Chapter 430: This was a planned invasion
“Huh?” Kong imdiately sensed sothing was off. He yanked his hand back and clenched the Radiant Crystal tightly in his palm again.
That zombie dog—he’d brought it along when searching for the Radiant Crystal because its nose was sharp enough to sniff out parasite mimics. If it was reacting now, sothing was definitely wrong.
“Don’t tell … a parasite monster followed us here?” Kong narrowed his eyes, suspicion flashing through them, his whole presence suddenly radiating a dangerous, killing intent.
Next to him, Chompers’ sycophantic grin froze on his face. The realization hit him like a slap—this guy wasn’t the boss? Then all that groveling he just did… he’d laid it on way too thick.
He had to kill him. No witnesses.
Just then, Nightbane spoke up. “What’s wrong? Hurry up and give the Radiant Crystal!”
“You still want the Radiant Crystal? Here’s what I’ve got for you—a punch!” Kong roared, his voice like thunder. He swung his massive fist straight at Nightbane.
Boom! A dull thud echoed out.
Sure enough, when Nightbane exploded, there was no blood or guts—just a burst of white, cottony mycelium.
The surrounding zombies all froze, unsettled.
“What the hell is that stuff?”
“No idea…” Kong shook his head, a creeping unease settling in his gut. Sothing about this whole thing felt off. He needed to get back to the corpse nest—fast. That was the only place that felt safe now.
“Let’s move. Now!”
“Yeah,” Chompers and the others nodded quickly.
But just as they were about to press forward, a rustling sound ca from the tall grass around them. Red, fleshy lumps began to squirm, rging together, reshaping—until they ford humanoid figures that slowly stood up.
Among them were familiar faces—Daisy from San Diego, Hellhound, Bighead… all people Kong and the others knew. But their expressions were blank, their movents stiff, like puppets on strings, shambling toward them.
“What… what the hell is going on?”
Even these battle-hardened zombies felt a chill crawl up their spines. The scene in front of them was just too bizarre, too wrong.
“Screw it! Tear them apart!” Kong, never one for thinking things through, let his rage take over. He charged forward and smashed one of the mimics into a pulpy ss with a single punch.
The rest of the zombies let out guttural roars and launched into the fight, tackling the mimics to the ground and tearing into them with claws and teeth.
White mycelium burst into the air, the battlefield descending into chaos.
Luckily, the mimics weren’t strong. They were no match for Kong’s crew. In just a few brutal monts, the fight was over—a one-sided slaughter.
“Hmph! That’s all they’ve got? And they dared to ambush us?” Chompers scoffed.
But he didn’t notice the vine creeping toward him from the underbrush. It slithered like a coiled serpent, then suddenly lashed out, wrapping around his ankle and yanking hard.
Thud!
Chompers lost his balance and faceplanted into the dirt, his front teeth jamming into the soil. He got a mouthful of mud for his trouble.
The vine didn’t stop—it kept dragging him backward.
His body scraped across the ground, claws flailing wildly, tearing up grass and dirt, leaving deep grooves in the earth. But no matter how hard he struggled, he couldn’t stop the pull.
“Help! Sobody help !”
He was dragged over thirty feet in seconds, nearly out of sight from the rest of the group. Panic surged through him—he was about to be separated from the others, and he knew what that ant. He scread louder.
“Woof! Woof! Woof! Woof!”
The zombie dog barked four tis—roughly translating to: “I got you!”
It bolted forward like a missile, quickly catching up to Chompers. With a savage snap of its jaws, it bit down on the vine.
Its teeth were razor-sharp, like a pair of garden shears. The vine was severed instantly.
Chompers finally ca to a stop.
“Phew—” He let out a long breath, heart pounding. But confusion crept in. What the hell was that vine? They were still near the corpse nest—where would a mutant plant like that co from?
Then he looked closer at the vine’s severed end. It wasn’t just a plant—it looked like a vein, and thick, black blood was oozing from it.
“This isn’t a mutant plant… it’s a fusion-type Zombie King!” Chompers realized instantly, his stomach dropping.
If it was a Zombie King…
Then none of this was random.
This was a planned invasion.
Just as Chompers ca to that grim realization, the ground around them suddenly ca alive.
Dozens of vines began to writhe and slither like snakes waking from a long sleep. They lashed out, wrapping around the zombies’ ankles, coiling around their necks, and yanking them violently toward the distant forest.
So vines didn’t even bother with dragging—they shot straight into the zombies’ bodies, piercing through flesh and bone, and in seconds, drained them dry, leaving behind shriveled husks.
This wasn’t random.
This was Sprout—one of Ethan’s deadliest enforcers—making his move.
Sprout, like Lil’ Shroom, was a fusion-type Zombie King, a grotesque hybrid of mutated plant and undead. Out in the wild, this was their domain. Ambushes, camouflage, guerrilla tactics—they were born for it.
Kong’s elite squad had walked right into a trap.
But Sprout and Lil’ Shroom weren’t here to kill Kong. That wasn’t the mission. Their goal was to stall him—keep him from making it back to the corpse nest. Delay him long enough to trigger the signal.
And that signal had already gone out.
Across the wastelands outside San Diego, scattered zombies suddenly lifted their heads, snarling in unison. The call had reached them. Kong was back—and that ant war.
They began to converge, howling and sprinting toward the signal’s source.
Among them, one figure moved faster than the rest—Laura.
Her lips curled into a twisted grin, and in the blink of an eye, she vanished from sight.
Laura wasn’t one for strategy or subtlety. She didn’t care about Ethan’s orders, didn’t give a damn about recon or intel. But the mont she sensed Kong’s return, sothing inside her snapped awake.
Bloodlust.
She was a storm now, tearing across the land, hungry for the fight to co.
anwhile, back in the heart of the Los Angeles corpse nest, Ethan—who hadn’t shown himself in days—stood tall in the middle of a ruined street.
Behind him stretched a sea of undead.
The entire city was packed with zombies, shoulder to shoulder, flooding the streets. Elite units perched on crumbling rooftops, others clung to walls like insects, all waiting for the command.
“Move out,” Ethan said, his voice calm but absolute.
The response was instant.
A deafening roar erupted from the horde, shaking the very air, echoing across the ruined skyline like a thunderclap.
“KRAA—KRAA—KRAA!”
First ca the red-eyed crows, a black swarm screaming through the sky like fighter jets, blotting out the sun in seconds.
Then the elites leapt from the rooftops, hitting the ground running, their killing intent radiating like heat waves. The streets filled with movent—fast, brutal, unstoppable.
The zombie horde surged forward like a tidal wave, sweeping through the apocalyptic ruins, a living flood of death.
But not everyone moved.
Four figures remained behind, standing in the wake of the horde’s passing.
Big Ears. Shrimpy. Locomotive. Mist.
The Overlord Squad.
“Big Ears,” Shrimpy said, scratching his head, “how’re we playing this final battle?”
“This fight’s huge,” Big Ears replied, eyes narrowed. “Could change the whole balance of power in California—hell, maybe the whole damn country. That ans we’re critical. We can’t just go charging in.”
“So… we’re not going?” Shrimpy asked, confused.
“No, we’re going,” Big Ears said firmly. “But San Diego’s corpse nest isn’t weak. This battle’s gonna be brutal. We’ve gotta be smart.”
He paused, then added, “What I’m saying is… we wait. We don’t make a move until we see their Bighead.”
The others nodded.
They understood.
…
Here’s a redemption code for everyone:
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