Apocalypse: King of Zombies Chapter 1364: I’ll Buy You Time

Finally, when they reached the central Pacific, Ethan used Absolute Stasis again and cut the gap to about a thousand feet.

He didn’t hesitate.

He released Dopey, then used Telekinesis to slide two daggers under Dopey’s feet so he wouldn’t just drop out of the sky.

Dopey tapped down on the blades once—

and launched like a cannonball, rocketing straight at the fleeing Winged Clan expert.

The moment the Winged Clan saw Dopey, his face drained of color. He immediately unleashed his power.

The air in front of Dopey exploded into countless Wind Cutters—a shrieking wave of invisible blades rushing straight at him.

Dopey didn’t even flinch.

He tanked the Wind Cutters head-on and slammed into the enemy’s space. One hand shot out, seized a wing, and tore hard.

"AAAH—!"

A scream ripped out of the Winged Clan expert as his wing was ripped off. With no lift left, his body dropped straight down.

Dopey fell too—but he simply planted his feet on the man’s body and used him like a cushion on the way down.

They smashed into a small island, throwing up a sky-high cloud of dust.

The Winged Clan expert was driven into the ground under Dopey’s feet. Dopey reached down, yanked him out like he was pulling a root from soil, and cocked his fist to finish it.

"Wait." Ethan dropped down a moment later.

"Cripple him," Ethan said. "Don’t kill him."

Dopey pulled most of the force out of the punch and drove his fist into the man’s stomach anyway.

The impact folded him in half. Blood sprayed from his mouth as his body convulsed upward.

Then—

A second punch, this one to the head.

The Winged Clan expert’s eyes rolled back and he went limp, knocked out cold.

Dopey, clearly, had plenty of practice with the difference between "disable" and "kill."

"Let’s go," Ethan said. "We need to check on Aerisara’s side."

He stepped onto his hovering daggers and shot back the way they’d come.

Dopey grabbed the unconscious Winged Clan expert by the body and followed, hauling him along.

Half an hour after they left, a search team of Winged Clan experts—sent out to hunt a traitor—arrived in the same area of ocean.

"Hm?" The leader suddenly halted, then dropped down to the island.

He touched the bloodstained ground, rubbed it between his fingers, and brought it to his nose.

His expression changed instantly.

"It’s Winged Clan blood."

The others’ faces went tight. "A Winged Clan expert was killed here?!"

The leader nodded once. "Yeah."

He stood. "Go. Report to Lord Aeralon."

"Yes!"

Ethan and Dopey quickly returned to the battlefield where Aerisara had been fighting.

By now, five Winged Clan experts had tried to pin her down—and she’d already killed four.

Only one was left: a Tier 28, and he was barely holding together, hanging on by pure desperation.

"Wait!"

Seeing Aerisara’s Cyclone Blade about to split the last one in half, Ethan shouted.

Aerisara obeyed instantly. With a casual flick of her hand, the Cyclone Blade veered off, slicing past the Winged Clan expert’s side instead of through him.

The survivor didn’t look relieved.

He’d already seen the "teammate" Dopey was carrying—limp and unconscious.

And looking at Aerisara now, the conclusion formed in his mind with sick certainty.

They weren’t sparing him out of mercy.

They wanted to him into a soulless thrall.

The Winged Clan expert wrapped his hand in energy. Wind-element power condensed, sharpening into a blade along the edge of his palm.

And without another word, he slashed it toward his own throat.

"Trying to die?" Ethan snapped. "Yeah, no. Not that easy."

He triggered Absolute Stasis without hesitation.

Then—Teleportation.

He flashed to the Winged Clan expert’s side and swung his poleaxe like a hammer, smashing the man off his feet and sending him flying straight toward Dopey.

The stasis ended.

The Winged Clan expert hadn’t even processed what had happened when Dopey’s plain, unremarkable fist met him head-on.

One punch. Lights out.

Ethan exhaled, the tension finally bleeding out of his shoulders. "Okay... finally. That’s everyone."

He glanced at the two captives. "Two soulless thralls. Not bad."

He then swept up the four corpses on the ground and stored them in his spatial storage ring.

They were premium food for mutant beasts—especially for the white-furred apes. Feed them stuff like this and their strength skyrocketed. No way he was wasting it.

"Let’s go. We’re heading back."

After cleaning up, Ethan stepped onto his hovering daggers again and flew toward the compound.

Behind him, the two soulless thralls followed—each hauling a crippled Winged Clan expert like baggage.

Back at the compound, Chris had already gathered up the other Winged Clan bodies as well.

Maxwell and the rest of the compound’s leadership arrived at the battlefield, staring at the corpses on the ground with complicated expressions.

Winged Clan experts this terrifying... and Ethan’s group still killed them.

The Fallen Star Squad was absurd.

For them, it was nothing but good news. With people like this on their side, when creatures poured out of the Void Realm again, the Atlas Federation would finally have someone they could put on the front line.

When Ethan returned to the compound, cheers erupted everywhere.

Maxwell led a group of senior officials toward him.

"Ethan," Maxwell said, voice sincere, "thank you. If it weren’t for you, our compound might’ve been wiped out."

"You don’t need to thank me." Ethan shook his head. "They came for me in the first place."

Then his expression sharpened. "General Kane... I think you need to move."

"Move?" Maxwell repeated.

"Yeah." Ethan’s tone was blunt. "The Winged Clan’s main base is in the Rus Federation. There are over four thousand of them. We killed the ones who came this time, but distance doesn’t mean much when they can fly. I’m guessing it won’t be long before another batch shows up."

"If too many come at once, it’ll be a nightmare."

Maxwell frowned, the lines between his brows deepening. "It’s not that simple for Atlas City."

He gestured around them, as if the city itself was part of the argument.

"It’s not just relocating people. We have the Satellite Operations Control Center here. Satellite phones only work because this place manages them. We also have the research center—years of results and equipment inside. None of that is easy to pack up and haul out."

"And even if we did move," Maxwell continued, "they’d still come here and search. If they can’t find Atlas City, they’ll find another compound. They can fly. Running doesn’t solve the problem."

"...Yeah." Ethan nodded slowly. "Fair point."

He rubbed his face once. "Then I guess I need to stay at Atlas City for a while."

Maxwell’s shoulders visibly loosened. "Now that’s good news. Your old place is still available. I’ll have people clean it up—you can move back in immediately."

Then Maxwell’s gaze turned serious again. "But Ethan... tell me the truth. If a large group really comes, are you confident you can handle them?"

"No." Ethan didn’t even pretend. "If I had that kind of confidence, I wouldn’t have run back from the Rus Federation in the first place."

Maxwell’s eyes flickered. He went quiet for a beat, then said, unexpectedly, "Then you should go back to Fallen Star City. Or disappear somewhere."

Ethan blinked. "What?"

Maxwell’s voice stayed steady, almost hard. "If you don’t have a way to win head-on, staying here doesn’t help much. You’d be better off going underground and growing stronger in secret."

"I believe there’ll come a day when you surpass the Winged Clan. When that happens, you can come back and wipe them out for good."

Ethan stared at him. "And what about you?"

"Us...?" Maxwell repeated, like he hadn’t considered how it sounded until now.

Ethan held his gaze. "What are you going to do?"

Maxwell’s jaw set.

"I’ll use the same method as this time to stall them as long as I can," he said. "And if stalling stops working... I’ll lead the millions of citizens in Atlas City in a blood fight to the end."

His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to.

"I’ll buy you time. As long as you’re alive, there’s still hope."

Ethan looked at Maxwell’s expression—unyielding, almost stubborn—and felt something twist in his chest.

Maybe this was what a real leader of the Atlas Federation looked like.

He could admit it.

He couldn’t do that.

Ethan let out a long breath. "Let’s see how it plays out first. Maybe it won’t get as bad as I’m thinking."

Then he added, already shifting into action mode, "For now, have the Satellite Operations Control Center keep constant watch toward the Rus Federation."

Maxwell nodded once. "Done."