Apocalypse: King of Zombies

On the other side, two speed-type Awakeners were still fleeing at full tilt, putting as much distance as they could between themselves and the Lizardfolk tribe. They darted through the dense terrain until they reached a secluded mountain valley.

There, a small group of humans lay low, hidden among the rocks and foliage, eyes sharp and alert, watching a different direction with tense anticipation.

Leading them was a young man—Ricky. As the founder of the White Robe Order, his outfit was instantly recognizable: half black, half white. The white wasn't just symbolic of his rank within the Order—it also served a practical purpose. When raiding and pillaging in the Outer Zone, it helped distinguish friend from foe in the chaos.

"Boss!"

One of the Awakeners called out, urgency written all over his face. "The rescue mission at the Lizardfolk tribe failed. Veyra and Jack... they didn't make it out!"

"What?" Ricky's brow furrowed, his expression darkening. After so many battles and bloodshed, he carried a cold, hardened edge that never quite left his eyes.

The two speedsters quickly recounted everything—how the mission had gone sideways, the strange runes they'd encountered, and how it all ended in a crushing defeat.

"Shit. This is bad." Ricky glanced toward the direction of the Lizardfolk tribe, then turned to look at the distant horizon behind them.

Originally, he and the rest of the White Robe Order had been skirting the edges of the Xenorift. But then the Inner City sent their elite Awakeners to hunt them down. With no other choice, they'd been forced to push deeper into the Rift.

Now, those Inner City bastards were hot on their trail, closing in fast. But turning back meant running straight into the Lizardfolk. They were caught between a rock and a hard place—wolves ahead, tigers behind.

"Boss, maybe we can circle around the Lizardfolk tribe?" someone suggested.

"Too late for that," Ricky said grimly.

The Lizardfolk had an insanely sharp sense of smell, and their tribes weren't centralized—they were scattered all over the region. There was no clean way around them.

And besides… the deeper you went into the Xenorift, the stronger the monsters got. Even if they managed to avoid the Lizardfolk, they might stumble into something even worse.

The risk was just as high as facing off against the Inner City Awakeners.

"Screw it. Let's just fight those Inner City bastards head-on!" one of the men growled. Anyone who'd ended up in the Xenorift wasn't exactly the type to back down from a fight.

Ricky's eyes narrowed in thought. Then he slowly shook his head. "No. Now's not the time to let pride get us killed. We're no match for those Awakeners. Charging in would be suicide. I say… we disband the White Robe Order. At least for now."

"What?"

The group froze, stunned. A few looked like they'd just been punched in the gut.

Of course, no one wanted to split up. But deep down, they knew Ricky was right. Scattering gave them a better shot at survival.

Silence fell over the group. The air grew heavy, tinged with a quiet sorrow.

Then—rustling.

A soft shuffling sound came from the trees. Branches swayed. Something—or someone—was approaching.

"Who's there?" Ricky raised his blade, eyes locked on the treeline, every muscle tensed.

The foliage parted.

A girl stepped out, pale-faced, blood still crusted at the corner of her mouth. It was Veyra—the Left Hand of the Order.

"Veyra?" someone gasped.

The two speed-type Awakeners looked like they'd seen a ghost. They'd watched her get wrecked by the Lizardfolk Chieftain. There was no way she should be standing here.

And she wasn't alone.

Behind her came the fire-type youth—Jack. His face was pale too, like he'd taken a hit to the soul. His steps were unsteady, like he was barely holding it together.

The two of them staggered forward, slow and shaky.

"What the hell…"

Everyone instinctively raised their weapons, eyes narrowing with suspicion. Were they really who they appeared to be?

In the Xenorift, there were too many freakish monsters—some of them could mimic humans perfectly.

"Everyone, relax—it's really us. We're alive!" the girl said weakly, her voice hoarse but sincere.

Ricky narrowed his eyes. "What happened to you two?"

"I… I'm not exactly sure," Veyra replied, still catching her breath. "There was someone in the Lizardfolk tribe… I think he knew you, Boss. Maybe he was intimidated or something, but he let us go."

"Knew me?" Ricky echoed, frowning deeper. That didn't make any sense.

Sure, he had a bit of a reputation, but he knew his own limits. There was no way his name alone could scare the Lizardfolk into releasing prisoners. That just wasn't how they operated.

But before he could press further, a figure in white emerged from the shadows of the forest, stepping calmly into view.

Behind him, several more humans appeared—wounded, limping, but alive. They were being helped along by others, clearly just rescued.

Ricky turned his head—and froze.

His cold, battle-hardened face cracked. His eyes widened, lips trembled, and for a moment, he looked like a completely different person.

Then, without a word, he dropped his weapon and ran forward. With a thud, he dropped to his knees in front of the white-robed figure, his whole body shaking as tears streamed down his face.

"Master!" he choked out, voice breaking. Years of pent-up emotion burst free all at once, and he sobbed like a child who had finally found his way home.

The rest of the group stood there, stunned.

Master?

What the hell?

None of them had ever heard Ricky mention a master before. He'd always been the top dog—the ruthless, calculating leader who never showed weakness. Veyra had once described him as petty, vengeful, and cruel to the core. In human civilization, he was infamous. They called him The Butcher of Thousands.

And now here he was, crying like a broken man.

Their eyes slowly shifted to the newcomer—Ethan. His robe was pure white, almost glowing in the dim forest light. It was impossible to ignore.

And then it clicked.

The Creed of the White Robe.

No way…

Ethan looked down at Ricky, his expression calm, almost gentle. "What's wrong?" he asked softly. "Why are you crying like that?"

"N-Nothing," Ricky stammered, wiping his face with his sleeve, trying to pull himself together. "I just… I was overwhelmed when I saw you."

Veyra stood off to the side, head lowered, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Now she understood—her survival had nothing to do with Ricky's reputation. It was this man. The real boss behind the boss.

"The Inner City Awakeners… they've been hunting us nonstop," Ricky said, voice still shaky. "Day and night, for over a month. We've got nowhere left to run."

"I see…" Ethan replied casually, glancing around at the others.

They looked like hell—dust-covered, exhausted, dark circles under their eyes, most of them injured in some way. It was clear they hadn't had a proper rest in weeks.

Just then, a faint buzzing sound cut through the air.

A mechanical whirring.

A bio-mechanical bee zipped through the trees, its wings slicing the silence like a blade.

"They're here again!" someone shouted.

Everyone tensed, weapons drawn in an instant. That sound had become a nightmare to them.

It was the Inner City's tracker drone—those things could show up anytime, anywhere. They never stopped. Twenty-four hours a day, always watching.

Some of the group had even started hearing phantom buzzing in their sleep.

It had been going on for so long, even Awakeners were starting to crack.

Boom!

One of the fire-type Awakeners raised his hand and blasted the drone out of the air in a burst of flame.

But it was too late.

The footage had already been transmitted.

Far off in the sky, aboard a mid-sized aircraft, a squad of a dozen Awakeners watched the feed. They were armed with Crystal Core Firearms and short blades, ready for combat.

At the control console, a young man smirked as he stared at the screen.

"So that's where you've been hiding," he muttered. "Thought you could run forever, huh? A bunch of Outer Zone punks trying to start a rebellion… what a joke."

He leaned back in his seat, eyes gleaming.

"Let's go teach these rats what happens when they bite the hand that feeds them."

...