Bloodveil's crew of zombie underlings rushed forward the moment he stepped off the freighter.

"Boss, this aircraft is sick!"

"Of course it is. Big, isn't it?" Bloodveil said, puffing out his chest.

"Big? It's massive!" The zombies nodded enthusiastically.

Bloodveil grinned wider. "This baby came straight off a Dreadnought-class Starcruiser. Top-tier tech. The Heartland Zombie Kings used it before. Your boss here? Took it from them—fair and square."

"Whoa… badass." The underlings looked genuinely impressed. Anything that came from the Heartland Zombie Kings had an automatic aura of prestige. And if Bloodveil had managed to jack it from them? That just made him look even more powerful.

Seeing the admiration in their eyes, Bloodveil was beyond satisfied. This was the kind of respect he expected as the Overlord of Eastreach. His swagger was fully restored.

But not everyone was buying it.

One of the Zombie Kings squinted at the freighter, scratching his chin. "Boss… I dunno. Compared to the one Overlord of Southvale had… this one kinda looks like a downgrade."

"Huh?" Bloodveil shot him a sideways glare. You just had to open your damn mouth. Without missing a beat, he changed the subject. "Forget that. We've got bigger problems. That little stunt we pulled? Pissed off the Overlords of Heartland. They're hunting us now. So we need to lay low."

"What?! Where are we supposed to go?" The other Zombie Kings looked alarmed.

Bloodveil had already thought this through.

Eastreach bordered Xenorift. If he wanted to keep his crew alive, he had no choice but to head there—even if it meant walking into danger.

"We're going to Xenorift."

"..."

Same destination as Ethan—but for a very different reason.

The Bulk Freighter could only carry a limited number of zombies. The rest—thousands of elite undead—would have to march on foot. And to get there, they'd need to cross the treacherous Razorback Ridge, a brutal stretch of terrain filled with hazards and deathtraps.

This was Bloodveil's own path. His own gamble.

"Alright, no time to waste. Move out!"

With the order given, the Zombie Kings of Eastreach sprang into action, rallying their forces and leading their hordes out of the hive. The long, grueling journey toward Xenorift had begun.

And just like that, the three members of the so-called "Backstabbing Alliance" vanished from Necroterra—gone without a trace, like ghosts swallowed by the wind.

In the days that followed, the Heartland Zombie Horde swept across the continent like a plague.

They started with Frostmere, tearing through it like it was made of paper. No resistance, no challenge—just pure destruction.

The Heartland Zombie Kings and their elite troops were riding high.

"Heh! After all these years, and still no one out here worth fighting."

"This is getting boring."

"Can't be helped. The other regions' zombies just don't measure up."

"..."

They were ruthless, unstoppable. Even though most of what they were killing were just fodder, their rampage sent shockwaves across Necroterra—leaving a trail of carnage and terror in their wake.

When the Overlords of Heartland made a move, the entire continent of Originis trembled.

Even across the sea, in the far reaches of The Exile Zone, human civilization had picked up on the chaos. Their surveillance systems were on high alert, watching for any sign of a zombie invasion.

But ever since Harren, Howard, and the other top-tier human warriors had fallen in Necroterra, humanity had been in a deep slump. The grief still hung heavy.

The day Howard and the others died, the Alliance lowered its flag to half-mast.

A gesture of mourning.

At the heart of the Human Alliance were the Seven Great Houses. With Howard, Serah, Gareth, and Tharen all dead, only three remained.

Claire, now the de facto leader, had taken over the Alliance's operations. She was constantly overwhelmed, juggling crisis after crisis, clearly out of her element.

"Ugh… I told them not to go to Necroterra. But nooo, they had to play hero. And now look—none of them came back. And I'm stuck cleaning up this mess," Claire muttered, her tone light and sarcastic.

But deep in her eyes, behind the sharp wit and cool demeanor, there was a flicker of sorrow. A pain she didn't let anyone see.

Just then, a young girl stepped gracefully into the room. She wore a flowing blue dress that swayed with her every step, revealing smooth, pale legs beneath the hem. The fabric fluttered like the wings of a butterfly, delicate and full of life.

Her features bore a striking resemblance to Claire's—same elegant brows, same flawless beauty. Her wide, sparkling eyes shimmered with innocence, giving her an almost ethereal charm.

"Mom, I heard there's chaos breaking out in Necroterra!" she said, her voice light but urgent.

Claire's eyes narrowed. "Why? What are you thinking?"

The girl shook her head quickly. "Nothing, really. I was just wondering… if Howard and Harren had gone now, during all this chaos, maybe they could've taken down that Zombie King?"

"No," Claire said flatly. "They would've died even more horribly."

"Oh…" The girl pouted, clearly unconvinced but not willing to argue.

Claire gave her a sharp look. "Aria, I'm telling you—stay home. Don't even think about messing with zombies. That kind of thinking will get you killed."

"Mom, I'm the number one student at Pinnacle Academy. Top of my class in both combat and academics. A bunch of my classmates have already gone to Necroterra for field training. And me? I've never even seen a zombie. Doesn't that seem a little ridiculous?"

Claire raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you go visit Trent?"

"Uh… that…" Aria's expression froze. Her brows furrowed, and she looked like she'd just bitten into something sour.

"Trent counts as a zombie???"

If Howard were still alive to hear that, he'd probably claw his way out of his grave just to yell at her.

Aria had been Claire's pride and joy since the day she was born. A natural beauty, sweet and clever, Claire had gone to extreme lengths to protect her—mobilizing the family's entire security network to make sure no punk boys got within a hundred miles of her daughter.

And Aria hadn't let her down. She'd grown into the most stunning girl in the Inner City, awakened her powers early, and quickly rose to the top of Pinnacle Academy. She was a once-in-a-century prodigy—brilliant, powerful, and terrifyingly gifted.

"I get what you're saying," Claire said, her tone softening slightly. "But the Hunt Trial in Necroterra has been shut down. That place is off-limits now."

She wasn't about to let her daughter anywhere near that hellhole.

The current outbreak in Necroterra was a nightmare. The monsters there were in a frenzy, tearing through everything in their path. Anyone who went in now would be shredded to pieces—no exceptions.

"Mom, I know you're trying to protect me. I really do. But if you keep shielding me from everything, I'll never see the real world. I'll never learn how to survive on my own," Aria said, her voice calm but firm.

Claire glanced at her, eyes narrowing slightly. "I never said you couldn't train. I said you're not going to Necroterra. The Hunt Trial's location has been changed."

"Oh?" Aria's eyes lit up, curiosity instantly piqued. "Where to?"

Claire paused, thinking.

After Ethan shattered the Skywall and triggered the massive uprising of Outer Zone refugees flooding into the Inner City, the aftermath had been brutal. During the crackdown, many rebels had fled to Xenorift and formed a rogue faction.

Their leader? Ricky.

Since then, his group had been launching raids on human settlements in the Outer Zone—pillaging, burning, recruiting more outlaws into their ranks.

To Claire, they were nothing more than a gang of street thugs from the Outer Zone. No real training, no discipline. Just a bunch of punks playing war. In her eyes, they posed zero threat to someone like Aria.

"The Hunt Trial's been moved to Xenorift," Claire said at last. "You'll go there with your instructors and classmates. Help suppress the rebellion."

...

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