Chapter 667: Time to play the song of slaughter once more

“We’re screwed… we’re so dead…” Hank muttered, his face pale as he stared at the horizon.

Dreadpaw’s army was closing in, a tidal wave of undead fury. The Zombie Horde—nearly a million strong—had surrounded them completely, sealing off every escape route.

There was nowhere left to run. No way out. This was the end of the line.

Dreadpaw’s eyes locked onto Hank with murderous intent, his hunger for vengeance practically radiating off him.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to see you again,” he growled, voice low and guttural. “Now tell me—where the hell did you hide my livestock?”

“Uh… I…” Hank stammered, his mind going blank under the pressure. He couldn’t even form a coherent sentence.

Then, from beside him, Ethan spoke up calmly, “I know where they are.”

Dreadpaw’s head snapped toward him. “Where?! Tell me—now!” His jagged teeth clenched, his voice rising with desperation.

But Ethan just shrugged, his tone casual. “Nah. Find them yourself.”

“You—!” Dreadpaw’s fury exploded. His face twisted into a snarl, the air around him thick with the oppressive aura of a Zombie King on the verge of losing control.

Hank’s heart sank. Oh god, he’s already pissed off, and you’re taunting him? Are you trying to get us killed?!

But Ethan didn’t stop. He stepped forward, voice sharp and cutting. “Look at you. You call yourself a Zombie King? You’re acting more like a starving mutt.”

That did it.

Dreadpaw snapped.

“You’re dead! Kill them all!”

At his command, the horde behind him let out a deafening roar, a wave of madness crashing forward. The ground trembled beneath the stampede of undead feet. Dust exploded into the air as the horde surged, trampling over each other in their frenzy to reach the few enemies who dared to mock them.

The sheer force of it was overwhelming.

Hank’s face drained of color. “They’re coming! They’re really coming! What do we do?!”

“Stand behind me,” Ethan said, his voice calm and steady, like an anchor in a storm. It cut through the chaos like a blade, grounding Hank in the moment.

“Uh…” Hank blinked, stunned. Can he really turn this around?

Ethan stepped forward alone, the wind howling across the barren wasteland of the Exile Zone. The land was dead, silent—except for the rising thunder of the oncoming horde.

He stood there, a lone figure in white, facing down the apocalypse.

“It’s time to call the old crew…”

His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried weight. This wasn’t just a battle—it was the beginning of something bigger. The first step toward reclaiming Originis.

He was going back to Earth to summon his old forces. To bring back his own army of a million undead—and crush Dreadpaw.

With a flick of his wrist, Ethan pulled out the Star Map tablet.

Seven radiant crystals glowed on its surface, forming the shape of the Big Dipper. Light surged from the lines connecting them, growing brighter and hotter, igniting the ancient runes etched into the stone.

“It’s been a while… I’ve missed them.”

“Let’s do this.”

He let go.

The tablet floated into the air on its own, humming with power.

In an instant, a blinding pillar of light shot into the sky, splitting the heavens in two. The very fabric of the world seemed to warp and tear.

The sky twisted violently, as if it were about to collapse.

The white light consumed everything. Even the three suns overhead dimmed in its presence, their brilliance snuffed out by the sheer intensity.

A thunderous boom echoed across the land as space itself cracked open.

A gate was forming.

The undead around them froze, a ripple of unease spreading through the horde.

“What… what the hell is that?” Dreadpaw’s eyes widened, his savage expression giving way to something else—curiosity, and maybe even fear.

The Zombie Horde shifted nervously, murmurs rising among them.

“The sky… it’s breaking…”

…

Meanwhile, back on Earth, Los Angeles had fallen into an eerie calm.

Ever since Ethan left, everything in the Corpse Nest had changed.

No more music. No more dancing.

Elegy had stopped playing her guitar altogether.

Her melodies were meant for a king—and with Ethan gone, she had no reason to play.

The elite zombies, once the pride of the horde, now lounged around aimlessly. Some sprawled on the ground, others slumped against walls, their once-deadly edge dulled by boredom.

A whole month had passed in silence.

For creatures born to kill, the absence of bloodshed was like losing their very souls.

“Day 32 without the boss… I miss him. I really miss him…” one muttered.

The entire Corpse Nest was steeped in a heavy, lifeless gloom.

But no one took it harder than Laura.

Since Ethan’s departure, she’d been a wreck—crying constantly, lashing out at anyone who came near. Even Bulldozer, tough as he was, didn’t dare mess with her anymore.

“Wonder when the boss’ll call us back…” Big Ears said, lying on the ground with his legs crossed, arms behind his head, staring up at the sky.

Shrimpy, sitting nearby, chimed in, “Should be soon, right? I miss the boss too. And those alien shrimp—when I get there, I’m catching one and eating it.”

Big Ears shot him a look. “What’s with the rhymes? You trying to drop a mixtape or something?”

Shrimpy shrugged. “Hey, I’m bored, alright?”

But just as the undead were sinking deeper into their funk, a low rumble cracked across the sky. Thunder rolled, and the clouds began to swirl, glowing faintly from within.

“Huh?”

The zombies all froze, heads tilting upward.

The light in the clouds grew stronger, brighter—until a pillar of pure white light burst down from the heavens.

The glow washed over the Corpse Nest, illuminating every undead face with an almost holy radiance.

Laura, kneeling on a rooftop, stopped crying. Her bloodshot eyes turned toward the sky.

Below, the elite zombies stirred. They rose from the ground, cracking their necks, rolling their shoulders. The fire was back in their eyes.

A swarm of black crows circled the beam of light, cawing wildly, their cries sharp and electric with excitement.

They all felt it.

The call of the King.

“It’s him… it’s the boss! I can feel it—he’s calling us!”

“Is it time? Are we going to war again?”

One by one, the zombies began to move, drawn toward the light.

Elegy slung her guitar over her shoulder and stepped into the beam. The light swallowed her whole.

Other Zombie Kings followed, each radiating raw, lethal energy.

The war machines that had lain dormant for so long… were waking up.

…

Back on Originis.

The white beam tore through the sky, ripping open the fabric of space.

The zombies on the battlefield could feel it—an overwhelming force of cosmic power.

Even Dreadpaw was shaken. His eyes narrowed, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

“What the hell is that?”

“No idea,” muttered another Zombie King beside him, visibly uneasy.

“Whatever it is, it’s not good for us. Doesn’t matter. We kill him now, ask questions later.”

“Right.” Dreadpaw nodded, rallying his horde to charge again.

But then—

A screech split the air.

Thousands of black crows burst from the beam, shrieking as they scattered across the sky, forming a massive, swirling cloud of wings and shadows.

And then came the roar.

A guttural, bone-chilling howl echoed from the light—like demons screaming from the depths of the abyss, their fury crossing galaxies to reach this battlefield.

Elegy’s fingers slid across her guitar strings.

“Let me play the song of slaughter once more.”

The music surged, fierce and wild.

“Rise up, strike back, this squad runs wild—

Tearing through the stars, crushing every trial!”

The elite zombies of the Corpse Nest exploded from the light, their faces twisted in anticipation, their bodies coiled with pent-up rage.

They had waited too long.

Now, they were ready to unleash hell.

Like a blade forged in silence, they cut straight into the heart of Dreadpaw’s horde—

and the battlefield erupted into chaos.

…