Apocalypse: King of Zombies

The students exchanged uncertain glances.

He did that… for us?

They looked at Robert again—really looked at him. His face was twisted, monstrous, but now, beneath the fear, a new feeling began to stir.

Respect.

Maybe… maybe all heroes carry a bit of tragedy with them.

...

Time passed.

Day by day, the bitter cold of winter slowly faded, giving way to the warmth and bloom of spring.

But in the heart of the Los Angeles corpse nest, the party never stopped.

Elegy stood atop a high-rise, her silhouette bathed in moonlight, music echoing into the night as she danced and sang:

"Sing with me, sing for the years

Sing for the laughter, sing for the tears

Sing with me, if it's just for today

Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away…"

Below her, a sea of zombies swayed to the rhythm, their grotesque bodies moving in eerie unison. The atmosphere was electric—wild, surreal, almost… joyful.

Meanwhile, the Overlord Squad—Big Ears, Shrimpy, Locomotive, and Mist—weren't in the nest. They'd wandered out to Santa Monica, strolling along the endless coastline.

Waves crashed in the distance, white foam rolling over jagged rocks, the sound of the surf a constant hush beneath the sky.

Big Ears stood still, hands clasped behind his back, staring out at the vast, endless ocean.

"Heavy is the head that wears the crown," he murmured.

Shrimpy gave a slow nod. "Yeah… being the strongest sounds cool, until you realize how damn lonely it is up here."

Locomotive let out a dry chuckle. "Ain't that the truth. Shame, really. Not a single soul left on Earth worth fighting."

Just then, something stirred in the waves.

A figure emerged from the surf—armored, hulking, dragging itself onto the sand.

Its shell gleamed with a fluorescent blue sheen, hard as steel. Two massive claws clicked menacingly, and its eyes bulged out, darting around wildly. Long antennae twitched atop its head.

Shrimpy's eyes lit up like fireworks. His pupils narrowed, and a manic grin spread across his face.

"Lobster! Holy crap, that's a lobster! You guys see that?!"

Big Ears and the others turned to look.

Sure enough, a mutated lobster the size of a large dog was crawling up the beach—over three feet long, easily sixty pounds.

"Well I'll be damned…"

"Get it!" Shrimpy roared, already sprinting full speed toward the creature.

He tore down the shoreline, kicking up sprays of seawater, his feet pounding the wet sand, leaving a trail of deep footprints behind him.

The four of them weren't what they used to be. After months of devouring Neurocores, their power had skyrocketed. They were monsters among monsters now.

And if evolution had taught them anything, it was this: even pigs can fly if the wind's strong enough.

They weren't just strong—they were fast. And they were hungry.

It didn't take long before the mutated lobster was pinned to the ground, claws flailing helplessly as the squad tore into it, feasting like kings.

...

Back in the corpse nest, life was… peaceful.

Surprisingly so.

The undead lived in a strange harmony, their days filled with music, food, and the occasional mutated seafood buffet.

But not everything was good news.

Mia's memory still hadn't returned.

And worse—Ethan had discovered that her body was deteriorating far more severely than expected. Even though she'd become a zombie, her condition was so unstable that she couldn't evolve any further. Her mind remained locked in a fog, unreachable.

Months had passed, and despite mobilizing the full force of the world's remaining scientific power, there had been no progress.

If they waited for technology to catch up naturally… who knew how many years—or decades—it would take?

So Ethan turned his thoughts to something else.

Something not of this world.

After defeating LORN, he'd traveled to the Genesis Biotech Global Headquarters and retrieved the final piece of the Radiant Crystal, along with the last fragment of the ancient stone tablet.

The full tablet was now complete.

But Dr. Morgan had warned him—strongly—not to assemble it.

"Once it's whole, we don't know what might happen," she'd said. "It could trigger something we're not ready for. Something we can't control."

Ethan had listened.

For now, he didn't want to disturb the fragile peace they'd built.

So the tablet remained untouched.

At that moment, Ethan brought Mia to a desolate, abandoned courtyard. The place was eerily quiet, the silence broken only by the wind rustling through broken beams and shattered glass. Not far off, a few decayed, child-sized skeletons lay in a heap—long forgotten.

On a crumbling wall, barely visible through the grime and cracks, were the faded characters: Orphanage.

"Do you remember this place?" Ethan turned to her, his voice low, almost hopeful.

Mia stood still, her eyes scanning the ruins with a blank, distant gaze. She didn't speak. Didn't move. No flicker of recognition crossed her face.

"…Guess not," Ethan muttered under his breath.

This was where they'd grown up. The orphanage that had once been their whole world. Now, it was nothing but rubble and dust, a graveyard of memories buried beneath broken bricks and collapsed roofs.

But not everything was dead.

In the back courtyard, a few cherry trees had somehow survived. Untouched by time, unbothered by the apocalypse, they stood tall and wild, their branches thick with leaves.

And now, in the heart of spring, they were heavy with fruit—clusters of bright red cherries hanging like tiny lanterns, glistening in the sunlight, ripe and impossibly vibrant against the gray decay.

Mia stood there, unmoving, her undead eyes fixed on the trees—but her expression didn't change. No hunger. No curiosity. Just… emptiness.

"She really doesn't remember anything," Ethan thought, a pang of disappointment tightening in his chest.

Most zombies retained fragments of their former selves—habits, instincts, flashes of memory. But Mia… she was a blank slate. No reaction. No spark.

Over the past few months, Ethan had taken her to every place that had once meant something to them—Blackhand City, Albuquerque, the island of Tasmania, even the northern U.S. border. He'd hoped that something, anything, would trigger a memory.

But nothing ever did.

And now, it seemed this trip to the orphanage would end the same way.

Until—

Mia moved.

Without a word, she slowly stepped forward, her stiff, scarred limbs creaking with effort as she made her way toward the cherry trees.

Ethan blinked, surprised. "Wait… is she—?"

She stopped beneath one of the trees, staring up at the fruit. Then, with a trembling hand, she reached up to pick a cherry.

Her movements were clumsy, jerky—her body no longer obeyed her like it used to. She managed to pluck one, but it slipped through her fingers and fell to the ground.

Still, she didn't give up.

Again and again, she reached for the cherries, dropping several, fumbling with her undead hands. But she kept trying.

Finally, she succeeded.

She stood there, holding a single cherry in her palm, staring at it like it was something sacred.

Ethan took a step closer. "What are you doing?"

Mia turned to him slowly. Her eyes met his.

Then, without a word, she held the cherry out to him—offering it with both hands, like a child giving away her most precious treasure.

She just stood there, unmoving, watching him with that same blank expression… but something in her eyes had changed. Just a little.

Ethan froze.

The bright red cherry reflected in her eyes like a flickering flame.

She remembers… something.

They stood there, facing each other in silence, the cherry trees behind them swaying gently in the breeze. For a moment, time seemed to stop.

But then—

Bzzzt.

Ethan's phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking the stillness. He pulled it out and saw a string of urgent messages from Dr. Morgan.

Ethan, our deep-space instruments just picked up another alien signal!

It's from The Voidborn Undying again.

Should we respond this time?

Personally, I still think it's too risky. We don't know what he really wants.

…

Ethan sighed. He'd hoped the message was about Mia's recovery. Instead, it was him again.

"The Voidborn Undying…"

He typed back: Let's see what he said.

Alright. Sending the audio now.

A few seconds later, a series of audio files came through. Ethan tapped play.

The voice that came through was deep, distorted, and otherworldly—like it was echoing from the edge of the universe.

"I know you've assembled the spatial key."

"You want to restore the zombie's memory, don't you?"

"Then complete the fusion. Come find me. I can help you…"

...