Apocalypse: King of Zombies

Pied King's ability might be tailor-made for team fights, but when faced with an overwhelming enemy force, even that power felt utterly useless—like trying to stop a tidal wave with a paper shield.

And then, the battlefield shifted.

A wave of green surged up from the ground, spreading fast and thick like a living tide. Sprout had activated her Absolute Domain.

In an instant, vines erupted everywhere, writhing like a massive green tsunami, crashing outward in all directions. Wherever they passed, the Canadian zombies were skewered, drained of blood and flesh, or yanked high into the air and had their necks snapped like twigs.

Within seconds, the once snow-blanketed valley had transformed into a lush, vibrant oasis.

But that wasn't the end of it.

The green grass was soon overlaid with a soft pink glow. Tiny flowers bloomed in clusters, releasing thick clouds of pollen that drifted through the air, sending nearby zombies into a dazed, hallucinatory stupor.

Daisy 2.0—Petal—had joined the fray.

Her synergy with Sprout was almost poetic. Pink petals and green leaves—deadly and beautiful. The two of them together were like a combo move straight out of a video game.

In the middle of this frozen white wasteland, vibrant plant life was suddenly thriving, blooming with delicate flowers. It was surreal—bizarrely beautiful, almost like a dream.

But beneath that strange beauty was pure, unrelenting carnage.

Sprout and Petal's area-of-effect slaughter was devastating. The Crossborder zombies were dropping like flies. In just a few minutes, over half of them were already dead.

The foreign Zombie Kings were stunned.

Especially Big Thighs Zombie King, who had been one of the first to charge in.

"What the hell is going on?!"

Things had started off so smoothly. Even Chrome Dome Zombie King had made it back alive. But now, death was staring him in the face.

As the zombie horde shifted and stumbled around him, Big Thighs caught sight of a bald figure slowly walking his way.

His eyes widened, glowing with rage. He shouted, "Chrome Dome! What the hell is happening?!"

"Chrome Dome? Haha... Nah, I'm Lil' Shroom," the figure said, her voice shifting mid-sentence. With a casual wave of her hand, a cloud of fungal spores burst out, settling onto the Crossborder zombies like a death sentence.

The infected zombies screamed in agony, collapsing as red tumors erupted from their bodies, layer upon layer, until their flesh was completely consumed.

"What the..."

Big Thighs stared in horror.

It was all a lie. Everything had been a setup.

The real Chrome Dome? Who knew where—or when—he'd died.

And then, the red tumors on the ground began to squirm and shift. They twisted and reshaped themselves, rising up into bald, humanoid figures.

Dozens of them.

Their bodies were grotesque, their faces blank, but every single one turned to look directly at Big Thighs.

"Oh, shit!"

The sight was straight out of a nightmare. Big Thighs Zombie King was terrified. All thoughts of fighting vanished—he just wanted to get the hell out of there.

They were completely outmatched. Victory wasn't even on the table anymore.

Survival was the only thing that mattered now.

His massive leg muscles tensed, and in the blink of an eye, he turned and bolted. His speed was insane—leaping over corpses, bounding off boulders, moving with terrifying agility.

The landscape blurred past him, and behind him, only afterimages remained.

At this pace, almost no zombie could keep up. He could see a way out. Freedom was close.

But then—he stopped.

Dead in his tracks.

His eyes narrowed, instincts screaming.

Someone was standing in his path.

A slender figure, head tilted slightly, watching him with a calm, unreadable gaze.

What stood out most was the mechanical claw attached to her arm.

A Zombie King—with a cybernetic hand.

"Move! Now! Or I swear, I'll tear you apart!" Big Thighs roared, panic creeping into his voice.

But Laura didn't budge.

She stood there like a wall, unmoved, her scarred face twisted into a smirk of pure disdain.

Big Thighs clenched his jaw, muscles coiling like springs. He crouched low, ready to launch himself forward like a missile.

He was going to blast right through her—no matter what.

Big Thighs exploded into motion, his foot slamming into the snow with such force it left a deep crater behind. As he tore forward, snowflakes kicked up in a wild flurry, trailing behind him like a storm.

This was the fastest he'd ever moved since awakening his powers—so fast his body blurred, his movements impossible to track with the naked eye.

"Let's see if you can stop this!" he roared in his mind, fury and desperation fueling every step.

But just as he closed the distance, Laura vanished.

One second she was there, the next—gone.

In the blink of an eye, the two speed-type Zombie Kings passed each other like twin comets streaking through the battlefield.

Laura's claw lashed out mid-stride, a flash of silver slicing through the air.

A clean cut.

Big Thighs' head flew from his shoulders, spinning through the air before landing with a dull thud in the snow.

His body, still driven by momentum, slid forward for several meters before finally collapsing. A long, gruesome trail of blood marked his path, staining the pristine snow a deep, sickening red.

Big Thighs—dead.

—

The slaughter didn't stop.

One by one, the foreign Zombie Kings began to fall.

Their forces collapsed like a house of cards, scattering in all directions like headless flies, panicked and disoriented.

"This is insane…" Pied King's heart pounded in his chest. He had no idea where this terrifying Zombie Horde had come from, but their evolution level was off the charts. Especially the elite units—those top-tier zombies were like executioners born for nothing but killing.

The tide had completely turned. No—this wasn't a battle anymore. It was a massacre.

His own troops were being annihilated. They couldn't even last a single round against the enemy.

Survival was the only thing that mattered now.

Pied King made a snap decision. He had to get out—now. "Retreat!" he shouted, turning on his heel.

He and his elite squad of zombies—his core force—began to push outward, trying to break through the encirclement. These weren't weaklings; they were strong, and they managed to take down quite a few enemies along the way.

But then, something shifted in the sky.

A few crows began circling overhead, cawing sharply, their cries shrill and mournful.

"Huh?" Pied King glanced up, a chill crawling down his spine. He didn't know why, but a deep, primal fear gripped him—like death itself was about to descend.

And then it hit.

A crushing wave of pressure slammed into the battlefield like a tsunami of blood and steel. It was overwhelming, suffocating—like a sea of gore crashing down from the heavens, drowning everything in its path.

A true king had arrived.

Pied King's knees buckled under the weight of it. It felt like the sky itself was pressing down on him. Around him, weaker zombies were crushed outright, their bodies popping like overripe fruit under an invisible hand.

The ground felt like a giant magnet, pulling everything down. Corpses dropped one after another, unable to withstand the sheer force.

Blood mist curled into the air, catching the sunlight and turning into crimson threads that hung like silk from the sky, painting the world in red.

And through that eerie scarlet haze, a figure appeared—standing atop a massive boulder.

Dressed in white.

Calm. Unmoving. Watching the carnage unfold with the cold detachment of a god who had long since stopped caring.

Pied King stared, eyes wide, breath caught in his throat.

He had never felt pressure like this before. This wasn't just strength—it was domination. The kind of presence that made you feel like you were already dead, just waiting for your body to catch up.

It was like standing at the edge of a bottomless abyss, knowing that one wrong step would send you plummeting into eternal darkness.

"So strong…" he thought, heart pounding like a war drum. Just from the aura alone, he could tell—this Zombie King was one of the strongest in the world.

This was his first time seeing Ethan.

And, most likely… his last.

At that moment, Ethan's gaze swept over him.

He sized up Pied King with a glance—SS-class, barely. Not much of a threat. Useful in a team fight, maybe. But even then… just barely.

His internal judgment?

Not even close to Nightbane.

...