Apocalypse: King of Zombies Chapter 1290: He Let It Go

While Chris and Big Mike were still engaged in their banter, Skinny Pete discreetly approached Ethan.

"Captain—allow me to pursue those fleeing fellows. We should secure a few of those creatures as mounts. Just imagine: the Fallen Star Squad, each astride one. That would be an incredible sight."

"That was precisely my intention," Ethan responded, conveying his agreement with a nod.

Those crimson avians possessed remarkable speed, the ability to utilize special skills, and belonged to a high tier. They were undoubtedly superior mounts compared to Flint and his companions.

Skinny Pete let out a confident chuckle. "Then let us depart. With my current capabilities, acquiring one for each of us will be a simple feat."

"One for each of us?" Ethan mused, stroking his chin. "No. My strategy is… to claim them all."

Skinny Pete's eyes widened in confusion. "Huh?"

"Captain, that's many thousands. You could end my life, and I still wouldn't be able to command such a multitude."

"Who suggested you would be commanding them all?" Ethan countered with a pointed glance.

He gestured towards the distant expanse of the sky. "I have already identified the leader. It has been adept at concealment, but it did not elude my perception. I deliberately spared its life—for you."

Skinny Pete's pupils dilated in astonishment.

"As long as you can assert control over the leader," Ethan continued, "we will, in effect, command the entire Flamebird flock."

"…Ah," Skinny Pete's expression transformed. "Oh, that's truly brilliant."

The others, having overheard the conversation, gathered around. As comprehension dawned upon them, the atmosphere became electrified.

"If we manage to control the entire flock, that's unbelievably powerful," Big Mike exclaimed, already caught up in the excitement. "Unleashing those Flamebirds upon our enemies would be outright cheating. Equipping every Fallen Star Guard with one—we'd dominate every engagement!"

Ethan’s demeanor remained resolute, yet cautious. "The concept is sound, but its execution will be fraught with difficulty. That leader rarely reveals itself. Furthermore, it resides at Stage B, guarded by Flamebirds at the peak of Tier 17."

He paused, then stated plainly, "If our sole objective were its demise, that would be straightforward. To subjugate it? That presents the true challenge."

He addressed the team directly. "Henry, you will accompany us. The rest will remain here and focus on extracting crystal cores."

"Understood," they responded in unison.

Ethan reached into his storage ring, retrieving his formidable poleaxe. With a mental command, he propelled it into the air.

Then, akin to riding a surfboard, he mounted it.

"Climb aboard."

Skinny Pete stared, bewildered. "Uh… what?"

Henry furrowed his brow. "I presumed you would employ the telekinetic dagger technique."

"The dagger is insufficient in length," Ethan explained with utmost seriousness. "A single dagger accommodates one individual. If I were to employ multiple, maintaining simultaneous control would be impossible. The poleaxe offers sufficient length for three—myself, you, and Pete."

Engaging in telekinetic flight was a distinct challenge from employing telekinetic attacks. Attacking was a simple matter of target acquisition, propulsion, and the dagger's swift trajectory.

Flight, however, demanded continuous concentration. Every passing second required unwavering focus. It was, in essence, real-time multitasking.

A single platform was manageable.

Two pushed the limits.

More than that, and the risk of inadvertently harming his passengers would become critically high.

"…Very well," Henry conceded, though his expression still lacked enthusiasm.

Skinny Pete swallowed nervously. "Certainly."

They boarded, proceeding with extreme caution.

Ethan positioned himself at the blade-end, the widest point, with Henry directly behind him, and Skinny Pete clinging tightly to Henry. Both appeared exceptionally tense.

Ethan initiated the ascent.

The poleaxe ascended and accelerated, its speed escalating rapidly.

The wind howled past them, blurring the world below into an indistinct rush.

Henry clasped onto Ethan as if his very survival depended on it. Skinny Pete, in turn, held onto Henry with a similar desperation. Neither seemed to be breathing properly.

This was not akin to riding a flying creature with a broad, stable back and expansive wings.

This was a lengthy shaft of metal.

They were, to all intents and purposes, balancing on its handle.

At this velocity, the sheer force of the wind currents threatened to dislodge them.

"Pete—relax your grip!" Henry admonished, his face contorted. "You're constricting my ribs!"

"Henry," Skinny Pete whimpered, "I'm… frightened…"

"This telekinetic flight is certainly not a pleasant experience…"

"Scared my foot," Ethan quipped over his shoulder. "You're Stage B. Even if you were to fall, survival is assured. Chris experienced a rather abrupt encounter with the ground moments ago, and he emerged unscathed."

"…Indeed," Henry murmured, his tone lacking conviction.

Back at the mountain base, Chris, who was still engrossed in extracting crystal cores, suddenly let out a sneeze.

"Who in the blazes is speaking of me?"

He narrowed his eyes and glared towards Big Mike. "Don't tell me you're mentally cursing me again, are you?"

Big Mike didn't even glance up. "I am occupied. I am actively engaged in extracting cores. When would I possibly have the leisure to curse you?"

"Then who was it?" Chris questioned, scratching his head. Unable to ascertain the source, he abandoned the thought and resumed his task of extracting cores from the discarded skulls.

Ethan, with Henry and Skinny Pete clinging precariously, swiftly closed the distance to the fleeing Flamebirds.

Throughout the entirety of their journey, Henry and Skinny Pete appeared on the verge of losing consciousness, yet Ethan maintained the poleaxe's trajectory with unwavering stability. There was no deviation, no abrupt descent, and no unexpected jolts.

The Flamebirds registered their pursuit—and flew into a frenzy.

Seriously? They weren't finished yet?

This expedition had already been an utter catastrophe for the flock. No sustenance had been acquired, a significant number of their own had been lost, and the retrieval of fallen comrades had proven impossible.

And now, even as they attempted to disengage, these peculiar ground-dwellers persisted. As if the Flamebirds were easy targets.

Very well.

A substantial contingent of the flock executed a synchronized turn and unleashed their assault. Torrents of flame erupted, projected toward the trio.

Henry reacted with immediate alacrity, erecting a Divine Shield encompassing them all.

Ethan did not falter in his momentum.

He charged directly through the oncoming inferno, crashing into the heart of the Flamebird flock.

Ethan's decision to include Henry was not solely for defensive capabilities. Should Ethan's offensive power incapacitate the leader, Henry's expertise would be crucial for recovery. A leader kept alive and under control held greater value than one destroyed.

They carved paths through dense formations of Flamebirds, navigating between flapping wings and snapping beaks while Ethan relentlessly searched for their commander.

The shields frayed rapidly under the sheer intensity of the onslaught—but Henry responded instantly, reinforcing them anew, time and time again.

After navigating the avian swarm for over a minute, Ethan finally pinpointed the target.

The Flamebird leader.

The moment it discerned Ethan's focus upon it, the leader veered away in retreat—and the surrounding Flamebirds closed ranks, shielding it as if it were royalty, folding around it like devoted bodyguards.

Ethan's gaze sharpened. "Oh? Where do you think you're going?"

He drew a breath.

"Absolute Stasis."

The world froze.

Wings ceased their motion mid-flap. Flames hung suspended in the air, like hardened paint. The entirety of the sky became a motionless tableau.

Ethan vanished, reappearing via teleportation.

He materialized directly above the leader, his fist already wreathed in that dark, world-consuming radiance.

He drove it downward.

"THUD—!"

A resounding, sickening impact echoed.

The leader's body erupted in a spray of blood, its form plummeting earthward as it began its descent.

Ethan teleported once more, pursuing the falling leader, and seized its throat with a single hand—prepared to drag it away.

Then—

Reality snapped back into motion.

The flock's collective gaze widened in unison.

They witnessed Ethan suspended, their leader grasped by the neck.

And the sky erupted into pandemonium.

Flamebirds emitted piercing shrieks and plummeted from all directions, a tempest of crimson surging directly toward him.

"How in the blazes—that fast?" Ethan's stomach lurched.

That stasis ability had consumed over half his mental reserves. By his assessment, he should have gained nearly two full seconds.

Instead, it faltered, breaking in just over a second.

This deviation completely disrupted his meticulously planned timing.

However, he lacked the luxury of dwelling on the miscalculation. He now found himself in a precarious predicament. Maintaining his grip on the leader meant certain demise—especially with such a massive convergence bearing down on him.

Furthermore, his Teleportation ability was incapable of transporting living beings. If he intended to vanish, he would be forced to relinquish his captive.

"Captain—help!" Skinny Pete's desperate cry pierced through the surrounding bedlam.

Ethan's head snapped around.

Without Ethan's concentration, the poleaxe had lost its telekinetic support and was now plummeting. Henry and Skinny Pete were falling with it, descending rapidly like stones.

On their way down, fiery feathers and blasts of flame battered them with such ferocity that it was difficult to witness—exposed without shields for a crucial moment, taking a brutal bombardment.

Ethan made his decision.

He released the leader instantly and teleported beneath them.

The poleaxe continued its downward trajectory, but Ethan seized control, yanking it upward with a swift motion.

"Grab on!"

Henry and Skinny Pete clung to the poleaxe in sheer terror, their arms locked around its shaft. Their descent slowed—then halted abruptly.

Henry wasted no time. He reinstated the Divine Shield, enveloping them once more.

Ethan propelled the poleaxe forcefully, pulling them away from the flock's suffocating embrace and back into the open sky, clear of the swarm's center before the Flamebirds could regroup and surround them again.