Apocalypse: King of Zombies

Because the Black Hand Legion had sent quite a few people this time, maybe if he could find them, he'd figure out a way to deal with the Zombie King.

The crowd retreated like a crashing wave—just as fast as they'd charged in, they were now fleeing in total chaos.

"Now it's my turn to hunt you down…" Ethan launched forward, and just as they turned to run, he unleashed the Domain of the Dead again. The dark energy swept over a hundred people, trapping them in its grasp—and then slaughtered them all.

With his Tachi in hand, Ethan had already lost count of how many lives he'd taken.

He glanced around—and spotted a Zombie King cowering in a corner with a few elite zombie underlings, all of them trembling like leaves in the wind.

It was Triple Scar, no doubt. But he was in bad shape—one of his arms had been completely blown off by the Crystal Core Blaster.

Ethan started walking toward him, slow and deliberate.

Triple Scar shrank back, his face twisted in fear. He'd seen everything—Ethan's overwhelming power, the massacre. It was burned into his mind.

Too strong… way too strong…

"Boss, don't kill me! Please, spare me! I even helped you kill humans just now—we're on the same side, right?" Triple Scar stammered, voice shaking.

His ten thousand zombies hadn't been much against the humans, but they'd still managed to take down over a hundred of them. That had to count for something, right?

"Oh? Didn't you say earlier that I should follow you and be your lackey?" Ethan asked with a smirk, clearly amused.

"Uh…" Triple Scar froze, remembering what he'd said before. He wanted to slap himself into next week.

"N-no, no! From now on, I'll follow you! Whatever you say, I'll do it!"

Ethan paused, thinking it over. "Nah. I'm not in the business of collecting trash…"

He looked Triple Scar up and down. This Zombie King wasn't exactly impressive—no brains, no potential. Honestly, an A-grade crystal core would be more useful.

Triple Scar blinked, confused. He clearly didn't get it.

"What do you mean?"

"Boss, I think he just called you trash," one of the elite zombie underlings helpfully explained.

"Huh?!" Triple Scar's eyes went wide in disbelief.

And then—shhk!—Ethan swung his blade, cleanly severing Triple Scar's head.

Zombie King or human—it didn't matter. He killed them all.

...

Meanwhile…

In a zone shrouded in thick black mist.

Samuel was hot on the trail of Mia and the others. The Black Hand Legion had sent a ton of Awakeners, all elite fighters. Mia's group didn't stand a chance in a head-on fight. They were using the mist as cover, ducking and weaving through the shadows.

"This way! Follow me!" the Mist Zombie King called out, leading them into an underground shopping mall. "This place has five exits and sixteen ventilation shafts. All of them lead to the surface—perfect for staying flexible and switching routes on the fly!"

"Damn, that's pro-level stuff!" Chris couldn't help but give him a thumbs-up.

Following Mist's route, they managed to stay one step ahead. Even with over a thousand Black Hand Legion members combing the area, they hadn't even caught a glimpse of them.

Mist grinned, full of confidence. "Of course. Nobody knows how to run better than I do."

This was Mist's Ultimate Survival Rule #3: Always run toward places with lots of exits.

As he spoke, he released another wave of thick black fog, covering their escape path.

"Damn…" Mia and the others were impressed. At this point, it wasn't just the enemy who couldn't see anything—they could barely see where they were going themselves.

Surrounded by pitch-black fog, the group pressed forward once more…

Back at the entrance to the underground mall, Samuel and his squad stood fuming, staring into the darkness.

"Boss, they're way too slippery!"

"Yeah, this is the third time we've been through this mall, and now we're back here again."

"What the hell do we do now?"

"..."

Frustrated voices filled the air.

Mist had kept their escape route within a small, familiar area—his own turf. He knew every corner, every vent, every exit.

So even with the Black Hand Legion running in circles, they still couldn't catch him.

"We can't let this drag on any longer!" Samuel's eyes gleamed with a cold, murderous light—he was furious, and it showed.

Before the apocalypse, back when the Black Hand Legion was still a fringe group, Samuel had already been one of them—an OG, a founding member. He wasn't just some grunt. He was a veteran, and when he got pissed, people knew to back off.

The moment he spoke, the underlings instinctively took a few steps back.

Samuel was mad. And when Samuel got mad, things got ugly.

'Wooden Prison!'

With a thunderous roar, energy surged around him, wild and untamed. He unleashed his ultimate move—S-rank, Wood Element.

The entire underground mall trembled as the ground began to quake.

Massive wooden stakes burst from the earth, each one thick enough that five people couldn't wrap their arms around it. They shot up like spears from hell, towering over a hundred feet tall—about the height of a ten-story building. The sight was nothing short of jaw-dropping.

From a distance, the dense forest of wooden pillars looked like a colossal cage, completely encircling the entire underground mall.

"Let's go. Let's see where they run now," Samuel said, his breathing heavy. That kind of power didn't come cheap—it had clearly taken a toll.

The others looked on in awe, silently thinking the same thing: Holy shit, this guy's a beast.

They followed him into the mall, their figures quickly swallowed by the thick black mist.

The tremors and energy surges hadn't gone unnoticed. Mia and the others had felt it too.

"What the hell was that?" Chris asked, frowning.

"I think… the entrance just got sealed off," Mia said, her voice tense.

"What? No way!" The group looked at each other, alarmed.

Just then, they reached one of the exits. Mist rushed forward and yanked the door open.

But what they saw stopped them cold.

Just a short distance away, towering wooden stakes loomed like ancient pillars, blocking every possible path forward. The way out was completely sealed.

"Shit… we've run ourselves into a dead end," Mist muttered, his face darkening.

And that—according to Mist's sacred "Survival Rulebook"—was the number one thing you never do: run into a dead end.

Chris and the others were starting to panic. They could feel it—Black Hand Legion was closing in.

"What do we do now? Is there another way out?"

"There is," Mist said, thinking fast. "We stay inside the mall and keep moving."

As long as there was space to maneuver, there was still a chance to escape.

The others looked at him like he'd lost his mind.

"Seriously?"

"That's your plan?"

But Mia turned and glanced behind them, her senses sharpening. Something was moving in the mist—something fast.

"It's too late. They're already here."

Sure enough, figures began emerging from the black fog. Leading the charge was Samuel, flanked by a squad of Black Hand Legion elites.

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Their eyes burned with fury, bloodlust radiating off them in waves. They looked like they wanted to tear Mia's group limb from limb. After all the running, all the chasing, they'd been made to look like fools—and now they were done playing.

"What's wrong? Why aren't you running anymore?" Samuel growled, his voice ragged with rage.

The group tensed. There was no way around it now—a brutal fight was coming.

Mist, however, looked devastated. "Shit… I broke my promise. I told the boss I'd keep you all safe, but now…"

"It's okay," Mia said gently. "This isn't your fault."

Mist was only B+ rank. Samuel was S-rank, and he had a whole squad of elite Awakeners with him. No matter how good Mist's escape skills were, there was only so much he could do against overwhelming power.

But then—thud!—Mist suddenly dropped to his knees, hands raised in surrender, facing Samuel and his crew.

"Please! I'm begging you! Just let us go! I'll do anything you want!"

The Final Chapter of the Ultimate Survival Rulebook—Drop to Your Knees and Beg for Mercy.

...