CHAPTER 730: TURNS OUT UMBRADRAKE’S THE ONE WE CAN REALLY COUNT ON!

Up ahead, the Carrion Reavers were tearing through the horde like rabid beasts. With razor-sharp claws, they shredded zombies into chunks, stuffing the twitching remains into their mouths and chewing with sickening enthusiasm before swallowing them whole.

But the zombies weren’t going down without a fight. In packs, they lunged at the Reavers, biting and clawing with feral desperation. Some managed to snap a monster’s arm or dislocate a knee, dragging it to the ground through sheer numbers.

Still, the cost was brutal. Most of them didn’t even make it that far—slaughtered before they could do any real damage.

"Don’t panic, I’m here!"

Ragnar stormed in like a living hurricane. He threw a punch forward, and the ground cracked open beneath the force of it. The shockwave blasted through the front line, instantly killing five or six Carrion Reavers.

The pressure on the zombie horde lifted in an instant, and a ripple of relief passed through them.

"Damn, no wonder he’s from Heartland!"

"Dude’s a beast!"

"He’s wrecking those Xenobeasts like it’s nothing!"

"Hell yeah!"

The zombies quickly rallied behind him.

But while Ragnar’s body was a weapon in itself, his attacks were pretty straightforward. As more Carrion Reavers surged forward, it became clear he couldn’t protect everyone. Especially not from those freakishly long tongues—they kept snatching zombies away like frogs catching flies.

Then, a crimson glow lit up the battlefield.

Two streams of blood, thick and serpentine, whipped through the air like living dragons, slicing through the monsters with terrifying precision. In seconds, the area was cleared.

Bloodveil had arrived—and his crowd-control game was on another level.

The zombies didn’t hesitate. They immediately shifted formation, falling in behind Bloodveil.

"Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about—Bloodveil’s the real MVP!"

"Yeah, those freaks can’t even get close!"

"Let’s stick with him and clean house!"

Ragnar watched them switch sides with a deadpan expression. "Wow. That was fast."

Still, he had to admit—Bloodveil really did have the edge when it came to handling groups.

Bloodveil smirked, the corner of his mouth curling up with smug satisfaction.

Who do they think the Overlord of Eastreach is, huh?

Power? Please. Don’t even try to steal the spotlight.

Neither of the two Zombie Kings noticed Ethan, who was casually strolling behind them, completely unbothered. As they tore through the Carrion Reavers, he quietly collected the spoils—crystal cores, corpses, everything.

"They’re just gonna leave all this? Man, that’s generous," Ethan muttered as he walked, and the bodies vanished one by one in his wake.

Hammerhead stood further back, watching in stunned silence.

Is this... really okay?

Most of the Carrion Reavers weren’t high-level. On average, you’d have to kill twenty of them to find a single S-rank among them.

But when an S-rank did show up, it was obvious. Bigger, bulkier, with claws like scythes and teeth like a mouthful of daggers—these were the Elite Reavers.

Ragnar’s eyes scanned the battlefield and locked onto one.

It was surrounded by a swarm of lesser Reavers, but that didn’t faze him. He launched himself forward, fist cocked back.

"Die!"

But just as his punch was about to land, a crushing force surged from behind him—fast, overwhelming, and impossible to ignore. It passed him in a blur and slammed into the cluster of monsters ahead.

The pressure was immense, like a mountain falling from the sky.

The Carrion Reavers froze mid-motion, their bodies trembling violently as they let out strangled howls. Then—boom—they exploded, one after another, blood misting the air.

The Elite Reaver held out the longest, but even it couldn’t withstand the force. With a final shudder, it burst apart in a spray of gore.

Ragnar’s eyes went wide. "What the hell?!"

He’d felt that strange power—raw, suffocating, and completely unfamiliar.

Then he spotted the S-rank crystal core from the Elite Reaver flying through the air, spinning toward him. It wasn’t far. Instinctively, he reached out to grab it.

But just as his fingers brushed the air, the space rippled like water—and the core vanished.

Again.

Exactly like before.

Ragnar’s brow furrowed. He spun around.

And sure enough, there was Ethan, standing not far away, looking as calm as ever.

"You’re stealing S-rank crystal cores now?!" Ragnar snapped, his voice tight with fury.

Ethan didn’t even flinch. Calm as ever, he replied, "Stealing? I killed it. That core’s mine."

"You—!" Ragnar’s fists clenched. "I saw it first!"

Ethan raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, you saw it? So what, that makes it yours?"

That smug look on Ethan’s face made Ragnar’s blood boil. His chest heaved with rage, fists trembling at his sides. This was the second time Ethan had snatched a core right out from under him. His patience was hanging by a thread.

He was a Zombie King from Heartland, damn it. When had he ever been treated like this?

"You want me to rip your crystal core out instead?!"

"Go ahead. Try," Ethan said coolly, completely unfazed.

Ragnar’s jaw tightened, his sharp teeth grinding together. A violent aura surged around him, the pressure of an SSS-rank zombie king building like a storm. He looked ready to throw down.

But before things could explode, Bloodveil rushed over, waving his hands.

"Whoa, whoa, Ragnar! Chill! We’re all here to fight the Xenobeasts, remember? We should be working together, not tearing each other apart."

"But he’s way outta line!"

"Yeah, I get it..." Bloodveil hesitated, clearly caught in the middle. "Look, I’m the one who called everyone here for this hunt, so I’ll take responsibility. But come on, it’s just one S-rank core. Not worth throwing hands over. How about this—you pick one from the monsters I killed. Fair trade?"

Ragnar grunted, still fuming, but after a moment, he nodded. "Fine. Since we’re in Eastreach, I’ll let it slide—for your

sake."

"Haha! Appreciate it, man," Bloodveil said with a relieved laugh.

Crisis averted. The two Zombie Kings had reached a truce.

But then, almost in sync, they both glanced behind them.

"Wait a second..."

They froze.

The battlefield behind them was littered with broken zombie bodies—but not a single Carrion Reaver corpse remained. No crystal cores. No bloodied remains. Nothing.

"Where the hell did all the monsters go?" Ragnar asked, stunned.

"I... I don’t know..." Bloodveil muttered, equally baffled. But then he remembered the earlier disappearing core—and a suspicion clicked into place.

"Don’t tell me..."

He turned his gaze toward Ethan, still disguised as an Umbradrake.

But Ethan didn’t even look their way. He was already far ahead, cutting through the next wave of Carrion Reavers like a scythe through wheat. His Domain of the Dead had expanded, and the sheer force of it was annihilating everything in its path.

The effect was instant and devastating—monsters dropped like flies.

The surrounding zombie horde stared in awe.

"Holy crap..."

"What kind of power is that? It feels even stronger than Bloodveil’s."

"Guys, we’re safer sticking with him."

Without hesitation, the zombies shifted again, abandoning Bloodveil and Ragnar to follow Ethan. He led them straight into the thick of the enemy, carving a path through the Carrion Reavers with terrifying ease.

And he wasn’t just killing—he was targeting the high-level ones, collecting every crystal core as he went.

The zombies didn’t care. As long as the monsters were dying, Ethan was their hero. Their morale skyrocketed.

"Turns out Umbradrake’s the one we can really count on!"

"Yeah, and he’s hot as hell too."

"Those freaks don’t stand a chance!"

"If anyone’s gonna drive the Xenobeasts back to whatever hellhole they crawled out of, it’s him!"

The chatter spread like wildfire through the horde.

Meanwhile, Ragnar and Bloodveil stood frozen, watching the scene unfold with twitching expressions and dead stares.

...