Bloodveil's mind was in chaos, panic clawing at him as he felt death closing in.

Ever since he'd evolved and gained sentience, he'd walked a razor's edge—always cautious, always calculating. He never imagined it would end like this.

But just as the killing blow was about to land, something happened.

A shadowy wisp of soul energy—pitch black and silent—slipped through the air and sank into Tharen's body.

Shlick—

The ice spear in Tharen's hand suddenly veered mid-air, twisting away from its original path.

Serah, still pinning Bloodveil down, felt a sudden chill bloom in her chest.

Her body froze.

Slowly, she looked down.

The tip of the ice spear had pierced clean through her chest, jutting out from her sternum. Blood welled up around it, already beginning to clot in the cold air.

Time stopped.

Serah stood there, stunned, her face frozen in disbelief.

A low, raspy laugh echoed behind her.

"Kehehehehe…"

She turned her head, slowly, as if in a dream.

Tharen's face—no, the thing wearing Tharen's face—was twisted into a grotesque grin. His expression was wrong, inhuman. That wasn't Tharen anymore.

"What…?"

Bloodveil's eyes widened too, his savage gaze filled with confusion.

But then it clicked.

And just like that, his shock turned to elation.

He was alive.

A wave of relief and giddy triumph surged through him—he'd just stared death in the face and walked away.

Shhhk—

Tharen—or whatever was inside him—ripped the bloodstained ice spear free. The blow had gone straight through Serah's heart.

Her body crumpled, slowly collapsing to the ground.

In the distance, Howard and Gareth watched in horror, their eyes going wide, their faces contorting with rage and disbelief.

They hadn't seen it coming. No one had.

"Why?!" Gareth shouted, his voice raw.

But then he felt it—that strange, twisted energy.

"He's being mind-controlled!" Gareth growled, his brow furrowing as he pieced it together.

"What?" Howard's face went pale.

And then they saw it.

A figure emerged from the shadows, slowly approaching.

It was another Zombie King—gaunt limbs, two grotesque heads, both filled with rows of jagged fangs. Its face was a nightmare, twisted and snarling.

"Surprise, assholes! I'm back!" the Two-Headed Zombie King cackled, his voice like nails on a chalkboard, more painful than terrifying.

At the start of the battle, he'd fled the moment he saw the humans roll in with a Dreadnought-class Starcruiser. But on the way out, he'd stumbled across a massive wave of undead reinforcements.

So he changed his plan.

He circled back, hid in the shadows, and waited for the perfect moment to strike.

And it worked.

He'd just taken out an SSS-ranked powerhouse in one move.

"Bastard!" Gareth snarled, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth nearly cracked. Veins bulged on his forehead as fury surged through him.

It was all that monster's doing.

Serah had been his comrade for years—someone who'd fought beside him, bled beside him. They'd survived hell together. And now she was lying dead at his feet, betrayed and murdered.

Memories of their battles, their laughter, their scars—they all came flooding back.

Gareth's eyes turned bloodshot.

"I'LL KILL YOU!"

He roared, unleashing a storm of psychic energy that tore through the air like a hurricane, surging straight at the Two-Headed Zombie King.

But the creature didn't flinch.

Its twin heads grinned wider, eyes glowing with malice.

Soul Reaver Domain!

A wave of pitch-black energy rippled out from its body, spreading like ink in water, swallowing the battlefield in darkness.

Gareth's psychic storm hit the domain—and vanished.

It was like throwing a stone into a bottomless swamp. The energy was gone, absorbed, devoured.

Then came the backlash.

Gareth's mind was hit like a freight train. His thoughts scattered, his consciousness reeled.

"AAAHHH—!"

He screamed, clutching his head, agony twisting his face.

It felt like his soul was being ripped out, piece by piece.

"Gareth!" Howard rushed forward, catching him just before he collapsed.

Gareth shook his head, trying to steady himself. His face was pale, his eyes wide with shock. "That guy's ability… it's not normal. It's twisted."

"Ever seen a psychic-type Absolute Domain?" the Two-Headed Zombie King sneered, smug as hell.

Bloodveil, now back on his feet, stared at the creature in disbelief. He remembered this one—this freak from Frostmere. When they'd first crossed paths, Bloodveil had pegged him as just another SS-class based on his aura.

But now? This was something else entirely.

"You… you're this strong?" Bloodveil asked, suspicion and awe mixing in his voice.

Both heads of the Two-Headed Zombie King turned toward him in perfect sync, four glowing eyes locking onto him. They spoke as one, their voices overlapping in eerie harmony:

"What, you want me to tell you I'm one of the Voidborn Undying too?"

Bloodveil's expression froze.

Of course. Just like Ethan and himself, this bastard had been hiding his true strength all along.

And clearly, he was just as cunning.

"Fine," Bloodveil muttered, nodding slowly. Still, this wasn't bad news. In fact, it was a damn good turn of events. They had another Voidborn Undying on their side now—and he'd just saved Bloodveil's life.

Meanwhile, the psychic clash between Gareth and the Soul Reaver Domain had disrupted the control over Tharen.

He blinked, clarity returning to his eyes.

But in his hand, the ice spear still dripped with blood—Serah's blood.

Her body lay at his feet, eyes wide open, frozen in a final expression of disbelief and pain. She hadn't even had time to close her eyes.

"I… I killed Serah?" Tharen whispered, his voice hollow.

"Yup. That was all you," the Two-Headed Zombie King said with a grin.

The second head chimed in, voice dripping with mockery. "You should've seen her face right before she died. Priceless. Bet she never imagined she'd be killed by someone she trusted."

Clang—

The ice spear slipped from Tharen's hand and hit the ground. He stumbled back a few steps, eyes vacant, the weight of what he'd done crashing down on him.

Guilt hit him like a tidal wave.

"Tharen! Don't listen to him!" Howard shouted. "He's a psychic-type Zombie King—he messes with your mind! He's trying to break you!"

But Tharen barely heard him. His gaze drifted across the battlefield.

Corpses were everywhere, piled high like grotesque monuments. Rivers of blood flowed beneath them.

All around, human soldiers twitched in their final moments, veins bulging, faces twisted in agony—turning.

Their teammates, sobbing and screaming, had no choice but to sever their heads before the transformation completed.

Many of them were just kids—fresh recruits from the academy. This was their first real battle. And it was a massacre.

"No… we can't beat them," Tharen muttered, his voice barely audible. "Maybe… maybe we never should've come here."

His eyes were empty now, his spirit shattered.

"Tharen, no!" Gareth shouted, desperate. "Don't give up! The fight's not over!"

"We're not winning this," Tharen said, shaking his head. "We need to fall back. Look over there."

He pointed toward the Dreadnought-class Starcruiser.

Howard and the others turned to look.

The massive warship hovered at a tilt, its hull scorched and battered. Cannons still fired in bursts, energy blasts lighting up the sky.

But below it, the Zombie Horde was swarming like ants, climbing up thick, vine-like tendrils that had latched onto the ship's hull.

Dozens—no, hundreds—had already made it to the deck.

The Starcruiser was enormous, split into thousands of compartments, but now more than half of it had been overrun.

The remaining Awakeners were fighting tooth and nail, sacrificing everything just to hold the line. The scene was pure tragedy—heroism soaked in blood.

"See that?" Tharen said, his voice rising. "If we lose the Starcruiser, we're all stuck here. We need to get back there—now!"

Without waiting for a response, he turned and sprinted toward the ship.

"Tharen! Get back here!" Howard shouted after him, panic rising in his throat.

...

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