Apocalypse: King of Zombies Chapter 1280 1280: We Didn’t Come to Negotiate

Upon hearing Skinny Pete's call, Daigo's eyes momentarily brightened.

A glimmer of hope!

Practically vibrating with anticipation, he called back, "Understood! I'll get it arranged immediately!"

But no sooner had the words left his lips than his entire body froze.

He then collapsed like a plank, rigid and upright, hitting the ground with a hollow thud.

"???"

A collective stare from everyone present.

"What in the world was that?" Big Mike exclaimed.

Ethan's gaze flickered sideways, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he looked at Mia. "Why did you just take him out?"

Mia lowered her head, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. "Captain… I thought he might be up to something, perhaps trying to disrupt our unity. So, I…"

"…"

"Mia, you're thinking too much," Big Mike stated, adopting an air of utmost integrity.

"Seriously," Skinny Pete agreed, nodding emphatically.

"I believe Mia did the correct thing," Emily retorted with a sniff. "The moment you idiots heard 'porn stars,' your eyes lit up. Humph. Good. Now you won't see anything."

Ethan let out a sigh and a shake of his head. "Yeah… what a shame."

"Captain…" Mia bit her lip and looked up at him. "Did you… honestly want to see them?"

"As if." Ethan instantly stood straighter, radiating virtue. "I meant it's a waste that we didn't secure the crystal cores. Now we'll have to retrieve them ourselves."

"Oh." Mia nodded, not entirely convinced.

Leaning in close to Ethan's ear, Big Mike whispered, "Captain… we could still go find those porn stars ourselves later."

"Get lost," Ethan muttered, waving him away dismissively. "Primary objective is to kill. Henry is recording. If your creepy face shows up on camera, it'll tarnish our image."

"No worries, Captain," Skinny Pete assured him, patting his chest like a seasoned professional. "I'll handle the editing. I'll cut that part out later."

Unbeknownst to them, their entire exchange was being broadcast live across the entirety of the Atlas Federation—every second, frame by frame, transmitted to every available screen.

There was no alternative; no one wanted to miss a single moment of such a chaotic confrontation. Spectators were glued to the feed with an intensity far surpassing their former engagement with risqué streamers before the apocalypse.

Fortunately, the majority of the audience found nothing "wrong" with the unfolding events. Many viewers displayed the same knowing expressions.

In fact, the Fallen Star Squad's very human reactions only made them seem more authentic.

With Daigo Yamamoto eliminated, any possibility of negotiation vanished—and the battle resumed with renewed ferocity.

However, on the Yamato side, the fighting spirit of most defenders had already been extinguished.

This was no longer a fair fight. How could they possibly emerge victorious?

Nevertheless, orders were orders, and desertion was not an option. They dared not flee.

Thus, they charged forward, faces ashen, hands trembling, each praying they wouldn't be the next to be obliterated.

From a central structure within the compound, Kenta and his associates witnessed Daigo's fall, their expressions shifting dramatically.

"What now?" someone questioned urgently. "They're refusing negotiations?"

"It's their approach," Kenta stated sharply. "Send another envoy."

He clung to the idea of negotiation as if it were a lifeline. Because if this conflict continued unchecked, a compound housing hundreds of thousands would inevitably transform into a charnel house, one life at a time.

"Every conflict serves a purpose," Kenta declared, his voice strained. "If talks failed, it's merely because the proposed price was insufficient. Dispatch another individual. Allow them to dictate the terms—whatever they demand, we shall concede."

Upon hearing Kenta's words, the others in the room exchanged glances before lowering their heads one by one.

No one volunteered to be the one walking out onto the battlefield to face certain death.

Ultimately, Kenta was forced to designate someone. Only then did the unfortunate individual begin to lurch toward the battleground on unsteady legs.

Finding a partially concealed location, he raised a megaphone and forced the words out:

"To our allies from the Atlas Federation…"

Before he could complete his sentence—

A long sword pierced directly through his skull.

"Who in their right mind is friends with you?" Ethan inquired, rolling his eyes.

His decision was made. No more allowing for dialogue. Eliminate first, address the aftermath later.

That brutal, pitiable spectacle caused Kenta and his companions' eyelids to twitch.

Yet, across the Atlas Federation, viewers watching the live feed were beside themselves with excitement.

"So aggressive… I love it!"

Ethan's merciless nature was legendary. Even the influential figures within Atlas City regarded him with caution.

But at this precise moment, with the entire Federation observing? The populace collectively found Ethan's method of crushing opposition—cold, efficient, and utterly unapologetic—to be strangely… captivating.

Kenta's face contorted.

Negotiation was dead. Utterly extinguished.

Must I truly witness my compound—an entity I painstakingly built from nothing—be reduced to ruins before my very eyes?

A wave of nausea washed over him.

He felt a surge of fury and a deep sense of unwillingness.

What difference did it make, though? Their overwhelming power was undeniable and impossible to resist.

"Kenta," a panicked voice whispered, "we need to escape before they notice us."

"Right. This place is finished. If we leave now, we might survive. If we wait for them to reach us, it's game over."

Kenta watched the relentless tide of his people fall outside, his jaw clenching so tightly it ached.

"Go."

As the word left his lips, the compound's top brass abandoned the expendable soldiers they had sacrificed and fled through the rear exit.

But the very instant they passed through the back door—

Four colossal birds descended from the heavens, landing directly in their path and blocking their escape.

Ethan had zeroed in on that central building from the outset; its opulence strongly suggested it was where the leadership would be hunkered down. He had instructed Flint and the others to monitor it, with orders to intercept anyone attempting to flee.

Kenta's heart plummeted as the birds came into view.

"You—go," he commanded, pointing to several bodyguards behind him. "See if you can test their strength."

They were merely 'mounts,' after all. In Kenta's desperate reasoning, they couldn't possibly possess the same might as their riders; otherwise, they wouldn't be mounts.

This was the flimsy logic Kenta clung to.

The bodyguards, swallowing hard, drew their weapons and charged, launching fierce attacks at Flint and his companions.

Flint's gaze was filled with utter disdain.

As the bodyguards closed in, he unfurled his wings with a snap.

Wind Cutters materialized—razor-sharp, unseen blades that instantly tore through the bodyguards, dismembering them.

These avian beasts had been feasting on the remains of Tier 16 Infernals daily, propelling their strength to Stage C (Tier 12). Flint, the mightiest among them, had even ascended to Tier 13.

A handful of insignificant Tier 10 individuals stood no chance against such power.

Kenta and his entourage watched, paralyzed with shock, their faces draining of color.

Even the mounts were this terrifyingly powerful?

How could anyone possibly survive this onslaught?

They scrambled back into the building, a chaotic mess of tripping and panic-stricken individuals desperate for shelter.

Flint and the other birds did not pursue. Their objective was not to eliminate those inside but to prevent any escape. Once their targets retreated, the birds ascended once more, circling high above.

Back on the main battlefield…

Following Ethan and his squad's decimation of over thirty thousand charging Enhanced, the remaining enemy forces finally faltered and broke.

Someone turned and fled.

Once the first soldier ran, the floodgates opened. More and more individuals abandoned the fight, bolting towards the compound's perimeter.

In their panic, the fleeing masses crashed into the compound walls, causing sections to collapse as they stampeded. Within moments, the entire area dissolved into a chaotic surge of bodies scattering in all directions.

Ethan and his squad paid them no mind, not bothering with a pursuit.

Their focus remained singular: carving a direct path to the compound's center, eliminating any obstacles in their way.

Inside the central structure, Kenta and his remaining people were overcome with dread.

They longed to escape—but found themselves trapped.

Approximately ten minutes later, Ethan and his group entered the building.

It was then that Kenta laid eyes on the "bandits" up close for the first time.

They appeared so youthful, their physiques unassuming. Their faces held expressions that seemed unfitting for those who had just reduced his home to utter devastation.

He struggled to reconcile the scene.

"Why…" Kenta managed, his voice laced with bitterness.

"Seriously?" Ethan responded, rolling his eyes. "You're actually asking that? You're the Yamato Empire. Your specialty lies in ambushes, surprise attacks… and treachery. Leaving you alive is simply inviting future trouble."

"The Atlas Federation always boasts about its principles!" Kenta retorted sharply. "Does your leadership approve of this conduct?!"

"Yes," Ethan stated with a casual shrug. "And our primary directive is to eliminate all dangerous threats."

"You…"

Kenta's throat worked, but he forced the question out, like a final desperate gamble.

"Fine. Speak your terms. What do you want from us before you'll let us live?"

Ethan offered a small, almost gentle smile.

"You truly believe we crossed an entire ocean just to negotiate terms?"

"I refuse to believe you," Kenta stammered, his voice trembling. "You wouldn't—"

"I deliberately kept you alive," Ethan interrupted calmly, "because fear intensifies when leaders are broken first."

Kenta froze, his body stiffening.

Ethan tilted his head slightly, his gaze sweeping across the room. "Eliminate the rest," he commanded with palpable boredom. "Oh—and those two behind him? You can break their limbs but spare their lives. Their abilities are moderately useful."

"Understood."