Apocalypse: King of Zombies Chapter 1180: I’m Counting to Three

As the guard dashed inside to deliver his report, a subtle smirk curled at the edge of Ethan's mouth.

The sentries posted outside kept eyeing Ethan and Skinny Pete with blatant distrust.

Especially since the stretch between Clearford City and Goldcrest City was ridiculously vast. During the end times, it seemed impossible for anyone to bridge such a distance and arrive here unscathed.

"You two are really from Clearford City?"

Ethan rolled his eyes, opting not to reply.

If concerns over Skinny Pete's folks weren't weighing on him—and if he didn't mind kicking off a brawl right upon arrival—he'd have barged straight through. Time wasn't on his side for idle talk here.

The sentry scowled at Ethan's demeanor.

In Goldcrest City, officials from the government and military viewed themselves as superior to ordinary folks—even outranking many Enhanced. Facing such brazenness from an Enhanced irked him deeply.

Yet, given that these pair could be the ones "up top" had referenced, the sentries bit back their irritation.

Thus, the group simply lingered in place, awaiting developments.

Shortly thereafter, the sentry who'd gone inside returned at a sprint. He bent close and murmured to his comrades.

The other sentries' gazes sharpened. They then regarded Ethan and Skinny Pete with chilly, mocking grins.

"You claim you’re from Clearford City," the head sentry declared. "Where’s your proof?"

"I’ve got it."

Ethan dipped into his pocket and retrieved the note General Cross had handed him the day before.

It was originally intended for the base's leader—Leonard Hale. However, with entry denied at the entrance, Ethan resorted to presenting it as verification right away.

The sentries grabbed it, ripped the seal immediately, glanced over it briefly—

Then shredded it into pieces.

"Who knows who wrote this?" the sentry remarked, discarding the scraps like garbage. "This isn’t proof of anything."

Ethan's face hardened into a stony, threatening mask.

"I suggest you stop playing with fire," Ethan warned in a frosty tone. "You won’t be able to handle the consequences."

He doubted this was mere confusion. General Cross had evidently arranged things ahead. Their "report" followed by this response indicated ulterior motives.

Whatever those motives entailed... should they provoke him excessively, they'd face the backlash.

"Oh?" The sentries scoffed. "You’re pretty tough."

"I don’t care where you’re from or how strong you think you are," the head sentry stated. "This is Goldcrest City. If you come here, you follow Goldcrest City’s rules. No proof? Then you’re not entering this compound."

Ethan's tone dropped to a whisper. "And if I’m going in anyway?"

"You can try."

"I will."

A thudding collision echoed.

The sentry who'd spoken flew back as if struck by a vehicle, slamming into the earth over thirty feet distant.

"!!!"

"You bastards—how dare you hit a guard!"

The rest of the sentries erupted in rage, swiftly encircling Ethan and Skinny Pete.

Onlookers nearby caught wind of the disturbance and craned their necks. Faces emerged all around like curious rodents.

"Holy shit—who’s that insane? He actually hit a gate guard!"

"Two strangers. Never seen them before. Probably not from this compound."

"They’re done for. Seriously."

A team of patrolling troops noticed the chaos and hurried over, rapidly boxing in Ethan and Skinny Pete.

"Back off," Ethan commanded, his voice glacial.

"You beat someone and you’re still acting tough?" the patrol chief snapped. "Arrest them!"

Several troops charged forward to seize them.

But...

A series of solid thumps from flesh clashing resounded.

In an instant, scores of patrolling troops littered the ground, moaning and attempting to rise.

All witnesses' eyes bulged.

Most hadn't caught the action. They only heard the punches connect—then observed Tier 6 patrollers crumple like tissue.

"Holy shit... what Tier are those two? That’s brutal!"

"At least Tier 7. Maybe Tier 8!" someone speculated.

"Damn. No wonder they’re cocky. But beating up government people inside the compound? Even a Tier 8 Enhanced would get killed for that."

"Who cares?" another voice chimed in, thrilled. "As long as it’s entertaining."

The uproar at the entrance soon alerted those within. Additional troops poured in, and soon the gateway brimmed with bodies, obscuring the dirt.

Simultaneously, the mounted machine guns atop the barrier pivoted, muzzles locking onto Ethan and Skinny Pete.

"Who gave you the guts to start something inside the compound?" A man in his middle years shoved through the throng from behind, fixing them with a fierce stare.

"Damn—Major Colin Keller, the Deputy Provost Marshal, is here!"

"Did he just happen to be nearby, or did he come on purpose?"

"Probably coincidence. Major Keller’s usually slammed—no way he’d make a special trip for two guys."

"Not necessarily. If they’re Tier 8 Enhanced, him showing up personally makes sense."

"True."

Ethan assessed the newcomer briefly, then addressed him with a voice of pure frost.

"The fact they’re still alive is the last bit of patience I’m giving you. I’m counting to three. If you don’t clear a path, don’t blame me when people start dying."

Colin let out a derisive snort. "Hah. Arrogant. Arrest them!"

Dozens of troops advanced en masse.

"Some people just love looking for death," Ethan murmured, shaking his head. "Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you."

He lunged ahead and slammed a vicious kick into the foremost soldier.

The fellow's frame jerked rearward—innards rupturing—hurtling into the mass and toppling a bunch more in its wake.

Skinny Pete joined in with a wide leg sweep that knocked another group of troops sprawling like falling pins.

Facing a horde of hundreds, neither drew arms or invoked powers.

Merely kicks. Each one felled a stack of foes.

Desperate Enhanced among the onlookers unleashed their abilities—flames, slicing gusts, frozen spears—all they could muster.

Ethan and Skinny Pete didn't flinch.

They merely swept their arms and swatted the assaults aside as if shooing pests.

The crowd gaped in astonishment.

"Holy... they’re really strong. No wonder they dared to act like this."

Colin's gaze tightened. He exhaled sharply—and his right limb abruptly gleamed with metal, a silvery coat spreading across his flesh like molten iron.

He balled his hand and propelled himself toward Ethan.

As Deputy Provost Marshal, Colin's rank alone inspired dread.

And at the pinnacle of Tier 8, wielding a metallic power, his fighting prowess rivaled Tier 9.

Beneath a multitude of tense gazes, Colin's armored punch hurtled at Ethan's skull.

Ethan raised a single palm.

Effortlessly.

He intercepted the blow.

No tense battle. No strained posture. Simply... halted it.

Colin strained to drive forward, cords bulging, yet his limb refused to budge a fraction.

Ethan appraised him as if he were insignificant, then squeezed harder.

Before the assembly, Colin's metallic limb began to warp—yielding beneath Ethan's grasp.

"Aaah—!" Colin howled, straining to pull away.

He failed.

A faint, gruesome crunch.

Colin's whole arm exploded outward, erupting into a mist of crimson that dissipated in the breeze.

"!!!"

The entry zone fell into stunned silence.

From the uppermost level of the compound's highest structure, Leonard and a youthful figure observed through field glasses, tracking the events.

Witnessing that, their brows furrowed.

"Tier 9?" the youth whispered.

"Maybe higher," Leonard replied softly.

He set down the glasses. "Send someone. Invite them in."

"Yes, sir."

Once the youth dashed away, Leonard fixed his gaze on the far-off entrance, intensity building in his stare.