Apocalypse: King of Zombies - Chapter 992

Chapter 992: Not All Monsters Are Zombies
The next morning, they set out again.

Today’s mission had one goal: Tier 5 zombies.

Everyone in the team had already hit the peak of Tier 4. At this point, only Tier 5 crystal cores could push them further.

Still, even though the lower-tier cores didn’t do much for them anymore, Ethan always had them collect whatever they could. Those things were packed with strange energy—who knew what else they might be good for? Maybe someday they’d figure out how to fuse them into higher-tier cores.

But Tier 5s were rare. And the ones nearby? Already dead—courtesy of them.

So today, they were going farther out.

Seven of them, pedaling hard down a cracked, overgrown road on salvaged bicycles. They’d found the bikes on a supply run, and they’d turned out to be perfect—no gas needed, no engine noise, and fast as hell if you had the legs for it.

And these guys? They had the legs.

Don’t let the word “bicycle” fool you. When you’re Tier 4 and your feet blur on the pedals like a cartoon, you’re not riding—you’re flying.

Of course… when you’re going that fast, crashing hurts like hell.

They were tearing down the road, wind in their faces, when something shot out of the greenery to their left.

Chris, riding point on that side, slammed into it head-on.

Then Chris crashed into Ethan.

Ethan crashed into Henry.

And the rest of the team, too close behind to stop, plowed into the pileup like a domino chain of pain.

“Holy shit!” Chris groaned, clutching his ass as he rolled over. “What the hell just jumped out at me?!”

The others groaned and cursed as they untangled themselves from the heap. They were scraped up and dusty, but nothing serious—Tier 4 bodies could take a hit.

Then they saw the culprit.

It was a dog.

A massive dog.

“Is that… a husky?” Sean asked, squinting.

“Definitely a husky,” Henry said, nodding. “Just… supersized.”

“A husky that big must be a world-class menace.”

“Yeah. Used to tear up couches. Now it could probably tear down a house.”

“…”

“Ethan, what Tier is it?” Sean asked.

“Tier 4,” Ethan replied, eyes narrowing.

“Take it down?”

“Oh, we’re taking it down,” Ethan said, licking his lips.

Chris chuckled. “Hell yeah.”

They fanned out, approaching the beast with practiced ease.

The husky stood its ground, ears pinned back, tail stiff, fur bristling. Even mutated and the size of a bull, it still had that classic husky expression—wide-eyed, guilty, like it knew it had just wrecked your living room and was waiting for the yelling to start.

“Aw, hell,” Chris muttered. “It knows we’re pissed.”

Then the husky moved.

No warning. No growl.

It lunged straight at Ethan, a blur of muscle and fur moving way faster than anything that size should be able to.

“—!”

When the husky charged, everyone just stared, collectively unimpressed.

“Poor bastard,” Sean muttered. “Picked the worst possible target.”

Yeah—charging Ethan? That was just bad luck.

Dogs had power, sure, but they weren’t built like cats. Less agile, more brute force. And brute force didn’t mean much when your opponent could casually bench-press a car.

Ethan didn’t even flinch. He pivoted and kicked the husky square in the chest, sending it flying like a furry cannonball. It hit the ground hard, tumbled across the pavement in a flurry of limbs and fur, and skidded to a stop.

Dazed but not down, the husky scrambled to its feet—and bolted.

Too late.

A wall of earth erupted in front of it, courtesy of Garrick. The husky slammed into it face-first with a meaty thud.

Then, from above, a boulder the size of a fridge dropped like divine punishment.

CRACK.

The stone smashed into its skull, splitting the skin and sending blood spraying. The husky collapsed, twitching, snarling weakly through broken teeth.

Ethan walked over, shook his head, and brought his bat down in one clean, brutal arc.

Skull cracked. Lights out.

“Pumpkin’s enough to watch the place,” he said, wiping the bat on his pants. “We don’t need another guard dog.”

Not all mutant beasts could be tamed. Pumpkin had been different—there was something human in her eyes, something that made Ethan take a chance.

This one? Just rage and teeth. No soul behind it.

He knelt and pried the crystal core from its skull. Unlike zombie cores, which were smooth and round, mutant beast cores were jagged, like broken glass fused into a gem.

He wiped off the slime and bit into it.

The energy hit fast—sharp and hot, like a shot of espresso to the bloodstream.

Same effect as a zombie core.

That was good to know. If Tier 5 zombies got too scarce, they could always start hunting mutant beasts instead. There were way more of those out there.

“Come on,” Ethan said, standing. “Let’s hit those luxury condos up ahead. Might be something decent to eat.”

Garrick blinked. “Didn’t we just eat breakfast? I’m still full.”

“You’re full because you ate the most. The rest of us barely got a bite. So you can sit this one out.”

Garrick rubbed his stomach. “Actually, I’m starving again. Bike ride burned it all off.”

“Thought so.”

…

They headed toward the residential block—a cluster of ten mid-rise towers, each about twenty stories tall. The kind of place that used to have concierge service and overpriced rent.

Now? Just another zombie nest.

A few dozen undead wandered the grounds, aimless and twitchy.

The team didn’t even slow down.

They plowed through the crowd like a wrecking ball, clearing a path straight to one of the buildings. Two stayed behind to watch the stairwell while the rest headed up to the second floor.

They’d barely reached the landing when a sound came from one of the apartments.

Voices. Movement.

“Someone’s in there?” Chris whispered.

They exchanged glances. Ethan didn’t answer—he just activated True Sight and looked through the wall.

Five people inside. Three men, two women. All of them tense, eyes locked on the door.

But it didn’t look like a family.

The two women looked related—probably mother and daughter. But the three men? All in their twenties or thirties, built like gym rats. Definitely not relatives.

Then Ethan spotted something in the kitchen.

Half a human torso. Blood pooled around it, dark and sticky.

His expression darkened.

He didn’t need the full story. He already knew.

A family of three, probably. The father killed. The mother and daughter taken. And the father’s body—turned into food.

“…Damn,” Ethan muttered.

This was the apocalypse.

This was what people became.

It wasn’t rare. Most families didn’t have twenty days’ worth of food stockpiled. And if you couldn’t fight, couldn’t scavenge, couldn’t kill zombies?

You looked at your neighbors.

They’d spent most of their time in the commercial zones, hunting high-tier zombies. That’s why they hadn’t run into this kind of thing before.

But in residential areas?

This was just the beginning.

…