Apocalypse: King of Zombies Chapter 1194: The King Was Never Born

~5 minute read · 1,290 words
Previously on Apocalypse: King of Zombies...
The massive zombie horde continues its relentless assault, forcing the human defenders to escalate their resistance. Despite sustained bombardment and heavy machine-gun fire, the endless waves of zombies eventually deplete the human ammunition stores. Now forced into brutal, close-quarters combat at the riverbank, the defenders must hold their ground against overwhelming numbers. Meanwhile, Ethan struggles to locate the elusive Zombie King, realizing that the creature may be more cleverly hidden within the chaos than he originally anticipated.
A sudden realization struck Ethan, sharp and clear. Without a moment's hesitation, he spurred the Peregrine Falcon, Flint, and dove directly toward the center of the raging conflict. By this point, the battle had reached a fever pitch. Having breached the defensive blockade, the undead horde had spilled onto the riverbank, locking the Enhanced in a brutal, bloody clash. The sheer volume of the enemy was crushing, with Tier 6 and Tier 7 zombies swarming the humans in overwhelming numbers. Consequently, the defenders were being pushed backward with every passing minute. Nevertheless, the humans held a singular, decisive advantage: their concentration of top-tier combatants. Setting aside the Fallen Star Squad and their menagerie of mutant beasts, Clearford City boasted over thirty Tier 9 Enhanced, a strength the zombie ranks could not possibly challenge. Despite the mass of the horde, there were barely a dozen Tier 9 zombies hidden within, and no sight of a Tier 10 entity, unless one accounted for the elusive Zombie King itself. These elite fighters were the only bulwark preventing a total collapse, slowing the retreat to a pace the weaker combatants could survive. The eight white-furred apes, in particular, were absolute engines of destruction. They rampaged through the lines, their fists obliterating anything they struck into sprays of gore, completely unfazed by the claws and teeth of the walking dead. Had the Zombie King not been exerting its mental influence to hold the horde together, the zombies likely would have broken and fled. Chris and his comrades fought like titans, carving jagged, open paths through the dense sea of bodies, their resolve keeping the morale of the line from shattering. Despite the crushing odds, the Enhanced refused to yield. Even so, the deficiency in elite fighters meant the greater tactical picture remained dire. The divide in quantity between the Tier 6 and Tier 7 units was an insurmountable abyss; the humans were being slaughtered in a relentless, gory harvest. Watching the Enhanced get dragged down and torn to pieces, one by one, until the ground was drenched in blood, a heavy, cold weight settled in Ethan’s chest. This was the raw, unforgiving face of war. In truth, from the dawn of the apocalypse to this moment, they had survived purely through fortune. The primary reason was obvious: their collective power had consistently outpaced the evolution of the zombies. Had that edge failed, they would have been erased long ago. Ethan did not plunge immediately into the fray; a single soul could not tilt a war of such staggering proportions. Instead, he concentrated on his objective, sweeping the horde with [True Sight] and forcing himself to examine every specimen, peering past the crystal cores in their brains to scan the physical forms beneath. Ten minutes elapsed before a specific target snagged his attention. It was a mundane Tier 5 female zombie—unremarkable in every way, save for her unnatural obesity. While her peers threw themselves into the meat grinder with reckless abandon, this one wandered aimlessly at the rear. The surrounding zombies acted as a living wall, deliberately encircling her, keeping her shadowed and concealed. This behavior fueled Ethan’s suspicion. He narrowed his [True Sight], focusing his vision intently upon her bloated midsection. When the image clarified, a smile played on his lips. "Found you." Indeed, the Zombie King was but a fetus, nestled safely within her womb. Throughout his search, Ethan had always fixated on the crystal cores within the skulls, never dreaming to scan the biological bodies themselves. Who would think to look there? A Zombie King gestating in the womb—no wonder he had overlooked it time and again. Though the biological mechanics of how a fetus could manifest as a Zombie King eluded him, Ethan deduced the mother must have been uniquely gifted, diverting the bulk of her absorbed energy into the infant at the cost of her own evolution, which explained her low Tier 5 status. It was a dark reflection of maternal instinct, persisting even after death. Thus, the infant had evolved, awakened a talent, and developed an adult's cunning while still in the womb. The fact that it remained hidden was a testament to its twisted deviousness. "You have to be joking," Ethan growled, frustration mounting. "I was outplayed by an unborn infant." He triggered [Teleportation], appearing in a flicker of movement right beside the female zombie, his poleaxe descending in a lethal, sweeping arc. The sudden intrusion startled the nearby guards, but their frantic lunges were useless against Ethan’s overwhelming strength. The female zombie attempted an evasive maneuver, but as a Tier 5, she lacked the speed to even register his arrival. His poleaxe hacked her cleanly in two. Instantly, a tiny, gore-slicked figure vaulted from her ruined midsection and hit the ground at a sprint. It was a grotesque sight—a massive head, spindly limbs, and a frame covered in mucus—yet its speed was terrifying. As it bolted, the horde ahead of it instinctively parted to create a clear passage. Simultaneously, the surrounding zombies turned berserk, and from across the field, the Tier 9 elites reacted as if shackled to the same command, racing toward Ethan in a synchronized frenzy. "Sneaky indeed," Ethan chuckled coldly, though his eyes remained sharp. "But you believe these puppets can restrain me? Not a chance." He Transferred instantly, reappearing beside the infant Zombie King. In one fluid motion, he snatched it by the ankle and hoisted it into the air. The creature was vicious, its tiny jaws snapping with predatory intent as it lunged to tear into his hand. Ethan backhanded it, sending it spinning away from his fingers. "Raaah!" The infant unleashed a roar, a sound impossibly loud for such a diminutive throat. This signal sent the surrounding undead into a suicidal rage. Ethan brushed them aside with a flat sweep of his poleaxe and leaped into the air. Flint dove, catching him perfectly, and rocketed into the clouds. "ROOOAR! ROAR! ROAR!" Below, the horde howled in futile, impotent fury. On Flint’s back, the Zombie King thrashed, its oversized mouth snapping endlessly, attempting to find purchase on Ethan’s flesh. Each time it neared, Ethan swatted it away like a rabid pest. Suddenly, its blood-red eyes locked onto his, and for a heartbeat, Ethan’s mind clouded. A wave of dizziness rolled from the base of his skull. He struck the creature hard again. "Do not test me," he hissed. "That trick is useless on me." Though he spoke with feigned indifference, his nerves tightened. He had known of its mental ability, yet he had still been nearly ensnared. Mental-based powers were the most insidious, silent and invisible. If his resistance had been even a hair lower, he would have succumbed and fallen. "Very well," Ethan snarled. "If you refuse to cooperate, I will give you a lesson you will understand." He retrieved a war hammer from his spatial ring and brought it down upon the creature's head, shattering half its skull into gore. "Now," Ethan demanded, his voice like iron. "Order your zombies to retreat." The battle was already underway; simply killing the King would not end the slaughter. If the zombies perceived an advantage, they would not retreat; they would collapse into a mindless, berserk state that would spell doom for Clearford. He needed an order given. Torture was a futile endeavor against the undead, but this evolved creature possessed intelligence. The question remained: was there a fear of death? Apparently not. Even with its brain partially destroyed, the infant glared with undiluted hatred. Ethan’s expression hardened. "If you will not cooperate, then you die." He raised the heavy hammer once more, poised to crush the remainder of its skull without a shred of hesitation.