Apocalypse: King of Zombies

The faint traces of life were barely there—so weak they seemed to flicker in and out, like they were teetering on the edge of death.

Ethan, curious, decided to follow the trail. He wandered alone down a quiet path in the neighborhood. The silence was eerie—there wasn't even a rat scurrying about.

The walk was uneventful. Nothing happened.

That is, until he reached a small plaza up ahead. The ground was smeared with dark, dried blood—clearly fresh, though. Something had gone down here, but what?

In the middle of the plaza, a few people were sprawled out on the ground, completely motionless. They looked like corpses, but the faint life force Ethan had sensed earlier was coming from them.

"Unconscious?" he muttered to himself.

He stepped closer to check. Among the group, there were both men and women. One of them was wearing a white lab coat, with an ID badge hanging from their chest.

It read: Santa Clarita Shelter Research Staff.

"What are they doing here?" Ethan thought, frowning. Santa Clarita wasn't far from Los Angeles, just upstream along the Santa Clara River. These people were probably connected to the recent plane crash.

He also remembered reading online that the Santa Clarita shelter had been overrun by monsters a while back. There were even photos—gruesome ones—of bodies with massive holes torn through their torsos.

Just like the corpses found at the crash site.

"Don't tell me they brought those things out with them…" Ethan's gaze sharpened as he studied the people on the ground. Their life force was fading fast, slipping away with every passing second. Why were they lying here like this?

Sunbathing?

The unknown always had a way of making people uneasy, and everything about this scene felt off. Strange. Wrong.

But Ethan didn't care much for mysteries.

Whatever the problem was, he'd deal with it the same way he always did—by eliminating it. With a flick of his wrist, he drew his tachi. These people were clearly not going to make it, so he figured he'd put them out of their misery.

Just as he was about to strike, though, something shifted. The bodies on the ground twitched, as if sensing the threat. Then, all at once, their eyes snapped open.

"Hm?" Ethan raised an eyebrow. Yep, something was definitely wrong here.

The bodies began to convulse violently, their joints cracking and popping in unnatural ways. Then, from their backs, six long, spider-like limbs burst out, dripping with fresh blood.
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The limbs were flesh-colored, grotesque, and glistening with gore.

"Raaagh—!" The creatures let out guttural, animalistic roars. Their heads jerked back unnaturally as they scrambled to their feet, their spider-like appendages twitching and flexing. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, they lunged at Ethan.

Their movements were bizarre, almost insect-like, but they were fast. Their faces twisted into expressions of pure rage, making them look even more monstrous.

Anyone else would've been terrified out of their mind at the sight of these things.

But Ethan? He didn't even flinch.

He'd seen too much weird shit in his life to be fazed by something like this.

As the first creature lunged at him, Ethan swung his blade in a clean, downward arc. The sharp edge of the tachi sliced through flesh and bone with ease, the sound of the cut accompanied by a sickening crunch.

The creature was split clean in two, its green blood spraying everywhere.

As its body hit the ground, Ethan noticed something wriggling inside the exposed cross-section. A smaller creature was nestled within its torso, fused with the human body, feeding off its flesh and blood.

Parasites.

Before he could dwell on it, the remaining three creatures let out shrill screeches and leapt at him all at once.

Ethan moved like lightning. He angled his tachi upward, swinging it like a golfer teeing off. The blade cleaved through one of the creatures, sending its bisected body flying. Without missing a beat, he spun around and slashed horizontally, cutting another one clean in half.

The last creature lunged at him with a desperate, frenzied roar. Ethan sidestepped effortlessly, then drove his blade through its chest, pinning it to the ground.

The fight was over in seconds.

Around him, the plaza was littered with bodies—both human and monster. The red blood of the humans mixed with the green blood of the creatures, forming a sickly yellowish hue where it pooled together.

Ethan wiped his blade clean, his mind already analyzing the situation. These creatures were probably C+ tier in terms of strength.

Not particularly high.

But still, they were on par with elite zombies. If there were thousands of them, they'd be a serious problem.

And judging by their size and appearance… these things weren't even fully grown yet. Just juveniles.

"New flavor…" Ethan muttered to himself, planning to stash the monster corpses and take them back to feed his underlings. Monster-flavored stuffed cookies, anyone?

But just as he was about to move, he noticed five human figures emerging from the street corner not far from the plaza.

Leading the group was a burly man with a square jaw, dark skin, and a seemingly honest, straightforward face. Behind him were two men and two young women, all of them filthy, their faces smudged with dirt and exhaustion. They looked like refugees fleeing from some disaster.

"Are the monsters here already taken care of?"

"Wow, that's incredible!"

"Did he do it all by himself?"

"…"

The group murmured among themselves as they cautiously approached, their expressions wary and uncertain.

Ethan glanced at them out of the corner of his eye. The square-jawed man looked oddly familiar. He frowned, trying to place him. After a moment of thought, it clicked—weren't these five the missing personnel from the shelter?

But their presence here raised a lot of red flags.

The square-jawed man stepped forward and greeted him. "Hello, we're part of the shelter's search team."

"Oh," Ethan replied flatly, his tone indifferent.

One of the young women chimed in, her voice filled with admiration. "You're amazing! You actually managed to kill all these monsters by yourself."

Ethan didn't respond to the compliment. Instead, he asked casually, "Do you know where these monsters came from?"

The girl nodded, her expression darkening. "They're probably from Santa Clarita. The shelter there… it's already been overrun by these things. Tens of thousands of people… almost no survivors."

"Yeah," the square-jawed man added, picking up where she left off. "And now it's spreading to the outskirts of Los Angeles. We need to get back to the shelter and warn everyone so they can prepare."

Ethan stared at him, his expression unreadable, saying nothing.

The girl continued, "There are still a lot of monsters in the area. Why don't you come back with us? Oh, and while we were scavenging for supplies, we found some corn. We can share some with you."

The group was being overly friendly, almost suspiciously so. They were even willing to share precious food with him, a complete stranger.

And then it hit Ethan. He remembered the note left behind by one of the dead researchers near the plane crash: Don't trust anyone.

It was clear now. These monsters didn't just kill—they parasitized. They could mimic humans, using deception to lure others in before infecting them. That's probably how the Santa Clarita shelter fell.

If these five made it to the Los Angeles shelter, the consequences would be catastrophic. Tens of thousands of people could be wiped out, and if the monsters reproduced further, the entire city would be overrun.

"You're not going back," Ethan said coldly.

"Huh?" The square-jawed man frowned, his expression darkening. "What do you mean by that?"

Ethan didn't bother explaining. He wasn't one for wasting words. In one swift motion, he raised his tachi and swung. A flash of cold steel cut through the air, faster than the eye could follow. The square-jawed man's head flew clean off his shoulders.

For a moment, the atmosphere froze.

The remaining four stood there, their friendly smiles frozen in place. Then, slowly, their expressions twisted—gone was the warmth, replaced by cold malice and a murderous aura.

Meanwhile, the square-jawed man's decapitated body didn't collapse. It remained standing, eerily upright.

No blood gushed from the severed neck...