Razorclaw's heart seized with terror as he whipped his head around—only to see two twisted, grinning faces staring straight at him.

Wraithshade.

His face was a mask of malice, eyes gleaming with murderous intent.

"You… it's you?!" Razorclaw's pupils shrank, his expression frozen in disbelief, like he'd just seen a ghost.

"That's right," Wraithshade sneered, his grin stretching wider, more grotesque. "I'm back."

Before Razorclaw could react, a wave of psychic energy surged from Wraithshade, slamming into his mind like a black spear.

Agony exploded in Razorclaw's skull, like boiling oil had been poured directly into his brain. But what truly terrified him was what came next—his body stopped responding.

His limbs locked up. His muscles twitched uncontrollably.

And then, to his horror, his own mouth curled into a twisted grin—Wraithshade's grin. It was like watching a puppet smile with someone else's face.

Razorclaw screamed inside his own head, trying to fight it, but all he could manage was a grotesque grimace, his facial muscles spasming, veins bulging across his forehead. He looked like he was laughing through a nightmare.

Then, slowly, his claws rose.

Five razor-sharp talons pointed inward—straight at his own chest.

"No… no, don't—!"

Panic surged through him. His body trembled violently, but he couldn't stop it. He knew exactly what was coming.

Under Wraithshade's control, his claws plunged into his chest with a sickening shlkk.

Dark blood gushed out, soaking his fur and pooling beneath him.

Crack!

Razorclaw's claws gripped his own ribs—and with a savage jerk, he ripped one free from his chest cavity.

"AAAGHHHHHHH!"

His scream tore through the battlefield as he collapsed, writhing in a pool of his own blood.

But it didn't stop.

His claws kept moving, tearing into his own flesh, shredding muscle and bone like he was trying to unmake himself.

"Keheheheh…" Wraithshade's laugh was low and chilling, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. He was merciless with his enemies—especially Razorclaw, who had once been a top enforcer for Abyssion. Backed by the Heartland Zombie Kings, Razorclaw had led countless raids, slaughtering Wraithshade's own followers without remorse.

Now it was payback.

Razorclaw's screams grew hoarse, his body convulsing in agony.

"Enough playing around. Time to go," a calm voice called out from the distance.

Wraithshade paused, glancing toward the source of the voice. "Oh. Right."

With a casual nod, he released his grip on Razorclaw's mind.

The moment the psychic hold lifted, Razorclaw's body went limp. He gasped, finally able to move again—but it was too late. His wounds were catastrophic. He couldn't even lift himself off the ground.

The fear still clung to him like a shadow.

Wraithshade… he's back…

But something else gnawed at him—who was that voice? Who had the authority to command Wraithshade?

He turned his head weakly, eyes searching.

And then he saw him.

A figure in white stood not far away, calm and composed. Behind him were Laura and Bloodveil, their presence radiating overwhelming pressure. The air around them seemed to warp with power.

Each of them… unmistakably SSS-tier.

"The… The Voidborn Undying…?" Razorclaw's heart sank into his stomach.

But before he could process it further—

CRACK.

A boot came down hard, crushing his skull like a melon.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

And in the final flicker of his fading consciousness, one last thought echoed in his mind:

Frostmere… is no longer ours.

...

With Razorclaw dead and his top lieutenants butchered, the remaining zombies lost all will to fight. Panic spread like wildfire.

The once-mighty horde of a hundred thousand broke apart in seconds, scattering in every direction.

The tide had turned into a rout.

But most of them didn't make it far.

They were cut down by the Saber Corps' lightsabers, or ensnared and shredded by the relentless vines of the Vine Domain. Only a handful of battered survivors managed to flee the battlefield.

In the distance, a small group of zombies could be seen running for their lives, stumbling over each other in their desperation.

They had arrived like a storm.

Now they fled like rats.

"Run! Run for your lives—!"

The fleeing zombies wailed in panic, scrambling over each other in a desperate bid to escape.

But the next second, a blinding beam of energy came screaming down from the sky—

BOOM!

The blast detonated right in the middle of the retreating horde, erupting in a searing flash of light that swallowed everything in its radius.

A shockwave ripped outward, tearing through the air like a hurricane.

Every zombie within fifty feet was instantly vaporized—scorched, shredded, or blown apart.

FWOOSH—

Up on a nearby ridge, Big Ears stood with his Crystal Core Hand-Cannon still smoking. He casually blew the heat off the barrel, looking smug as hell.

"Boom. That's a wrap. Total wipeout. Man, that was some straight-up carnage."

"Mm-hmm…" Shrimpy mumbled beside him, nodding absently.

Big Ears turned to him, grinning. "So? Pretty badass, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, badass," Shrimpy nodded again, eyes fixed on the weapon. "But that thing's got an S-rank crystal core in it. You better ease up—if you burn through it, we're screwed. We can't afford another one."

"Huh? Oh… damn, you're right." Big Ears blinked, suddenly realizing the problem. The boss had let them play with the weapons—but definitely hadn't handed out spare cores.

Shrimpy reached out. "Lemme get a turn before the energy runs out."

"Back off, back off! You can play with it later." Big Ears shoved him away protectively.

He'd just blasted a bunch of zombies into ash with that thing—he wasn't about to hand it over now. The rush was still fresh, and the cannon felt like a treasure in his hands.

"What if you burn through the whole S-rank core, huh?" Shrimpy snapped.

"No big deal," Big Ears waved him off. "I'll just 'borrow' Hank's when he's not looking…"

"…"

And just like that, the so-called "showfight" came to an end.

The Saber Corps, armed with lightsabers, had proven devastatingly effective. Especially with Elegy's guitar amplifying their combat performance, they'd steamrolled the enemy horde with terrifying ease.

In theory, the lightsabers offered a similar advantage to the Guard Mechs—but with far less energy consumption.

Those giant mechs were crystal core guzzlers. The lightsabers? Sleek, efficient, and deadly.

...

Soon after, Ethan and the rest of the squad boarded the Command Cruiser and lifted off, leaving the blood-soaked valley behind.

The battle had likely drawn attention from other Zombie Hordes in Frostmere.

And they were starting to converge.

Ethan had only just arrived in this region—he wasn't looking to get bogged down in a full-scale war. Not yet.

Now, with Hexarm officially on board, the Command Cruiser had one more Zombie King in its ranks.

Hexarm glanced around the interior, eyes wide with awe.

"Damn… this thing's insane," he muttered, marveling at the high-tech systems and sleek design.

Then he noticed the direction they were heading.

Straight toward the Deadmire.

"Boss… are we going to find Bloodleech?" Hexarm asked, a mix of curiosity and caution in his voice.

"Yeah," Wraithshade nodded. "We're going to get him."

Bloodleech—another of Wraithshade's old brothers-in-arms—was hiding out in the swamps.

Of course, this move had Ethan's full approval.

The massive Command Cruiser tore through the sky, heading straight for the marshlands.

They'd passed over the Deadmire once before when they first arrived in Frostmere. The place was a nightmare—endless wetlands, thick with sludge and decay. Anyone who stepped in too deep risked being swallowed whole by the earth.

It was no place for zombies to roam, let alone for hordes to migrate through. Abyssion's forces couldn't search it thoroughly, which made it the perfect hiding spot.

After a short flight, the cruiser reached its destination.

Below them stretched a vast, endless swamp—gray, lifeless, and reeking of death. The horizon was swallowed by mist, and the air was thick with rot.

No normal zombie could survive down there. The mud alone could consume a body in minutes. And beneath the still waters… who knew what monsters lurked?

The Command Cruiser slowly descended, settling on the edge of the marsh with a soft mechanical hiss.

Ethan turned to Wraithshade. "So… where's your guy?"

"He should be somewhere near the edge," Wraithshade replied. "He wouldn't have gone too deep."

"Alright," Ethan nodded. "Then go find him."

…

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