Apocalypse: King of Zombies

As Nathan dialed the number, a strange unease crept over him. He couldn't shake the feeling—something was off at headquarters, and he had no idea what he was about to walk into.

The video call connected quickly. On the massive screen in front of him, a young man appeared.

Sharp features. Short, spiked hair like steel bristles. Clad in a Genesis Biotech combat uniform, he looked every bit the part—efficient, no-nonsense. This was Simon, the CHRO of Genesis Biotech.

Word around the company was that Genesis Biotech had eight department heads, each one a powerhouse who'd clawed their way to the top through sheer strength. These weren't desk jockeys—they were elite fighters.

"Mr... Mr. Blake, good to see you," Nathan greeted, trying to keep his voice steady.

Simon didn't waste time. "What's going on?"

Nathan studied the man on the screen. He looked normal—calm, composed. No signs of panic or stress. That gave Nathan a bit of courage.

"I was in a meeting just now," Nathan began, "and out of nowhere, Sophia barged in. But she's not... she's not human anymore. She's turned into some kind of monster. She threatened me—said she was going to kill me."

He laid out the entire incident, not leaving out a single detail.

Simon listened without so much as a twitch in his expression. "Sounds like she's been infected with the mutated virus."

"What? Mutated virus?!" Nathan and the others around him went pale.

Simon continued, unfazed. "Don't panic. Headquarters has just finished developing the latest generation of combat units—the fifth-gen Cyborgs. They're built with advanced alien tech. Extremely powerful. I'll dispatch one to support you."

Nathan's eyes widened. He'd heard whispers—rumors about signals from deep space, about something called 'NeuroCore™' being used to develop a new breed of Cyborgs.

He hadn't expected them to be ready so soon.

If the fourth-gen S+ models were already terrifying, then the fifth-gen... they had to be at least SS-class. The kind of power that could level cities.

Still, Nathan and the others couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. The fifth-gen Cyborgs might be humanity's salvation—or its doom.

Meanwhile...

Ethan had already left Mirevale behind. He'd crossed the swamps and entered the territory of the northern overlord—the Redgaze Zombie King. He wanted to see for himself what secrets this so-called king was hiding.

His personal horde—hundreds of thousands of zombies—still occupied Mirevale, waiting for his command. At a word, they could sweep across the entire northern region like a plague.

Now, Ethan stood in a vast, open field. Snow blanketed the ground, but it was stained with blood and littered with broken corpses. The gore had frozen into jagged, dark red ice, leaving a trail of violence etched into the landscape.

In the distance, the guttural howls of zombies echoed—signals of aggression and bloodlust. This place was far from peaceful.

Ethan pressed forward and soon spotted a group of zombies charging across the snow. Their skin tones varied, and some wore tattered headscarves—clearly not local. These weren't American-born undead.

They were foreign, and they were vicious—rushing toward a small grove of trees like a pack of rabid animals.

"Kill them all! We'll crush America beneath our feet—no one can stop us!"

"That's right! This land will be ours!"

"Your boss is nothing! He's hiding like a coward—just give up already!"

Inside the grove, another group of zombies had gathered—clearly Redgaze's crew.

Snowflakes clung to their rotting bodies, and they'd clearly been waiting. Their eyes gleamed with a cold, deadly focus. They were ready for war.

"You think you can storm our corpse nest? Keep dreaming!"

Then came the clash—screeches, snarls, the sound of flesh tearing. The two zombie factions collided in a brutal melee, blood spraying across the snow in a fresh wave of carnage.

Ethan didn't bother getting involved. Let the dogs tear each other apart, he thought. He kept walking, heading straight into the grove.

The trees were bare, their branches heavy with snow, like white blossoms frozen in time. It was strangely beautiful—if you ignored the undead crawling beneath them.

More and more zombies appeared as he moved deeper—tougher ones, elite units, even minor lieutenants. The density of the horde was increasing.

Without realizing it, Ethan had walked straight into the Redgaze Zombie King's lair.

And just ahead... was the heart of it all.

"Let's take a look inside..." Ethan muttered to himself, calm and confident. With his advanced stealth abilities, he was like a ghost—completely undetectable.

Besides, his personal army of hundreds of thousands of zombies was stationed just outside in Mirevale. If anything went sideways, he could unleash hell in seconds.

He moved deeper into the woods, and the further he went, the more impressed he became. The Redgaze Zombie King wasn't just some brute with a crown—his power was legit. Judging by the density of the horde, there had to be over a hundred thousand zombies here, and they weren't your average shamblers either. These things radiated menace. They were strong. Disciplined.

But Ethan slipped past them like mist, silent and invisible. Not a single zombie noticed him.

As he pushed through the last of the trees, something strange happened—the number of zombies started to thin out. And then, just ahead, he picked up something unexpected. presence.

"What the hell... are they being kept here?" he whispered.

He remembered Jerky and Slick mentioning that Redgaze's territory had a bunch of humans in it, but no one knew why. Was he experimenting on them? Using them as bait? Something darker?

The zombies vanished completely as Ethan moved forward, and soon, a small town came into view.

Snow blanketed the rooftops. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys. The whole place looked... peaceful. Like something out of a postcard.

Ethan stood at the edge of the town, stunned. For a moment, it felt like he'd stepped back in time—before the outbreak, before the world went to hell.

"There's a place like this... inside a corpse nest?" he muttered, eyes narrowing.

His curiosity piqued, he stepped into the town.

The narrow streets twisted and turned, lined with people going about their day. Laughter echoed through the air. A group of Ojibwe girls walked past, dressed in traditional ribbon skirts, their outfits adorned with beaded sashes and silver brooches. Delicate feathered headbands sat atop their heads, and silver earrings caught the sunlight, scattering it in dazzling flashes.

Their cheeks were rosy, their skin glowing with health. They looked vibrant—alive. Not like prisoners. Not like survivors barely clinging on.

They chatted and laughed, completely at ease.

"This is... weird," Ethan muttered under his breath. If it weren't for his powerful mental resistance, he might've thought he was trapped in some kind of illusion.

After all, Redgaze's mutation was ocular—he'd awakened some kind of eye-based ability. Illusions weren't out of the question.

But no. Ethan double-checked everything. The smells, the sounds, the warmth of the sun on his skin—it was all real.

And the town? It was full of humans. Not a single zombie in sight.

He couldn't make sense of it. So he decided to ask someone.

Up ahead, a small plaza opened up. Five or six kids were kicking around a soccer ball, their laughter ringing through the air.

"Pass it! I'm open!"

"Got it!"

One of the kids shouted back and gave the ball a solid kick—too solid. The ball sailed off, bouncing down the street.

The other kids groaned and booed, yelling that whoever kicked it had to go get it.

The boy shrugged. "Fine, I'll get it!"

He took off running, but halfway there, he stopped dead in his tracks.

The ball had rolled to a stop at the feet of a man in a white shirt—Ethan.

With a casual lift of his foot, Ethan stepped on the ball, stopping it cold.

"Huh???"

The boy froze, staring up at him.

The other kids looked on from the plaza, exchanging curious glances.

"A real soccer ball?" Ethan murmured, glancing down at it. Not since the world fell apart had he seen one that wasn't torn to shreds or soaked in blood.

The kids didn't seem scared of him. In fact, they smiled and waved like he was just another neighbor.

"Hey mister, can we have our ball back?" one of them called out cheerfully.

...