In the days that followed, foreign zombies kept pouring into the U.S., launching wave after wave of harassment attacks.
Sure, the Wormrot Zombie King had been taken out, but that didn't mean the threat was over. According to Logan, the enemy wasn't just one faction—it was an alliance, a coalition of multiple Zombie Kings working together.
Right now, just across the border in a Canadian frontier city, several Zombie Kings had gathered.
Each one radiated a menacing aura, their presence alone enough to make the air feel heavier. Some of them were grotesque fusion monsters—twisted, unnatural, and downright terrifying.
The leader stood tall above the rest, a hulking figure with a slouchy beanie pulled low over his head. The hat was so soaked in dried, blackened blood that its original color was impossible to tell.
His expression was cold, eyes sharp with murderous intent.
"Wormrot's dead."
