Apocalypse: King of Zombies Chapter 1330: Now He Has Two

The instant Ethan’s command was issued, Dopey surged forward, a blur of motion aimed directly at the leader of the Stoneborn.

"Aaaah—!" The man bellowed, his fear momentarily overtaken by pure rage. "Then I’ll drag you down with me!"

A torrent of abilities rained down upon Ethan.

However, Ethan had anticipated this exact move.

The moment the Stoneborn made his advance, Ethan vanished with Teleportation, seamlessly relocating out of harm's way.

And as the Stoneborn committed to his attack, Dopey was already upon him.

No complex maneuvers. No elaborate displays.

Just a single fist—unadorned and devastating—driving straight into the enemy.

The Stoneborn leader's complexion turned ashen. He frantically layered defensive skills upon himself, one after another, while attempting a desperate retreat.

It proved futile.

Against sheer, overwhelming power, every 'strategy' crumbled into insignificance.

Dopey’s punch shattered the stacked defenses and plunged deep into the man's chest.

"Pff—!"

A spray of blood erupted as the leader's body was flung backward, crashing violently onto the ground.

It was evident Dopey had exercised restraint. Had he unleashed his full might, that single strike would have been fatal.

Without a moment to assess his grievous injuries, the Stoneborn plunged directly into the earth the instant he impacted the ground, aiming to escape through subterranean means.

Dopey instantly appeared at the location where the man had vanished.

Then, he stomped.

"BOOM—!"

The earth convulsed as if a bomb had detonated. The ground visibly fractured and sank, as if the land itself had inhaled sharply—only to violently expel it.

The Stoneborn leader’s form was forcefully ejected from the soil, tumbling haphazardly. He desperately tried to flee once more.

Dopey was upon him without delay.

He seized the man by his ankle and swung him down with the force of a rag doll.

"BANG—!"

The sickening crack of bone echoed as the Stoneborn leader's body went slack, every joint dislocated. He lay twitching on the ground, eyes wide with terror, fixed on Dopey's visage.

Dopey showed no hesitation.

He brought his foot down upon the man's head.

"THUD—!"

The Stoneborn leader's eyes rolled back, and he immediately lost consciousness.

Dopey dragged the incapacitated form over and deposited it at Ethan's feet.

Ethan gazed down at the man—now resembling a broken heap of limbs—and couldn't help but inquire, "You didn't actually kill him, did you?"

Unable to vocalize, Dopey simply nudged the body closer, conveying his response.

Sensing the faint vestiges of life still clinging to the body, Ethan finally let out a sigh of relief.

Dopey truly was dependable. Ethan had instructed him to 'cripple' the foe, and Dopey had done precisely that—neatly, controlled, and without exceeding the intended limit.

"The creation of a thrall requires substantial materials," Ethan stated, his mind already strategizing. "We are returning to Fallen Star City."

He then stored Dopey away. Grabbing the unconscious Stoneborn leader, Ethan took to the skies using telekinetic flight, setting a direct course for home.

En route, he contacted Miles, tasking him with preparing all necessary requisites.

The captive's condition was precarious. Ethan was uncertain how much longer he could survive in such a state, necessitating swift action.

Next, Ethan called Chris, instructing him to assemble the rest of their group.

On this occasion, Chris's contingent had largely observed from the sidelines, requiring minimal intervention.

Ethan had included them primarily out of caution, recalling a previous instance where events escalated rapidly. Without their presence then, Ethan might have succumbed to his injuries, as Dopey's capabilities did not extend to 'rescue' operations.

Not long after, Ethan arrived back within the confines of Fallen Star City.

Under Miles's direction, he conveyed the Stoneborn leader into a subterranean chamber.

Specifically, a basement.

Within, Miles had already meticulously arranged all the materials Ethan had procured, laid out and ready for immediate use.

Ethan surveyed the scene, a flicker of impressed acknowledgement crossing his features.

Miles's efficiency in execution was astounding. In such a brief timeframe, he had successfully gathered all the required components.

Ethan then deposited the man into a vat filled to the brim with a potent medicinal liquid, subsequently summoning Dopey once more—as a precautionary measure against unforeseen complications.

The "medicine" contained within the vat was not particularly rare; it comprised potent stimulants alongside venom extracted from highly noxious mutant beasts.

The methodology for create thralls did not mandate specific ingredients, only two essential conditions: the presence of a powerful stimulant and a toxic agent.

Ethan had previously instructed Miles to procure these kinds of materials, enabling him to produce them instantly.

Following this, Ethan commenced the refinement process, meticulously adhering to the steps outlined in the secret technique.

Dopey had bypassed these preparatory stages because he had originally been created as a thrall through a more advanced process, requiring Ethan only to execute the control-seizing technique.

Even so, the process of subjugating Dopey had been an ordeal.

It had consumed days.

He had cast the technique innumerable times, enduring repeated self-inflicted wounds until the quantity of blood he had shed became untrackable.

Had Ethan possessed less than an unyielding, almost fanatical determination, he would have abandoned the endeavor long before.

Ultimately, however, his persistence yielded success.

And Dopey, without exaggeration, represented the most formidable and unique 'treasure' Ethan had ever acquired.

Without Dopey, the task of eliminating the Stoneborn would have been unthinkable for Ethan. He likely would have been annihilated himself.

The creation of a new thrall demands a significant amount of time, a luxury Ethan possessed.

Should this endeavor succeed, the thralls' power would experience another considerable increase.

A successfully created thrall would emerge noticeably more potent than they were in life.

And this particular individual had already reached the Tier 30 peak.

If Ethan were to refine him into a thrall, the being would approach the might of Stage S.

Thralls boast immense physical resilience and are impervious to pain. Even when confronting a powerhouse of Stage S, they would remain undeterred.

Time seemed to crawl.

Within the confines of the pool, the man's countenance contorted repeatedly in extreme agony. Yet, with every bone in his body shattered, movement was impossible.

Whenever he showed signs of regaining consciousness, Ethan would instruct Dopey to subdue him once more.

Endurance was his only recourse.

Outside the basement, Chris and the rest of the team maintained vigilance at the entrance, ensuring no external factors could interrupt the process.

The endeavor of Ethan's thrall creation commenced at midday and extended well into the following afternoon.

By that juncture, the pool's water had achieved a state of clarity—the medicinal compounds and potent toxins within had been entirely assimilated.

Furthermore, the man submerged in the liquid no longer displayed any outward signs of suffering.

With his eyes shut and his face devoid of expression, he appeared to be in a state of serene slumber.

Ethan produced a dagger and sliced his own finger.

A solitary droplet of blood descended upon the man's forehead.

Following this, Ethan employed a specific technique, channeling the blood into the space situated between the man's brows.

The blood was absorbed—initially, there was no discernible reaction.

Ethan maintained his composure and persisted.

One drop after another fell.

Over a dozen drops, accompanied by more than a dozen incantations.

Finally, the figure suspended in the pool’s depths opened his eyes.

They mirrored Dopey’s vacant, listless, and lifeless gaze.

Ethan's grin widened. "Heh. This was considerably simpler than controlling Dopey back in the day."

His tone was directive, as if issuing commands to an automaton.

"Arise."

Instantly, the man ascended from the pool, standing motionless, dripping wet, and fixing Ethan with that same vacant stare.

Ethan offered a nod of satisfaction. "Excellent. Dopey now has a companion."

He tilted his head, pondering for a moment.

"Very well... I shall christen you Rocky."

Rocky remained impassive.

Ethan smirked. "Silence implies consent, you agree."

He then proceeded to store both thralls within his spatial storage ring.

With the addition of a thrall possessing power nearing Stage S, Ethan felt a fortified sense of security envelop his existence.

He straightened up, rotated his shoulders, and stretched the stiffness from his back before exiting the basement.

Upon reaching the doorway, Chris and the others rushed forward the instant they laid eyes on him, their expressions alight with anticipation.

"So?" Chris inquired demandingly. "Did it succeed?"

"Undoubtedly," Ethan replied with a smile.

The group erupted in immediate cheers.

"Haha—fantastic!"

"We now have two super-powered beings on our side!"

"Incredible! That's a massive boost!"

Ethan raised a hand for quiet. "Yes, but the same principle applies as always. This is our hidden advantage. The true foundation remains our individual strength."

All present nodded, their initial exuberance tempered by a touch of seriousness.

"Alright," Ethan declared, allowing his grin to return. "I'm utterly exhausted, and I also lost a considerable amount of blood. Miles—go apprehend another mutant chicken and prepare a stew for me. I need to replenish my reserves."

Miles chuckled. "Consider it done."

Big Mike immediately wiggled his eyebrows, his voice laced with suggestive humor. "Captain... you aren't contemplating any peculiar ideas after consuming that soup, are you?"

Ethan didn't even spare him a glance. "Mia. Freeze him."

"Affirmative."

Moments later, a final yelp reverberated through the basement corridor.

As the group dispersed, an ice sculpture was all that remained in the hallway, frozen in a most unfortunate posture.