Apocalypse: King of Zombies

Time passed, and the killings around San Bernardino showed no signs of stopping. Genesis Biotech was at its breaking point. They had stopped venturing out to rescue survivors—they could barely protect themselves anymore.

All the Awakeners were called back to defend the facility, ensuring the zombies didn't breach their perimeter.

But then, one day, Sophia's reinforcements finally arrived. Three third-generation cyborgs, disguised as zombies, had managed to slip past the Zombie Kings patrolling the area and infiltrate the city.

When Sophia got the news, she rushed out to meet them. What she saw were three "zombies" shambling toward Genesis Biotech. But as they approached, their flesh began to ripple and flow like liquid, quickly reforming into the shapes of three young men. Their faces were flawless, almost unnervingly perfect, like sculptures crafted by a master artist.

Yet their eyes… their eyes were devoid of any human warmth. Cold. Empty.

"Hello, Sophia," one of them greeted her, his voice smooth and calm.

"Uh…" Sophia froze for a moment, taken aback. It was uncanny. She couldn't help but marvel at how advanced artificial intelligence had become. These third-generation cyborgs spoke and acted almost indistinguishably from humans. Continue reading at My Virtual Library Empire

And yet, for reasons she couldn't quite explain, a chill ran down her spine.

The handsome cyborg smiled faintly, as if sensing her unease. "Sophia, there's no need to be afraid. We've been programmed with strict directives. We will never harm humans."

"Oh…" Sophia nodded, though her surprise only deepened. Could they… could they actually understand her emotions?

"Well, there are a lot of zombies outside the city. Since you're here, let's not waste time. Get out there and start fighting."

"Understood," one of them replied with a curt nod.

The three cyborgs quickly split into teams, each leading a squad of human Awakeners. Their mission was to venture beyond the city, rescue survivors, secure supplies, and recruit more Awakeners to their cause.

Once the teams were dispatched, Sophia returned to her office and activated the surveillance system, keeping a close eye on the cyborgs' movements.

Her secretary, standing nearby, couldn't hide her skepticism. "Sophia, are you sure this is going to work? It's just three cyborgs. Can they really handle all those zombies?"

"They should be fine," Sophia replied, her tone measured. "According to the research team's evaluations, these cyborgs are rated A+ in combat capability. But we don't have any real-world data yet. This will be a good test…"

On the monitors, Sophia watched as the three cyborgs left the city. Once outside, their flesh once again began to flow like liquid, reshaping into zombie-like forms. Without hesitation, they each headed toward the areas where the zombie growls were loudest.

...

Meanwhile, Scissorhands was in a foul mood. Lately, he'd been losing out on kills. Sure, he'd taken down plenty of humans, but he hadn't managed to collect many crystal cores. It was infuriating.

Determined to turn things around, he decided to act alone. No more sharing. If he found humans, he'd take them down himself.

The problem was, humans were getting harder to find. Most of them had stopped trying to flee toward San Bernardino, realizing it was a death trap. Instead, they were hiding in secret, out-of-the-way places, making themselves nearly impossible to track.

Scissorhands had been wandering for what felt like forever, and his patience was wearing thin. Just as he was about to give up, one of his elite zombie underlings came sprinting toward him, excitement written all over its grotesque face.

"Boss! We found humans! They're hiding in a small grove up ahead!"

"Oh?" Scissorhands' eyes lit up with excitement. He couldn't hide the grin spreading across his face. "Where? Take me there. Now."

"Right away!" The underling turned and bolted, leading the way.

Scissorhands followed closely, glancing over his shoulder every so often. No sign of the Los Angeles zombies, thank goodness. He also checked the ground for shadows. Nothing. Good. No one was tailing him.

Before long, they reached the edge of a clearing. Ahead, a small grove came into view. The air was filled with the guttural growls of zombies, mixed with the desperate shouts of humans.

A group of zombies had surrounded a handful of humans, relentlessly attacking. The humans, backs pressed together, had formed a tight defensive circle. Their faces were pale, their expressions grim. Despair hung heavy in the air.

"I can't believe it," one young man muttered, his voice hollow. "We hid so carefully, and they still found us."

"Zombies have an insane sense of smell," his companion replied grimly.

"If we don't break through and escape soon, we're done for," the young man said, his tone heavy with resignation. He'd seen too many of his companions fall during their escape, torn apart and devoured by zombies. The memories haunted him.

His companion nodded silently.

"Maybe there's still a chance—"

Shhhk!

Before he could finish his sentence, a blur shot past him. In an instant, his head was severed clean from his body, flying through the air. Blood gushed from his neck as his lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

"Uncle Mike!" the young man screamed, his eyes wide with rage and despair. The attack had been so sudden that he hadn't even processed what had happened. He turned his head, and there it was—a Zombie King standing not far away.

The creature was slender, with two mutated bone claws that resembled oversized scissors. One of those claws now held a freshly severed human head, blood dripping down in gruesome streams.

Scissorhands had learned his lesson. To avoid having his kills stolen, he now made a habit of keeping the heads in his claws after finishing off his prey.

"Kehehehe…" Scissorhands chuckled to himself, pleased. In such a remote spot, there was no way anyone—or anything—would come to steal his prize. These humans were his for the taking. Not even Jesus could save them now.

But for the survivors, led by the young man, the sight of Scissorhands was pure terror. His reputation preceded him—a Zombie King infamous for slaughtering countless humans, a walking meat grinder on the battlefield.

Encountering him today? It felt like fate had already sealed their doom.

Scissorhands smirked, savoring their fear, and prepared to launch another attack. But he failed to notice a lone zombie creeping up behind him.

The zombie stopped about ten feet away. Its right arm began to ripple, the flesh flowing like liquid until it reshaped into a gleaming, razor-sharp steel spike. Without hesitation, the zombie lunged, thrusting the spike straight at Scissorhands.

"Huh?" Scissorhands caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. His face twisted in shock as he instinctively twisted his body to dodge.

But the spike was too fast. Even for a speed-focused Zombie King like Scissorhands, it was just a fraction of a second too quick. With a sickening shhk, the spike pierced clean through his shoulder.

"You've got some nerve!" Scissorhands roared, his fury boiling over. Ignoring the pain, he swung one of his bone claws straight at the zombie's head, aiming to end it in one blow.

But the zombie didn't flinch. It didn't even try to dodge. Its cold, unblinking eyes stayed locked on him.

The sharp bone claw plunged into the zombie's forehead, slicing clean through and emerging from the back of its skull.

But what happened next made Scissorhands' blood run cold.

There was no blood. None at all. And the sensation… it wasn't like cutting through flesh and bone. It was something else entirely.

Then, to his utter horror, the zombie's entire head began to liquefy, the flesh melting and flowing like water. With a slight tilt of its neck, the head slipped free of the bone claw. The liquid reformed, reshaping itself into a human face—handsome, flawless, and utterly devoid of emotion.

"What… what is this?" Scissorhands stammered, his predatory eyes wide with fear.

The cyborg didn't answer. Its other arm morphed into a steel spike, and it lunged again, aiming straight for Scissorhands' head.

Panic surged through Scissorhands. He leapt backward, narrowly avoiding the spike as it grazed past his forehead.

By now, the commotion had drawn the attention of the surrounding zombie underlings. Realizing something was wrong, they swarmed toward the cyborg, snarling and growling.

The cyborg's expression didn't change. Its cold, calculating eyes scanned the incoming horde, its artificial intelligence rapidly analyzing their movements. Both of its arms shifted again, this time transforming into sleek, blade-like weapons.

And then it moved.

The cyborg's speed was breathtaking, its movements fluid and precise. Each strike was calculated, every swing of its blades perfectly aimed. Heads were pierced, skulls were sliced clean off, and the zombies fell one by one, their bodies crumpling to the ground in heaps.

...