With Heartland's Zombie Horde finally in full retreat, the undead forces began to converge at the base of The Origin Mountain.
"After them!" Ethan's soldiers roared, smashing through the lingering wraiths with growing frustration. The ghostly interference had slowed them down, and they were itching to vent.
Dark mist still hung thick in the air behind the front lines, swirling like smoke from a dying fire.
And from within that haze… four figures emerged.
"At a moment this critical, it's finally our time to shine," Big Ears declared, puffing out his chest like he hadn't just spent the entire battle hiding in the back.
Truth was, the fighting had been so intense that even a stray shockwave could've turned a weaker zombie into roadkill. The four of them—Big Ears, Shrimpy, and their two equally cautious companions—had wisely chosen to stay out of the fray.
Big Ears's S-rank Crystal Core Blaster had long since run dry, and he hadn't bothered to replace the core. So yeah, they'd been laying low.
But now that Heartland's forces were pulling back?
Now it was safe to make an appearance.
"The path to becoming an Overlord is right in front of us!" Big Ears shouted, striking a heroic pose. "Follow me to the top of that mountain!"
"Uh, Big Ears," Shrimpy said, scratching his head, "we didn't really do anything this whole fight. Didn't even kill a single Heartland zombie. Kinda hard to brag about that, don't you think?"
Big Ears blinked. "Oh. Right…"
His eyes darted across the battlefield, scanning the wreckage.
The ground was littered with corpses—twisted limbs, shattered skulls, the aftermath of a brutal clash.
And then, not far off, something moved.
A Heartland elite zombie, barely alive, was dragging himself forward. Blood soaked his body, one arm was mangled beyond use, and his leg was bent at a sickening angle. He limped forward on his one good leg, looking like a stroke victim trying to finish a marathon.
"Hey hey hey…" Big Ears's eyes lit up. "Would you look at that? Opportunity knocks!"
The other three zombies caught on instantly. They all turned toward the wounded elite, eyes gleaming with shared understanding.
"A lone Heartland elite? Pfft. Not even a challenge. Go for the good leg!" Big Ears cackled, charging forward with the others right behind him.
They descended on the poor bastard like a pack of hyenas, all four of them kicking the same leg over and over.
The Heartland zombie let out a strangled howl, barely managing to stand before he was knocked flat again.
"That's low, even for zombies!" he cried out in agony.
"Shut up! We're making history here!" Big Ears shouted, kicking harder.
Within moments, the elite was reduced to a twitching pulp, his body stomped into the dirt until not even a groan escaped him.
Dead. For real this time.
The four zombies stepped back, panting slightly, but looking extremely pleased with themselves.
"Now that's more like it," Big Ears said, nodding with satisfaction.
He could already picture the line on his resume: Participated in the Heartland campaign. Eliminated elite Heartland zombie in close combat. No Crystal Core Blaster required.
The undead tide surged forward like a flood, a relentless wave crashing toward The Origin Mountain.
Even PhD had handed off command of the Dreadnought-class Starcruiser to the "intern" Hammerhead, choosing instead to march alongside Ethan on the front lines.
Their momentum was unstoppable.
They had finally crossed into Heartland territory.
The horde was electric with anticipation, every zombie fired up and ready to tear through whatever stood in their way.
And then, just ahead—
A massive, half-buried wreck came into view.
The twisted remains of a long-fallen Dreadnought-class Starcruiser.
Its hull was scorched, its cannons shattered, and its once-mighty frame now lay broken across the landscape like the skeleton of a fallen god.
"..."
Meanwhile, on the eastern front, things were going just as smoothly—if not more so—for Bloodveil, thanks in no small part to their unexpected allies: the humans.
Deathless Sovereign Nerissa had taken a serious beating. Her energy reserves were nearly drained, and after receiving a direct order from Endless, she finally stopped trying to hold the line and began a swift retreat.
"See that? We just drove off a Deathless Sovereign!" Bloodveil roared, chest puffed out, riding high on adrenaline. "The eastern front is ours!"
But his zombie underlings all knew the truth.
The real MVP was Claire, the human powerhouse. Without her, they wouldn't have lasted five minutes against Nerissa.
"Boss, uh… that poison mist she hit you with—does it still hurt?" one of them asked, eyeing the half-melted side of Bloodveil's face.
"Eh…" Bloodveil froze for a second, then reached up and poked at the peeling skin on his cheek.
"—Tch!" He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, but quickly shook his head. "Nah. Doesn't hurt."
"Oh." The underling nodded, unconvinced. Yeah, right.
Nerissa's poison mist was no joke. It wasn't just corrosive—it had a healing suppression effect that was currently locking down Bloodveil's usually insane regeneration. His wounds weren't healing, and that was not normal.
"And that's just the fifth-ranked Deathless Sovereign in Heartland," Bloodveil muttered to himself, unease creeping in. "If the top three are even stronger…"
He didn't finish the thought.
Instead, he glanced toward the west, brow furrowed. "I wonder how Ethan's doing right now…"
"You're really worried about him, huh?" Claire's voice chimed in beside him, her expression unreadable.
"What? No, no," Bloodveil said quickly, waving it off. "I'm just thinking… Heartland's Sovereigns have access to insane resources. Their evolution levels must be off the charts. And Ethan's going up against three of them at once. That's… that's rough."
"Once you reach that level," Claire replied coolly, "resources don't matter as much. It's all about raw combat talent."
Bloodveil raised an eyebrow. That… actually made a lot of sense.
He looked at Claire again, really looked.
Smart, deadly, and still a total knockout…
With the eastern front secured, the Eastreach Zombie Horde and their human allies began pushing forward, heading straight for the base of The Origin Mountain.
The undead surged like a tidal wave, howling and relentless.
Before long, they reached the same battlefield landmark Ethan had passed earlier—the wreckage of a long-fallen Dreadnought-class Starcruiser.
And there, standing tall atop the twisted metal, was Ethan.
The "Backstabbing Alliance" had officially reunited.
Bloodveil's eyes widened as he took in the scene.
Westmarch's Meteorfall had arrived too, leading his own horde, with a Dreadnought-class Starcruiser floating ominously overhead. The whole thing looked like a movie poster for the apocalypse.
"Is that… Ethan?" Bloodveil muttered, spotting the figure standing atop the wreckage.
He was wearing a crisp white shirt—still spotless, not a single speck of blood or dirt on it.
Behind him stood Bulldozer, Laura, and PhD, each radiating raw power.
Further back, Sprout led the four fusion-type plant Zombie Kings, their twisted forms pulsing with eerie energy—walking weapons of mass destruction.
And then there was little shadow, Snowy, Umbradrake, the Japanese Iron Trio, the Dune Twins… each one a force to be reckoned with.
Bloodveil stared, stunned.
He's been fighting three Deathless Sovereigns… and his shirt's still clean?
He suddenly felt a little silly for worrying.
Moments later, a deep rumble echoed from the north.
A massive shape moved across the horizon—like a mountain come to life.
Frostmere's Zombie Horde had arrived.
Atop the enormous Leviathan of the North stood Wraithshade, arms crossed, perched on the beast's massive nasal ridge. Bloodleech and Hexarm flanked him, their grotesque forms twitching with anticipation.
Frostmere's zombies were bizarre, mutated, and unpredictable—but damn if they weren't effective. With the Leviathan clearing the way, they'd bulldozed through Heartland's defenses with shocking ease.
Ethan glanced over, mildly surprised.
He'd expected Frostmere to be the last to break through, given their chaotic nature.
But Wraithshade had delivered.
Guess he's the "pleasant surprise" type of teammate, Ethan thought.
Now, the full force of the "Backstabbing Alliance" was assembled: Ethan, Bloodveil, Wraithshade, and Meteorfall.
And with them, the human faction—Claire at the front, flanked by the heads of two major human families.
The air was thick with killing intent. Power radiated from every direction.
Wind howled across the battlefield, whipping Ethan's coat as he stood tall, eyes scanning the horizon.
"Looks like everyone's here," he said calmly. "No serious injuries, I hope?"
"We're good. Just burned a bit of stamina," Claire replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Wraithshade, still standing atop the Leviathan, smirked.
"I ran into two SSS-level freaks. They couldn't even touch my shadow."
"…Huh?" Bloodveil blinked, glancing around.
Something felt… off.
...