"You think a few scratches are enough to bring me down?"
As Randy's thought rippled through the link, the Source Crystal in the Iron Golem's chest pulsed with an intense, blinding light. The Golem opened its massive maw, and a localized gravitational vacuum erupted. The cobblestones beneath its feet and the raw material blocks held by the supporting Endermen were instantly drawn into its chassis.
Source Crystal Conversion: Material Reintegration.
Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle!
The deep fissure that Yasuo and his companion had spent their life force to carve began to knit back together at a visible speed. In less than two seconds, the leg was fully restored, the obsidian plating smooth and unmarked. It didn't even need to trigger a Totem of Undying; the Golem's innate repair mechanism, supercharged by the Source Crystal, allowed it to consume raw matter to mend itself instantly.
"How... how are we supposed to fight this?" Yasuo whispered, his longsword trembling.
Not only was its defense nearly impenetrable, but it could also regenerate indefinitely. It wasn't just a machine; it was an immortal juggernaut.
"It's over," Randy declared, refusing to give them a moment to regroup.
Boom!
The Iron Golem clasped its massive fists together, raising them like a tectonic hammer before bringing them down on the stunned masters.
Bang! Bang!
Two dull, bone-shattering thuds echoed across the path. Under the weight of such absolute crushing power, Yasuo and his Tier 5 companion were driven into the earth. Their defenses shattered instantly, leaving them alive but completely incapacitated.
With the fall of their greatest champions, the remaining Indomitus warriors had no choice. Faced with the relentless, immortal tide of the Undead Legion, they laid down their arms.
Outpost Base.
With the submission of the three major bastions, the human era of the wasteland reached a turning point. What began as a purge quickly evolved into a total integration of civilizations.
A massive logistical operation commenced. Heavy trucks and platoons of Endermen moved between the conquered bases and the Outpost, transporting fifty years of apocalyptic innovation. While the tech tree of this world had grown skewed by the collapse, its advancements in bio-genetics, energy weaponry, and specialized material sciences were decades ahead of the real world.
Randy didn't hesitate to send an urgent transmission back to their home dimension. "Full mobilization. Assemble every top-tier expert in genetics, engineering, and energy physics. The frontier is open."
In the real world, the national apparatus shifted into high gear. Thousands of researchers, equipped with the latest experimental hardware, poured through the Teleportation Gates. This wasteland was no longer just a hostile frontier; it was becoming a secondary territory—a research and training hub with near-infinite resources. Engineers began the work of rebuilding the ruins, preparing stable habitats for future settlers.
Northern Territory
As the southern conflicts cooled, Steve's attention turned to the final shadow on the map: the Northern Zombie Kingdom.
"Let's see what cards this 'King' is holding," Steve muttered.
A dozen elite Endermen received the command, flickering into purple phantoms as they teleported toward the frozen north. The army was still mobilizing, but the scouts were already at the gates.
The Northern Territory was a desolate expanse of eternal snowstorms. An Enderman materialized at the edge of the snowfield, but before it could even scan the horizon, a suffocatingly violent aura crashed into it.
Roar!
A massive white silhouette appeared—a five-meter-tall Mutated Snow Behemoth. Its fist, bristling with jagged ice spikes, tore through the air with a sonic boom. The Enderman, a master of spatial displacement, flickered repeatedly, blinking hundreds of meters away just as the fist pulverized the ground it had occupied.
"A Fifth-Order?"
Watching the live feed in the Command Center, Steve and Randy were both taken aback. To encounter a Fifth-Order guardian at the very perimeter of the territory... the North was far more formidable than they had anticipated.
The Enderman scout didn't engage; its objective was intelligence, not combat. It ignored the behemoth's roar and continued to blink deeper into the blizzard. Simultaneously, other scouts breached the forbidden zone from different vectors.
On the Command Center's primary screen, windows flickered rapidly. Analysts reported data at lightning speed.
"High-energy signature detected in Sector A—confirmed Fifth-Order." "Sector C encounter: winged variants, extreme velocity, also Fifth-Order." "Sector D: large-scale clusters of peak Fourth-Order mutants."
The map was quickly peppered with alarming red dots. Steve watched the screen with a sharpening gaze. "It seems Sovereign Wu wasn't exaggerating. This King has built quite the empire over the last year."
At the heart of the snowstorm, a majestic black palace finally loomed out of the haze. Constructed from abyssal ice and unidentified dark metals, it radiated an aura of chilling authority. Even more shocking were the sentries at the gates: two towering Fifth-Order zombies, standing as still as statues.
"The doormen are Fifth-Order?" Randy's mouth twitched. "That's one hell of a display."
The lead Enderman didn't hesitate. It ignored the guardians and blinked directly into the interior of the palace.
Roar?!
The two sentries sensed the spatial ripple and instantly went berserk, their furious bellows echoing through the halls as they gave chase.
Inside, the palace was unexpectedly civilized. A long, black carpet stretched toward the far end of a massive hall, flanked by ranks of mutated zombies that exuded a cold, murderous intent. At the end of the hall sat a colossal throne.
Upon that throne sat a figure unlike any zombie they had ever seen.
"Is that..." Steve leaned in.
A throne, a palace, and a monarch's posture—the intelligence of these creatures had evolved beyond simple instinct. As the Enderman materialized in the center of the hall, a calm, supremely majestic voice resonated through the chamber.
"Who dares to intrude upon my court?"
The Enderman dropped its shroud, standing openly before the throne. It didn't matter if this vessel was destroyed; its mission was complete. Every eye in the Command Center was now fixed on the screen, staring at the being that claimed to be the King of the Dead.