Outpost Base, Institute of Materials Science.
It had become a sacred playground for mad science.
Garry, once a mighty Tier 3 Awakened, now sat rather helplessly in a specially forged metal chair.
Around him clustered a flock of Villager scientists in plain robes, their noses comically large.
He had been duly promoted to their star research specimen.
Still, these folks hadn't done anything too outrageous—only asked him to activate his super-alloy body on schedule each day.
Then they scraped a tiny sample of that miraculous silvery metal off him for study.
"Incredible—absolutely incredible."
A materials Doctor held up a sliver of silvery foil to the high-energy spectrometer and marveled aloud.
"Its atomic lattice is a previously unseen, perfectly stable structure. Hardness, toughness, energy conductivity—all exceed any alloy we know."
"What if..."
Another specialist's eyes blazed with fanaticism.
"Once we crack its composition, we graft it onto an Iron Golem—what then?"
The bold idea sent ripples of excitement through every scientist present.
"Exactly."
"Iron Golems are sturdy, yet against Tier-3-plus foes their defenses still fall short."
"If we coat one with this super-alloy armor..."
"Its combat power would leap to a whole new plane."
Voices rose in fervor as every gaze swung toward the resigned living sample—Garry.
One specialist stepped up and, with utmost gentleness, asked:
"Sir Silver 'Dragon', could you explain the principle behind your super-alloy ability?"
Garry eyed the odd yet insatiably curious Villagers and, not daring to hide anything, answered honestly:
"It's by absorbing energy crystals. After I absorbed large quantities of them, my body gradually gained the power to assimilate metals and convert them into this Super-Alloy Form."
"Absorb crystals, assimilate metals."
The experts silently chewed over those two keywords.
A bolder—and crazier—idea surfaced simultaneously in every mind.
"If we let an Iron Golem absorb energy crystals too, could it awaken a similar power?"
"And it's not just this alloy; we've tested obsidian—its physical defense is near-absolute. No conventional kinetic or energy weapon can scratch it."
"If we could make a golem absorb obsidian, turning it into an obsidian Iron Golem, it would be truly invincible."
At that thought every scientist's breathing turned ragged.
They all knew that, mighty as Iron Golems were, they remained fragile against genuine high-tier enemies.
Which was why Steve had given the Materials Institute a non-negotiable mandate from day one:
"Start with the Iron Golem; spare no cost to forge it tougher armor and sharper weapons."
And now they seemed to have found the road to a godlike body... Elsewhere, inside the Bioscience Institute.
The air was equally taut with tension and anticipation.
George stared gravely at the hologram before him.
It showed gene chains magnified hundreds of millions of times, intricate helices twining.
These genes had been extracted from a Tier-3 strength-type Zombie and several captured lightning-fast Tier-2 Mutated Zombies.
"Found it—right there."
George pointed to a crimson-tinged gene segment that clearly differed from the rest, voice trembling with excitement.
"This Rage Gene is what lets these Zombies smash biological limits and gain such terrifying strength and speed."
"Immediately."
He turned to an assistant and ordered:
"Contact a soldier front-lining in a Zombie body and bring him here. We're attempting our first cross-species gene fusion."
"Yes, sir."
The assistant hurried off.
Right now, though an unprecedented war was brewing on the front, back-line research still held top priority.
Every request had to be fulfilled instantly.
Soon a green-skinned american soldier piloting a Zombie body strode into the apex bio-tech lab.
Doctor George personally drew a syringe of crimson Gene-Fusion Serum from the gene vault.
He took a deep breath, stepped to the Zombie soldier, and slowly injected the agent into its vein.
Every gaze locked onto the soldier.
With Iron Golems and Endermen as the main force, zombies—lacking stats, lacking mechanics, barely even qualified to fight—clearly needed a different kind of upgrade.
The instant the scarlet potion finished entering the Zombie soldier's body,mutation erupted.
"Roar!"
A bestial, pain-wracked howl burst from the soldier's throat.
His previously calm frame convulsed violently.
Under the green skin muscles writhed like living things, dark veins bulging across his body.
"Overload—his Energy Readings are spiking!"
Doctor George saw the Bio-Monitor's needle slam into the red and his face paled.
He barked at the Shadow Marine Warrior on security:
"Get us out—now!"
The Enderman guard reacted in a flash.
The instant he spoke it teleported, space flickering as, in several jumps, every researcher re-materialized hundreds of meters away in the safe zone.
And the moment they vanished, the Rage Gene-injected Zombie underwent a cataclysmic, terrifying transformation.
His two-meter frame began to swell and shoot upward.
Higher—ever higher.
"D-did it work?"
In the distance, George and the others watched that green figure mutating wildly, their voices trembling.
In mere tens of seconds, the Zombie's body had shot up to a staggering seven meters.
Its once-square head grew even more hideous and terrifying, with sharp fangs jutting from its mouth.
"Quick, the energy crystals!"
George suddenly thought of something and roared again.
"Send over every crystal we just extracted!"
A bold hypothesis was surging through his mind.
If these Mutated Zombies could produce energy crystals...
Then the Rage Gene and the special energy inside the crystals had to share an inseparable, mutually reinforcing link.
"Yes, sir!"
A logistics Enderman instantly took a box holding over a hundred milky-white energy crystals from a safe.
With a flash it teleported in front of the mutating Super Zombie and handed over the entire box.
The Super Zombie seemed to catch the alluring scent of energy emanating from the crystals.
Lowering its head, it glanced at the box with crimson eyes.
Without hesitation it gulped down all hundred-plus crystals in one go.
"How do you feel?"
George asked urgently over the comms.
"Any discomfort?"
"Sir."
US Soldiers piloting that monstrous body sounded stunned and incredulous.
"No discomfort at all—only endless, inexhaustible strength."
As the hundred crystals fully dissolved inside him, a purer, wilder aura than any Tier 3 Zombie had ever exuded erupted skyward.
"This aura—it's identical to a Tier 3 Zombie!"
A researcher cried out.
Under that vast energy, the Super Zombie's mutation entered its final phase.
When the dust settled, a fifteen-meter titan stood before them, skin like green armor.
Muscles coiled like mountain ranges, a monster of terror.
"Quick, test your new abilities!"
George's voice brimmed with excitement.
"Roger!"
The soldier controlling the Super Zombie focused his thoughts.
Boom!
The colossal body shot forward at a speed its size should never possess.
The earth quaked beneath its feet.
With a simple downward punch—
Thud!
A heaven-shaking roar exploded.
Around the impact, the hard ground shattered instantly.
Bottomless cracks spread like ravenous pythons in every direction.
"Incredible—too strong!"
George stared at the apocalyptic devastation.
His whole being burned with scientific fervor.
"And this is only after fusing third-rank strength-Zombie genes!"
His eyes blazed.
"If we capture fourth-, fifth-, even stronger mutants and inject all their Rage Genes into this body..."
"We could craft an unstoppable juggernaut capable of flattening the entire World Zeta."
Watching the Super Zombie adapt, George's fever cooled into deeper contemplation.
"We must reverse-engineer and mass-produce this Rage Gene."
He scribbled frantically in his lab notebook.
"And those energy crystals—snatching ordinary Zombies for extraction is far too slow."
"A hundred-to-one ratio against endless hordes is a drop in the ocean; Zombies are finite—what then?"
"We must crack the crystal's molecular structure and achieve industrial synthesis; only then can our super legions multiply without end."
Three hours later.
A heavy rocket lifted off, placing US' first military recon satellite into low orbit above the World Zeta.
Though its signal might be captured by the three other tech-savvy survivor bases and expose America's presence...
Steve and General Randy no longer cared.
From the moment the Super Zombie experiment succeeded, America's strategy shifted from stealth to absolute dominance.
If truly unreasonable powerhouses or tide-level hordes appeared, America still had its final card—mushroom planting.
They could simply nuke the world flat.
After all, for Overworld npcs, radiation hurts less than a Skeleton's arrow.
On this empty wasteland, a world without living humans is still a kind of unification... With nationwide reinforcements in place, the Sonic Center's perimeter was now an iron barrel; not even a fly could slip through.
On the ground stretched endless obsidian walls, tens of thousands of heavy-gun emplacements, and Nuclear-powered Tank battalions ready to roll.
Atop the walls sat shulker boxes holding special bottles filled with mysterious liquids.
In the sky, tens of thousands of massive golems were arrayed in a precise formation.
Their flat heads linked into floating combat platforms high above the ground.
Not just for fire support, but also to give flightless Iron Golems a temporary aerial foothold during joint operations.
Time ticked by.
With the satellite's sky-eye, Steve sat in the Command Center watching red torrents converge from every direction, his face stern.
Suddenly the distant drumming of running feet grew clearer.
"Here they come."
On the horizon, amid clouds of dust, a grotesque Mutated Zombie galloped on all fours, its limbs long and slender, its face twisted, speed shocking as it outpaced the tide far behind.
Behind it stretched an endless sea of ordinary Zombies interspersed with building-sized giants, while overhead dark clouds of winged flying Zombies shrieked.
"Attention—first wave incoming."
Steve locked onto the Mutated Zombie charging at the front, a glint flashing in his eyes.
"Decent speed on that one—perfect for a warm-up."
He barked the order into the comm channel.
"Front-line, dispatch one Iron-Shadow Squad to test current synergy. Everyone else holds fire. After the horde is split by the trench, commence saturation bombardment."
"Roger."
Outside the obsidian wall.
The nimble-type Mutated Zombie leading the charge had already reached the Hundred-Meter Chasm America had carved ahead.
Faced with this natural moat, it roared, coiled its hind legs, and vaulted skyward, tracing a parabolic arc dozens of meters long in an attempt to clear the gap outright.
Just as it hung mid-air—old momentum spent, new not yet born—
"Execute."
The command dropped in an instant.
On the wall, an Enderman warrior who had long been poised shot out his long arm and wrapped it around the Iron Golem that had been waiting beside him.
Violet light exploded.
Whoosh!
In the next second, one black, one iron, vanished into thin air.
When they reappeared, they had crossed dozens of kilometers, teleporting directly in front of the leaping Mutated Zombie still airborne.
No wasted words.
Using the momentum of the teleport, the Iron Golem cradled in those arms raised its colossal steel fist and delivered a plain, bone-crushing punch at the zombie's hideous skull.
The Mutated Zombie reacted with lightning speed; mid-air it twisted its spine at a grotesque angle, barely—just barely—dodging the fatal blow.
"Dodged?"
The warrior controlling the Enderman curled a cold smile.
"Move."
Whoosh!
One miss, no lingering.
The instant the zombie's claws slashed, the Enderman vanished again with the Iron Golem.
The zombie's claws met only air; it had just landed and hadn't regained balance when—
Suddenly—
A suffocating pressure descended from directly above.
Terrified, it looked up: the steel titan had been teleported by that black wraith ten meters above its head.
Thirty-one tonnes of mass plus gravitational acceleration.
"Roar!"
Soul nearly leaving its body, the Mutated Zombie hurled itself sideways in a frantic roll.
Boom!!
The Iron Golem slammed where it had stood, the hard ground detonating into a hail of stone shrapnel and a crater meters wide.
Though not a direct hit, the shockwave still hurled the zombie tumbling for a dozen meters, dazed and bloodied.
Before it could rise—
Whoosh!
Violet light flashed a third time.
The Enderman reappeared beside it with the Iron Golem.
This time, luck ran out.
"Die for me!"
With a roar the Iron Golem drove its mountain-splitting fist, wind howling, straight into the half-risen zombie.
Cornered, the zombie shrieked and raised both arms to block.
Crack!!
A crisp fracture, a wet thud of flesh bursting.
Its hardened arms snapped like dry twigs, exploding into a mist of blood and bone shards.
The unstoppable force smashed into its chest, blasting the zombie away.
"Hell yeah!"
"This combo is broken-level."
This blink-and-you-miss-it, ignore-distance, ignore-defense, hit-anywhere tactic felt better than anything the pilot had ever experienced.
The agility-type Mutated Zombie, half its body shattered, was still airborne when—
Two violet spatial ripples flickered behind it.
Two clean-up Shadow Marine Warriors materialized without expression, four long arms clamping the dying mutant in an iron grip.
Without hesitation the violet light flashed again.
They vanished from the battlefield, zombie in tow.
Straight to the dissection tables where the Biologists had been waiting, ravenous for samples.
To America, this was no longer an enemy—just priceless Rage Gene material.
Meanwhile, on the distant horizon.
The earth's original brown had been swallowed by a boundless, scalp-numbing black tide.
Endless hordes, answering Sonic Wave's call, slammed toward America's defense line with world-erasing momentum.
Amid that tsunami of common undead, countless terrifying special mutants jutted out like reefs in an ocean.
Some elephantine, others loping on all fours like leopards, each displaying its own powers as they howled into the charge.
The bottomless chasm wall blocked the common zombies but not these evolved monsters.
Some vaulted over with horrific leaps; others clung to the rock face, sprinting to cross the abyss.
As for the millions of ordinary zombies—
bereft of reason, driven only by instinct toward the Sonic Wave source—
pressed from behind by the endless tide, the front ranks couldn't help themselves and plunged like dumplings into the fathomless pit.
"Aaaargh!"
Shrieks echoed in the abyss.
Yet what awaited them wasn't a pulverizing death.
At the bottom of the chasm,
thousands of Endermen had long been waiting.
The moment a zombie fell, they precisely caught it an instant before impact, then teleported away.
Packed off into the obsidian cages at the rear, raw material for processing.
The whole dance flowed like water; not a single zombie was wasted, every one becoming fuel for the Energy Extractors.
Inside the Command Center, Steve watched the screen, the corner of his mouth lifting.
"How's this any different from a Mob Spawner Tower?" he murmured.
"Only swapped the kill mechanism for a recycling unit, that's all."
As long as the Sonic Wave keeps blaring, this place is an inexhaustible resource mine.
But for the Mutated Zombies that crossed the pit and tried to breach the line, what waited was true hell on earth.
"Open fire!"
At the order,
the steel torrent, primed and ready, roared to the multiverse.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
At that moment the earth quaked and the sky burned.
Thousands of Nuclear-powered Tanks, thousands of long-range rocket launchers, and the dense artillery batteries behind them all spat tongues of apocalyptic flame at once.
The watchword is simple: blanket firepower.
What's that about tactical infiltration?
Precision sniping, you say?
Not needed.
Within this range lies the domain of truth.
Countinous heavy-caliber shells, high-explosive grenades, even incendiary specials rained like a storm onto the horde across the Deep Pit in an indiscriminate, carpet-style saturation strike.
Explosions merged into a wall of flame dozens of meters high.
Mutated Zombies that had just leapt the pit, still clawing through the air, were slammed by several—or dozens—of shells before they could touch ground.
BOOM!
The kinetic fury and searing heat shredded them mid-air.
They became a crimson rain of mince and gore—no intact bone survived.
As for the ultra-tough Tier-3 mutants trying to tank the barrage, the US showed them extra courtesy.
With satellites overhead and strategic deterrence in place, Steve and General Randy held nothing back.
"Missile units—fire at will."
WHOOSH!
tactical missiles no longer launched in stingy pairs but in volleys of dozens, even hundreds, roaring from their carriers.
Howling, they homed in on clusters of high-tier zombies.
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM!!
Giant mushrooms of smoke and flame blossomed across the battlefield.
Some mutants hadn't even cleared the pit before they tasted the apocalyptic overpressure of dozens of blasts.
Against that planet-shredding shockwave, the Tier-3s' proud armor proved paper-thin.
Skin and bone vaporized in the inferno.
It was a massacre of total disparity.
Industrial civilization's dimensional smash on biological mutation.
Above, the sky battle proved equally brutal—and spectacular.
"Scree—!"
Thousands of flying Mutated Zombies, a Daniels-blotting swarm, dived at the line, hoping to breach from above.
What greeted them was an even bleaker storm of fire.
Ten-thousand-odd automated, radar-locked CIWS and countless AA machine-gun nests opened up the instant lock-on was achieved.
Bzzzt!
Crimson tracer chains wove an airtight web of death, shredding the very sky.
Tens of thousands of rounds per minute turned those CIWS into abattoirs.
Any flying zombie brushing the web—even a graze—
was punctured into a sieve in a heartbeat.
Some simply burst into clouds of blood mid-air.
Corpses rained down, only to be re-pulverized by the curtain of shells, reduced to even tinier scraps.
The multiverse delivered a foul crimson shower.
The battlefield shook to the roar of cannons, the thunder of missiles, the ripping of rotary guns.
Before this steel torrent capable of flattening everything, the so-called tide of corpses, the vaunted evolution, looked pale and impotent.
This was America's live demonstration of curing "insufficient-firepower-phobia."
On the front, the barrage still rolled without end.
Behind the Abyssal Wall, America's fire-net had woven an impassable no-man's-land.
Yet beyond the boundless tide, packs of terrifying, varied Tier-3 mutants halted.
Bloodthirsty though they were, the molten-steel heat and blast-waves woke something primal.
Survival instinct rooted them in place; they prowled and fidgeted outside the curtain of ruin, their charge stalled cold.
Right then—
Wuuung!
A mysterious Sonic Wave from the city center swept past without warning.
"ROAR!"
The hesitating Tier-3s stiffened, eyes flooding with struggle and agony.
On one side, the wave's gene-deep summons; on the other, the sky-filling missiles promising death.
The two wills tore through them, contorting every movement.
Yet the hunger to evolve overrode dread; howling, they lurched onward through the artillery curtain.
"Instinct putting up a fight?"
Inside the Command Center, Steve watched the greedy yet cringing high-tiers flash a gleam of insight.
"Since these Tier-3s fear death, stop the missiles."
He issued the order at once.
"Blast them to ash and where will I get crystals and body parts? Clear out the sub-Tier-2 trash; send Shadow-Blades and Iron-Shadow units to net the Tier-3s alive—or at least bring back whole corpses."
"Yes, Sir."
The missile carriers quit their barrage the instant the command landed.
"golems—advance."
In the sky, tens of thousands of bulky white golems drifted forward like floating clouds.
Custom saddles had been fixed onto their broad, flat heads.
And on many, fully automated AA cannons bristled with tech.
Dadadada!
Before the golems even met the foe, the AA cannons thundered.
A sweep of shells cleared the airspace, shredding low-tier fliers and carving a clean stage for the Iron Golems.
At that moment a Tier-3 aerial mutant—five-meter wingspan, bone-spiked—
shrieked, slipped the AA fire, and stooped at a lone golem at terrifying speed.
Its talons glinted, aiming to rip the huge white balloon apart.
Yet, heartbeats before impact—
violet light exploded atop the golem.
An Enderman, hugging a heavy Iron Golem, blinked into existence.
No longer an attacker, the golem had become the perfect
aerial platform.
The warrior within the Iron Golem roared; the moment he materialized, that colossal Specter cannon-balled straight at the diving zombie.
The Tier-3 twisted mid-air, barely dodging the skull-shattering punch.
Missed.
"Trying to flee? You won't be coming back!"
The Specter warrior sneered.
The Enderman holding him sprang off the soft yet springy Evil-Spirit crown.
Enhancement Agent had pushed the Enderman far beyond raw strength—hauling an Iron Golem through a mid-air leap was child's play.
Using the recoil, the pair shot after the just-evading zombie.
The Enderman's legs launched from the golem's soft, elastic crown, sending both warriors streaking toward their prey.
#65The white zombies went berserk.Nicole
Chapter 65 – White Zombie Goes Berserk
Seeing the distance was still too great, the Zombie was about to swipe back.
Purple light flashed again.
The Enderman, hugging the Iron Golem, actually triggered a second mid-air teleport.
This time they didn't appear beside the Zombie; instead they re-materialised hundreds of metres away, directly above an golem that had already adjusted its position.
A new foothold regained.
Momentum recharged.
Then another slingshot launch.
The sky full of golems now looked like a three-dimensional aerial hopscotch board.
And the Endermen and Iron Golems were the pieces that jumped around at will, appearing and disappearing without pattern.
"Go, kill it."
As the order came through the command channel, more Endermen below—each cradling an Iron Golem—received the signal.
Whoosh!
Purple flashes began to strobe wildly across the sky.
Hundreds of Iron-Shadow Teams used the airborne golems as stepping-stones, pulling violet after-images through the air and instantly surrounding the Tier-Three Flying Zombie.
One second it dodged the Specter in front; the next, spatial ripples flickered behind it and another Iron Golem teleported to its back, smashing down hard.
Left! Right! Above! Below!
Purple light everywhere, steel fists everywhere.
The Tier 3 Zombie couldn't even catch an enemy's shadow before the opponents—who had turned teleportation and aerial leverage into an art—crippled both its wings in mid-air and blasted it toward the ground.
Waiting below the falling Zombie was an Enderman spreading its arms.
This was the first Tier-Three Flying Zombie; its genes were extremely valuable research material for Overworld creatures.
"Holy crap…"
"That was awesome!"
At that moment, tens of thousands of newly enlisted US Soldiers who had just linked into World Zeta and possessed golems watched through first-person view.
What happened right above and beside them left them dumbstruck.
They had received emergency training and knew they were to serve as aerial platforms and fire-support carriers.
But never in their wildest dreams had they imagined a battle could be fought like this.
Was this the perfect fusion of technology and mutation?
Was this the legendary special-tactics coordination?
Watching their Friends control Endermen and Iron Golems, skimming a kilometre above ground as if it were solid earth, using their own bodies as pivot points for all kinds of incredible teleport-kills and slaughtering once-invincible tier-three monsters like circus monkeys,
an unprecedented excitement and yearning ignited wildly in these recruits' hearts.
Too strong.
And way too cool.
"Once I'm good enough, I'm gonna apply to pilot a Gundam—this is a man's romance; floating around like a balloon is lame!"
A soldier controlling an golem, having just watched someone step off his head and teleport away, shouted from the bottom of his heart.
Yet the aerial hunt had only just begun.
As the golem platforms kept advancing, the violet-and-steel net spread outward from this point, heading toward the entire Tier 3 Zombie horde.
Above the clouds, after the last batch of flying Zombies trying to block them was shredded by anti-air fire, the massive golem fleet finally floated unhindered directly over the ground-based Tier 3 Zombies.
A colossal shadow fell.
"Coordinates confirmed, altitude confirmed."
At the command channel's order, countless purple lights began flashing frantically across the broad, flat heads of the golems.
Thousands of Shadow Marine Warriors, each hugging a heavy steel titan, teleported in.
This time they weren't simply letting go as they had back at base.
After injections of Enhancement Serum had quintupled their strength, these Enderman warriors glanced at the dense Zombie crowd below, a savage glint in their eyes.
"Go down!!"
With a unified roar, the Endermen on the golems' heads bent their knees, every muscle tightening to the limit before exploding upward.
Instead of releasing their grip, they hurled the 31-ton Iron Golems like shot-puts, using all their might to slam them toward the ground.
Boom!
The air was torn apart.
Already terrifying under gravity alone, the Iron Golems—now given this monstrous initial thrust—broke the sound barrier in their descent.
Over a thousand steel bodies, trailing earsplitting sonic booms, turned into a true, apocalyptic meteor shower of steel.
At that instant the ground-level atmosphere seemed compressed to its limit by the fearsome might.
The Tier 3 Zombies still hesitating below looked up in horror; they no longer saw sky—only a rapidly enlarging, friction-reddened steel canopy.
Rumble—!
The earth let out a pained groan.
The moment the first Iron Golem touched down it was like a bunker-buster detonating.
A gigantic shock-wave of rock and soil rolled up a dirt surge dozens of metres high.
Ordinary Zombies at ground zero didn't even have time to scream; they were ground into meat paste by the indescribable force and fused into the scorched earth.
Yet the ordinary Zombies lucky enough to survive ignored the steel gods that had dropped from the sky.
Their cloudy eyes focused only on the source of the Sonic Wave; even as their kin were splattered across them, they detoured around the Iron Golems and kept sprinting toward the Deep Pit, where Endermen below reclaimed them.
But for the intelligent Tier-Three Mutants, this was utter catastrophe.
"Roar—"
A massive Strength-Type Tier-Three Zombie, seeing the black shadow plummeting straight at it, flashed a hint of despair.
It roared and tried to dodge sideways, but the steel rain was too fast, too dense.
As soon as one Iron Golem was thrown the next filled the gap.
It had barely stepped aside when the accelerated Iron Golem crashed down.
Thud.
A dull impact.
No suspense whatsoever.
The indestructible feet of the Iron Golem stamped squarely onto the Zombie's spine.
The terrifying kinetic energy erupted, nailing the once-defence-defying mutant into the hard ground like a spike.
The earth cracked; half the Tier 3 Zombie's body was instantly pulped, pinned and motionless, black viscera spraying from its mouth.
Before it could struggle, the Iron Golem straightened in the crater, red light flashing in its eyes as a huge steel palm, laden with killing intent, swiped straight at the Zombie's still-roaring head.
Squelch!
Like crushing a watermelon.
The Tier 3 Zombie's skull burst in an instant.
The Iron Golem's blood-soaked hand plunged into the gore and, with surgical precision, grabbed.
A white energy crystal—one size larger than normal and blazing with light—was pinched between its fingers.
Without even glancing, the Iron Golem tossed the crystal behind it.
Whoosh!
A streak of purple light flashed at the perfect moment.
A logistics Enderman materialized out of thin air.
It caught the crystal cleanly, then scooped up the mangled yet still priceless Tier 3 corpse.
Another flash of violet.
Corpse and crystal vanished without a trace, teleported straight to the rear resource depot.
From the sky-splitting kill to crystal retrieval to full salvage, the entire flow wasted not a single second.
It was a flawless exhibition of violence elevated to art—resource plunder at its apex.
On the front line, US army's assembly-line farming had already made the battle feel routine.
Yet just hours into the encirclement, when everyone assumed the grind would stay dull—
BOOM!!!
Without warning, an energy wave ten times more terrifying than anything before swept in from the distance.
The earth quaked.
At the horizon's edge, a colossal shadow rose, so huge it stole one's breath.
A titan over thirty metres tall.
Every step it took triggered a mini-quake.
Its body sheathed in ink-black bone armour, its aura felt almost solid.
[Beep! Beep! Beep! Critical Alert!]
[Ultra-high-energy life-form detected! Energy class: Tier 4!]
Inside the Command Center, shrill alarms filled every corner.
Red warning windows blanketed every screen.
Steve and General Randy stared at the walking titan on the monitor; both faces darkened, brows locked.
"Tier 4…"
General Randy's voice turned grave.
"That size, that pressure—it dwarfs the Tier-3-peak Tyrant we wore down earlier by more than a notch."
They had burned plenty of tricks to grind that Tyrant to death.
Against this skyscraper-level Tier 4, conventional tactics were already useless.
But the next second, Steve's eyes blazed with unprecedented greed.
"So what if it's Tier 4?"
He glared at the screen, voice icy.
"Its gene is priceless. If we kill it and extract the Tier-4 Rage Gene, once we mass-produce it we'll have an army of Tier 4 Zombies."
"Throw everything we've got—pile it till it dies."
Steve swept his arm.
"All halted missile units on the front, lock onto that Tier 4 Zombie. Fire—cost is no object."
"Yes, sir!"
With the order, the silent launch vehicles roared back to life.
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!!!
A sky-full of tactical missiles trailed long flames and rained down on the Tier 4 Zombie.
Yet this time the result sent every heart plummeting.
Boom-boom-boom!
Blinding explosions swallowed the titan.
When the smoke cleared, the Tier 4 Zombie still stood.
Its black bone shell hadn't even cracked under bunker-busting blasts.
With a casual swipe it batted several incoming missiles out of the air, detonating them mid-flight.
"That defence… it's despair-inducing."
Inside the Command Center someone hissed in shock.
Spirits sank; conventional firepower couldn't handle this foe.
"Looks like we'll have to count on it."
Steve drew a deep breath and opened a channel to the Biological Research Institute.
"George, how's that Zombie doing?"
Over the comm came Doctor George's ecstatic voice, backed by the roar of machines.
"Almost ready! We just finished extracting Rage Genes from several speed-type and flyer-type Tier 3 Zombies captured up front—final fusion calibration in progress."
"Good."
Steve nodded.
"Until then we'll keep it busy with tech weapons. Your side, spare no cost—push that thing to its absolute peak."… Biological Research Institute, Core Lab.
The fifteen-metre-tall Super Zombie stood motionless inside the giant enhancement tank.
Its massive frame nearly brushed the lab ceiling; green muscles pulsed with terrifying power.
Around it, countless purple shulker boxes lay open in towering heaps.
"Hurry, pour it all in!"
George looked less like a rigorous scientist and more like a fanatical alchemist.
Enderman operators pulled multicoloured Overworld potions from the shulker boxes.
Swiftness!
Strength!
Healing!
Even in the Minecraft World these buff potions were priceless.
Now they gushed like tap water, bottle after bottle, straight into the Super Zombie's maw.
Glug-glug!
As the potions flooded in, the Zombie's body erupted in a riot of coloured particles, buff durations stacking frantically.
Meanwhile crate after crate of energy crystals—fresh from the Energy Extractors—were dumped before it.
The Super Zombie devoured handfuls of crystals like roasted beans, crunching them to dust.
Crunch-crunch!
The energy signature inside its body sky-rocketed.
"Still not enough—more!"
George roared.
"Bring every vat of freshly-made Enhancement Liquid—use it all!"
Originally this precious liquid had been reserved for the Endermen.
With their teleport mechanics, a stat boost would make them nearly unstoppable.
But earlier tests showed the Endermen's gene structure too unique: incompatible with the Zombie-virus-derived Rage Gene; forced fusion meant total collapse.
Only a Zombie of the same origin could perfectly carry this berserker power.
Enderman evolution would have to wait; for now, this Zombie was their sole hope.
Several huge barrels of red Enhancement Liquid were pumped straight into the Super Zombie via pipes.
"Roar!"
Under the combined catalyst of Overworld potions, energy crystals, Rage Gene mutations and body-enhancement tech.
The Super Zombie's aura finally breached the critical point.
Its frame grew taller again; metallic scales began threading across its skin.
A visible trait of the multi-gene fusion.
Watching the monster's horrific aura, George and every researcher nearby flushed with near-religious fervour.
"Innate talent lacking? No matter."
George gazed at his howling masterpiece and murmured,
"Then… let mutation make up the difference!"
Inside the Bio-lab, George watched the hulking Zombie in front of him chug buff potions as if they were water.
Beside it sat an oddly shaped shulker box; the moment the lid opened, blinding golden light flooded the entire lab.
Inside were countless palm-sized, golden figurines etched with mysterious patterns—Minecraft's divine item, the Totems of Undying.
After all, it was about to clash head-on with a terrifying Tier 4 Zombie; Steve naturally wanted every safeguard maxed out.
With these Totems, even if the Tier 4 Zombie could one-shot, a totem would block the fatal blow and grant powerful regeneration.
It was like giving this super-creature endless lives—grinding the enemy down by sheer attrition.
Watching the Zombie absorb the potions until its body peaked, George waved and shouted.
"Hold up—stop chugging. Final step: let's add these genes."
With that, several syringes—long since refined and glowing with danger—were slowly pushed into the Zombie by mechanical arms.
They contained Speed-type and Flight-type Rage Genes harvested from Tier 3 Zombies on the battlefield.
Sss!
As the gene fluid entered, the mountain-solid Zombie convulsed, muscles seemingly detonating inside.
"Roar!"
With a tearing howl, the muscles on its back bulged and split.
Shluck.
A pair of colossal green wings, dripping blood, burst out of its body.
Spanning over fifteen meters, the wing membranes were laced with savage, razor-sharp bone spikes that glinted coldly.
At the same time, its originally bloated, hill-like muscle blocks shrank—tightening.
Yet this wasn't a loss of strength; it was the distillation of essence.
The once bulky frame became long and streamlined, every fiber like high-tensile steel cables coiled for power.
An even more terrifying, suffocating aura erupted from its body.
"Roar!"
A long howl rolled out, shaking the multiverse.
In the Command Center, Steve watched the screen—this reborn ultimate weapon—eyes glinting sharply.
He glanced at General Randy beside him, the man barely able to contain his excitement, and smiled faintly.
"Randy, want to pilot this body yourself?"
General Randy froze, pointing at himself.
"Me?"
Steve nodded solemnly.
"Yes—this is the strongest combat power we've built with so many resources."
Steve paused and grinned.
"I know you drop by the Link Center to pilot creatures for fun; you love charging into battle. But for the bigger picture you're stuck here with me."
"Now that we've got something this strong, only your experience can draw out its full might."
Called out, General Randy flushed slightly, yet battle fire blazed in his eyes.
He pondered a second, then nodded firmly, voice ringing.
"Fine—let me test that beast."
Without delay he turned and headed straight for the nearest Soul Link Center.
With Steve's help, General Randy's consciousness crossed dimensions and crashed into the Super Zombie's body.
The instant he took control, an indescribable, world-shattering power flooded every thought.
General Randy flexed the massive claws, feeling the oceanic energy racing inside.
He almost believed that with one punch he could blow apart a mountain before him.
"This… is absolute power?"
At will, he flapped the wings on his back.
Whoosh!
Gale-force winds toppled lab equipment.
His huge frame lifted off the ground, frighteningly fast.
Realizing the ceiling loomed, he hovered mid-air, tamping down the urge to shoot skyward.
Steve's voice crackled from the screen, expectant.
"Randy, grab the Totems and launch—let's see whether US tech-mutation beats that Tier 4 Zombie's evolution."
Hovering, General Randy nodded, crimson eyes burning.
He swept a giant hand at the prepared supply pile.
Dozens of purple shulker boxes stuffed with Totems vanished instantly.
Boom!
With a dull sonic boom, a dark-green after-image shot through the lab's alloy gate.
Out in the broad base yard, he tasted gunpowder-tinged air and willed his body.
Rustle.
Flesh stretched audibly.
The folded, hideous wings snapped fully open to either side.
Spanning more than thirty meters.
A vast shadow blotted the ground like a cloud.
Veins bulged on the wings; bone spikes glinted along the edges.
What Zombie was this?
It was a fallen angel descended to earth.
"Up."
General Randy commanded the explosive body.
Legs bent slightly, then the long limbs stamped the earth.
BANG!!
The hard ground spider-webbed for meters, rubble flying.
Propelled by that force, the huge form rocketed skyward.
High above, the sky-blotting wings beat.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Air compressed and detonated.
Visible white shockwaves blasted rearward, whipping up dust storms.
With thunderous sonic booms General Randy became a green streak.
Tearing the sky, he shot toward the frontline dozens of kilometers away.
Fast—
Unimaginably fast!
He outpaced even America's Armed Helicopters, a green lightning bolt ripping across the firmament.
Meanwhile, the frontline battlefield looked like a living hell.
tactical missiles filled the sky, raining down like a storm that cost nothing, still pouring frantically onto the Tier 4 Zombie.
The roar of explosions rolled on without end, flames shot sky-high, and smoke billowed.
Yet, despairingly, the thirty-meter-tall Tier 4 Corpse King strode on like a moving fortress.
It shrugged off the saturation bombing that could flatten a city; its steps were slow but never stopped.
The pitch-black bone armor, though scorched, never cracked.
Ignoring the churning sea of fire around it, it dragged its heavy feet—step by step—crushing everything in its path, unstoppably toward the Abyssal Great Wall.
Every american soldier watching felt a deep helplessness.
Right then, a savage pressure equal to the Tier 4 Corpse King suddenly crashed down from the multiverse.
Every head instinctively lifted.
A sky-blotting green figure emerged, wrapped in rumbling wind and thunder.
It descended mid-air and gazed upon the mortal world.
From ten thousand meters up, that dark-green silhouette shot down like a comet, carrying world-ending momentum, straight toward the Tier 4 Corpse King.
The american warriors on the ground stared upward, awe and envy filling their eyes.
"So this is the ultimate form of a bio-weapon?"
A young soldier tightened his grip on his rifle and muttered.
"If I could have a body like that, I'd fight this Tier 4 Corpse King myself."
BOOM!!!
With a thunderous crash, General Randy slammed into the earth.
Terrifying power erupted; his long legs, remade by extreme-speed genes, stabbed into the ground like heaven-calming pillars.
In a hundred-meter radius the frozen soil shattered and collapsed, turning to flying dust and rubble.
When the dust settled, the Tier 4 Corpse King's turbid, brutal eyes showed a flicker of human-like doubt.
It glared at this newcomer—smaller yet radiating the same terror.
We're both zombies; sure, you're greener and have wings, but that stench of death is unmistakable.
Why side with those fragile humans to block me?
And it could sense that, though this rival's base aura was only peak Tier 3, several special energies inside him made even the king's heart quail.
General Randy, though, was in no mood for small talk.
"Die, bastard."
With a thought, his leg muscles snapped taut and explosive force maxed out.
Whoosh!
He vanished; speed so great the air couldn't part, leaving only an after-image.
The Tier 4 Corpse King's pupils shrank—before it could lift an arm, the green fist filled its vision.
Such was the terrifying leap granted by multi-gene fusion:
not only the brute strength of a power-type zombie but the extreme speed of a velocity-type.
THUD!
The blow combined the Super Zombie's monstrous force, a strength potion's boost, and energy crystals burning within.
Its power actually matched Tier 4 level.
A deafening blast; a white Sonic Wave rippled outward between them.
The mountain-like Tier 4 Corpse King was punched several steps back, each footfall gouging out a Deep Pit.
"Again."
Seizing the rebound, General Randy lashed out with fists like a tempest.
Boom-boom-boom!!!
A thousand punches in one second.
The sky of fists battered one of the king's arms; the air cracked with sonic booms.
Yet the Tier 4 Corpse King's defense was monstrous.
Though driven back and its black bone armor chipped, only superficial wounds appeared.
Its hardened muscles soaked the tons of damage.
"ROAR!"
Enraged at being stifled by a smaller kin, the Tier 4 Corpse King abandoned close combat.
It flung open its fang-lined maw.
Deep in its throat, heart-stopping black energy gathered once more.
A thick black laser—able to vaporize steel in an instant—shot straight at the nearby General Randy.
Too close; there was no dodging.
But General Randy, facing the beam of death, only smiled.
"Dodge? Why would I?"
He puffed out his chest—and took it head-on.
Zzzzt!
The fearsome black laser swallowed his body.
In that instant—
crack.
A crisp shatter rang out, then a burst of golden light exploded over General Randy.
[Totem of Undying activated]
In a heartbeat, vast life energy flooded him.
His seared skin healed at once, and a golden resistance-and-regeneration buff layered on.
But the laser was continuous.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Under the beam's onslaught, golden lights burst again and again as Totems of Undying shattered one after another.
Then came a scene that made the Tier 4 Corpse King doubt zombie life.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Dozens of black silhouettes flickered behind General Randy—the standby Enderman logistics squad.
Ignoring the laser's deadly wake, each hugged a stack of gleaming Totems of Undying.
An Enderman teleported behind him, hands a blur, slapping a new Totem squarely onto his back.
The instant it touched, the Totem took effect.
Then a second, a third, a fourth… Laser burned from the front while Totems slapped on from behind.
"Let's see whether your energy runs out first or my Totems do."
The american soldiers in the rear gaped; even the firing Tier 4 Corpse King was stupefied.
Its eyes bulged, the laser flickering in shock.
What kind of shameless tactic is this?
Can't kill him—simply can't.
Seconds later, the king's breath gave out and the laser faded.
The smoke cleared.
There stood General Randy, unharmed, wrapped in golden light, his back bristling with unused Totems of Undying like a golden porcupine.
"All taped up?"
General Randy rolled his neck and shouted the question.
"Reporting to the Chief, every spot is covered."
The Endermen behind him reported, then vanished in a chorus of whooshes.
"Good. Let's keep going."
With a savage grin General Randy flapped the Fleshy Wings on his back, turning into a green streak of light that shot toward the bewildered Tier 4 Corpse King.
Boom! Boom! Crash!
The fight resumed, but it had become a one-sided slug-fest.
The Tier 4 Corpse King tore open General Randy's chest with a claw; before it could celebrate, golden light flashed across General Randy and the wound healed instantly. He retaliated with a fist straight into the monster's eye socket.
This was trading wound for wound.
I have the Totem of Undying, I have Healing potions , I have all of America backing me—what do you have to fight me with?
—
"Hahaha, brilliant! This is battle—this is a man's romance!"
Wielding his Iron Fists, General Randy drove the Tier 4 Corpse King steadily back, roaring with delight… Inside the Command Center.
Watching that domineering style on the monitor, Steve couldn't help chuckling.
"Randy's method… really is bold."
But his smile quickly faded and his brows drew together.
Although General Randy held the absolute initiative, it was mostly thanks to the Totem of Undying.
The Super Zombie's fists were heavy, yet against the freakish defense of a Tier 4 Zombie they still felt lacking.
At the battlefield center the thunderous crashes continued.
Controlling the Super Zombie, General Randy slammed head-on into the Tier 4 Corpse King once more.
With every clash General Randy grew more shaken.
"This beast… isn't simple."
He had thought Zombie evolution meant only stacking strength and speed, but after this exchange he instantly realized the horror of Tier 4.
The monster was not only tough as iron and able to spit destructive lasers—it had intelligence.
It could predict moves, shield itself with energy when at a disadvantage, even target the weak joints of General Randy's body.
Roar!
The Tier 4 Corpse King bellowed, its pitch-black Specter, wrapped in a reeking gale, smashed forward again.
"Bring it!"
Instead of retreating, General Randy stepped in and punched back.
Boom!
The two disproportionate fists collided mid-air; a terrifying shock-wave erupted.
The ground beneath them shattered, both locked in a brief stalemate. Behind General Randy the Totem of Undying burst apart.
At this critical moment of the contest…
General Randy's eyes flashed sharply.
"I was waiting for this."
His left hand, primed the whole time, drew on the explosive power granted by the Strength potion; fingers pressed together like a blade.
In the instant the Corpse King's old force was spent and new force not yet born, faster than sound itself…
…he chopped down at the monster's already mangled right arm, now bearing the full strain of the grapple.
Shhhk!
A tearing sound rang out.
Before the Tier 4 Corpse King could react, it felt its right shoulder go light, followed by searing agony.
Its supposedly indestructible arm—thick enough to shrug off missiles—was severed clean by General Randy's pre-planned knife-hand strike.
Filthy blood gushed like a fountain.
"Roooar!!!"
The Corpse King shrieked and staggered back.
Staring at the twitching severed arm in his grip, the green, twisted face of General Randy lit up with wild joy.
He grabbed the limb and, without a glance, hurled it behind him.
"Catch it—now!"
He roared over the comms, voice trembling with excitement.
"Get this arm back and have George extract the gene at once—I'm fusing the Tier 4 Rage Gene!"
General Randy knew his current Zombie body, strong as it was, remained only Tier 3 propped up by potions .
If he could truly inject the Tier 4 Rage Gene and leap in life-level, then with all this gear and potions … beating this Corpse King would be as easy as spanking a brat.
Whoosh!
An Enderman waiting at the battlefield's edge flashed in.
It caught the arm—bigger than its own body—and vanished.
A violet shimmer flickered.
The Enderman reappeared the next instant inside the rear Biological Research Institute, prized trophy in hand.
Biological Research Institute.
George stared at the arm pulsing with terrifying energy, his beard quivering with excitement.
"Quick, organize a team to extract the Rage Gene inside!"
The entire lab burst into frantic activity; precision instruments whirred at full tilt.
They strove to strip from that lump of flesh the mysterious key to evolution.
Meanwhile, inside the Command Center, Steve watched the monitors. A sudden flash of inspiration struck him so hard his breath froze for a second.
"Wait…"
Steve murmured, his eyes growing hotter by the moment.
"Our biggest problem is the scarcity of high-tier Zombies, which makes gene samples insufficient. Current tech can't duplicate genes—we have to yank them raw from the bodies…"
"But…"
His gaze locked on the Tier 4 Corpse King healing its wound on screen.
Then he glanced at the pink-glowing Healing potion in his hand.
A plan, utterly insane, took shape in his mind.
"What if I hack off one of its arms for gene extraction…
…then use an Overworld Healing potion on the Zombie, letting the limb regrow to perfect condition?
After that—hack again? Extract again? Heal again? Hack again?"
Steve felt his whole being shake under the weight of the idea.
If the logic held… that Tier 4 Corpse King would no longer be a terrifying foe.
It would be a living, endlessly renewable ATM dispensing Tier 4 genes.
"If that works, what the hell am I afraid of?"
Steve sprang to his feet, eyes gleaming with a light that would make capitalists weep.
"If it's feasible, we'll have unlimited Tier 4 genes."
"We can mass-produce an army of Tier 4 Zombies. With such a force we could steamroll the world—or even invade other planes!"
Without hesitation, he instantly opened a channel to General Randy and spoke at lightning speed.
"Randy, listen—don't kill it, whatever you do, don't kill it."
General Randy, who'd been leading the charge, froze.
"What? Spare it? This beast's regen is insane; if we don't finish it now we'll just wear ourselves out later."
"It's precisely because its regen is insane."
Steve explained rapidly.
"Randy, just stall it—don't let it escape. Once George finishes extracting the Tier 4 gene, he'll inject it straight into you."
"After you fuse and advance to Tier 4, you'll be able to suppress it effortlessly."
"Then…"
Steve's voice dropped, dripping with temptation.
"We'll restrain this Corpse King: hack off a limb to harvest genes, feed it recovery potions so it grows back, and turn it into a gene factory."
"That way our entire army will evolve into an endless legion of Tier 4 supersoldiers."
On the other end of the line, General Randy was stunned.
The punch he'd been about to throw froze mid-air.
Brilliant… absolutely brilliant!
It was simply ingenious.
He'd personally experienced how broken Overworld potions were.
That kind of instant full-heal, as long as you weren't dead—used on an enemy—could actually produce this effect?
Looking at the roaring Tier 4 Corpse King, his gaze changed in an instant.
It was no longer the stare you give an enemy.
It was the stare you give a walking mountain of gold.
"Hss—"
General Randy sucked in a breath, excitement surging uncontrollably.
"If this works, when we catch a Tier 5 we can throw tens or even hundreds of millions of Tier 4 troops at it, pile it down, control it and do the same trick again."
"Then every soldier in America will start at Tier 5?"
"Let's do it."
With a laugh he shifted his lethal barrage into pure grapple and control.
"Little Zombie, don't rush to die—your good days are still ahead."
The Tier 4 Corpse King, now missing its right arm, showed retreat for the first time in its once savage, frenzied eyes.
Clutching the gushing stump, it stared at the golden-shrouded, unkillable green monster and let out a whimper.
It wasn't stupid; it sensed the man didn't want it dead—he looked at it like livestock, a greed that made it shudder.
"Roar—"
It bellowed, not to attack but as a feint, then spun its massive frame and pounded away from the battlefield.
It was fleeing.
But how could General Randy, already treating it as a walking gene-bank, let it escape?
"Want to run? Ask me first."
His wings snapped open; with near-teleport speed he vanished.
An instant later the green wall of his body slammed down, blocking the Corpse King's path.
"Stay right there."
He grinned and threw a straightforward punch.
The Corpse King was forced to meet it, swinging its remaining left arm.
Boom!
The horrific clash detonated again.
General Randy, after all, was only a pseudo-Tier 4 boosted by potions ; in raw strength he was outclassed.
Bones across his chest cracked under the strain.
But the instant the fatal wound appeared—
Crack.
A crisp shatter rang out as blazing gold burst from his chest.
Totem of Undying activated.
The lethal injuries sealed in the golden light; even stamina returned to peak.
He flipped mid-air, lively as ever, and pounced again.
"Come on, keep fighting—I've got more lives than you can burn."
At that moment he turned into an unshakeable sticky plaster.
He offered no defense, trading life for injury in pure madness.
You punch me, I kick back; you bite me, I tear a chunk off you.
As long as the Totem of Undying held, he was an immortal war god.
Meanwhile the Corpse King visibly wilted under the prolonged brawl.
It fought General Randy while coping with the agony and blood loss of its severed arm.
Whenever it tried to break out, Randy used the totem to tank.
When it gasped, near collapse, he kindly eased off, even backing away to let it catch its breath.
After all, this priceless live specimen couldn't be accidentally killed—that would be a catastrophic loss.
Meanwhile, at the rear, the Biological Research Institute.
George focused intently on the precision gene analyser, hunting for evolution's secrets inside slices of the huge severed arm.
As the complex Double-Helix sharpened under the microscope, his excitement turned to solemn awe.
"Incredible… simply incredible…"
He muttered, staring at the intricate Gene Sequence on the screen.
"This Tier 4 Rage Gene isn't a quantitative leap from Tier 3—it's qualitative."
"Its Gene Locks are tougher, sequences more cryptic, Energy Circuits at least ten times as intricate."
"No wonder it can spawn intelligence and even unleash energy attacks."
After quick calculations he looked up at an Enderman liaison beside him.
"Go to the Command Center and tell Steve: this Tier 4 gene is extremely special; extraction is far harder than expected."
"Even with our current tech it'll take days to fully isolate and parse—tell him and Old Randy to prepare for a protracted war."
"Understood."
The Enderman nodded, flickered, and vanished from the lab…
While the two worlds roiled in the aftermath of this battle, the real world likewise convulsed as America dumped gold like crazy.
Faced with the relentless slide in global gold prices and America's seemingly bottomless sell orders, Western financial titans finally couldn't sit still.
Russia, Kremlin.
An emergency closed-door meeting on global financial order had just adjourned.
Shortly after, the Russian Treasury, together with the Russian federal bank, the Central Bank, and several top oligarchs, issued an unusually tough joint statement.
It announced that major economies would hurriedly assemble a massive temporary Gold-Stabilization Fund with only one mission: prop up the market.
"No matter how much America dumps, we will buy unconditionally."
"We will resolutely defend global financial stability; gold will not be allowed to breach critical psychological support."
Meanwhile, on social media, a coordinated smear campaign against America was in full swing.
"Sanctions—Sanctions are a must."
The Russian Treasury Spokesman lashed out on Twitter.
"America is engaging in malicious, irresponsible financial sabotage."
"This gravely destabilizes Global Markets; we have opened an emergency investigation."
"Once we confirm malicious intent, we will not hesitate to blacklist the american state banks involved in the selloff, cutting them off from Dollar transactions and SWIFT access entirely."
Major outlets piled on, fanning the "American threat" narrative.
America—Federal Treasury.
When word came from across the ocean that banks had jointly set up a temporary Gold Stability Fund, vowing to prop up the market at any cost, the war-room commanding trillions in capital flow showed zero tension or panic.
Instead, what erupted was the uncontainable laughter of hunters watching prey walk into a trap.
"Hahaha, they're rattled—really rattled."
The head of the Financial Team stared at the arrogant, threatening Joint Statement onscreen.
"Those greedy bloodsuckers actually think money can fill our bottomless pit? And keep Gold above water?"
He shot to his feet, arm slashing down like a general ordering an all-out assault.
"If they want to catch the falling knives—let them have it, all of it."
"Double the selling volume—no, triple it."
"Let's see whether their greenbacks print faster than the Gold we haul back from the other world; let's see just how deep their pockets really are."
International financial markets.
The Gold candlestick, barely steadied by the stabilization fund and even showing faint signs of rebound, met catastrophe the very next second.
Countless traders worldwide, brimming with confidence, hammered at their keyboards, eager to feast on the official bid.
Yet before the smiles could fully bloom,
BOOM!
A sell order—vaster and more terrifying than any before—slammed into the market.
In that instant every bid, every support, every psychological defense line crumbled like tissue paper beneath the seemingly endless golden tsunami.
Shredded in seconds.
"My God—how is this possible?"
Top traders clutched their heads, wailing in despair at the cliff-like red candlestick on their screens.
"How much Gold do they have? This isn't selling—it's dumping; they're burying us alive in bullion."
The so-called stabilization fund was swallowed without a splash by the golden wave from the East.
At the subsequent global press conference the air crackled with tension.
Flash-bulbs popped as dozens of reporters shoved microphones at America's foreign-ministry spokesman.
A Russian journalist rose, aggressive, eyes full of arrogance and scrutiny.
"Why is America dumping Gold reserves at this time?"
"Does this mean your economy is on the brink of collapse and desperate for cash?"
"Faced with grave international concern and imminent sanctions, will America halt this irresponsible selloff and explain its real intentions to the world?"
The instant his voice fell, the room fell dead silent; every gaze fixed on the podium, awaiting America's response.
It was more than a question—it was the West's joint ultimatum.
Confronted with the provocative, contempt-laden query, the american spokesman on stage showed no anger.
He adjusted the microphone, calm as still water, eyes profound. Speaking slowly, his steady voice carried live to every corner of the planet.
"First, I must correct several basic factual errors by this journalist."
He raised a finger, tone unruffled.
"One: America's economy is healthy and resilient; all indicators sit within reasonable ranges, and we've achieved breakthroughs in multiple high-tech sectors."
"Every recent financial move stems from our insight into national development and global trends—not from the imaginary fire-sale you describe."
"Two: as for adjusting our Gold holdings, that is the sacred and inviolable right of any sovereign state to manage its assets."
"Just as your country keeps issuing Treasuries to maintain liquidity, we neither need nor owe any country an explanation of intent."
At this point the Spokesman paused briefly.
His gaze swept the room, finally fixing on the Russian reporter, eyes turning razor-sharp.
"Three—the most important point."
"We note certain countries are addicted to brandishing the Sanctions club, naively believing that cutting off Dollar access can force others to bow and keep their crumbling hegemony alive."
"Therefore, on behalf of the american government, I hereby issue two technical notices to the world."
The hall was silent; everyone held their breath, sensing something historic.
"America's home-grown Dollar cross-border payment system completed full end-to-end stress tests for Physical-Gold Settlement yesterday."
"The system is stable and secure; effective immediately, we welcome all market participants who recognize fairness to use it for cross-border settlement of Gold and bulk commodities."
This statement—more terrifying than the Gold dump—was no mere tech upgrade; it was a blatant raid on the other currencies.
If settlements no longer run through oil Dollars, BRICS Sanctions become scrap paper. Yet the spokesman wasn't finished.
"In view of the keen interest and robust absorption shown by the international market for our Gold transactions, and to meet demand and stabilize global prices,"
"America will moderately increase the market supply of Gold resources beyond the current plan."
A stab through the heart—wasn't this open mockery?
You love buying? You've got the cash? Fine—we'll sell you more, enough to bankrupt you.
Finally the spokesman straightened his papers, smiled at the camera, and delivered the closing line destined for the history books.
"America's financial policies always serve the well-being of our people and the long-term development of all humanity."
"We have no intention of disrupting any market; we are simply offering a more stable and equitable alternative to an outdated financial system riddled with unilateral sanctions and unequal dependencies."
"As for whether this choice is an opportunity or a challenge—"
"That depends on whether the nations present here still possess basic rationality and the courage to embrace the future." These words instantly detonated across the globe.
If dumping gold had only made financiers wince, the formal announcement of CHIPS Gold Settlement was a mortal blow straight to BRICS hegemonic heart.
It meant America was building a complete, gold dollar-dependent Financial Infrastructure for the Petro-Dollar Era, backed by unlimited gold.
The world erupted.
China, Beijing.
Inside the Presidential Palace, every senior official watching the livestream felt their eyes light up in that instant.
This move from America was like coal delivered in a snowstorm.
No—it handed them a sword of counterattack.
"Contact the american side immediately."
The President of China slammed the table and rose.
"Tell them that China is willing to be among the first strategic partners of the CHIPS Gold Settlement system; our resources will all accept this framework."
The same scene played out in parts of ASEAN, Middle-Eastern Oil Producers, even some inflation-ravaged Latin Nations.
Time flew amid flames and thunder.
Two whole days.
At the heart of the World Zeta battlefield, the operation had turned into an efficient assembly line.
The once-invincible Tier 4 Corpse King now had all its arrogance ground away.
Every time it tried to break out, the golden-shimmering, unkillable green monster would stick like medicated plaster.
It couldn't kill the thing, couldn't outrun it; the moment it paused to breathe, its foe would considerately stop and even toss a few healing potions to keep it alive—afraid it might tire itself to death.
It had endured this routine for two days.
Inside the Command Center,
Steve sat in the main seat, gazing at the screen where General Randy had the Tier 4 Zombie pinned. A satisfied smile curved his lips.
Right then, the long-absent, heaven-sent system notification rang crisply in his mind.
[Ding! All hostile targets within the host's sphere of influence have been eliminated!]
[Congratulations, host! Mission completed!]
[Rewards being distributed…]
With the prompt, three radiant icons quietly settled into Steve's system backpack.
[1. Tier 2 Super-Gene Awakening Serum x1]
[2. Electromagnetic Armor & Rail-Cannon Application Tech]
[3. Controllable Nuclear-Fusion Technology]
Seeing the rewards, Steve—though mentally prepared—still felt his breathing quicken.
Before he could calm down, a new quest panel popped open.
[New Quest Issued]
[Quest Name: Overlord of the Wasteland]
[Objective: Rule the Divine-Punishment survivor base—one of the three great survivor strongholds.]
[Rewards]
[1. Tier 3 Super-Gene Awakening Serum x1]
[2. Mass-Production Formula for Gen-2 Body-Enhancement Liquid]
[3. Quantum-Comm & Hyper-Computing Matrix Tech (distance-immune, unbreakable instant comms; Quantum Brain whose compute power exceeds the planet's total; cornerstone to command billions of mechanical troops)]
"Hss…"
Seeing the rewards, even Steve couldn't help a sharp intake of breath.
Gen-2 Enhancement Liquid, quantum matrix…
The system's rewards were growing ever more outrageous, ever more hard-core.
It was forcing him to detonate the entire Tech Tree in one go.
Yet when he saw the reason the mission had completed, he shook his head wryly.
"Didn't expect it…"
Steve looked at the map, where vast regions were now marked safe in green, and sighed.
"That mysterious sound-wave helped us more than we could have imagined."
Normally, carefully clearing a city and its surroundings would take at least half a month.
But when that sound-wave rang out, it worked like an area-wide taunt, dragging every zombie within hundreds of kilometers—
Tier 1, Tier 2, all of them—like rabid dogs rushing to a single spot and queuing up to jump into the pit.
The once-packed zombie zones had become vacuum territories overnight.
Enderman Scouts sent hundreds of kilometers out returned reporting barely a decent zombie in sight; plant a flag and the land was yours.
"Guess you could call that… exploiting a Bug?"
Steve chuckled.
Since the quest was done and rewards collected, the only objective left was the stubborn Tier 4 Gene Bank still fighting… Biological Research Institute, Core Lab.
The area had been refitted into a sterile, sci-fi-white space.
Doctor George and his top biology team had worked non-stop for two full days.
Yet their minds blazed with exhilaration.
Before the giant Gene Centrifuge, every researcher held their breath, eyes glued to the discharge port.
Clink!
A crisp chime sounded.
The hatch slid open, and a mechanical arm delivered a vial wreathed in Cryogenic Mist—deep, sapphire-blue, spiraling like liquid crystal.
The serum seemed to hold violent life-force; even through the tempered glass, the onlookers felt a heart-shaking Pressure.
"It's… it's done."
Trembling, George cradled the vial as if it were the America's most Priceless Treasure.
"Tier 4 Rage Gene—Successfully Extracted, perfect quality."
Cheers burst from the surrounding researchers, no longer stifled.
"Fantastic!"
"This is the key to Tier 4."
George sucked in a breath, forced himself calm, and said to the Enderman assistant at his side,
"Quick, contact Command Center—tell Steve and Old Randy,"
"The Tier 4 Gene Serum is ready."
"The last piece of the God-Making Plan is in place!"
Command Center.
"Randy, the serum's ready—pull back immediately. Frontline containment will be handed to the Endermen."
Steve's voice rang urgently in General Randy's mind.
In the thick of the fight, General Randy's eyes flashed. He glanced down at the battered, panting Tier 4 Zombie King and grinned with satisfaction.
"Heh, little zombie—I'm off to level-up. Wait right here; I'll be back to play."