Apocalypse: King of Zombies Chapter 1266: Who Gave You the Balls?

Ethan’s cold gaze swept over the assembled individuals, lingering for a moment on Garrett.

He recognized the man—the one who had shamelessly attached himself to Ethan in Atlas City and managed to extract a few words. Back then, Garrett was merely Tier 10. Now, he had reached Stage C.

Yet, Ethan remained indifferent.

A Stage C (Tier 12) opponent was no match for Blizzard. Ethan continued his search.

His eyes found the target swiftly.

A figure clad in a black robe, their face so completely obscured that not even a sliver of skin was visible.

The instant Ethan focused on this individual, his expression darkened.

“Tier 19.”

So that was the reason.

“No wonder…”

Garrett’s face contorted as he realized Ethan was disregarding him. He stepped forward, his voice sharp with vexation.

“Ethan! Do you even remember me?!”

Ethan cast a downward glance, his eyes empty and chilling, as if observing a corpse. This look only fueled Garrett’s anger.

“Hmph. Even now, you maintain such an arrogant demeanor. It seems you still fail to grasp the gravity of our situation.”

He let out a harsh, loud laugh.

“Let me enlighten you. That ‘trump card’ you were so proud of? Those white-furred simians? We’ve already eliminated three of them. The remaining ones are on the brink of death.”

Garrett’s grin contorted into a cruel expression. “Today, if you kneel and grovel beneath me, perhaps I’ll be in a generous mood and spare your life.”

He leaned in, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Otherwise, I shall ensure you desperately plead for survival, only to fail—and desperately beg for death, only to fail as well.”

“Holy hell—!” Big Mike erupted. “Screw you. My patience has run out. You want someone to crawl? I’ll make you crawl.”

His innate ability activated—Shadow Grasp.

A shadowy appendage erupted from the ground, seizing Garrett by the most sensitive parts and yanking with immense force.

“AAAGH—!”

Garrett shrieked, collapsing onto his knees with a heavy thud, doubling over as his entire body convulsed with agony.

Big Mike swiftly moved, appearing before Garrett. He brought a boot down onto Garrett’s back, pinning him firmly.

“Crawl. Right here.”

“I WILL KILL YOU!” Garrett roared. With a surge of venomous rage, his face twisted, and a greatsword forged from black energy materialized in his hand. He brought it down upon Big Mike with the full extent of his power.

“Against me?” Big Mike scoffed.

He flicked his wrist casually.

A fireball shot forth, shattering the black greatsword into fragments. Simultaneously, Big Mike delivered a backhanded slap.

SMACK!

The resounding crack echoed.

Garrett was sent spinning through the air, executing several rotations before crashing hard onto the ground. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His eyes glazed over, as if his mind had short-circuited.

“How… how is this possible?” Garrett stammered, his stare vacant. “I’m Tier 12 now—why can’t I defeat him?!”

“Move it,” Big Mike commanded again, his voice rough. “Crawl.”

This time, no one present could ignore the genuine fury emanating from Big Mike.

The surrounding onlookers, who had been stunned into silence, finally snapped out of their shock. Their faces were etched with disbelief as they stared at Big Mike.

Everyone knew Garrett had achieved Tier 12 with the assistance of those mysterious “lords.”

Yet, he was being effortlessly toyed with, utterly incapable of mounting any resistance.

So, what was this man’s Tier?

Was the Fallen Star Squad truly this monstrous…? Could any single member of their group completely overwhelm a Stage C (Tier 12) powerhouse?

Garrett slowly lifted his head, his gaze fixed on Big Mike. He refused to accept the reality, yet the evidence was undeniable.

The strength of the Fallen Star Squad… surpassed Stage C.

Then, Garrett’s expression twisted into a look of deranged glee. “Hahaha! So what if you’re powerful? So what if you can defeat me?”

He cackled with the fervor of someone who had lost their sanity, his voice escalating. “You will still be utterly crushed into the dirt. That is your inevitable fate!”

Abruptly, he dropped to his knees, directing his plea towards the black-robed figure standing not far away. “Marek, sir—please, intervene!”

Marek’s voice was like a shard of ice. “Hmph. Useless. Get out of my sight.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

Garrett scrambled backward, clutching his injured groin, and shot Big Mike a look so laden with malice it could have severed flesh. *You grabbed my balls. I’ll repay you a hundredfold once Marek deals with you.*

“Big Mike. Stand down.”

In the very next moment, Ethan materialized in front of Big Mike. His movement was imperceptible, as if he had been standing there all along.

Even Marek’s brow furrowed slightly at this sudden appearance.

Ethan fixed his gaze upon the black-robed individual, his voice devoid of emotion, yet laced with coldness.

“Since you possess the ability to speak like a human, you should comprehend my words.”

He tilted his head almost imperceptibly, his stare sharp as a drawn blade. “You hideous wretch—who gave you the audacity to commit murder within my Fallen Star City?”

“!!!”

The entire area fell into a profound silence. The onlookers stared at Ethan, mouths agape, as if he had just pronounced his own death sentence.

Those notorious black-robed “lords” were infamous for their volatile tempers. In Silverlake City, they were revered as deities, exercising their power to kill on a mere whim. How, then, could Ethan dare address one with such blatant disrespect?

Garrett’s eyes widened in shock, then slowly curved into a wicked smile as he gazed up at Ethan. “Ethan… Ethan. This is you actively seeking your own demise.”

“YOU are the one seeking death!” Marek trembled with rage. He detested being called ugly. In his previous world, he had endured such insults countless times. Now, on this planet—could someone truly dare utter such words to his face?

This was an unforgivable transgression.

Suddenly, an immense black hand formed of pure energy materialized, its fingers coiling like a deadly snare towards Ethan.

“Just who the hell are you?” Ethan retorted sharply.

He dematerialized—a swift teleportation—narrowly evading the grasping digits.

Then, like a ripple in the fabric of existence, he reappeared behind Marek, his poleaxe already ascending. Dark energy pulsed along the formidable blade.

With immense force, he brought it crashing down.

Marek’s eyes widened in sudden surprise. Simultaneously, a shield composed of dark energy materialized before him.

CLANG—!

The collision reverberated through the air.

The energy shield disintegrated instantly, its fragments scattering outwards like shrapnel—and the residual momentum of the poleaxe struck Marek’s body with full impact.

“ACK—!”

Blood erupted from Marek’s mouth. His entire form was flung backward, careening through the air.

“!!!”

An absolute silence descended.

All eyes were fixed, stunned.

Even the contingent from Fallen Star City’s side was utterly speechless.

“Our Commander…” one individual whispered, their voice trembling. “He’s lost his mind…”

Given Ethan and his companions' frequent deployments on critical missions, most inhabitants of Fallen Star City knew Ethan primarily through circulating tales. Apart from his core unit, very few had actually witnessed Ethan in combat.

Until this very moment.

And the first spectacle they beheld was Ethan incapacitating that robed monstrosity with a solitary, decisive swing.

The sheer display sent shivers down their spines.

They had personally observed Marek dismantling Blizzard—a formidable Tier 13 entity—with effortless ease. They had witnessed him casually obliterate white-furred apes with a mere flick of his wrist.

Such overwhelming power had seemed utterly indomitable.

Yet, Ethan had just sliced through it as if it were nothing.

In that instant, a powerful surge ignited within everyone’s chest. It was a blend of Heat, Hope, Fury, and Faith.

They gazed upon Ethan as if he were the sole bastion separating them from the encroaching darkness—and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, this was enough.

Off to the side, Garrett’s complexion turned deathly pale. His lips quivered, his eyes wide with absolute disbelief.

“How… how is this even conceivable?”

Marek hailed from a different realm, a superior being—intended to be an insurmountable advantage on Earth, a walking embodiment of unfairness.

How could Ethan possibly send him flying with a single poleaxe strike?

Garrett felt as though he were trapped in a waking dream.

“No… no…” He violently shook his head, as if attempting to dislodge this impossible reality. “This cannot be happening!”

Marek represented his ultimate trump card. His unwavering support. The very foundation of his audacity in swaggering into Fallen Star City and assuming dominion.

If even Marek was no match for Ethan…

Then his arrival here wasn’t bold.

It was an act of utter self-destruction.

A glacial dread crept up Garrett’s spine as his own earlier pronouncements echoed in his mind.

“Marek, sir… please don’t lose. I beg you, don’t lose…” Garrett pleaded internally, sheer panic constricting his throat. “You absolutely cannot afford to lose.”