Apocalypse: King of Zombies

Big Chompers clutched his head with both hands, looking utterly wronged.

"We still gotta keep going if we want to find the stone tablet. It's a long way off."

"We have to go even farther?"

"Don't tell me we'll have to cross into another Zombie King's territory?"

"Does that mean we're about to go to war?"

"..."

Big Ears and the others exchanged uneasy glances, murmuring among themselves. Then they turned to look out over the open plains, where a dense horde of zombies stretched as far as the eye could see. A brutal fight seemed inevitable.

Bulldozer, on the other hand, looked like he was itching for it. His face twisted into a savage grin, and his voice was practically shaking with excitement. "Boss, let's just smash our way through right now!"

Ethan stared off into the distance, silent for a moment. Then he slowly shook his head. "This enemy's not like the others. We don't even know how many Zombie Hordes we're up against. If we charge in, you guys could be in serious danger."

"So what do we do then?"

The Zombie Kings all looked puzzled.

They knew Ethan well—he never picked a fight unless he was sure he could win.

And now, all across Canada, the undead were converging like a tidal wave of corpses, clearly mobilized to stop them. Even if they fought their way through and won, there was no guarantee they'd all make it out alive.

Ethan thought for a moment, then seemed to come up with something. He turned to Big Chompers, the short, dark-skinned zombie.

Feeling Ethan's gaze, Big Chompers flinched. His heart skipped a beat. Why's he looking at me like that?

"You're good at digging, right?" Ethan asked.

"Of course! No zombie digs better than me." Big Chompers perked up instantly. This was his area of expertise, after all.

"Great. Then we'll dig our way there," Ethan said.

The other Zombie Kings lit up, realizing it was actually a brilliant idea. They'd almost forgotten Big Chompers had that particular skill.

"That's genius! Talk about turning trash into treasure."

"Right? Why didn't we think of that?"

"Boss really can make use of anything."

"Yup, he's a diabolical genius—uh, I mean, tactical genius!"

"..."

The Zombie Kings were fired up, ready to pull off a classic tunnel job—sneak past the enemy hordes underground and head straight for the stone tablet.

Just then, Big Ears jumped up again and smacked Big Chompers on the head.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Start digging!"

"N-no need to dig... I already did. I mean, I came all the way here by digging, remember?" Big Chompers said, rubbing his head, looking pitiful.

Big Ears smacked him again, this time even harder.

"Then why the hell didn't you say so earlier?!"

"..." Big Chompers was speechless. You never asked...

"Great. I'm the punching bag again..." he muttered under his breath.

...

To avoid being spotted by the Mutant Vampire Zombies, the group first returned to a small border town and found a hidden spot where Big Chompers could reopen the tunnel he'd used before.

"Holy crap!"

Big Ears and the others jumped in and were stunned. It wasn't just a single tunnel—it was a whole underground network, branching out in every direction.

Turns out, Big Chompers couldn't go a day without digging. He practically lived underground and rarely showed up on the surface. So in a way, the entire underground was his domain.

One by one, the zombies dropped into the tunnels, moving like spiders along the walls, fast and silent.

Of course, some of the bigger zombies couldn't join the mission—like Bulldozer, the bio-mutant behemoth, and the massive zombie beasts they'd picked up along the way. They had to stay behind in the border town.

Ethan, naturally, didn't need to crawl through tunnels. He activated his stealth ability and locked onto Big Chompers' aura below, following along aboveground as the little digger led the way.

A massive Zombie Horde moved beneath the earth, completely undetected. Not a single guard zombie noticed a thing. The whole operation was eerie in its silence.

By late morning, they reached the spot where Big Chompers had originally hidden the stone tablet.

Ethan lifted his gaze from the tunnel exit and saw a range of snow-capped mountains stretching across the horizon.

From deep within the valleys, the guttural roars of monsters echoed endlessly, bouncing off the cliffs like a warning. It was clear—these mountains were crawling with the undead too.

At the base of the range, the temperature wasn't all that low. Patches of snow had already melted, leaving the ground looking like it had some kind of skin disease—splotches of black and white dirt scattered unevenly across the landscape.

But what caught Ethan's eye were the footprints.

Dozens of them, maybe more, pressed into the soft earth, forming a trail that snaked along a narrow path and disappeared into the mountains.

The prints were too neat, too orderly—definitely not made by zombies.

"Humans?" Ethan muttered. "Could they be after the stone tablet too?"

...

With a portion of his Zombie Horde in tow, Ethan moved into the snowy mountains, following the trail of footprints.

But from the surface, there were no other signs—no broken branches, no discarded gear, no scent of blood or decay. Whoever left those prints knew how to cover their tracks.

Meanwhile, in a sprawling Canadian city far to the east, a different kind of undead had gathered.

Unlike the ruined, crumbling cities typical of the apocalypse, this one stood eerily intact. No collapsed buildings, no scorched streets. It was almost... preserved.

That's because the Mutant Vampire Zombies here still retained fragments of their human memories. Their habits, their routines—even their sense of order—mirrored the world before it fell.

At the center of the city, a figure in a black cloak stood tall among the crowd.

Surrounding him were several elite Zombie Kings, each radiating a fierce, oppressive aura.

"Sent Pied King and his crew to attack the U.S., and what happened? Not a damn word since. Wiped out, the whole lot of them. Useless trash," the black-cloaked figure said coldly.

"Lord Malcolm," one of the vampires stepped forward, "word is, the Zombie Horde from Los Angeles pushed up to the U.S.-Canada border. Redgaze faked a retreat, lured Pied King in, and that's when they sprung the trap. Total annihilation."

"Hmph."

Malcolm had already heard the story.

Back when he was still human, he'd watched Game of Thrones—especially the Battle of the Bastards—dozens of times. He remembered how Jon Snow's forces were baited into chaos, only to turn the tide with a perfectly timed ambush.

Ethan had just pulled off something eerily similar.

"He's not just a brute," Malcolm muttered, a flicker of admiration in his voice. "He's a tactician. A real Butcher General."

One of the Zombie Kings beside him stepped forward. "Don't worry, boss. The Crimson Count already gave the order. Zombie Hordes from all over are converging on Canada. We're locking this bastard in. Our guys are watching the border like hawks—he's not getting through."

Malcolm nodded. "Father takes the American Zombie Kings very seriously."

It was no secret—Malcolm was the adopted son of the Crimson Count, one of the highest-ranking figures in the Vampire Race. Because of his deep knowledge of American history and culture, he'd been specifically assigned to this front.

Of course, Malcolm wasn't the Count's biological son—just one of his many "adopted" children.

Rumor had it the Crimson Count had taken in thirteen adopted sons and daughters. Some were unmatched in combat, others were brilliant scholars or strategic masterminds. Each one had a unique strength. None of them were ordinary.

Malcolm was Number Ten among them.

"We can't give Ethan any more time to grow stronger," Malcolm said, his voice sharp. "Once the Zombie Horde is fully assembled, we march. We crush him."

"Yes, sir!" the Zombie Kings responded in unison, eyes gleaming with bloodlust.

But Malcolm, ever the strategist, was already thinking ahead.

"If he managed to bring the U.S. Zombie Horde all the way here, that means their territory's wide open. No strong Zombie Kings left behind. I wonder... how's Number Thirteen's mission going?"

...