Apocalypse: King of Zombies

"F-Flying machine?" A few of the zombies looked stunned, clearly not expecting something like that to show up.

The lead Zombie King recovered quickly. "You flew here?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Ethan replied casually, not bothering to deny it.

The once-agitated zombies suddenly lit up with excitement. This meant one thing—they could finally leave the Exile Zone.

A few of the zombie underlings rushed up to Ethan, their attitudes flipping completely as they bowed their heads with newfound respect.

"Boss, I'm with you from now on. Please, you've gotta take us with you."

"Me too! I'll do whatever you want, as long as I can get outta here."

"Same here, man."

"Count me in…"

They all scrambled to pledge their loyalty, terrified of being left behind.

Ethan, for his part, was in need of a guide—someone who could give him the lay of the land on this planet. These guys might actually be perfect for the job.

"Alright then, let's go."

"Hell yeah!"

The zombie underlings cheered and scrambled aboard the aircraft, practically tripping over themselves in excitement.

Meanwhile, the big brute of a Zombie King in the back just stood there, dumbfounded.

What the hell just happened?

His own crew had ditched him in a heartbeat, not even sparing him a glance. Talk about loyalty—guess whoever's got the goods is the new boss now.

But as he watched them pile into the aircraft and the hatch start to close, panic set in.

"Wait! Boss, hold up! I'm not on yet!"

…

He sprinted toward the ship just in time, diving in as the hatch sealed shut. A burst of blue flame shot from the rear thrusters, and the aircraft lifted off, streaking into the sky like a comet.

Inside, the zombies looked around in awe, their eyes wide as they took in the sleek, high-tech interior.

The big guy—too tall for the cabin—had to duck his head slightly to avoid hitting the ceiling.

Ethan glanced over at him. "What's your name?"

"I… I'm Hank," the brute replied.

Ethan nodded. "Hank, huh? Not bad. Works for me." No need to get creative and rename him—this one was simple and solid.

But behind them, the other zombie underlings were starting to twitch. Their fists clenched, sharp teeth grinding audibly, and a dangerous glint flickered in their eyes. They were clearly holding something back.

The hunger was hitting hard.

Even with the aircraft now theirs, the gnawing emptiness in their guts was pushing them to the edge. Some of them were eyeing the metal walls like they were edible.

Hank noticed and quickly tried to rally them. "Hang in there, guys! Just three more days… and we're outta here!"

"Yeah… okay! We'll try!" one of the underlings growled through gritted teeth.

But the hunger was unbearable. He was already teetering on the brink.

Three days… could they really make it?

And even if they did get out of the Exile Zone—would there be anything to eat?

"Wait a sec…" another zombie turned to the window, his face suddenly going pale. He looked like he'd just realized something terrible.

"This… this is the ship's top speed?"

"When we were exiled, it took three days and nights to get here—but that ship was at least twice as fast!"

…

Ethan's brow furrowed. That caught his attention.

This aircraft was top-of-the-line Genesis Biotech tech. If the local transports were twice as fast… that meant the native tech here was way beyond Earth's.

And the kicker? The zombie was talking about a prison transport—something used to dump criminals.

Which meant there had to be even more advanced tech out there.

If there was still a human civilization on this planet… their level of technology might be off the charts.

But for the zombies, this was a gut punch.

"Wait, so… it's gonna take us at least six days to get out?"

"Looks that way."

"Shit! No way I'm gonna last that long!"

…

The fragile hope they'd just built up came crashing down in an instant.

Their faces twisted with desperation, hunger driving them right back to the edge of madness.

At that moment, Hank's expression darkened, a violent aura radiating off him. His eyes flashed with a savage gleam.

"Shut up, all of you! If anyone loses control… I'll have no choice but to put them down myself!"

The second the words left his mouth, the air in the cabin turned heavy, thick with tension.

The other zombies clenched their jaws, sharp teeth grinding audibly. No one said a word. The atmosphere was suffocating, filled with a deadly silence.

"Whoa, whoa—what's with the drama?" Ethan's voice cut through the tension like a breeze, calm and unbothered.

With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed a few dead chickens onto the floor.

The scent of fresh meat hit the air like a bomb, instantly hijacking the zombies' senses. Their eyes locked onto the carcasses, pupils dilating, bodies twitching with hunger.

"Is that… meat?"

The overwhelming urge to devour took over. They lunged forward, tearing into the chickens like wild animals.

Bones cracked like dry twigs under their jaws, the sound sharp and brutal—like they were chewing through carrots. Not a scrap was left behind.

Of course, a few chickens were nowhere near enough to satisfy their monstrous appetites.

Some of them, still starving, dropped to the floor and started licking the metal panels with their long, grotesque tongues—scraping the silver alloy so hard it nearly lost its finish.

Hank looked up, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Boss, what the hell was that meat? That was amazing!"

"That was chicken," Ethan replied.

"Chicken?" Hank tilted his head, clearly unfamiliar with the word.

"Damn, chicken tastes incredible…"

"You guys never had it before?"

"Nope. First time. I've never eaten anything that good in my life," Hank said, practically glowing with joy.

Clearly, the fauna on this planet was very different from Earth's. There were some serious species gaps.

After devouring the chicken, the zombies were full of praise. They weren't full, not by a long shot—but at least the hunger wasn't driving them insane anymore.

And now, they were all staring at Ethan with literal stars in their eyes.

He had a flying machine. He had meat. And most importantly—he shared it with them.

Since the moment they'd evolved enough to think for themselves, no one had ever shown them that kind of kindness.

In their minds, a decision was made.

They were sticking with him.

I'd follow him through hell and back!

Ethan looked at their hungry, worshipful stares and felt… a little creeped out.

Seriously?

Was this really all it took?

He was starting to think the zombies on this planet weren't exactly the most ambitious bunch…

Moving on, Ethan decided it was time to get some intel on the planet.

According to Hank, the locals called this world Originis. The two dominant species were zombies and humans. As for population numbers… no one really knew.

Hank himself had been a top enforcer in a corpse nest near the edge of the Exile Zone.

His boss? An SS-class Zombie King—hot-blooded, battle-hungry, and dead set on conquering all of Originis to build a zombie empire.

"At the time, we had a horde of 300,000 strong," Hank said, eyes gleaming with pride. "We marched out from the edge of the Exile Zone, ready to take the world by storm!"

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "And then?"

Hank scratched the back of his head, a little sheepish.

"Well… first battle, we hit Solaris Citadel. Got wiped out by the Overlord there—Dreadpaw. The whole horde got scattered, slaughtered like cattle. Lucky for me, I'm tough and fast. Managed to escape with my life…"

…