Apocalypse: King of Zombies Chapter 1225: A New Order for Atlas City

Inside the primary conference hall of the compound...

Nearly all the top leaders in the compound arrived following Maxwell's summons.

This gathering went beyond just the Five Families. A few influential high-rankers from within the compound joined too.

Charles came from the Whitaker family. Gabriel represented Mercer.

With Benjamin Caldwell deceased, the Caldwell family dispatched another delegate. The Hale family was absent.

"General Kane," Charles inquired with a furrowed brow, "why the urgent call for everyone? What's so critical?"

"Yes." Maxwell replied steadily. "Mr. Ethan has a message for the group."

"Ethan...?"

As soon as the name echoed, tension gripped the entire room.

Every key figure in Atlas City's compound now recognized exactly who Ethan was.

"Where's he at?" Charles questioned cautiously.

At that instant, the doors to the conference room burst open. Ethan strode inside confidently, relaxed and utterly composed, as if it were his domain.

Silence blanketed the room.

"Ethan," Charles Whitaker spoke up first, "what's the reason you summoned us?"

"Not a big deal." Ethan scanned the faces casually, like chatting about the weather. "I'm here to declare a shift. The power setup in Atlas City's compound must evolve. End the Five Families' joint control nonsense. Single leadership takes over."

"What?!"

Outbursts of astonishment erupted across the room. No one anticipated such a explosive start.

Charles and the rest darkened their expressions immediately.

So the moment has arrived...

Charles inhaled deeply. "Ethan, your forces are powerful, I'll grant that. Strength alone doesn't qualify you, though. Atlas City's compound holds the fate of the Atlas Federation. If you push this—"

"I figured you old-timers wouldn't buy in," Ethan remarked, rolling his eyes. "Guess I'll need to eliminate another family."

"!!!"

"Ethan," Charles stated firmly, "destroy the Whitaker family if you must, but I refuse to let you seize Atlas City's compound. You know nothing about it. You'd destroy it yourself."

"Who said I'm grabbing control?" Ethan retorted, as if the idea was absurd.

"I'm not interested. Starting now, General Kane commands the compound. Other families provide support. No more shared Five Families rule."

"Huh...?"

Stunned, everyone halted.

Only then did realization dawn—they had misunderstood. They thought Ethan aimed to claim the compound personally by force.

Murmurs rippled softly through the assembly.

Gabriel rose first. "I support Ethan. The Five Families' co-rule bred endless issues. General Kane has always prioritized the Atlas Federation's welfare. I'm fine with him leading."

"I support it as well. During the President's time, the Five Families backed him regardless. With the President gone, the Atlas Federation requires a solid leader once more. General Kane at the helm would gain universal approval."

"I agree!"

"I agree!"

Agreement poured in from one after another.

Truthfully, those from the Five Families grasped it best. They'd craved a definitive leader for ages—someone to follow without daily confusion over shifting authorities.

Had Ethan demanded control for himself, many would feign agreement out of terror, but true loyalty would evade him.

Maxwell stood apart.

The Atlas Federation's Commanding General had risen through proven feats, unmatched by others.

His command of the compound? That sat well with all.

Soon, nearly everyone present voiced approval. Only Charles and the Caldwell delegate held back.

"I object not to General Kane leading," Charles finally conceded. "But promise no meddling in compound matters."

"Why would I waste time?" Ethan replied, eyes rolling again. "I barely bother with my own compound—yours? Forget it. I've got no interest in nursing your internal squabbles."

"Plus, this isn't a request for approval. It's an announcement. Your consent's optional. Disagree? I'll erase you and install a replacement family."

In truth, if Ethan weren't aware Charles was among the few leaders truly devoted to his people... that defiance would've ended him ages ago.

"Then I have no issue," Charles responded, relief evident now that Ethan confirmed hands-off intentions.

No hidden motives drove him. His duty was to the millions dwelling in the compound.

"The Caldwell family consents too," their representative declared.

Ethan eyed him and grinned. "I took out Benjamin Caldwell before. No grudge from your family?"

"Benjamin plotted with the Hale family," the man affirmed boldly. "Death was his due."

"Heh." Ethan's grin held steady. "Better mean it. Otherwise, the Caldwells join the list."

With a dismissive wave, he declared it over. "Done here? Handle your business. I'm out."

"Uh... Ethan," Maxwell hesitated, a touch awkward. "Regarding the... laser cannon..."

"That's my spoils," Ethan shot back without pause. "Hands off."

Thus, he exited the conference room.

"..."

In the days that followed, Maxwell assumed complete command over every facet of Atlas City's compound.

Meanwhile, Fallen Star Squad lounged in their Atlas City estate, whiling away time with card games, video gaming marathons, and feasting on delicacies.

To outsiders, it seemed utterly ridiculous.

No one fathomed how such mighty beings could vacation endlessly.

What escaped them was this: for Fallen Star Squad, few challenges remained engaging beyond dominating the Void Realms.

Out there, Tier 11 zombies remained unheard of. Anything less? Not worth their effort.

Slaughtering weaker zombies held zero value.

Moreover, Fallen Star City boasted twenty thousand Tier 9 Enhanced clearing zones relentlessly. Crystal cores overflowed without concern.

Yet the main factor was Ethan. These days, he'd secluded himself in his quarters, fixated on mastering thrall control. If he stayed put, so did the rest.

Aurora visited frequently, guiding Mia and Emily through the compound's wonders.

Atlas City's compound dwarfed Clearford City's scale. Infrastructure thrived fully, and with cash, pre-apocalypse luxuries abounded for purchase.

Besides Ethan, Henry had vanished into his room lately, immersed in ritual circle research.

Patterns sprawled across paper, floors, walls—everywhere in dense complexity. Progress or madness? Unclear to all.

Within Ethan's chamber, he pricked his finger anew, dripping blood onto the thrall's brow. Applying the secret art, he urged fusion and absorption.

This precise ritual from the manual had consumed five relentless days. Countless repetitions blurred together.

All he registered: even at peak Tier 11, blood loss paled his complexion.

Yet the corpse stayed inert, deathly still.

Without that subtle mental link pulsing faintly—proof the technique functioned—he'd have quit long ago.

As Ethan steeled for yet another flop, the floor-bound body jerked abruptly.