Apocalypse: King of Zombies Chapter 1283: Then the World Stopped

Naturally, the Fallen Star Squad possessed even more ruthless members.

Ethan.

A dozen daggers ascended behind him, hanging in the air for a fleeting moment before plummeting like streaks of lightning.

Wherever a dagger found its mark, heads met their explosive end, one after another.

Uncomplicated tactics. No ostentatious displays.

Each precise blade sought the skull—a solitary thrust, a swift demise, no second chance.

Their speed was such that those below could barely perceive them, let alone evade.

The squad, perched atop their aerial steeds, rained destruction upon the throng. Emily remained close, her presence a constant balm to their dwindling mental energy.

While devastating, large-scale area-of-effect abilities were voracious consumers of stamina, much like fuel for a vehicle. Emily, in essence, had become their mobile reservoir.

Henry, too, documented the unfolding events from his mount. He abstained from direct combat unless the situation became truly dire.

Consequently, only Chris, Sean, and Mia descended into the chaotic melee for close-quarters engagement.

Sean, lacking any ranged capabilities, and Chris's Corrupting Spear along with Mia's Soul Spike, both optimized for single targets, proved too time-consuming for culling a multitude. Direct engagement was their more effective strategy.

This fierce battle was not merely broadcast across the Atlas Federation.

Within the highest command center of the Yamato Empire, the identical spectacle unfolded on their screens.

It was evident that Yamato had strategically placed surveillance in that very vicinity.

Viewers within the Atlas Federation were captivated, their excitement bordering on palpable.

Yamato's leadership observed with grim determination, their eyes blazing with intensity.

"Why have the Infernals failed to emerge?" Ryuji Takahashi questioned, his brow furrowed in deep concern. "Could it be that none remain within?"

"There should be," another senior official interjected swiftly. "Our scouts have maintained surveillance in the region. Infernals still emerge periodically. Furthermore, a significant contingent retreated inside mere days ago—there must be a substantial number present."

"Then their absence from the fray?" Takahashi pressed, his tone sharp. "A massacre is occurring. It is inconceivable they cannot sense it. If they delay their advance, five hundred thousand souls will prove insufficient for their voracity!"

"Let us... observe a little longer..."

Had anyone proposed such a scenario even a month prior, disbelief would have been the universal response.

They once lived in abject terror of the Infernals.

Now, they found themselves in a desperate state, imploring for their appearance.

"Look," someone exclaimed suddenly, his voice escalating. He gestured toward the live feed. "They are emerging...!"

Takahashi's eyes gleamed. "Excellent. Finally. And—ha—a considerable number." A cold smirk graced his lips. "Now, let us witness your demise."

From the apex of Mount Fuji, crimson figures began their ascent from the caldera's depths.

An entire legion.

Upon beholding the densely packed multitude below, they seemed to quiver with anticipation—then surged down the mountainside in a ferocious charge.

Ethan identified their presence instantaneously.

His eyes ignited with interest. "I hadn't anticipated any Infernals remaining here."

If they were emerging from the crater...

Then there was a distinct possibility the volcano concealed an entrance to a Void Realm.

Ethan's thoughts raced with rapid calculations.

A low chuckle escaped him. "Frankly? The Yamato populace is remarkably accommodating. They've practically delivered us to the threshold."

The reason for the convergence of half a million individuals now became starkly clear.

They were not engaged in prayer.

They were the lure.

An entity positioned above had orchestrated this plan, intending to utilize the Infernals as instruments to eliminate the Fallen Star Squad.

And truly—the ruthlessness of Yamato's command was undeniable. Deploying five hundred thousand lives as bait without a second's hesitation.

It was likely reasoned that insufficient numbers would fail to provoke a swift emergence from the Infernals.

A moment later, the Infernals collided with the amassed populace, commencing their gruesome consumption—rends, chews, and tears through flesh akin to ravenous predators.

Anguished cries pierced the air from every direction.

The Fallen Star Squad found themselves at the fore.

The Infernals pressed from the rear.

And the half-million souls, ensnared between them, were brutally **shredded** from both onslaughts.

Ethan did not immediately engage the Infernals. He continued his relentless assault on Yamato's forces.

At this juncture, the Infernals served as effectively free labor. Allowing them to commence the 'cleansing' was the pragmatic approach.

Though their numbers were just over a hundred, more than ten of them were Stage B (Tier 18). This alone perfectly supplemented the deficit in Ethan's Tier 18 crystal core reserves.

Excellent.

The engagement concluded in less than ten minutes.

Of the more than five hundred thousand Yamato Enhanced soldiers, upwards of three hundred thousand perished. Over a hundred thousand managed to escape. The terrain transformed into a catastrophic tableau of corpses and fragmented abilities, a scene of utter pandemonium.

And then, the hundred-plus Infernals finally directed their attention toward Ethan and his companions.

Ethan's grin broadened. "Very well," he stated casually. "I hereby declare our alliance terminated. It is time for reciprocal backstabbing."

"Rooooar—!"

The Infernals unleashed guttural roars and charged, surging toward the squad in a crimson torrent.

Ethan scoffed. "The moment I reached Stage B, you all became insignificant in my eyes."

He raised a hand.

"Absolute Stasis."

All motion around them ceased as if suspended in time.

Not as a figure of speech. Not a 'slowdown' either.

It was frozen solid.

The Infernals were caught mid-assault, their claws extended, jaws agape, bodies lunged forward—as if someone had abruptly halted the entire world's playback.

A barrage of daggers, dozens strong, shot through the air.

In a mere instant, they pierced the skulls of over ten Stage B Infernals and a multitude of Tier 17s.

A second later, the flow of time resumed.

Those Infernals continued their forward trajectory for a brief moment due to their prior momentum... then collapsed to the ground as if their puppeteer's strings had been severed.

The Infernals that remained abruptly halted, sheer terror contorting their grotesque features as they gazed upon the fallen.

"What in the world...?" Chris uttered, completely dumbfounded. "How did they just—perish?"

The expressions of the others mirrored his own. They all understood their captain was responsible for the feat—yet witnessing it was an entirely different matter.

Ethan’s ability was far beyond what could be described as overpowered. The term 'invincible against same-tier opponents' no longer even came close to encompassing its might.

However, the most astonished individuals were not those present on the chaotic battlefield.

It was the audience observing the live broadcast.

All they perceived was a momentary glitch in the video feed, a split-second stutter. Then, the image stabilized—and suddenly, scores of Infernals lay defeated, each with a dagger embedded in its head.

"What the hell?!" one of the Atlas personnel exclaimed at a monitor. "It LAGGED at the most crucial moment! Can anyone possibly explain how those Infernals met their end?!"

Maxwell’s head instantly swiveled towards the middle-aged man overseeing the satellite command center. "What transpired just now? How can a satellite feed experience lag?"

"That's impossible," the man responded, already starting to perspire. His brow furrowed deeply, and he promptly contacted the control center. "Give me a moment. I'll have them investigate."

"Quickly," Charles demanded, his irritation palpable. "That was the pivotal juncture. A lag at that specific instant is tantamount to a disastrous failure."

The man disconnected the call a short while later, his face etched with a bewildered, almost haunted, expression.

Maxwell’s eyes narrowed. "What is it?"

"I requested they retrieve the playback data," the man relayed, his voice measured. "They've meticulously examined everything. All systems are functioning normally. There was no lag detected."

Charles stared intently at him. "No lag? Then what in blazes was that then?"

"I have no idea!" The man appeared on the verge of tears. "They scrutinized the recording down to the millisecond. There were no interruptions whatsoever. It was as if... the very scene itself experienced a slowdown."

"The scene itself lagged?" Charles retorted sharply. "Elaborate on that. If the *scene* lagged, did the daggers simply levitate into their skulls by some unseen force?!"

"Whitaker," Maxwell interjected, cutting him off, "don't push him. He has no reason to fabricate something like this."

Charles drew a breath, consciously forcing himself to regain some composure, and redirected his gaze to Maxwell. "Then what's your assessment, General Kane?"

Maxwell's attention remained fixed on the screen, his voice a low murmur.

"I believe Ethan was responsible."

"...How is that even possible?" someone whispered, barely audible.

Maxwell did not avert his gaze. "I have no explanation. But that event must be connected to him. Those daggers were his doing. No one else moved—or perhaps..." His eyes suddenly sharpened. "...perhaps they *did* move."

The entire room fell into an oppressive silence.

Then, gradually, one by one, individuals felt an unsettling chill crawl up their arms.

Because whatever that phenomenon was...

It defied all normalcy.

It was utterly terrifying.