Chapter 624: What the hell just happened?

"What are you guys running from?" Ethan asked calmly, his voice low and steady.

One of the zombie underlings glanced back nervously before blurting out, "A massive horde of foreign zombies just invaded the U.S.! There’s too many to count! You better run too—don’t go that way!"

"Oh..." Ethan nodded, completely unfazed. Just as expected.

Last time he led a zombie horde across the U.S., they’d swept through the northeast. He hadn’t touched the far north yet.

Clearly, the Vampire Race had launched a full-scale invasion, stirring up countless zombie nests along the way. They either wiped them out or forced them into submission, sending the rest fleeing in panic.

The lead zombie, a scrappy-looking guy with a half-rotted face, quickly added, "Yeah, and there’s a bunch of Mutant Vampire Zombies with them. They’re brutal—already killed a lot of our brothers. You should get out while you still can!"

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "So where exactly are you all planning to run to? These foreign hordes are popping up all over the country."

"Uh..." The lead zombie’s bloodshot eyes darted around. "I heard there’s a powerful Zombie King in Los Angeles. He’s the top dog in America—crazy strong. We’re heading there to join him!"

"Hm... smart move," Ethan thought to himself, silently giving the guy some credit.

Another zombie, this one lean and twitchy, cut in urgently, "No time to explain! Just come with us! The Mutant Vampire Zombies are right behind us!"

"I’ll pass," Ethan said coolly, his tone calm, but his eyes were already locked on something behind them.

Out in the snowy white expanse, dark figures were emerging—fast, agile, and closing in quick.

A wave of murderous intent swept through the area like a shockwave, making the falling snow seem to freeze midair.

"Run! What, you’re not running anymore?" a raspy, mocking voice called out as the Vampire Race finally caught up.

The one in front was a young man with golden hair and blood-red eyes. His sharp fangs gleamed, and his face twisted into a savage grin—pure violence radiated from him.

"Shit! The Mutant Vampire Zombies caught up!"

"Boss... I don’t think we’re gonna make it to L.A..."

"What do we do now?"

"Screw it. Let’s fight!"

"..."

The zombies muttered among themselves, their expressions turning wild and feral.

They were still zombies, after all. Even if they’d evolved enough to feel fear, when cornered, their instinct for bloodshed and chaos kicked in hard.

The Vampire Race looked down on them with open contempt. A bunch of low-tier American zombies? Not even worth the effort. And they still thought they could fight back?

Pathetic.

One of the vampires, a hulking brute with bulging muscles, barked out in a gravelly voice, "This is your last chance—submit, or—"

"I choose death!" the one-eared zombie leader cut him off before he could finish.

His face was smeared with dried blood, but his eyes burned with grim resolve.

"Boss!"

The other zombies, all battered and bruised, turned to him in surprise. But somehow, it felt like they’d expected this all along.

The one-eared zombie stood tall. "Even if we surrender, we’ll just be cannon fodder. I’d rather die than be used by them."

"Yeah! Boss is right!"

"We’ll never bow to them!"

"Hell no!"

The group roared in defiance. They were scared, sure—but not one of them backed down.

"You... you’re asking for it!" the vampire youth snarled, his fury boiling over.

He couldn’t believe these weaklings were actually defying him. It wasn’t just insulting—it stung.

"Fine! You brought this on yourselves!"

One of the Vampire Race, a massive beast of a man, lunged forward like a missile. His fist cocked back, muscles bulging, he was clearly a powerhouse—probably around A-rank.

The Vampire Race were already known for their monstrous strength, and this guy was one of the elite. As he charged, the air around his fist cracked with sonic booms.

The one-eared zombie felt like a freight train was barreling toward him—unstoppable.

He clenched his jaw, fists tightening.

Despite his injuries, he stepped forward and raised his own fists to meet the blow.

He was only B-rank. Just a small-time zombie leader. He knew he was outmatched.

But he still chose to fight.

That was his answer.

The contrast between his battered, broken body and the vampire’s towering frame was stark—like a moth hurling itself into a raging fire.

"Then so be it... I’ll die," the one-eared zombie muttered, steeling himself as he clenched his fists and shut his eyes tight.

BANG!

Their fists collided with a thunderous crack.

But the ending everyone had already accepted—one where their leader would be crushed in an instant—suddenly twisted into something no one could’ve predicted.

A terrifying force erupted from the impact point. The charging Vampire’s body froze mid-motion. Despite his monstrous physique, he couldn’t withstand it. With a sickening

boom

, his body exploded on the spot.

Blood sprayed in every direction. Chunks of flesh flew through the air.

A thick mist of gore drifted across the snow.

The one-eared zombie, still bracing for death, felt warm, rancid blood splatter across his face. Confused, he cracked one eye open.

"...Huh???"

"What the hell just happened?"

He slowly opened both eyes and looked around. Bits of meat and bone were scattered everywhere. A crystal core—still glowing faintly—tumbled from the air and landed near his feet.

"What the..."

His fellow zombies stood frozen, staring at him like he’d just grown a second head.

"Boss... you took out that Vampire!"

"What?" the one-eared zombie blinked, completely stunned. "I... did?"

Across from them, the remaining members of the Vampire Race looked like they’d seen a ghost. Their eyes were wide, jaws slack, expressions twisted in disbelief.

Impossible.

That zombie was low-tier. No way he had that kind of power.

The vampires all frowned, trying to make sense of what just happened. But deep down... a creeping sense of dread began to take root.

"Boss, when did you get this strong?" one of the zombie underlings asked, half in awe, half in confusion.

The one-eared zombie stared down at his own hands, murmuring to himself, "No... that wasn’t me. I don’t have that kind of strength."

"What? Then who was it?" the underling asked, just as lost.

"I don’t know," the one-eared zombie replied, still dazed. He knew his own limits—barely B-rank, no awakened abilities. There was no way he could’ve done that.

He looked over at the Vampire’s obliterated corpse, his eyes clouded with confusion.

Then, out of nowhere, a voice whispered in his ear.

"Not bad..."

"Huh?"

He spun around—and there was Ethan, standing right beside him. No sound, no warning. He’d appeared like a shadow, silent and effortless.

The one-eared zombie’s eyes lit up. Something clicked in his mind. His expression hardened with realization.

"That was you... You saved me, didn’t you?"

Ethan didn’t answer directly. Instead, he spoke slowly, his voice calm but commanding.

"You don’t need to go to L.A. to find me. I’m already here."

"...???"

Silence fell over the group like a blanket. You could’ve heard a pin drop. Every zombie turned to stare at him, eyes wide, breath held.

Then, after a beat, the realization hit.

"He’s... he’s the one!"

"He’s the Zombie King of L.A.!"

"The one from the rumors... the strongest zombie in America!"

...