Apocalypse: King of Zombies-Chapter 629: …You changed your names?

At that moment, inside a dimly lit hall, several members of the Vampire Race were seated around a long table. In front of each of them sat a glass filled with a thick, crimson liquid. They were deep in discussion, plotting their next move.

At the head of the table sat a bald vampire with sharp, protruding cheekbones and cold, venomous eyes—none other than the family Patriarch, Malrick. The others seated nearby were all core members of the clan.

Among them was the slightly chubby vampire from earlier, now sitting front and center.

"Father," he asked, leaning forward, "now that we’ve made it into the U.S., when are we going to attack the American corpse nest?"

Malrick paused, fingers tapping lightly on the table. "We can’t rush this," he said slowly. "If we move too soon, we risk getting wiped out. They’ll pick us off one by one."

"Ohhh..."

The other vampires nodded in sudden understanding, their expressions shifting to admiration. Of course—he was the Patriarch. His grasp of battlefield strategy was unmatched.

Malrick continued, "We wait until the other Zombie Hordes have regrouped. Once they’re in position, we strike."

He leaned back slightly, his voice calm but firm. "Meanwhile, we’ll keep the enemy distracted here. The High Lords are already moving on Mount Elbert and the old North American headquarters of Genesis Biotech. Once they secure those two locations, we’ll have a much stronger foothold."

The chubby vampire frowned, clearly displeased. "So we’ve gotta wait even longer?"

"Not much longer," Malrick replied. "You should have more faith in the High Lords." When he said "High Lords," he was referring to the Crimson Count’s adopted sons and daughters—each one a powerhouse, deadly and brilliant in their own right.

"Fine, whatever," the chubby vampire muttered, throwing up his hands in resignation.

Malrick went on to lay out the rest of the plan—details about the incoming Zombie Horde, how they’d coordinate, fallback strategies, and more. He spoke with precision and confidence, clearly having thought through every angle.

The other core members listened intently, deeply impressed. Their Patriarch truly had vision. His gleaming bald head even seemed to shine like a beacon in the dim room—a guiding light in the darkness.

All that was left now was to put the plan into motion...

But just as Malrick was mid-sentence, his brow suddenly furrowed. Deep lines creased his forehead as his eyes narrowed.

As an S+ class vampire, his senses were razor-sharp.

Something was wrong.

The building had gone eerily silent. The air felt heavy, suffocating—like a tomb. The faint traces of life that should’ve been present were fading fast.

"This isn’t right..."

Malrick’s voice dropped, his tone tense. There were supposed to be over a hundred vampires stationed throughout the building. It shouldn’t feel this dead.

"Daughter," he said sharply, turning to a tall female vampire nearby, "go check outside. See if something’s going on."

"Huh? What could possibly be going on?" she asked, confused.

Still, she didn’t dare disobey. She stood up quickly, her hips swaying as she walked toward the exit, her long silhouette disappearing through the doorway.

Once outside, she pulled the door shut behind her.

The hallway stretched out before her, lined with guest rooms on either side. The hotel, cloaked in night, was pitch black—so dark you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face.

But that didn’t bother her. Vampires could see just fine in the dark.

Bones littered the floor, and dried bloodstains smeared the walls—ghosts of the apocalypse that had swept through this place.

"Doesn’t look like anything’s wrong..."

Her crimson eyes scanned the corridor. The closest room belonged to her "mother," so she figured she’d check there first. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

But the moment she took a step forward—

A shadow moved behind her.

A hand shot out from the darkness, reaching straight for her skull.

She never made it to the second step.

With a sickening crack, she collapsed face-first onto the cold floor, her cheek pressed against the tiles. Her eyes—those deep red eyes—were wide open, frozen in shock and disbelief.

Dead before she even knew what hit her.

"Shit! We’ve got an intruder!"

Back in the hall, Malrick shot to his feet, his eyes blazing. In that split second, he’d sensed the faint thud of a body hitting the ground—and the sudden vanishing of a life force.

The other vampires jumped up, startled.

"An intruder?!"

"How?!"

"Where are they? Show yourself!"

Their eyes darted around the room, scanning every shadow, every corner.

This was the heart of the corpse nest. How the hell could anyone sneak in here without being noticed?

"You had a decent plan going there..."

The voice came out of nowhere—smooth, deep, and laced with menace. It cut through the cold air like a blade.

A figure slowly materialized from the shadows, stepping into the open. Ethan.

The Vampire Race turned as one, eyes narrowing, muscles tensing. The oppressive aura rolling off him was unmistakable. This wasn’t just any intruder—this was him.

The strongest Zombie King in America.

Malrick’s eyes locked onto Ethan, his expression darkening. When the hell did he get in here?

The chubby vampire snarled, baring his fangs. "You’ve got some balls, walking into our corpse nest alone. You must have a death wish!"

"Hmph! So this is the so-called strongest Zombie King?" another vampire scoffed. "Pathetic. Maybe we can end this war a little early."

They weren’t bluffing. The building was surrounded by thousands of zombies—many of them elite. No matter how strong Ethan was, he couldn’t fight forever. Eventually, he’d burn out.

"Guards! Guards!" the chubby vampire shouted, trying to alert the rest of the clan.

But the hall stayed silent.

No footsteps. No voices. Nothing.

"...What the hell?"

He blinked, confused, then glanced at Ethan—who stood there, calm as ever, like he owned the place.

"Shit!"

Malrick’s voice dropped, cold and grim. "He’s already killed them all... the entire clan."

"What?!"

The other vampires recoiled in shock. Their eyes darted to Ethan again, this time with real fear.

The chubby vampire tried to recover. "So what? We can always make more. The rest of the Zombie Horde is still out there—he’s not getting out of here alive!"

He raised his hand and sent a signal.

This time, it worked.

A chorus of guttural howls erupted outside. The horde had heard the call.

Thousands of zombies surged toward the hotel, their hunger palpable.

Big G and Lil’ B led the charge, scaling the walls like monstrous spiders, smashing through windows with terrifying ease.

In seconds, the hall was flooded. Zombies packed in wall to wall, their presence suffocating, their bloodlust thick in the air.

Malrick’s confidence returned. He smirked and turned to Ethan.

"Grizz! Boar! Kill him!" he barked.

But the two Zombie Kings didn’t move.

They just stood there.

Silent.

Still.

Staring.

"...What the hell are you waiting for?"

The vampires frowned, confused.

The chubby one snapped, "Lord Malrick gave you an order! Are you deaf?!"

Still nothing.

Then, slowly, the two turned their heads toward him. Their eyes glowed with a cold, feral light.

"We’re not Grizz and Boar anymore," one of them said, voice low and dangerous. "We go by Big G and Lil’ B now."

The room went dead silent.

The vampires stared, stunned.

"...You changed your names?"

"Yeah," Big G said with a nod. "Our boss gave us new ones."

The vampires looked like they’d just been slapped.

They didn’t need to say it out loud. The truth was written all over their faces.

The zombies had turned.

Lil’ B’s eyes narrowed, his voice like ice. "Boss was right. Pureblood zombies shouldn’t be taking orders from half-breed trash like you."

...

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