Apocalypse: King of Zombies
Chapter 560 - 560: You... who the hell are you?

The Wormrot Zombie King's minions were just as hyped as he was, their grotesque faces twisted in excitement. They knew damn well that going head-to-head with the Redgaze Zombie King wasn't a fight they could win.

So they had to play it smart—wear him down little by little, chip away at his strength, and when the time was right, go in for the kill.

Once he was out of the picture, they'd be free to storm into U.S. territory and expand their turf.

At the base of the snowy mountain, corpses were already piling up. More zombies kept tumbling down, their black blood staining the snow. Some of them, infested with parasitic worms, twitched and jerked back to their feet, stiffly launching themselves into the fray again.

"See? Told you—this isn't going anywhere. I'm gonna have to step in myself," Logan muttered, watching his zombie underlings get shredded. He couldn't take it anymore. If he wanted to turn this fight around, he'd have to do it with his own two hands.

But taking out a rival Zombie King in the middle of tens of thousands of undead? That was no walk in the park.

One wrong move, and he'd be swarmed, buried under a mountain of rotting flesh.

Then Ethan spoke up, calm and unimpressed. "It's just a cheap trick. That worm-controlling freak? Gross, yeah, but nothing special."

"Oh?" Logan raised an eyebrow. Was there actually a way to deal with him?

Before he could ask, something shifted in the sky.

A dark cloud rolled in from the horizon—fast. Real fast. It surged toward them like a storm front.

Then came the sound—harsh, grating caws that echoed like a death knell.

The "cloud" wasn't a cloud at all. It was a swarm of crows.

"Dinner time... dinner time..."

Red-eyed crows, sharp as fighter jets, dove straight for the mountain, slicing through the air in tight formation.

In seconds, the sky was blotted out by wings.

"What the hell..." Logan stared up, slack-jawed.

Ethan had summoned his crow battalion—and they were more than enough to handle the Carrion Worms.

The red-eyed crows blanketed the slope, their razor-sharp beaks stabbing into the snow, yanking out the wriggling worms one by one and swallowing them whole.

They feasted like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Some foreign zombies tried to lunge at them, but the crows just flapped once and dodged effortlessly.

One unlucky zombie couldn't stop in time, tripped over its own feet, and tumbled down the mountain—its skull cracking open like a melon when it hit the rocks below.

"Dumbass..." Buddy Crow muttered, then went right back to chomping on worms.

Other zombies weren't so lucky—some had their heads skewered clean through by beaks like daggers, their bodies tumbling down the slope like sacks of meat.

The moment the crows arrived, the entire battle shifted.

Logan's eyes lit up. "You've got air support?!"

"Something like that," Ethan said, glancing up. "Now's the time to take out that Zombie King."

"Hell yeah!" Logan nodded hard, fired up. He'd been itching to rip that worm-wielding bastard apart.

"Kill!"

With a low growl, Logan launched himself forward—not recklessly, but with deadly precision. He moved like a javelin mid-flight, all coiled power and focused rage.

His muscles were tight but lean, his body slicing through the snow with practiced ease. Every step landed with purpose. Then, with a powerful push from both legs, he leapt—clean, fast, like a battlefield commando charging straight for the summit.

Three quick jumps, and he was already halfway up, a blur of motion and fury.

He glanced down and saw Ethan still standing at the base of the mountain. The guy had already cleared the worm problem—Logan wasn't about to let him steal all the glory. Taking out the Zombie King was his job now.

Down below, Rebar and the rest of Logan's crew saw their boss charging in and instantly got fired up.

"Raaaghhh!"

The zombie horde let out a guttural roar and surged forward, more ferocious than ever, storming up the mountain.

With the crows clearing the skies and the worms no longer a threat, the path was wide open. Even the parasites that had burrowed into zombie bodies were getting pecked out by Buddy Crow and his crew.

The undead tide surged like a flood, unstoppable, crashing toward the peak.

Up on the ridge, the Wormrot Zombie King stood frozen, completely dumbfounded.

"This... this isn't how it was supposed to go…"

"Where the hell did those crows come from?!"

He watched in disbelief as the opposing zombie horde surged up the mountain, unstoppable and full of bloodlust. His own minions were starting to panic.

"Boss! Redgaze is charging up himself!"

"Retreat! Fall back! Down the rear slope—get across the border and back to our territory!" the Wormrot Zombie King barked, spinning on his heel and bolting toward the back of the mountain.

His elite zombies didn't need to be told twice. The moment they saw their leader running, their will to fight evaporated. They scrambled after him, tripping over each other in their rush to escape.

Just moments ago, these Crossborder zombies had been smug and cocky. Now they were fleeing like rats from a sinking ship.

"Where do you think you're going?" Logan's voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

He appeared behind them in a blur, his crimson eyes glowing like twin torches. Then—his gaze locked in—his ocular power activated.

The elite Crossborder zombies froze mid-step.

From their perspective, the sky turned blood-red. A massive, unblinking eye rose slowly above the horizon like a twisted sun, radiating crushing pressure.

They were trapped in an illusion—minds unraveling in an instant. Some collapsed on the spot, twitching, never to wake again.

Others went completely insane, turning on their own allies in a frenzy of teeth and claws.

A few, their eyes glowing with that same red light, suddenly lunged—not at Logan, but at the Wormrot Zombie King himself.

"Get off me! Don't touch me!" he shrieked, panic twisting his rotting face. He didn't dare look back—he could feel the red glow creeping up behind him, threatening to swallow him whole.

Desperate, he let out a piercing screech.

The snow around him began to writhe.

In seconds, the ground cracked open, and a swarm of pale, wriggling worms poured out like a living tide. They slithered over each other, screeching in unison, forming a massive wall of flesh and mandibles.

It rose like a wave—two stories high—then crashed down toward Logan and his crew.

"Charge!" Logan roared, leading Rebar and the others straight into the swarm.

Their undead bodies were tough enough to resist the worms' bites, but the sheer number of them slowed their advance and clouded their vision.

This was a trap—one the Wormrot Zombie King had set in advance, just in case Redgaze ever made a move. If it weren't for those damn crows, he would've already surrounded them with his own horde and dragged them into a war of attrition.

But now? Now it was all about survival.

Despite his decaying flesh, the Wormrot Zombie King was no pushover. In a world like this, only the strong survived. He tore through the snow with surprising speed, putting nearly a thousand feet between himself and the battle in just a few seconds.

All around him, nothing but endless white. No zombies. No allies. Just silence.

"Hah! You think you can kill me that easily?" he spat, still sprinting.

But then—caws.

A shadow fell over him.

A flock of crows dove from the sky, circling him like vultures. Their sharp beaks jabbed at his body, ripping the worms from his flesh one by one. The air filled with their shrill cries.

"Get off me! Get the hell off!" he screamed, flailing wildly. His claws slashed through the air, vicious and deadly, managing to scatter the crows after a few frantic moments.

The flock dispersed, wings beating the air—but they didn't go far.

Instead, they regrouped in the sky, forming a loose spiral. And through the gaps in their swirling mass, a figure appeared.

A man.

He stood tall, motionless, dressed in a crisp white shirt that blended seamlessly with the snow around him. Only his black slacks stood out, stark against the pale landscape.

Snowflakes drifted down from the sky, but none landed on him. Some unseen force repelled them, leaving his body untouched.

The Wormrot Zombie King froze, his rotting limbs stiffening. His cloudy eyes widened in disbelief.

He had no idea who this Zombie King was or how he'd gotten here—but something about him was wrong. Deeply wrong. A chill crept into his bones, colder than the snow beneath his feet.

"You... who the hell are you?"

...

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