Chapter 728: You call that picking up scraps?

Ragnar narrowed his eyes, his voice laced with suspicion. “Nice of you to help…”

It was obvious—this was just a parasitic monster commander. He could’ve handled it solo, no problem. Bloodveil choosing to step in now? Yeah, that wasn’t charity. That was strategy.

“Hmph! Fine. Let’s see who’s got the better fists.” Ragnar snorted, then slammed his fist into the ground.

BOOOOM!

The impact was devastating. The already fractured earth gave way, collapsing in on itself. Massive chunks of stone were blasted into the air like shrapnel.

The deep fissure ahead groaned under the pressure. From within, a chorus of shrill, inhuman screeches erupted as something massive stirred below—something that didn’t want to stay hidden anymore.

Bloodveil didn’t hesitate. He darted forward in a blur of red.

“Think you’re taking this from me? Dream on!” Ragnar growled, launching himself after him.

The two SSS-ranked Voidborn Undying moved like twin comets, streaking toward the same target with deadly intent.

Ethan, still watching from a distance, narrowed his eyes. Bloodveil’s earlier attack had revealed something interesting—his blood wasn’t just a weapon, it was mutated. His body had undergone some kind of internal evolution, likely a specialized blood-based enhancement.

All this for one SS-grade crystal core? Ethan thought, mildly amused. Is it really worth the drama?

Beside him, Hammerhead was watching the chaos unfold, eyes wide. “Boss, they’re both going in.”

“Yeah. So am I,” Ethan said casually.

“Huh?!” Hammerhead’s jaw dropped. “Wait, seriously? You’re gonna jump in now? With them? Boss, that’s suicide! What if you don’t get the core and end up blowing your cover? That’d be—”

But the air was silent.

Hammerhead turned—and Ethan was gone.

“…Huh???”

“…”

Meanwhile, deep in the fissure, the parasitic monster had finally been forced to reveal its true form.

It was massive—easily the size of a small hill. Its grotesque body was bloated and vaguely humanoid, like a giant ball of flesh. Its neck was ringed with dozens of zombie heads, fused together like a grotesque flower, each one snarling or twitching.

Five thick tentacles still supported its bulk, anchoring it to the ground like monstrous roots.

“The hell is that thing?” Bloodveil muttered, eyes narrowing. This wasn’t a normal commander—it had clearly undergone a second mutation.

Didn’t matter. That crystal core was his.

He surged forward, blood flaring around him like a crimson aura. From his palms, streams of blood shot out, writhing like living serpents, racing toward the monster.

The parasitic creature shrieked in panic, sensing the incoming threat. It lashed out with its tentacles, trying to block the attack.

But the moment they touched Bloodveil’s blood, they began to sizzle and melt, dissolving into steaming chunks.

It didn’t stand a chance. Not against the Overlord of Eastreach.

And not with Ragnar coming in hot from the other side—his body a blur as he launched himself into the air like a missile, fist cocked back and glowing with raw power.

The two Voidborn Undying were like twin reapers, descending with death in their hands.

The parasitic monster, despite its intelligence, could only stare in horror.

Why the hell is this happening to me?!

BOOM!

Ragnar’s fist slammed into the monster’s chest. Its flesh rippled like water, then cracked apart, splitting open in jagged lines as blood and gore exploded outward.

At the same time, Bloodveil’s blood tendrils wrapped around its body, eating through it like acid, melting it down to the bone.

The once-terrifying creature was obliterated in a single, devastating combo.

Chunks of meat rained from the sky. Blood poured like a waterfall, soaking the battlefield in crimson.

“Where’s the core?” Ragnar growled, eyes scanning the carnage.

Through the haze of flying gore, he spotted it—glinting in the air, falling from the monster’s ruined chest.

A crystal core.

Bright. Pristine. SS-grade.

And dropping fast.

“Right here!”

Ragnar launched himself into the air again, arm outstretched, fingers just inches from the falling crystal core. It was so close he could feel the energy pulsing off it.

But then—

A streak of blood, thin and fast like a serpent, shot in from the distance and coiled around the core mid-air.

“Sorry, boys. That one’s mine,” Bloodveil said with a smug grin, his heart practically singing. With Ragnar’s brute strength? Please. He’s not stealing this from me.

“Damn it!” Ragnar snarled, his fangs clenched tight, eyes flashing with fury.

But before either of them could make a move, the air around the crystal core shimmered—like ripples across water. A strange distortion swept through the space, brushing over the blood-wrapped core.

And then—

Poof.

The crystal core vanished.

“…Huh???”

Bloodveil’s eyes went wide, stunned.

He and Ragnar landed almost simultaneously, boots crunching against the shattered earth. The battlefield had gone eerily quiet, the only sound the wind whistling through the ruins.

Five seconds passed.

Then Ragnar finally broke the silence. “Where the hell did it go?”

“I… I don’t know,” Bloodveil muttered, still staring at the empty air where the core had been.

“You didn’t take it?” Ragnar asked, narrowing his eyes.

Bloodveil shook his head slowly, still in disbelief. “No. I swear.”

And then they both noticed it—

A third figure standing nearby, calm and composed, watching them with a faint smile.

“Umbradrake?”

Both Zombie Kings turned, surprised.

Ethan, still wearing his Umbradrake disguise, gave them a warm, easy smile—like a snowfield catching the first rays of spring. The tension in the air eased just a little.

“Nice teamwork, huh?” he said casually. “Took down a parasitic monster commander together. Smooth operation.”

“…Huh??” Ragnar blinked, completely thrown off. His brain stalled for a second. Teamwork?

What the hell is he talking about?

He didn’t remember any teamwork.

Bloodveil’s brow twitched. He was already piecing it together. That core hadn’t disappeared—it had been taken. And not by him.

Ethan had snatched it right out from under them.

Didn’t lift a finger during the fight, but swooped in at the perfect moment to grab the prize—and now had the nerve to call it “teamwork”?

Ethan kept going, voice light and friendly. “What’s wrong? We killed the commander, reclaimed a zombie nest. That’s a win, right? You guys aren’t happy?”

“I mean, I… yeah. Happy,” Bloodveil said through gritted teeth, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace.

Ragnar, meanwhile, was fuming. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tight. He stared at Ethan like he wanted to punch a crater through his face.

“Umbradrake,” he growled, “you really are the king of playing dumb.”

With that, he turned and stormed off, cape whipping behind him.

It was just an SS-grade crystal core—not worth starting a war over. Not yet. But next time? He’d be watching.

Bloodveil gave a dry chuckle. “Well played, Umbradrake. Seems like your abilities… are a little more special than we thought.”

Ethan shrugged. “Nothing special. I’m just good at picking up what others drop.”

“…” Bloodveil’s face twitched. You call that picking up scraps?

But there was nothing more to say. He turned and walked off, barking orders to the nearby zombies, rallying them for the next push.

Ethan, meanwhile, was feeling pretty damn satisfied.

Using Umbradrake’s identity had its perks. The real guy had never left Southvale, barely interacted with other Zombie Kings, and no one really knew what his powers were. That made the disguise perfect—low profile, low risk.

With the parasitic monster commander dead and the nest reclaimed, the first battle was a clear win.

Even if Bloodveil and Ragnar didn’t look too thrilled about it.

Next time a high-grade crystal core shows up, they were both thinking, there’s no way that bastard’s getting it.

“Keep pushing forward!” Bloodveil shouted, rallying the horde.

The hunt wasn’t over yet.

…