Chapter 732: Oh... yeah, that makes sense

Chapter 732: Oh… yeah, that makes sense

Of course, Bloodveil wasn’t the least bit afraid. Those Xenobeasts had tried to invade their territory before, but every time, they’d been beaten back hard.

After a scorching day under the sun, the zombie horde was ready to march again.

They’d had time to recover, and now their strength was back at its peak. Bloodlust surged through them—they were itching to kill.

These war machines launched into another charge.

Ragnar scanned the battlefield, watching the massive zombie horde thunder forward. Then, with a quick glance, he looked over at Umbradrake in the distance.

“This time, I’m going solo. Not sticking with him again.”

After what happened last night, Ragnar had made up his mind. He’d keep his distance from Umbradrake. Even if he had the strength, there was no way he’d get his hands on any crystal cores with that guy around.

Bloodveil noticed and called out, “You sure you can handle it on your own? Don’t let the Xenobeasts pick us off one by one.”

“Come on, you think I can’t handle myself?” Ragnar said, full of swagger. “If I stick with Umbradrake, I get nothing. That guy treats the battlefield like an all-you-can-eat buffet. You follow him, you starve.”

“Alright. If anything goes sideways, contact me immediately,” Bloodveil said.

“No problem. Relax,” Ragnar replied, then took off with a few of his trusted undead, disappearing into the distance.

Ethan watched him go, easily guessing what Ragnar was thinking.

Just like that, he’s gone?

Great. One less heavy hitter on our side.

Man, this group has zero team spirit…

Still, with the Xenobeasts pulling back to defend Razorback Ridge, the zombie horde didn’t face much resistance this time around.

They only ran into a few scattered Xenobeasts here and there, but those were crushed without breaking stride.

The undead tide surged forward, reclaiming huge swaths of lost territory.

Days passed like this, and soon, they were closing in on Razorback Ridge.

…

Night had fallen.

Thick clouds blotted out the moon, casting Razorback Ridge into pitch-black darkness. Towering peaks loomed like silent sentinels, stretching endlessly into the distance.

This land had once belonged to the zombies. Now, it was crawling with Xenobeasts. Their shrill, savage cries echoed through the mountains—like demons howling from the abyss. The sound alone could make your skin crawl.

But atop one of the peaks, a faint glow shimmered.

Look closer, and you’d see runes—strange, flickering symbols etched into the rock, glowing with an eerie light.

They looked like something a madman might scrawl in a fever dream—twisted, cryptic, and pulsing with power.

A woman approached, step by step, her silhouette cutting through the darkness. She was stunning—flawless face, blazing red lips, and a slender, graceful figure. But with every step she took, the ground beneath her cracked and split.

Her body weighed several tons.

Clearly, she wasn’t human. She was a monster wearing human skin.

And not just any monster—she was the Overmind Queen of the parasitic monsters. Their apex predator. Their mother.

She stepped into the center of the glowing runes. In front of her stood a massive stone slab. She raised her hand and gently pressed her palm against it.

Her arm writhed like a tentacle, and several parasite eggs slid from her flesh into the stone.

“Go…”

She whispered softly.

The runes beneath her feet flared to life, releasing a powerful force that launched the egg-filled stone into the sky.

Higher and higher it rose, until it vanished into the night.

The Overmind Queen was seeding her offspring—sending them into space, hidden inside stones, to drift through the void until they landed on a life-bearing planet.

Once there, they’d hatch. And they’d infect.

Of course, it was a long shot. It could take a thousand years. Ten thousand. Maybe it would never work.

But as long as the eggs were out there, there was hope.

“They’re coming…” a deep voice rumbled from the shadows nearby.

A massive figure stepped forward—easily thirty feet tall, like a walking mountain.

Its arms were freakishly long, claws dragging across the ground. Its mouth jutted forward, packed with rows of jagged fangs.

No doubt about it—this was a Carrion Reaver King.

“Let them come,” the Overmind Queen of the parasitic monsters said coolly, clearly unfazed. She’d been expecting this.

The two of them let out a series of high-pitched, chittering sounds—an eerie, insect-like noise unique to the Xenobeasts. It was their way of communicating.

“They’ve brought three of the Voidborn Undying this time,” the Carrion Reaver King growled. “Just the two of us? We probably can’t take them head-on.”

“No need to,” the Overmind Queen replied calmly. “We don’t have to fight the Zombie Kings in some grand final battle. All we need to do is hold the mountains.”

She stepped lightly across the glowing runes, her voice smooth and confident. “With my camouflage abilities, they’ll never find me. I’ll keep sabotaging them from the shadows—hit and run, wear them down. When they realize they’re getting nowhere and there’s nothing to gain, those Zombie Kings will pull out on their own.”

“And once they’re gone… Razorback Ridge will be ours.”

“…”

The Lord of the Carrion Reavers paused, thinking it over. It actually made a lot of sense.

He knew two of the Voidborn Undying had been brought in from other regions. Their alliance was shaky at best. If there was no profit in staying, those two Zombie Kings wouldn’t stick around. They’d leave Eastreach behind without a second thought.

And when that happened, Bloodveil would be left alone—easy pickings.

“Not bad,” the Carrion Reaver King rumbled. “But only if you don’t get caught.”

“Relax,” the Overmind Queen said with a sly smile. “They won’t find me. And you can stay hidden too—pick off zombies when the time’s right. Razorback Ridge is huge. They won’t be able to track you down easily.”

“Heh! That’s even less of a problem for me,” the Carrion Reaver King said with a toothy grin. He was the apex predator of his kind, a nightmare for the undead. His body secreted a fluid that could mess with a zombie’s sense of smell—rendering him practically invisible to them.

And that was just one of his many anti-zombie abilities.

“They think they can find me out here? Please.”

“…”

Several days later, the zombie horde finally arrived—an unstoppable wave of death and fury.

They stared out at the endless mountain range ahead. Razorback Ridge stretched across the horizon, jagged peaks stabbing into the sky like the spines of some ancient beast. The terrain was harsh, the vegetation sparse, and the atmosphere heavy with tension.

“Hold up!” Bloodveil barked.

The massive horde came to an immediate halt.

He wasn’t about to charge in blindly.

“The Xenobeasts are holed up in Razorback Ridge,” he said, eyes narrowing.

“Boss… I mean, it’s just a bunch of barren mountains. Doesn’t look like there’s anything worth fighting over,” grunted Snout, the pig-faced Zombie King. “Why not just let the Xenobeasts have it?”

“Bullshit,” Bloodveil snapped. “Give them an inch today, they’ll take the whole damn map tomorrow. Let this slide, and Eastreach will never know peace.”

“Oh…” Snout nodded slowly, like he was trying really hard to understand. “Yeah… that makes sense… I think?”

With a face like a warthog and the brains to match, Snout wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. Bloodveil didn’t even bother explaining further.

Meanwhile, Ragnar stood off to the side, arms crossed, scowling at the mountains ahead.

“We’ve come this far. No way we’re leaving without wiping out those damn Xenobeasts.”

“Ragnar,” Bloodveil called over, “how’d you do these past few days?”

Ragnar’s scowl deepened. The question hit a sore spot.

He’d gone off on his own, hoping to rack up kills and score some crystal cores. But most of the Xenobeasts had pulled back into Razorback Ridge, and all he’d run into were a few scattered grunts—barely even A-rank.

“Me? Oh, I did great,” Ragnar said, forcing a cocky grin. “Way better than if I’d stuck with Umbradrake.”

He wasn’t about to admit he’d come up empty-handed. No way he was letting his pride take that hit.

…