Apocalypse: King of Zombies

By the time the Zombie Horde from Solaris Citadel arrived, all they found was a single, lonely corpse lying in the dirt.

Vexia was sprawled on the ground like a broken doll, her body limp, her face frozen in a mask of terror—as if she'd seen something so horrifying, it stopped her heart cold.

"Vexia! What happened?! Wake up!"

A few of the A-class zombie lieutenants rushed over, panic in their voices as they called out to her.

But Vexia didn't move. Not even a twitch. Her body was already cold—completely lifeless.

"She's... she's dead!!!" one of them cried out, eyes wide with shock. The others looked just as shaken, fear creeping into their undead bones.

She was fine just a moment ago...

And now, just like that, she was gone.

"Quick! We've gotta report this to Boss Dreadpaw!" one of the lieutenants barked, already turning to run.

. . .

Meanwhile, Ethan had led Hank and the rest of the zombies to the edge of the Exile Zone. They'd found shelter in a rocky, barren mountain range, hiding among the jagged stones.

The howling wind was muffled by the massive boulders, and for the first time in a while, things felt... quiet.

"Damn! That was intense!" Hank said, still catching his breath, his eyes wide with the adrenaline of their escape.

The other zombies nodded, still buzzing from the chaos.

"Can't believe we actually stole the whole damn pig farm."

"And the boss took down Vexia, the Zombie King!"

"Freakin' badass!"

"Hell yeah!"

Ethan, meanwhile, was sitting off to the side, absorbing energy from an SS-grade crystal core. A warm surge of power flowed through his body, spreading to every limb. It felt... good. Like something he hadn't felt in a long time.

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed out the corpse of a massive pig—one of the alien livestock from the farm. Time to do some research on what these off-world zombies were eating.

He pulled out a carving knife and sliced a triangular chunk from the pig's side. Then, using the tip of the blade, he dug into the meat and carved out a thick, bloody piece.

The stench hit him immediately—raw, metallic, and foul.

Ethan brought the meat to his lips and took a small bite.

"Ugh—blech!"

He grimaced and spat it out instantly.

Just as he suspected—the meat was disgusting. The pigs had been raised on nothing but dry grass, and despite their size, the meat was bland, greasy, and completely devoid of nutrition.

But Hank and the others were already drooling, eyes locked on the carcass like starving wolves.

"Boss, what's wrong? You don't like it?"

"Nah. You guys go ahead."

Clearly, taste buds varied across species. Ethan couldn't stomach the alien pork, but the others weren't nearly as picky.

With his permission, they pounced on the pig, tearing into it with wild abandon.

"Mmmph—so good!" Hank grunted between mouthfuls.

"Right? I haven't had meat like this in forever!"

"Forever? Man, I've never had meat like this in my life!"

The sound of ripping flesh and gnashing teeth filled the air as the zombies devoured the pig, their hunger insatiable.

Ethan, meanwhile, poured himself a cup of what passed for "juice" on this planet and sipped it quietly.

God, alien food sucks...

With only one species of livestock and barely any resources, it was no wonder the meat tasted like garbage.

But just then—

From the clear blue sky, beneath the glow of three suns, a low rumble echoed across the wasteland. A tiny speck of light streaked across the sky, moving fast.

"Huh? Aircraft?"

Ethan looked up, narrowing his eyes. It was far off, but his enhanced vision could make it out clearly.

The moment the others heard the sound, they froze. Hank and the rest of the zombies went pale, like startled rabbits, and instinctively ducked for cover.

"Hide! Now!"

They abandoned the half-eaten pig and scrambled behind the rocks, crouching low, not daring to peek out.

Only after the roar of the aircraft faded into the distance did they finally start to breathe again.

"Was that really necessary?" Ethan glanced around at the others, raising an eyebrow. These guys were seriously on edge.

The zombies had been wandering from place to place, always on the run. The slightest noise sent them into a panic—like fugitives constantly looking over their shoulders.

Hank scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish. "Boss, we don't really have a choice. Any random faction out here could kill us. Who knows what was on that aircraft?"

"I mean, judging by the sound and the speed it was flying, I don't think it belonged to a zombie faction," one of the younger zombies chimed in. "It felt more like... humans. From across The Exile Zone."

"Humans?" Ethan's eyes lit up with interest.

The zombie nodded quickly. "Yeah. Human civilization's on the far side of The Exile Zone. They fly over here all the time to hunt zombies. They call it 'The Hunt Trial.'"

"Right," Hank added, his tone grim. "If it really was humans, that's even worse. They specifically target zombies like us—no corpse nest, no protection, just wandering around. We're easy prey."

At this point, both the zombie factions and the humans wanted them dead.

Bottom line? If you saw something flying overhead, it was best to stay the hell out of sight—didn't matter who it was.

Ethan nodded slowly, taking it all in. Yeah... it made sense.

Zombies without a corpse nest were like weeds in the wind—no roots, no safety. Just drifting, waiting to be crushed.

"Don't worry," Ethan said calmly. "Once we take Dreadpaw's corpse nest, we won't have to run anymore."

"Uh..." Hank and the others exchanged uneasy glances. That kind of talk was way above their pay grade.

If they had the power to take Dreadpaw's nest, they wouldn't be hiding in the rocks eating alien pork.

Ethan didn't seem fazed. He pressed on. "Besides the pig farm, does Solaris Citadel raise any other livestock?"

Hank thought for a moment. "I heard rumors... The pigs are for the regular zombies. But there's another kind of animal—Brutox. Some kind of wild bison. They feed it fresh, tender grass, and the meat's supposed to be way better. Only the Zombie Kings get to eat it, though. I've never actually seen one."

"I see..." Ethan's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, already turning over new ideas in his mind.

. . .

Back at Solaris Citadel, all hell had broken loose.

Dreadpaw was in a full-blown rage after hearing the pig farm had been completely wiped out. He was so furious he nearly coughed up blood. With a roar, he slammed his fist down, shattering the massive stone table beside him into rubble.

"Nearly six hundred pigs—gone! How the hell do you lose six hundred pigs?! Why don't you just lose your damn heads while you're at it?!"

"Uh... Boss Dreadpaw, actually... Vexia kinda did lose hers..." one of the zombie underlings muttered, trying to report the facts.

Dreadpaw stared at him, dead silent. For a second, it looked like he was about to crush the guy with a single slap.

But the situation was too bizarre to ignore.

Nearly six hundred pigs, vanished without a trace. Vexia, the one guarding them, found dead—her crystal core ripped out, yet not a single wound on her body.

And that look on her face when she died... pure terror.

Vexia was an SS-class Zombie King. There weren't many things in this world that could scare her—let alone kill her.

"Boss, according to the zombies who were there, the one who stole the pigs was Hank. He came back from The Exile Zone. Vexia went after him... and that's when she died," another underling reported.

"Hank???"

Dreadpaw's face twisted in confusion. If it weren't for the pig theft last time, he wouldn't even remember that name.

Thrown into The Exile Zone... and he actually made it back?

Dreadpaw was stunned. But one thing was clear—this whole mess had Hank's name written all over it.

"Find him!" Dreadpaw roared. "I don't care what it takes—bring me Hank!"

...