Endless kept warning them, "If that Zombie King in the white shirt really made it back from Xenorift, then his power's definitely on par with a Deathless Sovereign. We can't afford to take him lightly."

"True," Lilith chimed in from the side. "After all, even you got your ass handed to you in Xenorift. Remember how that mutant beast horde had you running for your life?"

"Uh…" Endless paused awkwardly, clearly not thrilled to revisit that memory.

That was then. This is now.

Things have changed.

Gorthas suddenly remembered something. "Wait, didn't you send a signal to that white-shirted Zombie King? What'd he say?"

"He didn't respond," Endless said flatly.

The other Deathless Sovereigns exchanged surprised glances.

Endless—one of the most feared names on the planet—had reached out personally, and the guy didn't even bother replying?

You'd be hard-pressed to find another sentient being on all of Originis with that kind of nerve.

Talk about arrogant.

"Hmph! Good. If he really became the sixth Deathless Sovereign of Heartland, then my soldiers would've died for nothing!" Nightwraith scoffed, his voice cold.

Despite his youthful appearance, there was a sharp defiance in his eyes. His trusted general, Nyssara, had been killed by Ethan.

If Ethan wasn't going to play ball, then maybe it was time to take him out.

"I offered him a damn good deal," Endless said, arms crossed behind his back, eyes gleaming. "But he still wasn't satisfied. He's dead set on opening The Origin Mountain."

Ethan's actions had already made his stance crystal clear.

Lilith frowned, clearly baffled. "We told him he could have whatever he wanted. Why the hell is he still fixated on opening The Origin Mountain? That's just asking for trouble."

"Maybe he wants to crush us all and rule alone," Endless said, analyzing the situation. "That kind of greed… it'll be his downfall."

Lilith tilted her head, her delicate features clouded with doubt. Something didn't sit right.

Was that really his plan?

Then again, with a personality as domineering as his, it wasn't out of the question.

Endless continued, "Now that the other regions' zombie hordes are closing in, I doubt they'll launch a full assault right away. They'll probably try to infiltrate first, scout us out. So… go back and get ready. Lock everything down. Stay sharp."

"Got it," the other Deathless Sovereigns nodded in agreement.

And with that, the meeting of the "Five Sovereigns of the Heartland" came to an end. Each zombie lord returned to their own territory, immediately diving into preparations.

The zombie nests across Heartland were already seething with bloodlust, ready for war.

The flames of battle were about to engulf Heartland…

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of Heartland, a sleek aircraft streaked across the sky like a flash of light.

Ethan had flown in from Westmarch, the territory of Meteorfall.

As he traveled, the landscape beneath him began to change—more resources, more life. What was once barren wasteland had transformed into lush green fields.

He even spotted small creatures darting through the open plains below.

Compared to the desolate Westmarch, this place was a whole different world.

"Same zombies, but the living conditions couldn't be more different," Ethan muttered to himself.

Flying over Westmarch, all you'd see were Black-Skin Zombies. But even here on the fringes of Heartland, there were wild animals roaming free.

Like mansions overflowing with food while beggars starved outside the gates…

Ethan adjusted the controls, bringing the aircraft into a steep descent. Now that he was in Heartland territory, it was best to keep a low profile—no need to attract unwanted attention from the locals.

The aircraft touched down smoothly, and with a crisp click, the hatch slid open on both sides.

Ethan stepped out of the aircraft, his white shirt catching the light as he set foot on solid ground for the first time in a while.

The earth beneath his boots felt soft—almost welcoming.

He took a slow look around. The air was crisp, clean. In the thick grass nearby, he could see insects crawling, ants marching—signs of life everywhere.

The scene before him… it reminded him a little of Earth.

"Damn… kinda makes you homesick," Ethan muttered under his breath.

With a flick of his wrist, he stored the aircraft into his spatial storage ring. Then, focusing his mental energy, he cast an illusion over himself, disguising his appearance as a low-tier zombie—nothing special, nothing worth noticing.

He didn't bother pretending to be Zombie King Ravager to get close to Gorthas. That would've been way too obvious. Too risky.

Instead, he went with the lowest-tier disguise—less attention, more freedom to move.

After all, he was here to assassinate a Deathless Sovereign. A mission this insane had to be done carefully, step by step.

Ethan started walking forward. The open field ahead wasn't exactly smooth—pockmarked with craters, some filled with weeds, others with rainwater, forming shallow pools that reflected the sky like broken mirrors.

But beneath the muddy water, half-buried in the muck, were bones—lots of them. Tattered uniforms still clung to some of the skeletons, just enough to tell they were once human soldiers.

The craters themselves? Left behind by Crystal Core Blasters.

Time had passed, but the scars remained.

It had been thirty years since that battle.

Ethan had landed in the exact area where, three decades ago, humanity launched a full-scale assault on Heartland with three Dreadnought-class Starcruisers. The path of destruction they carved was still faintly visible.

Up ahead, the horizon was lined with dense forest. From within the trees came the occasional guttural roar of zombies.

Heartland wasn't the largest region on Necroterra, but it was by far the richest in resources. Fertile land like this was rare on Originis.

And yet, the zombie population here was off the charts—far denser than any other region. You couldn't walk ten feet without running into one. And most of them? Not your average shamblers. These were evolved, intelligent, dangerous.

If Ethan could just make it through that forest, he'd reach the core of Heartland.

He remembered reading about this exact area in the data logs from the Dreadnought-class Starcruiser he'd captured. It was practically a cautionary tale.

At the edge of the forest, he could already see them—zombies, wandering aimlessly.

Some stood still, others let out low growls. Most were low-tier, but a few had that sharpness in their eyes—elites, the kind that had developed intelligence.

Ethan's plan was simple: locate Gorthas's territory, gather intel, find an opening… and strike. One clean kill to ignite the war that would tear Heartland apart.

He moved forward, heading toward the treeline.

But he didn't get far.

A few of the elite zombies near the edge spotted him immediately.

"Hey! You there—stop! Where you from? Why're you coming in from the outer perimeter?"

Ethan didn't miss a beat. "Sent by my boss to scout for intel. Got something important to report."

The zombies narrowed their eyes, but seemed to buy it. "Oh yeah? Then spill it—what's so important?"

"If I could tell you guys," Ethan said with a shrug, "would it still be important?"

"Uh…"

They froze for a second, then realized—yeah, they were just border grunts. No clearance for top-level info.

One of them scratched his head awkwardly. "Right… fair point."

They shifted gears, trying to make small talk instead.

"So, what's the situation out there? We heard the zombie hordes from the other four regions of Necroterra are all converging on us."

"Yeah, they're moving," Ethan said casually. "But it's gonna take time. They're not showing up tomorrow or anything. You guys can chill a bit."

The zombies looked at each other, a little deflated.

"Seriously? The higher-ups have been screaming at us to stay alert, saying war could break out any second…"

...

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