Apocalypse: King of Zombies Chapter 1297 1297: They Thought We Were Dead

In a world painted with deep crimson hues…

Three days had elapsed since Ethan and his companions ventured into this confined dimension.

Throughout those three days, they had utilized the Flamebirds as a swift assault unit—repeatedly fragmenting Infernal tribes, eradicating hordes, and accumulating crystal cores in vast quantities.

The expanse of this world was considerable, yet life was sparse. Apart from the Infernals, they had encountered the 'Redshell beasts'—creatures Ember had referenced—on only three occasions. These beings resembled a bizarre, ill-conceived hybrid offspring of a turtle and a pangolin.

Their elimination posed a significant challenge.

Possessing incredibly high defense coupled with the ability to burrow, they proved formidable. Even when Ethan's contingent launched a concentrated assault, they managed to fell fewer than a hundred.

This reality starkly underscored a fundamental truth: any entity persisting in such an environment had undoubtedly earned its survival.

Beyond these Redshells, their sightings had been virtually nonexistent.

The Infernals, however?

They were abundant.

Easily numbering in the millions.

Within a span of three days, they had engaged dozens of tribes, amassing over three hundred thousand crystal cores.

Yet, sustaining this pattern of resource acquisition was no longer feasible.

Their strategy of 'divide and conquer' had cultivated a notorious reputation among the Infernal populace. At this juncture, attempting a recurrence of the same maneuver was tantamount to inviting their own demise.

What was more concerning—certain smaller tribes had begun to forge alliances as a consequence of their actions.

Now, substantial numbers of Infernals were conducting sweeping patrols across the region, actively hunting them. The instant Ethan's group revealed their presence, they would face an encroaching pursuit from all directions—an unending influx of Infernals until their fortune ran out.

Ethan brought his hands together once. "Alright. That's sufficient. Let them have a reprieve."

He then grinned. "We should depart. I still have individuals from Yamato to eliminate."

It wasn't driven by apprehension.

They had simply… fulfilled their objectives.

"Sounds good to me," Chris responded.

Nods of agreement rippled through the group, and the squad commenced a cautious movement towards the egress point.

And yes—they were proceeding on foot, not airborne.

Even the Flamebirds were moving with subdued postures, treading along like oversized crimson fowl attempting to avoid detection.

This was not due to fear.

They were merely weary of flight and desired to extend their limbs for a change.

Guided by Ethan's True Sight, they circumvented a massive Infernal formation by traversing a narrow mountain gorge. Only after they had successfully bypassed the danger did they remount and ascend towards the exit.

Despite such meticulous caution, the very moment they took to the air, distant Infernals detected them.

Exclamations arose. Figures stirred.

Flames illuminated the horizon.

Fortunately, the distance was too great—nothing could reach them.

The squad urged their mounts onward, streaking towards the Void Realm's exit at maximum velocity.

Ethan contemplated a detour to evade pursuit… but dismissed the notion.

There was no advantage to it.

That exit was destined to be discovered sooner or later regardless.

And frankly? If the Yamato Empire wasn't utterly decimated by the time he returned, perhaps these Infernals could 'assist' in concluding the task.

Regarding the possibility of any entities breaching their territory and threatening the Atlas Federation…

It was not a significant concern.

The Yamato Empire occupied a vast island, entirely encircled by ocean. The Infernals lacked flight capabilities, and traversing open waters presented considerable challenges for terrestrial monstrosities.

Unless the world was destined for a far more grim transformation.

It did not take long before the exit became visible.

Ethan's group plunged through—accompanied by a vast contingent of Flamebirds following in their wake.

Concurrently, within the Yamato Empire…

The entire nation appeared to be reveling.

Three full days.

Those monstrous entities from the Atlas Federation, likened to devils, had still not emerged from the volcano.

This implied a singular conclusion.

They had perished.

This was the sort of exceptionally positive news that fostered peace of mind, the kind that warranted celebration.

Across the principal strongholds, the prevailing mood finally eased. Individuals ceased their apprehensive reactions to every alarm and shadow, resuming a semblance of 'normal' existence—at least, as normal as the prevailing apocalypse permitted.

Within a grand residence situated at the core of the Edo City compound, Ryuji Takahashi finally permitted himself a moment of repose after days of extreme anxiety.

Abruptly, a subordinate burst in, his countenance ashen and his demeanor frantic.

"Grave tidings! Prime Minister! They have emerged!"

Ryuji's head snapped upward. He fixed the subordinate with a stern gaze. "Who granted you permission to enter unannounced? I explicitly forbade anyone from entering without my authorization!"

"My apologies!" The man executed a bow so profound that his spine appeared on the verge of fracturing, then stammered, "Prime Minister, the situation is dire—those individuals from the Atlas Federation have exited the volcano! And they brought with them an immense flock of colossal crimson avians!"

"…What?"

Ryuji sprang from the sofa as if struck by an electric shock. "What did you just utter? Repeat it."

"Those people from the Atlas Federation… they have reappeared!"

Ryuji froze, his body rigid.

"How… how could this possibly have occurred?"

"Were they not presumed deceased?"

His features contorted with incredulity, as though reality itself had personally delivered an insult.

He spun around to face his subordinate. "Inform Takeo and the others. Get them to the command center. Immediately."

"Yes, sir!" the subordinate acknowledged.

Within minutes, the highest-ranking officials of Yamato were crammed into the command room once more, their voices overlapping in excited chatter the moment they entered.

"Takahashi-san, is the news true? They have returned?"

"They truly emerged from the crater?"

Ryuji's expression was grim. "Silence. Observe the screen."

The primary display flickered, coming to life.

Footage appeared, captured from within a significant stronghold.

Above the imposing walls, a massive flock of Flamebirds swirled like a tempest of crimson. Then, torrents of fire rained down, obliterating panicked crowds, reducing them to nothingness.

The entire stronghold was engulfed in a sea of flames.

It was a massacre devoid of bloodshed.

Not due to any sparing of lives, but because the victims vanished entirely, leaving no remnants. No gore stained the ground. The inferno consumed everything, even the traces of their existence.

In the command room, fists were clenched, nails digging into palms. All eyes were fixated on the screen, as if willing the unfolding devastation to cease.

"What in the blazes are those creatures?" someone choked out. "Why are they annihilating Yamato warriors with such ferocity?"

The Infernals, too, had caused destruction, but their motive was survival; they killed to feed. They did not squander their power. Their onslaught was relentless, yet not this swift.

These Flamebirds were not engaged in a hunt.

They were carrying out an execution.

They possessed overwhelming numbers, commanded the skies, and their speed of destruction was chilling.

That particular stronghold was one of the Yamato Empire's few major strongholds, boasting a population exceeding a million souls.

Under the relentless bombardment of the Flamebirds, its resistance crumbled swiftly. The fiery onslaught penetrated deep into the stronghold's core, as if the walls offered no impediment.

Then, abruptly, the Flamebirds ceased their assault.

Several figures descended from their backs.

The command room erupted in exclamations.

"It's them!!"

"Those despicable wretches!"

"They actually emerged from the crater!"

"And those monstrous birds—don't tell me they brought them back from within the crater…"

One person's voice cracked on the final words, their mind struggling to process the reality. "How could creatures like that possibly obey a mere handful of individuals?"

No one possessed an answer.

They had struggled to contend with Ethan's faction previously.

Now, imagine adding tens of thousands of aerial fire-bombardiers that followed commands.

How could the Yamato possibly endure such a threat?

"Why does every advantage seem to fall into their hands?" Ryuji questioned bitterly, his voice laced with resentment. "Is the heavens themselves trying to eradicate the Yamato Empire?"

"Takahashi-san—what course of action do we take?" someone pleaded. "Yamato cannot be allowed to fall!"

Ryuji slammed his palm onto the table. "I have exhausted every strategy you fools could conceive. What else do you expect me to do? Look at that formidable lineup and devise a method to counter it!"

His outburst silenced the room.

The only sounds penetrating the tension were the distant screams and the crackling roar of fire from the video feed.

Then, Ichigo spoke, his voice hushed. "We cannot engage them directly in combat."

He drew a breath. "We must appeal for clemency."

Ryuji immediately turned towards him. "Appeal? As if we haven't already attempted that! If pleas were effective, those strongholds wouldn't have been annihilated."

He gestured emphatically at the screen. "Those individuals are fiends. Fiends do not entertain propositions of mercy."

"Not an appeal for mercy," Ichigo clarified, enunciating each word with effort. "A surrender. We can submit—pledge our loyalty. As long as the Yamato bloodline persists, the act of surrender holds little consequence."

His eyes, though bloodshot, remained resolute. "If the bloodline endures, we will undoubtedly have the opportunity to rise anew in the future."

Another officer swallowed audibly, then nodded slowly, the motion conveying a sense of profound reluctance. "It is the apocalypse. Population is the most precious commodity. If we proactively surrender, the Atlas Federation's higher authorities might deem it acceptable."

A heavy silence descended upon the room once more.

For the proud "warriors" of Yamato, surrender was akin to poison. Their ingrained honor dictated self-destruction over kneeling.

However, pride offered no protection to the innocent.

If surrender ensured survival… then perhaps it was not the most dire outcome imaginable.

Ryuji gazed intently at the screen, his jaw muscles working.

After a considerable pause, he finally raised his head.

"...Very well," he conceded, his voice hoarse. "Find a means to establish contact with them."