Chapter 613: Trust yourselves

Not far off, Sophia had also plunged into the chaos of the battlefield. She braced herself with one hand against the ground, steadying her stance.

Her crimson eyes locked onto a massive zombie rhino. In the next instant, she kicked off the ground and launched herself forward like a missile. Her claws slashed through the air, tearing a deep gash along the beast’s side.

Black blood sprayed out in a torrent, its guts spilling across the ground. The rhino let out a thunderous roar of agony before its hulking body crashed to the earth.

With Sophia’s S-rank strength, taking down these zombie beasts was no big deal.

Seeing their leader in action, the Canadian Zombie Horde roared in unison, their morale surging. The sound was deafening—like a tidal wave crashing down from the heavens.

But more zombies kept coming. Endless waves of the undead surged forward, a tide with no end in sight. It felt like no matter how many they killed, there were always more.

"This is working... finally," Malcolm muttered, turning to scan the battlefield. From a numbers standpoint, their side still had the upper hand.

Among the American Zombie Horde, only a few of the Zombie Kings were truly dangerous. As long as they could keep those ones in check, victory was still within reach.

"Number Thirteen’s plan... not bad at all."

...

But far off, atop a distant ridge, a towering figure stood watching the carnage unfold. He was built like a fortress, his blood-red eyes glowing with a strange, eerie light. It was none other than Logan—the Northern Warlord, and one of the most feared Zombie Kings in America.

Behind him stood Rebar and several other elite lieutenants, followed by a dense mass of zombies—at least a hundred thousand strong.

"Damn... this is brutal," Logan muttered, surveying the battlefield below. The scale of the war unfolding before him was unlike anything he’d ever seen.

Under the dark, cloud-choked sky, millions of zombies clashed in a frenzy of violence. Corpses were piled into grotesque mounds, and still more kept falling. Rivers of black blood flowed through the battlefield, the air thick with the stench of death and iron. A red mist hung over everything like a shroud.

The battlefield had become a giant meat grinder, chewing up the undead and spitting out gore.

"A battle like this—one for the history books—how could I possibly sit it out?" Logan’s eyes burned brighter, his aura surging with power.

Behind him, Rebar was practically bouncing with anticipation. "Boss, let’s get in there already!"

Logan gave a nod, but his tone was serious. "This fight’s gonna be hell. Keep your heads on straight out there."

Rebar grinned and nodded. "Don’t worry. Honestly, this beats staying home and trying to keep the ladies happy."

"...Huh??" Logan’s eyes narrowed, his glowing red gaze snapping toward him.

Rebar immediately slapped both hands over his mouth—he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Still, as Logan’s top enforcer, Rebar belonged on the front lines. Logan understood where his guy was coming from.

"Alright! The moment’s here—let’s go!"

With that, the horde behind them let out a collective roar, eyes gleaming with bloodlust. They cracked their knuckles, rolled their shoulders, and then charged down the slope like an avalanche.

They hit the battlefield like a tidal wave, kicking up clouds of dust and death. The killing intent was palpable.

Rebar led the charge, his massive frame and rock-hard skin making him a wrecking ball. With every swing of his arms, Canadian zombies went flying.

Their arrival turned the already savage battlefield into a full-blown inferno.

Malcolm, still locked in combat, immediately sensed something was off. He turned sharply toward the new threat.

"What the hell? America had more Zombie Horde reinforcements?!"

But as he watched Rebar and the others fight, he noticed their attacks were straightforward—brute force, no finesse. They weren’t on the same level as Sprout or Lil’ Shroom. Their evolution wasn’t nearly as advanced.

"Looks manageable," Malcolm thought. Given the sheer scale of the battle—millions of zombies in play—another hundred thousand didn’t seem like a game-changer.

But then, out of nowhere, a strange red light exploded into the sky, casting an eerie glow over the battlefield.

Within its radius, the Canadian zombies suddenly froze, as if caught in a nightmare. Screams tore through the air as they collapsed in agony, writhing on the ground.

That single attack wiped out over a thousand of them in an instant.

That terrifying red glow kept spreading, and in no time, it washed over Malcolm. His whole body shuddered as his vision was swallowed by crimson.

The dark sky above, the fallen corpses around him—everything looked like it had been dipped in blood.

Then, from the distance, a tall figure began walking toward him, slow and deliberate. His eyes glowed the same eerie red as the light around him, blending into the hellish haze. It was none other than Redgaze—one of the most dangerous Zombie Kings listed in the archives.

"A little vampire like you thinks he can throw his weight around here?" Logan said coldly, his voice like gravel grinding steel.

"You... you’re still alive?" Malcolm’s face twisted in shock, and beneath that, a flicker of fear. He’d assumed Logan had been taken out by the top-tier American Zombie King—his absence had seemed like proof.

"Oh, sorry to disappoint you," Logan sneered, his red eyes flaring brighter. A wave of psychic pressure rolled off him like a tsunami, suffocating and immense.

Malcolm clenched his fangs, his jaw tight. The fear in his chest only deepened.

Because this guy—this monster—was ranked in the top three of the Zombie King archives. On paper, he was on par with The Crimson Count.

Malcolm might be SS-rank, but he was considered a "bottom-tier scrub" among the elites. Logan might not be top-tier himself, but he was definitely upper-mid, at least.

And his Redgaze ability? It was tailor-made to crush brute-force types like Malcolm—those with raw power but no psychic defenses.

As the red light intensified, Malcolm’s brain started to buzz, his thoughts unraveling. Hallucinations flooded in, dragging him into a nightmare realm that felt like an endless hell.

"AAARGHHH—!"

Malcolm threw his head back and screamed, a raw, tortured howl. The veins in his neck and forehead bulged, pulsing with strain.

"Boss!"

The other members of The Vampire Race turned toward him, panic written all over their faces.

They saw Malcolm writhing in the red glow, clutching his head, trembling uncontrollably.

Darius, one of his top lieutenants, looked frantic.

"Shit! Boss is caught in some kind of illusion—he’s being controlled!"

"Yeah, he’s no match for Redgaze. He won’t last long at this rate."

"Where’s Lady Scarlet Moon? She’s gotta do something!"

"..."

The rest of the crew looked just as desperate.

Sophia turned her head, watching the scene unfold. She scratched her head, her expression a mix of confusion and concern.

"Redgaze is here? I thought he was dead..."

"Lady Scarlet Moon, what do we do?" one of the younger vampires asked, practically vibrating with anxiety.

Sophia furrowed her brow, scanning the battlefield. The extra hundred thousand zombies that had joined the fight hadn’t made a huge impact—but Logan’s arrival had changed everything. He’d locked Malcolm down completely.

"We keep fighting," she said firmly. "Malcolm’s an SS-rank Vampire. His body’s tough, and his regeneration is top-tier. He’s not going down that easy."

"So we need to break through the enemy horde before he runs out of time!"

"Wait, what? Can we even do that?" one of the younger vampires asked, frowning. The odds looked grim.

This battle was massive. It wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

And honestly, it looked like their boss was already as good as dead...

"There’s no time to hesitate!" Sophia snapped. "Trust your boss. Trust yourselves. You’ve got this—now get out there and fight!"

As a former high-ranking exec at Genesis Biotech, Sophia knew how to fire up a team when it counted.

Her words hit home. The Vampire Race fighters clenched their fists, eyes blazing with renewed fury.

Then, without another word, they charged straight into the heart of the crimson storm.

...