, but not this fast.

These Flamebirds weren’t hunting.

They were executing.

They had numbers. They owned the sky. And the kill speed was terrifying.

That compound was one of Yamato Empire’s few major sites with a population over a million.

Under the Flamebirds’ bombardment, it didn’t last long. The flames pushed all the way to the compound’s center like the walls weren’t even there.

Then—suddenly—the Flamebirds stopped attacking.

Several figures leapt down from their backs.

The command room exploded.

”It’s them!!”

”Those bastards!”

”They really came out of the crater!”

”And those monster birds—don’t tell me they brought them back from inside…”

Someone’s voice broke on the last part, like their brain refused to accept it. ”Why would creatures like that listen to a handful of people?”

No one had an answer.

They could barely handle Ethan’s group before.

Now add tens of thousands of flying firebombs that took orders.

How was Yamato supposed to survive that?

”Why is every good thing falling into their laps?” Ryuji snarled, bitterness boiling over. ”Is this heaven trying to wipe out Yamato Empire?”

”Takahashi-san—what do we do?” someone begged. ”Yamato can’t fall!”

Ryuji slammed his palm onto the table. ”I’ve already tried every idea you idiots can think of. What do you want me to do? Look at that lineup and tell me how to block it!”

That shut the room up.

The only sound was the video’s distant screaming and roaring fire.

Then Ichigo spoke, voice low. ”We can’t fight them head-on.”

He took a breath. ”We have to beg.”

Ryuji whipped toward him. ”Beg? Like we haven’t tried? If begging worked, those compounds wouldn’t have been erased.”

He jabbed at the screen. ”Those people are devils. Devils don’t accept mercy deals.”

”Not begging,” Ichigo said, forcing the words out. ”Surrender. We can submit—swear allegiance, even. As long as we keep the Yamato bloodline alive, what does surrender matter?”

His eyes were bloodshot, but steady. ”If the bloodline survives, we can always rise again someday.”

Another officer swallowed, then nodded slowly, like it hurt. ”It’s the apocalypse. Population is the rarest resource. If we surrender proactively, the Atlas Federation higher-ups might accept it.”

The room went dead quiet again.

For Yamato’s ”warriors,” surrender was poison. The old pride said you’d rather gut yourself than kneel.

But pride didn’t keep children alive.

If surrender bought survival… then maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Ryuji stared at the screen, jaw working.

A long moment passed before he finally lifted his head.

”…Fine,” he said, voice rough. ”Find a way to contact them.”