Bloodveil just had his mind blown—big ti.
He’d just realized that Ethan’s forces weren’t just so ragtag group of survivors. They had high-tech weapons too, and they were going toe-to-toe with the humans without losing ground.
Then it hit him—hard. Why the hell had the humans brought a Dreadnought-class Starcruiser all the way out here?
"Wait a second... Did that bastard steal weapons from the humans? No wonder they’re losing their shit!"
At the sa ti, Bloodveil felt a flicker of relief. Thank god he hadn’t picked a fight with Ethan. If he had, those Guard chs would’ve torn through his Zombie Horde like a hot knife through butter. It would’ve been a total slaughter.
The aerial battle was getting more brutal by the second. Energy cannons lit up the sky, exploding like fireworks—beautiful, but deadly.
So of the fighting had gone close-quarters. Massive energy lightsabers sliced through shields like they were paper, sending sparks flying in every direction.
Elsewhere, heavy alloy fists collided with bone-crunching force, each impact echoing like a thunderclap.
One elite zombie pilot, controlling a Guard ch, threw a punch at a human ch.
But the human didn’t even flinch. No dodging, no hesitation. He raised his alloy hand and caught the punch dead-on.
"Hah! Zombies are still just zombies. You wanna outmaneuver ? You’ve got a long way to go," the young pilot smirked, full of swagger. He’d been piloting chs for over a decade—this was his playground.
He tightened his grip, the alloy fingers crushing the zombie’s fist with a sickening crunch. The tal started to warp and cave in.
He was just about to twist and rip the arm clean off when—
A shadow.
It slipped in from behind the zombie ch, moving fast and silent, crawling up the connected arms like a spider until it reached the top of the human ch.
Not a sound.
Then, through a narrow seam in the armor, the shadow slipped inside—right into the cockpit.
The young pilot was still riding high, totally focused on the fight.
But the shadow began to take shape—solidifying into sothing real. A pitch-black zombie head erged from the darkness, its face twisted into a grotesque grin.
"Kehehehehe..."
The thing—Little Shadow—let out a bone-chilling laugh, its eyes gleaming with malice.
The pilot turned, and the mont he saw it, his face went pale. His heart skipped a beat.
"Gh—Ghost!?"
Shlunk!
Little Shadow’s claws punched straight through his chest. The pilot’s terrified expression froze in place as life drained from his eyes.
With the kill done, Little Shadow slipped out just as silently and moved on to the next target. One by one, he began hunting the human pilots. A silent massacre was unfolding in the skies.
Inside the Dreadnought-class Starcruiser, Harren and his team watched the battle unfold. His expression darkened as he noticed sothing disturbing—his side was losing chs faster than the enemy. So were just dropping out of the sky like they’d been shut down.
"But the chs aren’t even damaged. Why are they falling?" one of the crew asked, confused.
Harren’s face was grim. "I’m afraid... we’re dealing with a Zombie King."
"What?!"
Everyone tensed up, eyes narrowing, minds racing. But before they could process it, another wave of chs started crashing even faster.
This ti, it was Laura.
She was clinging to the back of a friendly ch, riding it as it soared into the sky.
During the chaos of battle, she’d leapt onto it unnoticed. Her chanical arms shimred with liquid tal, which flowed into the seams of the cockpit. In seconds, it hardened—and with a violent jerk, she ripped the hatch open like a can of tuna.
The human pilot inside was completely exposed.
Laura didn’t waste a word. One swipe—and his head went flying.
Another Guard ch down.
"Harren! We can’t hold them back! The zombies are breaking through!" soone shouted from the control room.
"It’s fine," Harren said, though his voice lacked conviction. He wasn’t worried about the zombies getting close—what really got to him was watching his own chs fall. After all, both sides were using Guard chs—his creations. It felt like watching his own children tear each other apart.
That damn thief...
Harren’s eyes scanned the battlefield. What puzzled him most was that the Zombie King—the one in the white shirt—still hadn’t shown up. He was just sending out his Guard chs. That didn’t sit right.
anwhile, the zombie-controlled Guard chs had fought their way through the chaos and were now closing in on the Dreadnought-class Starcruiser. Their target: the ship’s main cannon.
Laura stood atop one of the chs, her slender figure buffeted by the fierce winds. It whipped her hair around like invisible hands trying to pull her back.
Her eyes locked onto the massive cannon ahead. Lately, her once-ghastly face had softened. Her skin had grown paler, smoother—more human.
She surged forward, closing in on the Dreadnought’s main gun. The barrel lood before her, thick and black, radiating raw power.
"Ti to end this..." she whispered.
She raised her chanical arm. Energy surged into her palm, glowing hotter and brighter until it reached critical mass.
Then—boom.
A blinding blast of energy erupted from her hand, screaming straight toward the Dreadnought’s main cannon.
Laura’s chanical arm packed a serious punch—on par with an SS-rank Awakener’s full-force strike. It could tear through steel and alloy like paper.
Her palm cannon was just about to hit its mark.
But then—suddenly—a flash of green light shimred around the Dreadnought-class Starcruiser’s main cannon. An energy shield surged to life, covered in intricate runes—dense, glowing symbols that looked eerily similar to the ones etched into the walls of The Skywall.
BOOOOM!
A deafening explosion rocked the sky. A miniature mushroom cloud blood outward as the palm cannon’s energy detonated on impact. Shockwaves rippled in every direction, tearing through the air in chaotic bursts.
But to everyone’s shock, the energy shield didn’t even flinch. Not a scratch. Not a flicker. It held firm, completely absorbing the blast and protecting the cannon beneath it like nothing had happened.
Laura’s eyes narrowed.
A shield? Seriously?
anwhile, Harren scoffed, unimpressed.
"You think we’d leave the Starbreaker Cannon unprotected? Please."
He turned to his crew, voice dripping with condescension. "I’ve said it before—trying to destroy the main cannon is a pipe dream."
"Harren, that Guard ch didn’t retreat," soone reported, eyes glued to the screen. "It’s still moving toward the Starbreaker Cannon."
"Oh?" Harren raised an eyebrow, mildly intrigued. He glanced at the display, but didn’t seem too concerned.
"Doesn’t matter. That shield’s impenetrable. They’re on a suicide mission and don’t even know it."
"Mm," his subordinate nodded in agreent.
But now, the Guard ch was practically pressed up against the energy shield—so close it looked like it might try to phase through it.
People started to murmur, confused.
"What’s it doing?"
"Why isn’t it backing off?"
"Is the pilot malfunctioning?"
"Gonna jump out and off themselves or what?"
Then, sothing even stranger happened.
Click.
The cockpit door of the ch hissed open—right there in midair.
"What the hell? Did they just open the hatch... in the middle of a battle?"
"Do they even know how to pilot that thing?"
"What are they trying to pull?"
"Seriously, what the hell is going on?"
As the chatter grew louder, a figure stepped out from inside the ch.
Dressed in white.
Ethan.
He rose slowly, calmly, as if he had all the ti in the world. No rush. No fear. Just that sa cool, unreadable expression.
He’d just entered the battlefield—in the most unexpected way possible.
Everyone watching froze.
"Wait... is that—?"
"The guy in the white shirt... the Zombie King?!"
Down below, Howard and the others imdiately noticed. Their heads snapped up, eyes locking onto the figure standing atop the ch.
That face. That calm, almost indifferent look. That unmistakable white shirt.
It was him.
The sa man they’d seen beneath The Skywall.
"It’s him... He’s really here..."
...
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