Apocalypse: King of Zombies Chapter 1481: A Lesson Paid in Blood

With the ten Stage SS birds joining the fight, the major races’ experts got carved apart so fast it felt unreal.

They tried to retreat.

They couldn’t.

The sky was full of Outland Beasts. The ground was full of Outland Beasts. Every path out was sealed off, every gap instantly filled—like the entire range had decided nobody was leaving alive.

The three Stage SS leaders held on for a little over ten minutes.

Then several of the Goldenwing Rocs tore them apart in midair, shredding them into pieces until nothing was left.

Stage SS—gone.

The remaining experts lasted another half hour at best before they were wiped out completely.

One Stage SS could flip a battlefield.

Ten didn’t "flip" it.

Ten ended it.

When the last invader fell, the Outland Beasts erupted in triumphant howls. Then they surged forward and began tearing into the corpses—feeding right there in the open, as if they were making sure the message was swallowed down to the bone.

Above them, the ten Goldenwing Rocs still looked bloodthirsty.

They circled once, then cried out several times toward the beast tide below.

The response was immediate—furious, excited roars.

And then it happened.

Under the Goldenwing Rocs’ lead, an endless wave of Outland Beasts poured down the mountain—charging straight toward the Southern Region beyond Greyspine Range.

On the distant mountaintop, Ethan’s crew stared.

Big Mike’s jaw dropped. "Damn, Boss... you really called it. They’re actually going to butcher the Southern Region too?"

Ethan didn’t look surprised at all. "Of course they are. Those invaders crossed the line and stomped on their bottom line. If the Beast Sovereign isn’t a coward, there’s no way this ends with ’oh well.’"

Skinny Pete said, honest as always, "Pretty sure crossed their bottom line first."

Ethan glanced at him. "Yeah, and? Same difference."

He shrugged. "Outland Beasts don’t care if you’re human or elf or whatever. To them, we’re all intelligent prey. And those guys really did invade Greyspine Range."

He tilted his chin toward the battlefield. "Plus, they killed way more beasts than we did. This isn’t even ’taking the blame.’"

Big Mike scratched his head. "Fair enough... but isn’t this kinda playing dirty?"

"Playing dirty?" Ethan looked at him like he’d asked something ridiculous. "Weakening the enemy is strengthening ourselves."

His voice stayed casual, but the logic underneath it was cold.

"When the dimensional rifts open again, Eldoria is going to be Fallen Star City’s biggest threat. If we don’t screw them over... who exactly are we supposed to screw over?"

He paused, then added, "And if we didn’t stir it up like this, how were we supposed to pull out these high-tier beasts?"

"If they all stayed tucked away in Central Region, do you think I’d be stupid enough to go there and start hunting blind? One wrong move and we bump into a Stage SSS Outland Beast."

Ethan spread his hands. "Then we die. Simple."

Big Mike’s eyes shone with admiration. "Boss really is boss."

"Save it," Ethan said, already turning. "Come on. Let’s go enjoy the show."

When the entire force that had entered Greyspine Range was annihilated, the news hit the Southern Region like a hammer.

One race after another received casualty reports, and disbelief spread like fire.

They’d followed Stage SS experts to hunt a handful of humans...

And instead, their people vanished.

Not "lost contact."

Dead.

Soon, the details became clear: everyone had been killed in Greyspine Range—slaughtered by Outland Beasts.

Which left the Southern Region races with nowhere to put their anger.

You ran into an Outland Beast’s home, violated the agreement, started killing—who else was supposed to die?

A lot of Southern Region races quietly started blaming the Stage SS experts who’d come from other Regions.

Each race had only sent a few hundred.

But a few hundred lives weren’t "nothing."

Still... nobody dared say it out loud.

Central Region bigshots weren’t people you argued with.

Not if you liked your clan existing.

The other Regions got the news too.

And their reactions were even uglier.

Especially the races that had lost Stage SS experts.

For any high-tier race, Stage SS wasn’t just a strong fighter—it was foundation. The pillar that kept the entire clan standing in the Central Region, the reason they could call themselves "high-tier" in the first place.

Losing even one Stage SS was a wound that didn’t heal.

It was the kind of loss that could change a race’s fate.

Right now, the Patriarchs of three different races were already furious enough to start smashing teacups and kicking over stools.

"Bastards! BASTARDS!"

"These Outland Beasts are completely out of control!"

In Razorborn territory, the Razorborn Patriarch was pacing like a caged animal, rage boiling out of him.

"I’m going to kill those damn birds myself and avenge our elder!"

"Patriarch," one elder said carefully, voice low, "from what I’ve heard... it was Riven and his people who led the force into Greyspine Range. That’s what caused all this."

The Patriarch’s expression tightened. "Why the hell would they go into Greyspine?"

"They say the humans fled into Greyspine Range."

The Patriarch’s eyes narrowed. "So he couldn’t use his brain for once? He couldn’t demand the beasts hand the humans over? He had to charge straight in?"

"I don’t know the exact details," the elder admitted. "Maybe the beasts refused to cooperate."

The Patriarch’s jaw flexed. "Hmph. Either way—our Stage SS elder died in Greyspine. The Outland Beasts owe us an explanation."

"And if they don’t give one," he growled, "this isn’t over."

"What kind of ’explanation’ do you want?"

The voice came from the doorway.

A man stepped in—middle-aged, calm, and unmistakably extraordinary. He didn’t need to shout. The room quieted around him on instinct.

The Razorborn Patriarch’s face changed instantly. His anger didn’t vanish, but it got packed away tight, replaced with a polite smile as he hurried forward.

"Elder Voss... I didn’t know you were coming."

The other Razorborn elders bowed immediately.

"Elder Voss."

Their respect wasn’t just because his strength was Tier 41 peak.

It was because he came from a top-tier race:

Soulkin.

Elder Voss looked at the Patriarch the way you looked at a child who’d broken something expensive.

"I already know what happened," he said coldly. "So tell me—what ’explanation’ are you planning to force out of the Outland Beasts?"

The Razorborn Patriarch swallowed, then hardened his tone.

"They killed our Stage SS elder. At minimum, they owe us compensation—one Stage SS crystal core."

Elder Voss’s eyes sharpened. "Big words."

Then he leaned forward slightly, voice quiet but sharp enough to cut.

"I promise you—if you touch those Stage SS birds, the Beast Sovereign will very likely send Stage SSS Outland Beasts to your doorstep."

The room went dead.

"—!"

Every Razorborn high-ranking member froze, faces turning pale.

"They’d dare violate the agreement and enter our territory?" someone blurted.

Elder Voss didn’t even blink.

"You already violated the agreement when you went into Greyspine Range," he said flatly. "Why should they keep honoring it after that?"

The elders opened their mouths...

And nothing came out.

One of them tried anyway, clinging to the last shred of argument he had.

"But our people didn’t go in to hunt Outland Beasts. They went in to capture the humans. That shouldn’t count as breaking the agreement, right?"

Elder Voss’s gaze turned icy.

"Purpose doesn’t matter. They entered Greyspine. They killed beasts. That’s the fact."

He paused, letting the shame settle.

"They died? Then they died."

"Call it what it is—they brought it on themselves."

The Razorborn Patriarch’s face twitched. He forced himself to keep his voice down.

"Then what do we do, Elder Voss? Our elder can’t just die for nothing. And those humans are still in Greyspine—we can’t let this go."

"Of course we can’t let it go," Elder Voss said, eyes narrowing. "Those humans matter. We find them."

He went quiet for a moment, thinking.

Then he said, "This stinks."

"My suspicion is someone is manipulating things from the shadows."

He looked directly at the Patriarch.

"Do this: contact the other affected races. Send a few representatives—people with authority—to open talks. We’ll also send people to coordinate."

"And on the Beast Sovereign’s side," he continued, "the top-tier races will personally step in to negotiate."

His voice turned heavy.

"The agreement between the major races and the Outland Beasts cannot be allowed to collapse. If it does, the entire Eldoria Continent will fall into a disaster you can’t even imagine."

The Patriarch’s throat tightened. "But... our elder—"

"Take it as tuition," Elder Voss cut him off. "A lesson paid in blood."

Then his tone dropped even colder.

"If you do anything reckless again... Razorborn will vanish from Eldoria."

"—!"

The Razorborn Patriarch’s face drained.

He bowed quickly, panic finally creeping into his eyes. "Understood!"

Elder Voss turned without another word. "Notify the other races. I’m leaving."

The Razorborn elders bowed again. "We respectfully see you off, Elder Voss!"

When the door shut behind Voss, the room stayed silent for several breaths.

Everyone’s expressions were ugly—anger, grief, humiliation, fear, all tangled together.

One elder finally forced out, "Patriarch... are we really just going to swallow this?"

The Patriarch’s eyes snapped to him.

"What else do you want?" he hissed. "Do you want Razorborn wiped out?"

The elder went stiff. "...No."

"Then shut up," the Patriarch said hoarsely. "This is over."

He looked around the room, voice rough.

"Now we figure out how to calm the Outland Beasts down before this turns into something that burns the whole Southern Region."

"...Yes," the elders answered, one after another.