Apocalypse: King of Zombies

"I'm going in to take a look," Ethan said calmly.

"Huh?" Hank and the other zombies looked at him, puzzled. The area ahead was crawling with zombies—some feeding the Razorbacks, others standing guard. And not just any guards—these were elite-level, clearly beefed up after the last time someone tried to steal pigs.

But before they could say anything else, they turned to respond—and Ethan was already gone.

"Wha—?"

He'd vanished without a trace.

Ethan had activated his stealth ability and was already moving forward, completely undetected. A few zombies even passed right by him, none the wiser.

Ever since he'd hit SSS rank, his concealment had leveled up big time. Low-tier psychic Awakeners couldn't even sense his presence anymore.

He slipped through the wall like a shadow and entered the pig farm.

The moment he stepped inside, a wave of familiarity hit him. The layout, the smell, the sounds—it all reminded him of his old life. Back when he ran a livestock farm on Earth.

With a flick of his hand, he activated Domain of the Dead to block out the stench of manure hanging thick in the air.

He scanned the area.

The place was massive—easily the size of two football fields. Dozens of enormous pigs roamed freely, lounging in the mud, dozing in the shade, or nursing their piglets. There were all kinds—some looked like mutated boars, covered in coarse brown fur, standing nearly seven feet tall at the shoulder.

"Could these be… the ancestors of wild boars?" Ethan mused silently. The planet was called Originis, after all. Maybe it wasn't just a name—maybe this really was the origin point for certain species.

Back on Earth, some scientists had theorized that humans weren't native to the planet. No one knew where they'd come from.

Maybe… just maybe, there was a connection.

But now wasn't the time for science class. He had pigs to steal.

The pigs looked totally relaxed. Some were wallowing in the mud, others sprawled out in the sun. A few piglets were snuggled up against their mothers, happily nursing.

But then, one massive boar—easily two tons of muscle and tusks—spotted Ethan.

It snorted, lowered its head, and started stomping toward him, eyes locked on target. Its breath came in heavy bursts, and its tusks gleamed in the light.

It had clearly sensed an intruder in its territory.

Its eyes—each the size of a dinner plate—reflected Ethan's silhouette.

Then it let out a piercing squeal and charged.

The ground shook with every step. It was like watching a truck barrel toward him.

But just as it was about to slam into him—poof—the boar vanished.

Gone. Like it had never existed.

Ethan had used Domain of the Dead to kill it in an instant, then swept its massive corpse into his spatial storage ring. Smooth. Clean. Efficient.

"One down…"

He turned his gaze to the rest of the pigs.

He wasn't leaving a single one behind. That was the only way to starve the zombies into madness—push them to the brink, force them to turn on each other, and let the hive devour itself from within.

He moved through the farm like a ghost, and every pig he passed—big or small—vanished without a sound.

In just a few minutes, he'd wiped out nearly six hundred pigs. Over a thousand tons of fresh meat, gone.

All that remained was a barren field of churned-up mud, scattered hoofprints, and the overwhelming stench of pig shit.

"Job's done."

With a flicker of shadow, Ethan disappeared—just like that. As if he'd never been there at all.

...

Meanwhile, back behind the boulder, Hank and his zombie crew were still crouched low, whispering among themselves.

"Did you see that? Boss just vanished into thin air!"

"What the hell kind of ability is that?"

"How the hell would I know?"

"Forget it—what I wanna know is, did he get the pigs or not?"

"Yeah… hope it went smooth…"

"…"

Just then, Ethan's figure slowly materialized behind Hank and the others like a shadow peeling off the wall.

"All done. Went pretty smoothly," he said casually.

"HUH?!" Hank nearly jumped out of his rotting skin. He whipped around and saw Ethan standing there, calm as ever, and his jaw practically hit the dirt.

"Boss, you're back! How many pigs did you get?"

"All of them," Ethan replied, short and to the point.

Hank's eyes went wide, his face frozen in pure disbelief.

All of them?

No way…

At that very moment, the zombies who had been feeding the Razorbacks started to sense something was off. These weren't your average shamblers—they were elite, and their instincts were sharp.

The scent of fresh meat was gone.

And the pigpen… was dead silent. No grunts, no squeals, no snorting. Even the straw they'd just shoved in hadn't been touched.

"What's going on?"

"Something's not right…"

"Quick, check inside!"

A group of them rushed to the stone gate embedded in the wall and shoved it open, storming into the pigpen.

What they saw stopped them cold.

Empty. Completely empty.

Nearly six hundred pigs—gone. Not a single one left. Just a mess of hoofprints, churned-up mud, and piles of reeking pig shit.

"The pigs… they're all gone!"

"Shit!"

A few of the elite zombies furrowed their brows, their expressions turning grim. The pigs weren't just livestock—they were the lifeblood of the hive.

Without a steady supply of meat, things were going to spiral fast.

"ROOOAAARRR!!"

One of them let out a furious howl, summoning nearby zombies.

"The pigs are gone! All of them!"

"What?! That's impossible!"

"Find them! Now! Where the hell could they have gone?!"

"They didn't just vanish into the ground!"

The entire area erupted into chaos. Zombies poured in from every direction, snarling, growling, searching.

Behind the boulder, Hank and his crew were frozen in place, eyes wide with awe and terror.

He really did it… Boss actually stole every last pig!

Hank remembered how the last time he'd tried to steal just one Razorback, Dreadpaw had lost his mind and thrown him into The Exile Zone like yesterday's trash. If Dreadpaw found out about this…

"Boss, we gotta go. Like, now. We need to get the hell outta Solaris Citadel—far, far away!"

"No rush," Ethan said coolly, completely unfazed. "We're not done yet."

He stood there, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold like it was a stage play.

Sure, the pigs were gone—but he hadn't gotten what he really came for yet: a high-grade crystal core. It had been a while since he'd tasted that kind of power, and he was itching for it.

The zombies were getting more agitated by the second, swarming in from all sides. But most of them were low-tier—B-rank, maybe A at best.

Still, the way the tension was building, it was only a matter of time before a Zombie King showed up.

And right on cue, a wave of killing intent swept across the area like a cold wind, silencing the crowd.

A female zombie stepped forward.

Her skin was pale gray, her frame slender, but her legs were thick and muscular, wrapped in glowing blue veins that pulsed like tree roots under her skin—unnatural and jarring.

She was fast. A speed-type Zombie King. SS-rank, no doubt. Her aura was on par with the Crimson Count's adopted children.

"Not bad…" Ethan murmured, watching her with interest.

But Hank? He was already shaking.

"That's Vexia—Dreadpaw's top enforcer! She's the one who caught me last time! We're screwed!"

"Relax," Ethan said calmly. "She's not catching you this time."

Vexia had already been briefed on the pig situation, and her expression was darkening by the second. Rage simmered beneath her cold exterior.

After the last pig theft, Dreadpaw had personally assigned her to guard the farm. And now? Gone. Again.

She had to find those pigs. No matter what.

"Everyone shut up!" she barked.

Her voice cracked like a whip, and the horde instantly fell silent.

With her SS-level senses, she honed in—listening, sniffing, scanning.

But there was nothing. No pig sounds. No scent of blood or meat.

"Where the hell did they go…?"

Then—she caught something.

A faint sound. A strange scent. Something… off.

Coming from behind a nearby boulder.

"Who's there? Come out!" she snapped, her voice sharp as a blade.

...