Apocalypse: King of Zombies

While Ethan and the others were rampaging across foreign lands, back in the Atlas Federation, every compound was squeezing every second it could to get stronger.

The major compounds sent huge numbers of Enhanced out every day to hunt zombies.

The more zombies they killed, the stronger their Enhanced got. And the stronger they got, the easier it became to kill even more zombies.

At this point, Atlas had basically turned zombies into EXP mobs.

When people saw a zombie now, it wasn’t fear.

It was excitement.

By now, the cities housing the major compounds—and even the surrounding cities nearby—had been cleared out completely. If you wanted to kill zombies, you had to travel way farther out to even find them.

A lot of teams would go out and stay gone for days at a time, because making a round trip was such a pain.

Copper Ridge City…

It sat in Dustvale State within the Atlas Federation. Not famous. Just a remote mid-sized city with fewer than half a million people before everything fell apart.

A compound had once been established here too, but it didn’t hold. The survivors fled to the Crownfall City compound, and Copper Ridge was left behind.

Now there were no humans here.

Only zombies.

Late at night, when the Nine-Star Dipper appeared and the Earth’s mysterious energy thickened, the mindless zombies all lifted their heads toward the sky and began to absorb it.

Near dawn, a ripple suddenly flared around one zombie—a breakthrough.

It was a small-framed zombie with a cute, almost harmless-looking face.

Tier 17 to Stage B.

That was talented, sure, but not unheard of anymore. By now, there were plenty of Stage B zombies.

But when the breakthrough ended, something changed.

Its vacant eyes blinked.

Once. Twice.

A faint, confused look surfaced, like it’d just realized there was something inside its skull that hadn’t been there before.

And along with that… it awakened an ability.

A psy-type power:

Absolute Dominion.

It didn’t understand how terrifying that name really was. But it could feel it—this power… it seemed like it could control others of its kind.

”Rrrr—!”

It suddenly threw its head back and roared at the sky.

Its body was small, but the sound that came out was thunderous, shaking windows and echoing down empty streets.

The moment that roar rang out, the nearby zombies—shambling like walking corpses—snapped into motion like they’d received an order.

They sprinted toward it.

One after another.

In seconds, they clustered around it like loyal followers.

Watching that, the small zombie seemed to swell with a strange sense of satisfaction.

Surrounded by an ever-growing mass of zombies, it marched forward, roaring again and again.

Any zombie that heard its roar would run toward it and join its ranks.

In just a single day, it gathered all four hundred thousand-plus zombies in Copper Ridge City under its command.

But it didn’t stop.

On the second day, it led its swarm out of Copper Ridge and into the wider world.

And along the way, it kept expanding—calling, gathering, collecting more and more.

Rus Federation…

The largest nation on Earth by landmass, its territory dwarfed almost everyone else.

Yet despite all that land, its population was only a little over a hundred million, making it one of the most sparsely populated major powers on the planet.

Between the brutal climate, the sheer strategic depth, and its heavy military infrastructure, the Rus Federation had managed to preserve far more strength than most countries after the apocalypse.

Ethan had a good impression of the place.

Not because of politics—because the people here were tough. Blunt. Hard to intimidate. In a world where hesitation got you killed, that temperament mattered.

More importantly, Rus Federation had kept friendly ties with the Atlas Federation.

So this time, Ethan had no intention of raiding them.

He was here for one thing only—

Void Realm creatures.

When Ethan and the others finally arrived, all they saw was emptiness.

No people.

Not even zombies.

But nobody was surprised.

With more than six and a half million square miles of land and only a little over a hundred million people before the apocalypse, finding anyone out here had never been easy.

After the world ended, it was almost hopeless.

If you were looking for someone in a place like this…

Good luck.

They’d been flying for a little over an hour when Ethan suddenly lifted a hand, signaling everyone to stop.

”What is it?” The others turned to him, confused.

”What time is it right now?” Ethan asked.

”October 15th, 2036, 1:59 p.m.,” Henry rattled off like he’d been waiting for a pop quiz.

”….”

”Didn’t need it down to the minute.”

Ethan frowned. ”It’s October 15th. Winter hasn’t started yet, right?”

”For us, no,” Chris said. ”For the Rus Federation? That’s basically winter.”

”Fine,” Ethan said, then pointed into the distance. ”Even if it’s winter, that area’s still wrong. The snow’s way too thick.”

Everyone followed his finger.

Far ahead was a low mountain range—except it looked like someone had dumped a truckload of white paint over it. The whole stretch was buried under heavy snow, bright and clean.

”Yeah… that’s not normal,” someone muttered. ”We haven’t seen any snow at all flying in. Why is it piled up like that there?”

”Be careful,” Ethan said, eyes narrowing. ”I’ve got a bad feeling there’s something in that mountain range. We’re going down. In the air, we’re too obvious.”

”Got it.”

They dropped altitude and landed, then moved forward on foot, cautious and quiet.

As they approached the mountains, the temperature noticeably started falling. The deeper they went, the colder it got—fast.

”Jesus,” Chris whispered, breath starting to fog. ”No wonder the snow’s that thick.”

”Stay sharp,” Ethan said, voice low. ”This place isn’t right.”

”Yeah.”

They pushed a few minutes farther in.

Then Skinny Pete stopped so abruptly everyone behind him nearly ran into his back.

”B-Boss…” Pete’s voice came out tight. ”Maybe we should leave.”

The whole group froze.

Ethan turned to him. ”It’s dangerous?”

Pete nodded, dead serious. ”Yeah. I’m getting that… heart-clenching feeling. Like something in there can kill me.”

Everyone’s stomach dropped.

”Even if you summon Dopey to fight?” Ethan pressed, not quite willing to let it go.

”I don’t know,” Pete said, swallowing. ”I just know if I go in there, it’s a lethal threat. For me.”

”Understood.” Ethan didn’t argue. He lifted a hand and chopped it down. ”Fall back!”

If Skinny Pete—of all people—was saying that, then whatever was inside was the real deal. No reason to gamble on it.

Except—

The ground started to tremble.

Not an earthquake. More like… pounding footsteps. Something huge sprinting toward them through the snow.

Ethan’s face changed instantly.

”Flamebirds—now! Run!”

Everyone vaulted onto their Flamebirds.

Wings snapped open. The birds launched, surging into the sky and shooting away at full speed.

They hadn’t been gone long when something massive burst out of the mountain range behind them.

The squad looked back—

—and sucked in a breath.

A towering white figure, easily over thirty feet tall, covered in snow-colored fur. It looked vaguely like a polar bear, except its back legs were thick as tree trunks and it moved upright, bipedal, like a nightmare trying to learn how to be human.

”RROOOAAAR—!”

Seeing them escaping, the white bear roared in fury toward the direction they were fleeing.

The sound hit like a physical удар—like the air itself had become a hammer.

Heads rang. Vision swam.

Several Flamebirds got stunned mid-flight and dropped straight down like their strings had been cut.

”What the hell is that?!” someone yelled, voice pitching.

”Grab them—keep moving!” Ethan roared back.

Other Flamebirds dove, snatched the falling birds up in their talons, and hauled them along.

The riders who’d been on the stunned Flamebirds reacted instantly, leaping to other mounts in midair and clinging on as the formation broke and re-formed on the fly.

Behind them, that terrifying white bear still wasn’t done.

It chased.

Snow exploded under its feet as it barreled after them, shaking the ground with every step.

But it was too big. Too heavy. It didn’t move like a speed-type mutant beast.

After about seven miles, it realized it wasn’t catching them.

It slowed.

Then finally stopped, watching them go—fur bristling—before turning back toward the snow-buried mountains.