Apocalypse: King of Zombies

"..."

The horde of zombie underlings fell silent. So much for brotherhood—turns out Bighead was just pissed about his chicken.

Bighead reached up and touched his face, feeling the sticky smear of black blood on his fingertips.

His voice trembled with frustration. "I told you guys—I hate getting hit in the head!"

"So... what now?" one of the elite zombies asked.

Bighead brooded in silence. If his thousand-strong Zombie Horde were still around, no one would dare mess with him like this. But they were all wiped out... by the Zombie King of Los Angeles.

"I won't forget this," Bighead growled. "Let's go. We're reporting this to the boss."

...

And so, Bighead made his way back to their territory, heading straight for the heart of San Diego. The streets were crawling with zombies, the air thick with menace.

Up ahead, Nightbane stood in the middle of the road, giving orders to his lieutenants.

Bighead shuffled forward, looking thoroughly miserable.

"Boss... I got disfigured."

"Hm?" Nightbane turned to look at him. Bighead's massive, round face was streaked with dark blood, and there was a very obvious rock-shaped dent on his forehead.

"You got smashed in the face again?"

"Yeah. I ran into the main force from L.A. There were four Zombie Kings, all pretty strong—and sneaky as hell. They didn't just bash my face in, they killed Buddy too. Boss, you have to get revenge for me!" Bighead pleaded, eyes wide with desperation.

Nearby stood a female Zombie King with delicate pink flowers blooming from her head—Daisy, one of the Four War Generals.

"Lately, those L.A. bastards have been pushing it," she said, her voice sharp. "Their Zombie Kings keep prowling around our borders, always looking for an opening. One of them has some kind of parasitic ability—his fungal spores drifted into my flower fields. Now all I'm catching are mimics made from those damn spores. I haven't had a decent hunt in days!"

"That bad?" Nightbane raised an eyebrow. He could imagine how pissed Daisy must be—thinking she'd found prey, getting all hyped up, only to realize it was just a bunch of fake-outs. That kind of letdown stung.

"If that's the case, it's time we made a move."

"What do you have in mind?" Daisy asked.

Nightbane wasn't just brawn—he had brains too, and he knew how to strategize.

"We'll do the same to them. Start patrolling their borders. Steal their prey. Hit them with their own tactics. L.A. still has those human shelters and Genesis Biotech, right? Plenty of meat to go around."

"Now that's a plan," Daisy said, her eyes flashing with a predatory gleam.

No wonder he's the boss, she thought.

Bighead, meanwhile, was already fired up. He was itching to find those four L.A. zombies and settle the score—especially the one who'd smashed his face in.

...

The long, dark night finally passed, filled with little skirmishes and unexpected twists.

As the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, the world stirred back to life.

Morning.

It was time for Ethan and Mia to head out, just as they'd planned, to search for the stone tablet in Albuquerque.

Ethan was already waiting on the street below.

Soon, a group of familiar faces approached—Mia, Sean, and the usual crew from the shelter: Chris and Brandon, the muscle, plus Oliver, who doubled as their driver and translator.

"I just don't get it," Chris muttered. "I've already awakened and formed a crystal core. Why the hell am I still stuck hauling boxes?"

"We might have to move a meteorite this time," Brandon replied. "And also... because you're not one of the main fighters."

"Oh, and you are?" Chris shot him a glare.

"Yup. Glad you noticed." Brandon grinned and shrugged.

"..." Chris was speechless. Ever since Brandon awakened that overpowered ability—Blood Burst—he'd been getting more and more smug.

Mia's eyes sparkled as she looked at Ethan. "Ethan, the area around Albuquerque is nothing but desert and wasteland—totally barren. It's gonna be tough to scavenge supplies out there. If we're working for you, you better at least feed us."

Ethan chuckled. "Of course. With the bond we've got? No need to even ask. You know I've got your back."

"Good. Then let's move." Mia stepped forward without hesitation.

Ethan had already prepped the aircraft. The group climbed aboard, and moments later, the engines roared to life. A blast of flame shot from the rear thrusters, and the craft lifted off the ground.

A streak of light tore through the sky as they ascended, weaving through the clouds.

Outside the window, the view was breathtaking—vast skies, endless clouds, and the sun casting golden hues across the horizon.

Albuquerque was way off the beaten path. Even before the apocalypse, it only had a population of around half a million. In the early days of the outbreak, there were still some distress signals coming from the area.

But with nothing but desert and rocky wasteland surrounding it, rescue was impossible. Eventually, all human signals from the region went dark.

No one knew what had happened there—or what it had become. But one thing was certain: it was monster territory now.

"Man, I wonder what kind of freaks we'll run into in Albuquerque," Chris said, rubbing his chin.

"I'm betting on parasites," Brandon offered.

Chris gave him a look. "Dude... why do you keep bringing that up?"

"Because it's actually pretty likely," Ethan said, thinking it over.

According to Mia, a bunch of meteorites had crashed in the area. Even if they didn't find the Star Map tablet, there was a good chance they'd come across Radiant Crystals.

Those things were practically meteorite cousins.

And parasitic monsters had a natural affinity for Radiant Crystals—they could sense them from miles away. So it made sense they'd be drawn to the area.

"Uncle Chris, you better watch your back," Brandon said with a smirk.

"Tch, please. I'm not falling for that crap," Chris scoffed.

Sean, who'd been quiet, suddenly spoke up. "Actually, I think I know what kind of monsters we'll find in Albuquerque."

"Oh yeah? What kind?"

"Sandworms. Gotta be sandworms," Sean said confidently.

Chris and the others blinked. "Sandworms?"

Ethan thought for a second. "If I remember right, sandworms are those massive creatures from sci-fi stories—hide underground in the desert and pop out to eat people."

Everyone went quiet for a beat.

"...Great," Chris muttered.

They kept chatting, tossing around theories about what kind of monsters might be waiting for them. The conversation made the time fly.

About two hours later, the aircraft began to descend.

"We're here," said Oliver, the pilot, easing back on the throttle.

Everyone gathered at the windows, peering down.

A vast, yellow-brown wasteland stretched out below them—endless dunes and rocky plains, all swallowed by sand. Only a few withered plants clung to life at the edges of the desert.

In the distance, wind howled through the dunes, kicking up swirling sandstorms. Dust clouds rolled across the landscape like waves.

"Well, crap," Sean muttered. "Looks like there really isn't anything to eat out here."

But Ethan's eyes narrowed. "Who says that? Look over there."

"Huh?" The others followed his gaze—and spotted a dark shape in the sky, speeding toward them fast. It let out a high-pitched screech as it closed in.

"Flying mutant!" Chris shouted.

The sudden appearance of their aircraft must've drawn its attention.

As the shadow got closer, they could make out its form—a massive bird, wingspan at least twenty feet wide. It was the size of a small car, maybe bigger. The thing was terrifying.

"Holy crap, that's a huge bird!" Chris gawked.

"Looks like a vulture," Brandon said, eyes locked on the creature.

"What? There are vultures in the desert?" Chris asked, genuinely surprised.

Brandon gave him a look. "Seriously? Of course there are vultures in the desert..."

...