Apocalypse: King of Zombies-Chapter 1192: How Do You Evacuate a Million?

Inside the mansion at the Clearford City compound…

Watching the entire compound snap into high gear, Chris and the others understood General Cross's decision.

"Looks like General Cross is getting ready to fight to the death," Chris said with a sigh.

"Pretty normal," Mia replied. "A compound with a million people—how would you even evacuate that?"

Chris looked around at everyone. "So what do we do?"

Everyone looked back at him, waiting.

"If the people in the compound are stepping up, we can't just sit here," Chris said. "We go too."

He turned to Skinny Pete. "Call Goldie and the others back."

"Got it."

Someone hesitated, glancing toward the backyard. "Then… what about those white-furred apes?"

"They're going," Chris said immediately. "They're top-tier combat power."

"Yeah, but… Captain Ethan isn't here. I don't think we can make them move."

Chris waved it off like it was nothing. "Easy. Tell them after the battle, each white-furred ape gets two roasted Bloodfang Wolves. They'll follow us so fast they'll trip over their own feet."

He paused, then added shamelessly, "We'll promise first. As for paying up… that can be Captain Ethan's problem."

"…"

Not long after, Chris and the others left the mansion, leading a pack of white-furred apes out toward the compound's perimeter.

The moment they appeared, they drew every eye. People hurriedly made room for them.

They had to. Those white-furred apes were oppressive just standing there—like moving walls of muscle and fur.

"Chris, you're here!" Director Vaughn hurried over to greet them.

"How could we miss a fight like this?" Chris said with a grin.

Director Vaughn laughed, relief showing through the tension. "That's the Fallen Star Squad for you. With you here, I feel a lot better."

"Don't put all your hope on us," Chris said, half helpless. "In a battle at this scale, we don't matter as much as you think."

"I know." Director Vaughn nodded. "But just having you here boosts morale. That matters."

Chris's expression sobered. "Don't worry. No matter what, the Fallen Star Squad will go all out."

"Thank you."

The crowd moved fast, pushing toward the Silverstone River.

The Silverstone River was only three miles from the compound—a river that cut through most of Clearford City.

If the zombies wanted to hit the compound, they had to cross it.

The military had already destroyed every bridge spanning the river.

The Silverstone River was nearly ninety feet wide. It wouldn't stop Tier 7 and above zombies, but anything below Tier 7 would have to swim.

That was the point.

It gave Clearford City's forces a place to bleed the horde down—a perfect choke point, the best interception line they had.

By the time Chris and the others reached the river, soldiers were already everywhere, setting up heavy weapons and digging into positions.

This river was the only terrain advantage they could lean on.

They had to squeeze the maximum possible effect out of this fight here—because once it turned into close-quarters combat, the outcome would be brutally one-sided.

When it came to planning battles, the military was obviously stronger than Chris's group. Even in a hopeless situation, they could still build the most efficient plan they could—and wring every last bit of value out of it.

On the other side…

Ethan sat on Peregrine Falcon Flint's back, brows drawn tight.

He'd practically carpet-searched everything within a seven-mile radius and still hadn't found the Zombie King.

He'd also swept the horde itself several times over. He'd stared so hard he felt like he'd go blind—same result. Not a trace.

It didn't make sense.

All the signs said the Zombie King could definitely see what was happening here. Otherwise it couldn't have directed the horde the way it did.

And if it could see it, that meant it couldn't be too far away.

But Ethan had already searched seven miles out. Still nothing. There was no way that thing was sitting dozens of miles away and somehow watching the battlefield like it had front-row seats.

Even ignoring buildings and terrain, Ethan's [True Sight] couldn't pick out a person-sized target from tens of miles away—let alone a zombie.

"So where the hell are you?" Ethan muttered, replaying everything he'd seen, again and again, trying to remember if any spot had felt even slightly off.

Above the zombie horde…

Big Mike and Garrick were slumped on Nugget's and Pebble's backs, weakly shoveling crystal cores into their mouths.

Sustained ability spam had left them mentally wrecked.

Crystal cores could refill mental energy, sure—but they didn't restore fatigue. At this point, just keeping their eyes open made them feel like they were staring into a sky full of spinning stars.

"You still alive over there, Garrick?"

"Barely. Give me five minutes and I'll get back to wrecking them."

Big Mike laughed. "You said that thirty minutes ago. Rested ten, fought thirty."

"Yeah? At least I'm still standing."

"Sure, but I've killed more than you."

Garrick snorted. "Alright, alright. Keep dreaming."

In this stretch alone, Big Mike had killed close to three hundred thousand zombies. Garrick couldn't compete—AoE skills in a situation like this were just disgustingly broken.

"Why hasn't the captain found the Zombie King yet?" Garrick muttered. "Those zombies are about to reach Clearford's compound."

"No idea," Big Mike said. "If it can dodge the captain's eyes, even if it dies later, it deserves to feel proud."

"Yeah…"

Big Mike suddenly jerked his chin toward the distance. "Holy shit. Look over there—those guys from the compound actually came out?!"

Garrick squinted. "They did. General Cross has guts."

"Looks like they're trying to use the river to slow the horde down."

"Good idea in theory," Big Mike said, lips twisting. "But a few million zombies? A river won't stop that. They can literally fill it in with bodies."

"Maybe," Garrick said. "But it buys time. They're betting our captain can find the Zombie King."

Big Mike nodded once. "Then we rest a bit more and go help them when it hits."

"Alright."

Across the river…

"They're here."

Colonel Mitchell stared at the distance—an endless zombie horde stretching all the way to the horizon—and his face went grim.

Everyone followed his gaze.

For a moment, the entire line fell quiet.

Forget tiers, forget abilities—just the sheer number of them was enough to crush your will to resist.

"So many…" Henry murmured.

"Yeah." Sean's voice was tight. "If we get surrounded at this scale… even we might not make it out."

Henry glanced sideways. "Not if we've got Nugget and the others."

"…True."

Up front, Colonel Mitchell raised his radio.

"All artillery units, stand by."

Mortar crews and howitzer teams moved in a blur, loading shells with practiced speed.

"Fire!"

A heartbeat later, dozens of rounds screamed up into the sky.

Boom—boom—BOOM!

Deafening explosions rolled across the horde. Fire and smoke erupted as shells detonated inside the packed mass.

Thousands of zombies disappeared in that first wave, reduced to ash and scattered meat.

The sudden bombardment threw the horde into chaos. Their forward momentum stumbled hard.

"Keep going!" Colonel Mitchell's voice cut through the roar. "Continue the barrage!"

Crews reloaded at top speed and fired again.

Boom—boom—boom!

Shell after shell detonated in the horde, ripping open bright, violent blossoms of fire. For a moment, the spectacle itself seemed to burn some of the fear out of people's chests.

Watching whole clusters of zombies drop under the artillery, more than a few faces actually started to brighten.

Only Colonel Mitchell stayed stone-faced, his expression as heavy as ever.