"Didn't Endless already say it? All we have to do is hold The Origin Mountain. Once the zombies from the other four Regions show up, we just go to war," Nightwraith said casually.

"No, no, no," Gorthas shook his head. "I'm not talking about that. I mean, after we take out that Zombie King in the white shirt—how are we gonna split the spatial key? Honestly... I don't think opening The Origin Mountain is necessarily a bad thing."

Nightwraith narrowed his eyes slightly, falling silent for a moment. From the way Gorthas said it, it sounded like he was interested in opening The Origin Mountain too. "Aren't you worried something might go wrong?"

"Opening The Origin Mountain itself isn't the problem. The real risk is if that white-shirted Zombie King opens it. That's when things could go sideways..." Gorthas said, his tone layered with meaning.

Nightwraith could tell—this guy had ambition. Maybe even more than he was letting on.

Gorthas gave a sheepish grin. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not planning to betray anyone. I'm just saying—if Endless opens The Origin Mountain on his own, he might not need us anymore. You get what I'm saying, right?"

"So what are you suggesting...?"

"Once we take out that white-shirted Zombie King, we grab the spatial key from him. We need to keep the upper hand," Gorthas said bluntly.

Among "The Five Sovereigns of the Heartland," Gorthas and Nightwraith were neighbors. They interacted the most and had the closest relationship.

Nightwraith nodded, understanding his point. "We'll deal with that when the time comes. Right now, the zombies from the other four Regions are gathering at our borders. Holding the line is what matters most."

"Of course. My territory's solid," Gorthas said confidently. Then he turned and called out to one of his trusted lieutenants. "Boneclaw, what's the situation in the territory?"

"Relax, boss. I already gave the orders. The boys are sharp, eyes wide open, not even blinking," said a dark-skinned Zombie King as he stepped forward.

He was built like a tank, with a massive frame and jagged bone spikes jutting from his knuckles, elbows, and knees—clearly a product of skeletal mutation. He looked badass as hell.

Boneclaw was one of Gorthas's top fighters—SS+ class strength, a core member of his forces, and a prime candidate to ascend to The Voidborn Undying.

Gorthas was clearly pleased and decided to show off a little in front of Nightwraith.

"Send a drone out for a sweep. Let's see how the boys are holding the line," Gorthas ordered.

"On it!" Boneclaw replied.

Since Heartland had once shot down a Dreadnought-class Starcruiser, drones were in no short supply—there were thousands of them. Surveillance was easy.

A moment later, a holographic screen lit up in front of them, displaying the drone feed.

From the center of the zombie nest outward, everything looked tight. Hordes of zombies were gathered in formation, and the Zombie Kings stood like sentinels—imposing and alert. Not even a mosquito could've slipped through.

"Well? Not bad, huh?" Gorthas said, clearly proud.

But just as the words left his mouth, the feed shifted. The drone reached the outer perimeter—and the scene changed dramatically.

Zombies were scattered all over the place, wandering aimlessly through the woods like they were out for a stroll. Some elite zombies were even chasing rabbits in small groups, running off into the distance, having the time of their undead lives.

"...What the hell?" Gorthas's eyes went wide. He hadn't seen that coming.

Nightwraith raised an eyebrow. "You call that 'not bad'? The zombies from the other four Regions are almost here, and your guys are out here acting like they're on vacation. Compared to mine, your troops are a joke."

"..."

Gorthas was speechless.

But then, the drone flew over a small river—and there, splashing around in the water, were a few elite zombies... from Nightwraith's own forces.

"Hey, looks like your guys are having fun too," Gorthas said with a smirk.

Nightwraith's face turned green.

These bastards...

They must have a death wish.

He made a mental note to rip out their Neurocores later.

Gorthas also figured it was time to lay down the law. Slacking off like this? Yeah, someone needed to pay.

"Boneclaw, this is what you meant by 'sharp and alert'? Not even blinking?"

"Uh... I... well..." Boneclaw stammered, metaphorically sweating bullets, unsure how to explain.

Luckily for him, Gorthas didn't blow up. "Go check it out. Find out what the hell's going on. And if necessary, deal with those zombies—permanently."

"Yes, my lord!" Boneclaw barked, his aura flaring with killing intent.

Damn those slackers. Not only did they piss off the boss, they almost dragged him down with them.

Especially those Zombie Leaders out on the fringes—useless, weak, and all talk. The core-region Zombie Kings like Boneclaw had nothing but contempt for them.

With a stormy expression, Boneclaw turned and marched out, ready to clean house.

...

At that moment, Ethan was still wandering around the outskirts of the zombie nest. He'd just about finished scouting the edge of Heartland's territory.

As expected, Heartland was loaded with resources. Even out here on the fringes, there were plenty of evolved elites. The overall strength of the region was nothing to scoff at.

He figured it was time to find a way into the core zone and see what was really going on in there.

But before he could make a move, Ethan suddenly stopped in his tracks. His eyes narrowed as he sensed the presence of a Zombie King in the distance. A moment later, a thunderous, guttural roar echoed through the air—laced with a commanding, aggressive tone. It was a summoning call.

"Knew it," Ethan muttered to himself. Everything was unfolding exactly as he'd planned.

As the roar rang out, the nearby zombies snapped to attention and started charging toward the source of the sound, stampeding in a frenzy.

Ethan didn't rush. He followed at a steady pace, blending in with the flow.

The one who'd issued the call, of course, was Boneclaw. And the moment he arrived at the outer perimeter, his mood soured even more. Just like the drone footage had shown, the zombies out here were completely slack—lazy, disorganized, and totally unprepared.

Now, with a horde of zombies gathered before him, Boneclaw stood tall, radiating fury. The undead around him trembled, a wave of fear rippling through the crowd.

"B-Boneclaw, sir... what brings you out here?" one of the elite zombies stammered.

"You've got the nerve to ask?" Boneclaw roared, his voice like a thunderclap. "The Zombie Hordes from the other four Regions are mobilizing. They'll be crashing into our borders any minute now! Lord Gorthas gave strict orders to stay alert and hold the line—and what the hell are you all doing?!"

The elite zombies flinched, their bodies twitching with panic.

"Wait... the other Regions' zombies... I thought they weren't coming?" one of them said, confused.

"And who the hell told you that?" Boneclaw snapped, eyes narrowing.

"Peanut did," the elite zombie replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Boneclaw's brow twitched, his rage flaring even hotter. As a core-region Zombie King, he already had zero respect for Peanut and his kind.

It was just like how Laura in Ethan's nest had looked down on Big Ears at first—same vibe.

"That lazy bastard," Boneclaw growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I swear, he's worth less than an S-grade crystal core."

"Uh..."

The surrounding elites all felt a chill run down their spines.

Wait... was this about to be a leadership change?

"Why are you all standing around like idiots?! Get your asses out there and start patrolling!" Boneclaw barked.

"Y-yes, sir!"

The zombies scattered like roaches, scrambling in every direction. Some sprinted on two legs, others dropped to all fours and bolted, desperate to get away from Boneclaw's wrath.

No one wanted to be caught in the crossfire.

"Hold it—hey, you! Stop right there!" Boneclaw shouted, pointing at a few slower elites. "Where the hell is Peanut? Why isn't he here yet?"

The zombies froze mid-step, shoulders hunched, necks shrinking like they were trying to disappear.

"I... I don't know, sir..." one of them mumbled, voice barely audible.

...

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