Chapter 669: Still missing something…

“The official punching bag?”

Petal shot him a sideways glance, sizing him up. With that goofy look on his face, he actually did seem kind of perfect for the role. She didn’t feel like wasting time on him, though, so she turned and walked off without a word, heading straight back into the fight.

Hank was left standing there, scratching his head, feeling more than a little awkward.

He’d just blurted out a random name to try and break the ice, hoping to find some common ground.

“Was that too much?” he muttered to himself.

But not far away, someone had been watching him the whole time—Big Ears. He’d been keeping an eye on Hank for a while now.

Even before arriving here, he’d been thinking it’d be pretty badass to recruit a little alien sidekick. You know, for the aesthetic.

And now, one had practically fallen into his lap.

So he strolled over, putting on his best mysterious, all-knowing act.

“You’re Hank, right? I’ve been watching you. You’ve got potential. Real raw talent.”

“Uh…” Hank blinked, caught off guard.

The zombie in front of him looked… unusual, to say the least. Two massive ears stuck out like satellite dishes, and his mouth sported two oversized buck teeth with a sharp vampire fang wedged between them. He looked like he could be dangerous—or at least like he wanted people to think so.

“Um… what should I call you?”

“Big Ears,” the zombie said flatly.

“Oh, okay. Big Ears. Nice to meet you,” Hank nodded quickly.

“Good, good. I’m the top lieutenant under the boss. I’ve earned my stripes. Stick with me, and you’ll be taken care of.”

“Whoa, really?” Hank’s eyes widened. Considering how powerful all of Ethan’s Zombie Kings were, being the top guy under him had to mean serious strength.

But when he looked closer… Big Ears didn’t give off any kind of intimidating aura. Aside from the oversized ears, there wasn’t anything particularly impressive about him.

Is this what all the big shots are like?

“Well, alright then, Big Ears. I’ll follow your lead. Hope you’ll look out for me.”

“Excellent, excellent. It’s settled then.” Big Ears beamed, clearly pleased with himself. Not wanting to risk being exposed, he quickly made his exit, slipping off to the side.

Hank watched him go, feeling a bit more at ease.

At least now he’d made a connection with someone close to the boss. That had to count for something.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder—what was Big Ears’ actual power level?

As a strength-type Zombie King himself, Hank was naturally impatient. He needed to know. So he figured he’d ask around.

His eyes landed on a scrawny little zombie not far off. The guy had dark, leathery skin, a scruffy beard, and a twitchy demeanor. It was Dirtferret, the little prisoner.

“Hey! Do you know what kind of power Big Ears has?” Hank hurried over and asked.

“I’m just a mole,” Dirtferret replied blankly. “I can’t explain that kind of stuff to you.”

Then, without another word, he leapt into the air and dove headfirst into the ground.

Thud!

“OWW—!”

“Damn, that’s hard…!”

“…”

Time passed, and the battle neared its end. Dreadpaw’s zombie horde was falling apart—some scattered, others fled, and a few had completely lost their minds, turning on their own allies.

Even Dreadpaw himself was in bad shape.

His body was slashed in several places by a lightsaber, soaked in filthy black blood. After burning through all his rage, all that was left was a crushing sense of helplessness.

Still, he forced himself to shout, “Even in death, I will defend my homeland!”

“…So dramatic,” Ethan muttered under his breath. This guy clearly thought he was some kind of alien invader or something.

The Lightsaber in Ethan’s hand blazed hotter than ever, arcs of electricity crackling along its length, distorting the air around it. He had fully mastered the weapon now—every swing, every pulse of energy felt like an extension of his own will.

With a swift, fluid motion, he slashed the Lightsaber toward Dreadpaw’s neck, aiming to bring this battle to a definitive end.

The Domain of the Dead surged behind him, its energy crashing down like a thousand falling stars, crushing everything in its path.

Dreadpaw, already on the brink, was barely holding himself together. His body trembled, weakened by blood loss and pain. He stared helplessly at the searing blade closing in, unable to move, unable to dodge.

SHHHK—

The Lightsaber sliced through his neck like a hot knife through butter.

Dreadpaw’s world spun. In the final second before his consciousness faded, he saw his own headless body collapse to the ground with a heavy thud.

Dreadpaw—dead.

The once-feared overlord of the Exile Zone’s edge had fallen.

With Dreadpaw gone, the remaining Zombie Kings under his command were quickly taken out by Laura, Bulldozer, and the others. The battle, a complete and utter rout, was finally over.

Now came the cleanup.

The victorious zombies moved in, cracking open skulls and devouring the crystal cores and Neurocores inside.

The barren wasteland of the Exile Zone, once a dry, cracked expanse of stone, was now soaked in foul black blood, forming streams that trickled through the battlefield.

Broken bodies lay scattered everywhere, limbs twisted, torsos torn open, the ground littered with the aftermath of carnage.

Dusk had fallen. Three suns hung low on the horizon, casting a blood-red glow across the battlefield. The eerie light bathed the scene in a surreal, almost demonic hue.

One by one, the Zombie Kings gathered before Ethan, reporting in.

It had been days since they’d seen him, and they were clearly eager to reconnect.

“Alright,” Ethan said, arms crossed, standing tall. “Let’s head back. I’ll show you the new corpse nest.”

A chorus of guttural roars erupted in response, the horde surging forward with excitement as they poured into the Solaris Citadel.

The zombies were clearly intrigued by their new home.

After all, this was a city built by zombies, for zombies.

Ethan had already ordered his subordinates to make some adjustments—anything that didn’t fit their needs was getting torn down and rebuilt.

Naturally, the heavy lifting was left to the brute-force types like Bulldozer and the other strength-based Zombie Kings. They hauled massive stones like they were nothing.

After a round of renovations, the corpse nest looked way more organized than before. Even someone with OCD would’ve found it oddly satisfying.

“Boss, this place is awesome,” Bulldozer said, looking around in awe.

“Yeah?” Ethan asked, not turning around, arms still folded.

Bulldozer grinned like a big dumb puppy. “Anywhere you are… is awesome.”

Not far ahead, the zombies had even built a raised stone platform out of boulders—just for Elegy.

She stood atop it now, cradling her guitar, fingers flying across the strings in a passionate solo.

Her music screamed joy at being reunited with Ethan, and the thrill of finally setting foot on Originis.

The powerful melody exploded into the night sky.

The entire Zombie Horde swayed with the rhythm, black mist rising around them, petals drifting down from above like ash from a burning sky.

Their song had finally reached the alien world of Originis.

“Still missing something…” Ethan muttered to himself.

They had a base now, sure—but food was still a problem.

He had plenty of meat and blood stored in his spatial ring, but it was all dead. Preserved.

For long-term survival, they needed something sustainable. Livestock. A proper breeding facility.

And that wasn’t all.

PhD needed a lab. Tons of materials. If they were going to keep developing the mechanical zombie army, they’d need serious infrastructure.

Ethan had even handed over the Lightsaber for research. If PhD could figure out how to mass-produce them, they could arm the elite units with their own blades.

Zombie warriors with Lightsabers… just imagining it gave Ethan chills.

But for now, the corpse nest was still in its early stages. There was a long road ahead.

“Isn’t there anything on this planet like Genesis Biotech…?”

…