Apocalypse: King of Zombies

Under the pitch-black night sky, the world was shrouded in darkness.

A lone figure, a zombie, crept along the outskirts of San Bernardino. He moved cautiously through the narrow alleyways, skillfully avoiding the drones patrolling the skies above.

Weaving through the ruins of dilapidated buildings, he passed by a few stray zombies on the streets. Their throats emitted low, guttural growls, echoing faintly in the desolate silence.

This was the apocalypse—a city of despair under the cover of night.

The figure, known as Nightmare, moved with calculated precision. Before long, he reached the edge of the Awakener camp. From the vantage point of an abandoned high-rise, he peered down through a shattered window.

Spotlights swept across the camp below, where numerous Awakeners stood guard. Among them were a few second-generation cyborgs, their eyes glowing an eerie green as they scanned the area with mechanical precision.

"Still haven't learned your lesson, huh..." Nightmare muttered under his breath, his tone laced with disdain.

In the past, the Awakeners had always holed up in Genesis Biotech or within the safety of their fortified zones, never daring to set up camp on the outskirts. But this time, they had ventured out—perhaps to facilitate the rescue of survivors, or maybe... the presence of the cyborgs had emboldened them.

Nightmare's mismatched eyes—one white, one black—narrowed as he focused. His immense S-class psychic power began to ripple outward.

He activated his sinister ability: Dream Invasion.

The overwhelming psychic force descended upon the camp, slipping into one of the tents like an invisible mist.

Inside, an Awakener was fast asleep, his breathing steady and peaceful.

Nightmare could sense the rhythmic waves of his brain activity, indicating he was deep in a dream.

In the dream.

The young man was locked in fierce combat with a feral zombie. The battle was intense, chaotic.

"Die!" he shouted, wielding a titanium machete as he cleaved the head of a Zombie King clean in two. Behind him, his teammates erupted into cheers.

"James, you're amazing! You took down Scissorhands!"

"James, you're so cool!"

"I want to marry you!"

"...."

Even Captain David approached, clapping him on the shoulder. "James, I never thought you'd reach S-class strength so quickly. Looks like it's time for me to hand over the captain's position to you..."

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" James laughed heartily, his face glowing with pride.

But while James reveled in his dream, Nightmare observed from the shadows, an unseen spectator.

"What a sweet little dream..." Nightmare murmured, his voice dripping with mockery. Suddenly, the dream began to shift. From the barren wilderness surrounding them, more zombies started to emerge—waves upon waves of them.

The Awakeners in the dream froze, their faces pale with terror. "Oh no, it's a massive zombie horde! What do we do?"

"James, it's all up to you now!" a female teammate cried out in panic.

"No problem!" James declared, gripping his titanium machete tightly as he charged into the horde once more. He hacked and slashed relentlessly, zombie blood spraying everywhere, severed limbs piling up around him. One by one, the zombies fell.

But no matter how many he killed, more kept coming. It was as if the horde was endless, an infinite tide of death.

James began to feel the strain. His movements slowed, his arms and legs heavy as if weighed down by lead. Each swing of his machete drained him further, his exhaustion mounting.

Enjoy exclusive content from My Virtual Library Empire

What had started as a triumphant dream had now twisted into a relentless nightmare.

Back in the tent, James's body reflected his torment. His brow furrowed deeply, cold sweat drenched his face, and his eyeballs darted frantically beneath his closed lids. His head twitched occasionally, trapped in the throes of a nightmare he couldn't escape.

Nightmare smirked. He needed James to reach the brink of mental exhaustion before he could delve deeper into his subconscious and uncover the secrets buried within.

Inside the dream.

James continued to fight, but his strength was failing. His limbs felt like they were moving through molasses, every motion a monumental effort. He swung his machete with all his might, but the endless horde of zombies showed no signs of stopping.

Just when despair threatened to consume him, salvation arrived. Three strikingly handsome cyborgs appeared in his dream, their bodies sleek and fluid. Their arms transformed into razor-sharp blades as they joined the fray.

The cyborgs were incredibly powerful.

They moved with inhuman precision, completely unfazed by the zombies' attacks. Each slash of their blade-like arms was lethal, piercing zombie skulls with unerring accuracy.

"So that's how it is..." Nightmare mused as he observed the dream. He had already pieced together the information he needed.

Having extracted the intel, Nightmare decided to take things a step further. He unleashed his advanced ability: Multi-Layered Dreamscaping.

The dream shifted again.

With the help of the three cyborgs, the zombie horde was swiftly annihilated. The battlefield was littered with corpses, the ground soaked in blood. The chaos had subsided, leaving only silence in its wake.

"Finally..." James exhaled deeply, relief washing over him.

"Huh? Why isn't anyone praising me anymore? Where did everyone go?" James quickly turned around, only to find the group of human survivors standing frozen in place, staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes.

"What's... wrong with you guys?" he asked, his voice tinged with unease.

Suddenly, Captain David let out a chilling, sinister laugh. "Keh keh keh..." The sound sent shivers down James's spine. David's face began to twist and contort, becoming grotesque and menacing. His hands mutated, the bones extending outward to form two massive, razor-sharp scissors.

"Scissorhands?!" James's eyes widened in shock. His heart raced. "But... I just killed you! How are you still alive?!"

Before he could process what was happening, Scissorhands lunged at him, the deadly blades aiming straight for his throat.

There was no time to think. James instinctively swung his titanium machete in a wide arc, slicing across Scissorhands' face and splitting his skull open once again. The body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

"Good thing I'm strong enough..." James muttered under his breath, trying to steady his nerves.

But then, a female teammate's panicked voice broke through the silence. "James! What have you done?! You... you killed the Captain!"

"What?!" James spun around, his heart sinking. The corpse on the ground was no longer Scissorhands. It was Captain David. His face was split open, blood pooling beneath him, his lifeless eyes staring up in horror.

The sight was utterly chilling.

"This... this can't be right!" James's voice cracked as he stumbled backward, his mind reeling. His eyes darted around, desperate for an explanation. But all he saw were his teammates, their faces twisted in anger and betrayal.

"James, how could you kill the Captain?!"

"You must've planned this all along!"

"We need to avenge him!"

The accusations came at him like a tidal wave, each word hammering into his skull. James's head throbbed violently, a sharp, splitting pain radiating through his mind. It felt like his brain was being torn apart.

"No! This isn't real! Something's wrong!" James clutched his head, his voice trembling with desperation. His breathing quickened as a horrifying realization dawned on him. His eyes snapped open wide.

"Nightmare! It's Nightmare! I've fallen into the Nightmare Zombie King's trap!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the dreamscape.

He knew what this meant. If he didn't wake up soon, he'd be trapped in this nightmare forever, his mental energy drained until it killed him.

The most terrifying part?

Time didn't work the same way in dreams. A dream that felt like hours could pass in mere seconds in the real world. Conversely, a short dream could mean hours had already slipped by outside. For all he knew, while he was struggling here, Nightmare could've already killed him in reality in the blink of an eye.

"I have to wake up! I have to wake up now!" James's inner voice roared with urgency. He tried to focus, to channel all his mental energy into breaking free. But no matter how hard he tried, the nightmare held him in its iron grip. Nightmare Zombie King's power was far beyond anything he could resist.

Then, an idea struck him.

There was one way out.

If he died in the dream, he could force himself to wake up in the real world.

James's hands trembled as he raised his titanium machete, pressing the cold blade against his neck. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his breath shaky.

The dream felt so real—too real. The weight of the machete, the sharpness of the blade, the chill of the metal against his skin. It was indistinguishable from reality. To go through with this would take an unimaginable amount of resolve.

James squeezed his eyes shut, his face contorted with determination. He took a deep breath, steeling himself.

With a swift, decisive motion, he slashed the machete across his neck.

"Schlkk!"

He felt a sudden, sinking sensation, as if he were plummeting from a great height. His consciousness dimmed, and then—

With a jolt, James shot upright in his bed, gasping for air.

"Hah... hah... hah..." He clutched his chest, his entire body drenched in cold sweat. His breathing was ragged, his muscles trembling from the ordeal. He felt utterly drained, as if he'd just run a marathon.

"Am I... finally awake?" he muttered, his voice hoarse. Relief washed over him like a tidal wave. But before he could fully process his escape, a voice called out to him.

"James, breakfast is ready! Get up already!"

"Huh???" James froze, his head snapping toward the sound. His eyes darted around, taking in his surroundings. This wasn't the Awakener camp. He was in a bright, cozy room, the walls painted a soft white. Sunlight streamed through the window, warm and inviting.

Outside, he could hear the hum of traffic, the faint chatter of people, the world alive and orderly. There was no chaos, no apocalypse.

He glanced at the digital clock on the wall. The date displayed was five months earlier—ten days before the apocalypse began.

"I... I've been reborn?"

...