Inside the lab, several researchers were pouring high-concentration regeneration elixirs down the throat of the captured guardian. At the stumps where the zombie's arms had been severed, fleshy buds writhed; new bone and muscle began knitting together at a speed visible to the naked eye.
"Once it finishes healing, the Dragon can harvest the limbs again," Steve noted, watching the process with clinical detachment. "As long as its core remains intact, it is a self-replenishing depot of Fifth-Order biological material."
The Black Palace.
Bellamy stood before the ruins of his throne, staring into the void where Steve had vanished. His face was a mask of cold fury. He didn't know exactly what Steve intended for his captured general, but the mention of a "Fifth-Order Legion" had struck a nerve.
"I can wait no longer."
Bellamy drew a deep breath, the refined reason in his eyes finally succumbing to a dark, predatory madness. "They did not come to scout. They came to humiliate us—to plunder our strength. Steve... if it is war you want, I will give you a massacre."
"ROAR!!!"
Bellamy threw his head back and unleashed a piercing infrasonic shriek. In an instant, the entire Northern snowfield erupted. Driven by the Sovereign's call, every undead entity in the wastes surged together, forming a black tide that threatened to swallow the horizon.
On the human side, Randy had laid every card on the table. On the vast staging plaza of the Outpost, a dark mass of steel and muscle stretched as far as the eye could see—one hundred thousand heavily armed Tier 4 Super Zombies. Their perfectly aligned ranks exuded a murderous aura that seemed to warp the very air.
Behind them, thousands of Endermen worked with mechanical precision, transporting violet Shulker Boxes and massive crates of war supplies to the front lines.
"Even if the Fifth-Order serum isn't ready for mass production, these hundred thousand immortals—backed by the Indomitus masters and the Ender Dragon—make this a war we can win in our sleep," Randy declared.
But the most critical factor sat in the crates. To ensure the front remained unbreakable, Steve had tasked the Source-Crystal Iron Golem with guarding the lab specimen, while the Ender Dragon herself prepared for the vanguard.
To sustain her at peak strength, thousands of Endermen were already teleporting to preset nodes across the battlefield, planting glowing End Crystals. These were her mobile power banks; as long as the crystals pulsed, the Dragon was effectively unkillable.
On the command platform, Randy casually scooped a handful of glittering golden icons from an open Shulker Box and tossed them to Sovereign Yor and the other Indomitus masters.
"Here, take these," Randy said, his tone as casual as if he were handing out rations. "These are Totems of Undying. Stuff a hundred or so in your pockets. As long as you're holding one when you take a lethal blow, it will absorb the strike and restore you to peak condition instantly."
"What?!" Yor's hand trembled as he caught the palm-sized golden icons. "It negates death? Instantly?"
He stared in shock at the box, which was overflowing with the same golden artifacts. His worldview was crumbling. In the wasteland, an item that could cheat death was a mythic treasure that could trigger a world war. Here, it was being distributed by the crate.
"Oh, and these." Randy pulled a variety of shimmering potion bottles from another container. "Healing, Strength, Swiftness. When the fighting starts, don't be shy; drink them like water. Trust me—you'll feel the difference."
Yor and the Tier 5 experts behind him were speechless. Was this the true power of this civilization? Immortal souls, interchangeable bodies, and mass-produced artifacts that broke the laws of nature. They weren't just soldiers; they were gods utilizing a "system" to deliver a total dimensional strike.
"Hah..." Yor exhaled, clutching a totem tight as a fire blazed in his eyes. "With these... I feel like I could conquer the Northern Wastes alone."
The experts around him laughed, their tension evaporating. "With infinite lives, why wouldn't we?"
"Move out!!!" Randy roared.
The mechanical wings on his back snapped open.
Boom!
He kicked off, the concrete beneath him cratering as he shot skyward like a kinetic slug. Yor and the other Fifth-Order powerhouses followed, soaring into the clouds.
Behind them came a sight that would freeze the blood of any observer.
Clatter!
A hundred thousand Tier 4 zombies snapped open their elytra and energy wings in perfect unison, rising like a storm cloud that blotted out the sun.
This army was more diverse than before. The bodies controlled by the former Indomitus Awakened were now manifesting their original powers. Some zombies sprouted wings crackling with blue lightning, while others flickered in and out of the physical plane—the spatial specialists.
Gabriel, a high-ranking spatial user from the old base, piloted a modified vessel alongside Randy. "Sovereign Yor, this body is incredible! It perfectly channels my spatial resonance. Because the physique is so much stronger than my old one, the power flows even smoother."
"That's the beauty of these vessels," Randy laughed over the comms. "Your innate soul-talents transfer perfectly. Even if you were only a Tier 1 before, your soul now commands the peak physical power of a Tier 4. It's the ultimate evolution."
As they crossed the tundra, the atmosphere was strangely lighthearted. There was no pre-battle dread. Why would there be? In the rear, the "money-printers" of Steve's industrial base were running at max capacity. Mob farms were churning out loot 24/7, producing Totems of Undying on an assembly line.
I have thousands of lives—why should I fear?I am already deathless—what pressure is there to feel?Come back and talk to me once you've burned through my first thousand totems!