Apocalypse: King of Zombies Chapter 716: Nice

Chapter 716: Nice

The desolate earth was quickly swallowed by the undead. From above, it looked like a swarm of tiny black dots, surging madly toward Draconis Citadel like a living tide.

Everywhere you looked—zombies. Vicious, snarling, relentless.

“As long as we take this place, you’ll feast on fresh at and blood!” Gravestone roared, rallying his horde. He’d heard the rumors—Umbradrake had stockpiled a massive herd of livestock inside the Citadel. Enough to feed the entire Zombie Horde for days.

The promise of a real al sent the starving undead into a frenzy. They charged forward, crazed and fearless, throwing themselves at the walls like waves crashing against a cliff.

Ethan stood at the edge of the battlefield, his expression unreadable. Everything was unfolding exactly as planned.

His squad had spent too long blowing up rocks in the Exile Zone. Now it was ti to see if they could actually fight.

Real warriors aren’t made in training—they’re forged in blood and fire.

Today, we find out who’s ready… and who breaks.

“It’s ti…” Ethan muttered under his breath.

The endless tide of zombies surged toward him, a monstrous wave about to crash down and swallow him whole.

But then—on the far horizon—sothing shimred.

Tiny points of light, like shooting stars, streaked across the sky, heading straight for the battlefield.

“Hey… what the hell is that?”

“So kind of aircraft?”

“…”

Gravestone and the other Zombie Kings noticed it too. Their twisted faces scrunched in confusion.

As the lights drew closer, it beca clear—these weren’t aircraft.

They were machines. Massive, gleaming tal beasts, flas blasting from their feet as they rocketed toward the ground.

“What… what are those things?”

The Zombie Kings were stunned. They’d never seen human civilization, let alone tech like this.

But they were about to learn exactly what these machines could do.

The tal monsters—Guard chs—hovered above the zombie horde. Their arms shifted, transforming with a chanical whir. Rows of dark, ominous barrels erged.

Then the crystal cores embedded in their chests pulsed with light—charging.

And all hell broke loose.

“BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!”

The Crystal Core Blasters unleashed a storm of firepower. Each blast had a kill radius of over 150 feet. Explosions lit up the battlefield, vaporizing clusters of zombies in a flash of fire and shrapnel. Shockwaves rippled outward, tearing through the horde, sending bodies flying in every direction.

Gravestone’s forces were packed tight—perfect targets. The carnage was unimaginable.

“Tech weapons?” Gravestone growled, eyes narrowing.

He’d never set foot in a human city, but he knew enough to recognize this was no magic—this was science. Brutal, efficient, human science.

After the initial barrage, the Guard chs descended, landing with thunderous crashes beside Ethan.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

The ground trembled beneath their weight.

Just monts ago, Ethan had stood alone. Now, a wall of sleek, deadly machines flanked him—each one a marvel of engineering, gleaming under the blood-red sky.

“Let’s show the boss what a perfect line formation looks like,” ca a voice through the comms—PhD, the tactical genius behind the operation.

Thanks to the lab they’d set up inside the zombie nest, PhD could monitor the entire battlefield and issue commands remotely.

“Copy that!” the elite pilots responded in unison.

The Guard chs moved with precision, forming a flawless battle line—one thousand strong—stretching across the field like an iron curtain.

“Advance.”

PhD’s second command ca sharp and clear.

The line surged forward, straight into the heart of the zombie horde.

Their arms shifted again—this ti, the blasters retracted, replaced by glowing blades of pure energy.

Lightsabers.

Each one extended with a hiss, burning bright against the gloom.

The Guard chs swung their blades in perfect rhythm, slicing through the undead like wheat. Torsos split in half. Heads rolled. Black blood sprayed in arcs. Severed limbs flew through the air.

“Huh?! What the hell?!”

Gravestone stood frozen, completely dumbfounded.

What were these things?

The Guard chs were unstoppable. His Zombie Horde couldn’t even scratch them. Their fangs shattered uselessly against the thick tal plating—like biting into a steel wall.

This wasn’t a battle. It was a slaughter. A one-sided massacre. A full-on dinsional beatdown.

And there was Ethan, standing calmly behind the wall of chs, watching the chaos unfold like he was enjoying a show. Not a scratch on him. Not even a hint of concern.

“Nice,” Ethan thought, nodding to himself.

The Guard chs were performing even better than expected. The elite zombie pilots inside—handpicked and trained by PhD—were operating with deadly precision. When you gave PhD a job, he delivered.

A thousand chs, advancing in perfect formation, left nothing but mangled corpses in their wake. They were machines built for one thing—killing.

From the rear, Umbradrake and Howler watched in stunned silence.

“Where the hell did the boss get tech like this?”

“Did he go to human territory or sothing?”

“No wonder… he told us to stall for a month!”

“…”

Each Guard ch was racking up kills by the thousands. A thousand chs, a thousand kills each—that was a million zombies down. And that wasn’t even close to their limit. These were the pinnacle of human war tech.

Gravestone’s horde had barely made contact before they were torn apart. The low-tier zombies were nothing more than cannon fodder—utterly useless.

“Go! Stop those tal monsters!” Gravestone bellowed, panic creeping into his voice.

He sent in his Zombie Kings, hoping they could turn the tide.

One of them—a speed-type S-Class—darted forward, zigzagging through the battlefield with lightning-fast reflexes. It dodged the ch’s attacks with ease, then lunged, claws extended, aiming to rip the machine apart.

S-Class zombies were no joke. Their claws could shred through standard alloy like paper. Under normal circumstances, this thing would’ve been toast.

But then—flash—a green, grid-like glow lit up around the ch.

An energy shield snapped into place, wrapping the entire machine in a shimring barrier.

“RAAAHHH—!”

The Zombie King’s claws bounced off the shield with a screech, sending it reeling mid-air.

And that’s when the red Lightsaber ca down.

SHHHK!

The blade sliced clean through its chest like a hot knife through butter. The zombie dropped in two pieces, blood spraying across the ground.

Gravestone’s jaw dropped.

They have shields?!

How the hell were they supposed to fight that?

“This is bullshit!” he growled.

“Boss, we gotta fall back!” one of his Zombie Kings shouted, already backing away. “We’re not equipped for this! We’ll get wiped out!”

No one wanted to fight a battle they couldn’t win. Especially not one where they were just at for the grinder.

Gravestone clenched his fists. Sothing was off. This wasn’t just a bad matchup—this was a trap.

“Fine. Pull back. Save what strength we can.”

At his command, the horde stopped their charge. The zombies turned, retreating in a chaotic wave, desperate to escape the chanical death machines.

But then—sothing else happened.

A thick, black fog rolled in behind them, swallowing the retreating undead in seconds.

The air turned cold. Heavy.

Shapes flickered inside the mist—shadows moving too fast to follow.

And then… silence.

When the fog cleared, all that remained were bodies. Torn, lifeless, scattered across the ground.

“What the hell is that now?” Gravestone muttered, eyes narrowing.

The remaining Zombie Kings stared, tense and alert.

Then, from the fading mist, a figure erged.

Slender. Humanoid. But half her body was wrapped in sleek tal plating, fused with high-tech cybernetics. One arm was entirely chanical, ending in a set of razor-sharp claws.

Laura.

She stepped forward, calm and deadly.

The liquid tal on her arm shifted, claws retracting. In their place, a dark cannon barrel erged from her palm.

She raised her arm, aiming straight at Gravestone and his lieutenants.

The crystal core embedded in her chest pulsed with light. Energy gathered in her palm—white-hot, blinding.

BOOM!

…