Chapter 638: Urgent news

Thunderclaw didn’t even know what hit him. One second he was standing tall, crackling with electric fury—and the next, something clamped around his neck like a steel vice. He couldn’t breathe. His vision blurred. That massive hand had him in a death grip.

His wild, volatile lightning energy—usually enough to fry a tank—was completely useless against the man’s overwhelming physical power. It fizzled out like a dying sparkler.

Crack!

The man in the black cloak gave the slightest twist of his fingers, and Thunderclaw’s neck snapped like a twig. The thunder that had once roared through the apocalypse vanished in an instant. His pupils dilated, then went still.

His body hit the ground like trash being tossed aside.

The man didn’t even pause. He kept walking toward the shelter, his steps steady, unstoppable—like death itself on the move.

The people watching were frozen in horror. Their eyes wide, their faces pale.

Thunderclaw… was dead.

Just moments ago, he’d been full of swagger, lightning dancing around him like a god of war. And now? Snuffed out like a candle. Effortlessly.

“He’s too strong…”

“Is he… another Zombie King?”

“No way… could it be…?”

“…”

A name—terrifying, legendary—was on the tip of everyone’s tongue.

And then, as if summoned by that fear, it began.

Several powerful Zombie Kings—mutated, monstrous, and feared in their own right—started converging on the scene. But instead of attacking, they bowed their heads low in deference, their arrogance gone.

“Dad,” one of them said.

The man gave a slight nod, his voice low and gravelly. “There’s been a shift in the northern horde. We need to wipe out the humans here. Fast.”

“Understood!”

The Zombie Kings responded immediately, though unease flickered in their eyes. The north? What the hell happened up there that made their adoptive father step in personally?

But none of them dared ask. None of them even dared breathe too loud.

Inside the shelter, chaos erupted. Survivors were glued to the surveillance monitors, watching in disbelief as the man—an unstoppable force—strode toward the entrance.

“The Crimson Count! That’s him! It’s really him!”

“Oh my God… we’re screwed. He’s coming in.”

“What do we do now?!”

“…”

Panic spread like wildfire. People ran in circles, shouting, crying, trying to find a way out. But there was no escape. Fear had already taken hold.

The Crimson Count—the top-ranked SSS-class Zombie King in the archives, the stuff of nightmares—was here. And he’d just wiped out an entire Last Light squad like they were nothing.

No one could stop him. No one even dared try.

He was almost at the entrance now. The survivors were desperate, terrified, helpless.

“Hey!”

A voice rang out behind him—cool, sharp, and female.

The Crimson Count turned slowly. His eyes, dark and unreadable, locked onto the figure approaching him.

A girl.

Slim, poised, katana in hand. She walked over the corpses without hesitation, her blade dragging along the ground with a metallic scrape. Sparks danced at her feet, arcs of electricity crackling louder with every step.

“Still got someone with a death wish, huh…” the Crimson Count muttered.

Mia’s expression was ice-cold. Her grip on the katana tightened. The air around her shimmered with rising voltage.

Then she moved.

In a flash, she shot forward like a bolt of lightning, her blade slicing through the air in a blazing arc. The katana lit up like a torch, tearing through the darkness, the very air screaming in its wake.

The Crimson Count didn’t flinch. He clenched his fist and met the strike head-on, his raw strength crashing against her blade.

BOOM!

The ground beneath them shattered. The shockwave blasted outward, sending debris flying in every direction.

The lightning on Mia’s blade flickered—then dimmed. Her sword trembled violently in her hands.

Vrrrrrrrnnnn—

A high-pitched metallic screech tore through the air, sharp enough to make eardrums ache.

Mia felt like she’d been hit by a freight train. Her body was flung backward uncontrollably, and in a desperate move, she jammed her Stellar Fang katana into the ground to slow herself down.

Sparks flew. The blade carved a deep trench in the earth as she skidded back—hundreds of feet—crashing through a swarm of zombies like bowling pins. She didn’t stop until she hit the edge of a cliff, teetering just inches from the abyss.

One more step, and she’d be swallowed by the darkness below.

“Cough! Cough-cough!”

She doubled over, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, staining her chin crimson.

“Mia!”

“Mia, hang on!”

Chris and the others shouted from the shelter, their eyes wide with panic. Fear twisted in their guts.

The Crimson Count was a monster. A single punch had sent her flying and coughing up blood.

“Oh? Still alive?”

The Crimson Count raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised. It wasn’t often a human Awakener could take a direct hit from him and still be breathing.

But then he noticed something.

The numbers on Mia’s wristband were climbing—fast. 71%. Her cells were surging with energy, her body wrapped in a faint mist of blood vapor.

And her eyes—those sharp, determined eyes—were practically glowing with adrenaline.

“You’re not even close to beating me,” she growled.

In the blink of an eye, she vanished.

Her speed shattered the limits of human perception. One moment she was at the cliff’s edge, the next—right in front of him.

Her Stellar Fang katana flared with lightning, transforming into a roaring thunder dragon as she slashed down.

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

The Crimson Count’s eyes narrowed. For the first time, he looked genuinely impressed. He twisted his body, narrowly dodging the brunt of the strike.

But not fast enough.

Shhhhk!

A clean tear split the back of his black-and-red cloak. The mountain wind howled through the rip, making it flap violently behind him.

He glanced down at the damage, his expression unreadable—but clearly surprised.

Inside the shelter, the survivors erupted.

“Hell yeah! That’s Mia for you! She actually landed a hit!”

“She’s the Light of Humanity for a reason!”

“She can do it! She can take down that SSS-class freak!”

“Let’s go, Mia!”

Hope surged through the crowd like a tidal wave.

The Crimson Count stood still for a moment, then slowly turned to face her again. This time, he looked at her with real interest, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Impressive. Didn’t expect to find someone like you here… If I’d known there was a fighter of your caliber in America, I would’ve come sooner.”

“You’d have died sooner, too,” Mia shot back, cold as ice.

The two stood facing each other, tension crackling in the air like a live wire. One human. One zombie. Both at the peak of their kind.

The Light of Humanity versus the top-ranked SSS-class Zombie King.

The battle that would decide everything was about to begin.

Meanwhile, far to the north, snow blanketed the land in white silence. The wind howled through frozen cities, icicles hanging like daggers from every building.

But the ground told a different story.

It was soaked in blood.

Corpses littered the streets, stacked in grotesque piles. Some places looked like slaughterhouses, others like mass graves.

Big G and Lil’ B stood tall among the carnage, their hulking frames splattered with gore. Behind them, a legion of zombies stood at attention, the air thick with the stench of death.

“Boss, it’s done,” Big G said, wiping blood from his axe.

Ethan gave a small nod. Not long ago, they’d been ambushed by a massive wave of mutated zombies—some from the Vampire Race, others twisted zombie beasts infected beyond recognition.

Over a hundred thousand monsters had charged toward The Frozen City.

But under Ethan’s command, they’d crushed them all.

The northern border was secure—for now.

Suddenly, a red-eyed crow swooped down from the pitch-black sky, its wings slicing through the icy wind like blades. It landed on a frozen power line, talons clicking against the ice.

“Urgent news… urgent news…” it squawked.

“What is it?” Ethan asked, turning his head slightly.

“The Crimson Count… he’s appeared at Mount Elbert,” the crow—Buddy—croaked.

Big G and Lil’ B both flinched at the name. Their necks instinctively shrank into their shoulders. The Vampire Race had once ruled them with terror. The Crimson Count was a nightmare they’d never truly escaped.

Ethan stared into the distance, his eyes reflecting the darkness of the night.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly. “It’s time to head back.”

…