Apocalypse: King of Zombies

After more than ten days of relocation—and another month-plus of expansion and reorganization—the Atlas Federation’s ”great merger” was finally, at least on the surface, complete.

They’d cleared the roads of zombies ahead of time, but the sheer scale of the movement was still too loud to hide. It drew in zombies and mutant beasts from farther out, and there were casualties along the way.

Still, the losses stayed within an acceptable range.

Now that the merging was done, all that was left was time—slowly grinding down friction until the new combined compounds actually felt like a single whole.

After the mergers, the Atlas Federation’s remaining major compounds formed five regional hubs: Atlas City compound in the north, Heartland City compound in the central region, Fallen Star City in the south, Goldcrest City compound in the west, and Clearford City compound in the east.

Aside from Fallen Star City, each of the other four compounds now held roughly ten million people. Their footprints had expanded several times over, walls pushed outward, districts carved up, new housing slammed together in a constant roar of construction.

In this era, everyone was Enhanced. Population didn’t just mean mouths to feed—it meant strength.

Ten million survivors meant ten million potential fighters. It gave each hub a real backbone. At the very least, if another zombie siege or mutant beast wave hit, they had the manpower to survive without instantly collapsing.

After that, Maxwell issued five laser cannons to each compound.

Atlas City had already tested the cannons in real combat.

They were strong—terrifyingly so. The higher the Tier of the crystal cores you loaded, the more ridiculous the damage.

The downside was the cost.

Every shot required ninety-nine crystal cores… and you only got one blast.

But that one blast could kill above its Tier.

Load ninety-nine Tier 15 cores, and you had a real chance of dropping a Tier 18 powerhouse in one hit.

As long as you didn’t miss, it was worth it.

On a battlefield, the scariest thing wasn’t the mob—it was the one monster you couldn’t answer. With a laser cannon in your pocket, at least you had a trump card.

Once the merger settled, the Atlas Federation entered another rapid-growth phase.

Bigger compounds meant more people, more problems—but also more capable Enhanced.

With so many teams operating at once, the zombie populations within a few hundred miles of each hub got scrubbed clean.

By now, after relentless extermination, zombies were becoming scarce. Only the areas far from any major compound still had meaningful numbers.

The biggest exception was Fallen Star City.

Fallen Star City still had the most zombies around it—so many that other compounds couldn’t help feeling jealous.

More than a hundred million zombies meant more than a hundred million crystal cores.

And the craziest part?

Those zombies didn’t attack humans.

They guarded Fallen Star City instead.

Forget everything else—just having that wall of undead made Fallen Star City the safest of the five hubs.

Days passed.

Then weeks.

By the time Ethan’s group hit the third month of closed-door training—five months after the Crimson Star’s last appearance—

Late at night, they headed up to the rooftop like they always did, staring into the sky while absorbing mysterious energy.

During the day, they cultivated indoors, using the energy crystal and the ritual circle.

At night, they came up here and relied on the Nine-Star Dipper.

That had become their standard routine.

Once the Nine-Star Dipper appeared, mysterious energy across Earth surged again. At that point, there was no need to keep draining the energy crystal.

Under normal conditions, the energy crystal only leaked a little mysterious energy, and that didn’t cost it much.

But when they used the ritual circle to pull energy directly from it, that was real consumption.

At night, as long as they didn’t use the crystal—or use the ritual circle to siphon the ambient energy—the energy crystal could slowly absorb mysterious energy from the environment and refill itself.

Ethan had noticed that after a few days of observation, and he’d locked in this training schedule immediately:

Daytime—use the energy crystal.

Nighttime—use the rooftop and the Nine-Star Dipper.

The concentration of mysterious energy in the deep night air was high enough that it didn’t slow their progress at all.

And since the Body Refinement Technique only worked with the Nine-Star Dipper present, this routine squeezed the maximum value out of every day.

Tonight, they came up to the roof like usual, sat down, and got ready.

Then the Nine-Star Dipper rose.

And with it…

A red star appeared as well.

The moment Ethan saw it—familiar, yet somehow still alien—his expression changed.

So did everyone else’s.

”It’s here,” Ethan thought, letting out a silent breath.

What was coming had finally arrived.

At the same time, all across Earth, countless people saw it. Their reactions varied—shock, dread, excitement, silent prayer.

One thing was already common knowledge now:

Every time the Crimson Star appeared, something big followed.

This time wouldn’t be an exception.

The first appearance to the second had been a full year apart. But the third…

Not even half a year.

Just five months.

Anyone paying close attention would notice something else too. Tonight, the Crimson Star was unusually bright. Its red glow completely overwhelmed the Nine-Star Dipper’s nine stars, making the Dipper look washed-out and dim.

And as the Crimson Star rose, every zombie and mutant beast on Earth seemed to go… ecstatic.

One after another, they lifted their heads like worshippers at an altar, staring at that crimson light.

Strands of red radiance rained down over them, soaking into flesh and bone. Their strength climbed rapidly—and with that power surge came something worse.

They grew more violent. More savage.

Meanwhile, around the world, the Void Realm passages that had been sealed shut began to tremble with spatial fluctuations.

Two hours later, the ”closed” Void Realm passages reappeared.

Not only that—those twisted spatial tunnels began to tear, slowly ripping open into visible cracks.

And those cracks… were widening.

Painfully, impossibly slowly—but widening all the same.

The intense spatial disturbance drew Void Realm creatures from nearby areas. They gathered around the rifts in curious clusters, watching the opening with hungry interest.

On Earth’s side, the Atlas Federation’s known Void Realm passages were all guarded.

The moment the Crimson Star appeared, every major compound had already sent orders: all passage guards were to stay alert and report any changes immediately.

So they saw it too.

It was deep night, but nobody slept.

Leaders across the Federation kept taking call after call from the guards stationed at the passages, each report heavier than the last. Faces grew tighter by the minute, expressions dark and grim.

Atlas City compound.

Maxwell and the others stared at the live video feed on a phone screen, their breaths shallow.

The major compounds had already rebuilt base stations. Phone networks were back. Video calls were routine now.

The caller was stationed at Atlas City’s Void Realm passage entrance.

A soldier holding a flashlight kept the camera steady, panning and zooming so the leadership could see the scene clearly—because this wasn’t something anyone could explain with words anymore.

A distorted hole in space. A crack tearing open inside it. That crack widening, inch by inch, like the world itself was being pried apart.

”Just like Ethan predicted…” Maxwell’s voice was low, heavy. ”The Void Realm passage really did open again.”

”And this time it’s completely different,” Gabriel said, tone grim. ”Look at it—this isn’t a hidden doorway anymore. It’s going to fully open.”

He swallowed, eyes locked on the screen. ”With a disturbance this big, the Void Realm creatures will notice immediately. When that happens… there’s no way it’ll be just a handful coming through. We’re going to see a flood.”

Nobody answered.

They’d expected something. They’d prepared for something.

But the scale of it—seeing it with their own eyes—still made their stomachs drop.

Before, they’d thought it would be like the earlier incidents: a concealed passage, the occasional Void Realm creature stumbling upon it and slipping through.

This?

This was practically a beacon. An open invitation. A public gate.

They couldn’t even begin to imagine how many Void Realm creatures would pour into Earth once it stabilized.

Arthur’s face had gone pale, almost gray. ”General Kane…” His voice came out rough. ”With this kind of situation… do we really still have a chance to survive?”

Maxwell didn’t look away from the feed. His eyes lifted slightly, as if he could see past the screen and into the sky itself.

”We do,” he said quietly.

Then, with more weight: ”We have to.”

All the effort. All the merging. All the cannons. All the rushed training and hoarded cores—

They’d done it for this moment.

Even if the road ahead was brutal… they were going to carve out a way to live.