Apocalypse: King of Zombies Chapter 1189: I’ll Go Find the Zombie King Myself

"General Cross, you're here on account of Leonard, aren't you?" Ethan stated directly.

"That's correct." General Cross gave a nod. "I have faith in your integrity, Ethan. You wouldn't eliminate him without cause. Could you explain the reason?"

"It's straightforward enough." Ethan gestured dismissively. "He aimed to convert us into thralls, forcing me to take his life."

"Thralls?" Both General Cross and Colonel Mitchell fixed their gazes on him, utterly puzzled.

"Exactly." Ethan kept his voice relaxed, as if discussing something mundane like the day's forecast. "A technique that compels living individuals to become obedient thralls under his command."

Ethan had no intention of concealing this from General Cross. In fact, it suited his plans perfectly—allowing Clearford City to circulate the information about the Hale family possessing a thrall-creation method.

Even should skepticism prevail, it would still force the Hale family into a defensive position.

He had slain Leonard, which ensured a future confrontation with the Hale family. Their discomfort brought Ethan satisfaction.

"Ethan… are you telling the truth?" General Cross's expression grew stern.

"What reason would I have to deceive you?" Ethan replied. "The Hale family acquired a thrall-creation secret art from that unique pocket world in Atlas City. Over recent days, they've conducted trials on live subjects."

"Leonard noticed our power and targeted us." Ethan gave a casual shrug. "Unfortunately, his abilities were subpar. I ended him."

"!!!"

"If that's the case, then he had it coming," General Cross declared, his features darkening like forged steel.

"This concerns the Hale family," he added. "I must escalate it through the ranks. Do you possess any proof?"

"Well… nothing concrete." Ethan showed no hint of shame. "I don't typically require proof for my actions."

"…"

General Cross let out a heavy breath from his nostrils. "Very well. I trust you wouldn't fabricate such a serious matter. I'll inform my superiors; they rely on my assessment."

"Fine. Deal with it as you see fit."

Ethan changed the subject. "Incidentally, General Cross—any luck locating that Zombie King?"

"Negative." General Cross appeared exhausted. "The sheer volume of zombies this time is overwhelming. Our reconnaissance teams hesitate to approach closely, and the Zombie King conceals itself masterfully. No signs detected."

He hesitated briefly. "We also arrived to address a critical issue: reconnaissance indicates the horde is gradually advancing toward the compound."

"Already?" Ethan's eyebrows lifted.

"That suggests they've completed their assembly," he remarked.

After a brief contemplation, his eyes narrowed with focus. "Commanding millions of zombies—even a Tier 10 specimen might struggle. Yet Tier 11 zombies haven't emerged. Thus, this Zombie King is probably a zombie endowed with a unique ability."

"Zombies possessing abilities?" General Cross and Colonel Mitchell's eyes widened in shock.

"Indeed they can," Ethan affirmed gravely, nodding firmly. "Lower tiers likely lack them. However, certain advanced zombies possess such powers."

"The Tier 9 zombie we dispatched previously had one."

"This…" Colonel Mitchell tensed up.

"Should zombies develop abilities," General Cross stated with a furrowed brow, "the threats to humankind escalate dramatically."

"Precisely." Ethan shook his head. "Enduring this catastrophe was always destined to be arduous."

He inclined slightly forward. "What's the count of Tier 6 and higher Enhanced currently in the compound?"

"Following days of relentless operations—slaying zombies and harvesting crystal cores—we've reached over ten thousand Tier 6 Enhanced," General Cross reported. "For Tier 7, slightly more than seven hundred. Tier 8, just over three hundred. Tier 9, exceeding thirty."

The majority of Tier 8 and Tier 9 advancements stemmed from the crystal cores obtained by eliminating those Titan Apes.

"Our elite forces aren't lacking," Colonel Mitchell sighed. "Yet our intermediate ranks lag far behind the zombie forces. Tier 6 zombies now constitute a substantial portion."

"Within this horde, at minimum, hundreds of thousands of Tier 6 zombies swarm. Given our numbers, holding the line proves impossible."

Ethan nodded before inquiring, "Regarding ammunition? Based on your existing arsenal and supplies, how many zombies do you estimate you could eradicate?"

"Our reserves have dwindled significantly." General Cross scowled. "Even deploying all resources, we'd manage to clear only several hundred thousand sub-Tier 7 zombies."

"That falls woefully short." Ethan released a measured exhale.

A major urban center truly couldn't simply "hold steady." A multi-million zombie swarm—beyond a stronghold like Atlas City, survival seemed improbable for anyone.

Without locating the Zombie King, a force of this magnitude… even Ethan and his team couldn't reverse the tide.

Clearford City had drawn the short straw. Encountering such a crisis prematurely—if granted additional time for growth, another level of power, they wouldn't face such desperation.

After some reflection, Ethan regarded General Cross. "Return to base for now. Come morning, I'll personally hunt for that Zombie King. Success means victory. Failure requires your preemptive preparations."

He spoke without softening the blow.

"Choose between a last stand or evacuating the Clearford City compound to establish a new base in a lesser city or rural area."

"Affirmative. We place our hopes in you." General Cross delivered a sharp salute, departing the mansion alongside Colonel Mitchell.

As their burdened strides faded, the group sensed the immense pressure bearing down.

"Captain… surely you can track down that Zombie King?" Mia whispered.

"I'll give it my all," Ethan responded. "However, pinpointing one Zombie King amid millions of zombies isn't simple. We're uncertain if it lurks within the horde; it could be concealed elsewhere."

He scowled. "Given its command over so many, it's almost certainly a mental variant. Such a zombie would prove extraordinarily cunning."

Mia let out a sigh. "Thus, fortune decides our fate."

That evening, the team shared a meal and retired early. They rose near midnight to observe the stars and draw in the enigmatic energy until dawn, then rested a few more hours.

Ethan awoke, mounted the Peregrine Falcon Flint, and soared toward the zombie assembly site.

He had given his word. Thus, he'd exert maximum effort.

Flying southward, after roughly an hour, the sight emerged—zombies crammed so densely they blanketed the ground like a writhing sea of flesh.

This marked Ethan's initial encounter with a horde of such horrifying scale.

The mass extended endlessly into the distance.

Viewed from above, the spectacle intensified, delivering raw, visceral dread.

"How on earth do I spot it in there?" Ethan grumbled, his scalp tingling.

He shook his head. "Truly, I excel at self-inflicted hardship."

Yet options remained scarce. He commenced a thorough manual search.

Activating [True Sight] at full capacity, he repeatedly swept the horde, meticulously seeking any aura resembling a "king." Periodically, he consumed a crystal core to restore his mental stamina.

One hour elapsed.

Then another.

Within the throng, he identified more than a dozen Tier 9 zombies—but no hint of the Zombie King.

Ethan observed the horde's inexorable advance toward the compound, his forehead creasing deeper.

"This approach won't suffice," he murmured. "At their pace… the compound falls within under five hours."

His eyes narrowed.

"Very well. I'll stir up some chaos for them."

Ethan retrieved his satellite phone and dialed General Cross.

"General Cross. Dispatch personnel to our residence to fetch Big Mike and Garrick."

"Roger that."

Soon, two additional colossal birds took flight from the compound, directing toward the zombie concentration.