Apocalypse: King of Zombies-Chapter 358: Why did this happen?!

Everyone let out a breath of relief at the words and stepped into the shelter. Inside, it was bustling—crowded and lively, almost like a street market.

Huge pots were set up along the roadside, steam rising from them as chunks of meat simmered inside, sending waves of mouthwatering aroma through the air.

"Whoa, that smells amazing!"

Hiro and the others had been on the run for so long, scraping by with barely any supplies. The rich scent hit them like a punch to the gut, and they couldn't help but start drooling.

A girl with flowers in her hair smiled and said, "Now that you're here, you'll never have to worry about food again."

"This is incredible!"

"Sugoi…"

Their faces lit up with excitement. This place felt like the perfect safe haven they'd been dreaming of. For the first time in a long while, they started imagining a future that wasn't just about survival.

But then—

"Wait…"

Naomi suddenly froze, her expression shifting. Her eyes locked onto something ahead, wide and unblinking.

The street was crowded, people moving back and forth, shadows flitting everywhere. But right in the middle of the road stood a hunched old woman.

Her face was gaunt, skin like parchment, hair a tangled mess of gray. Deep wrinkles carved into her face. And yet—she was smiling. A twisted, eerie grin aimed straight at Naomi.

A chill shot down Naomi's spine. She stumbled back a few steps, her scalp prickling, every hair on her body standing on end.

Because she knew that face. Knew it too well. It had haunted her ever since they saw it on a gravestone deep in the forest.

That old woman… was the same one from the photo on the tombstone.

"How… how is she here?"

Hiro and the others noticed something was off. They followed Naomi's gaze—and their expressions darkened. The tension that had just started to ease came crashing back.

"It's her again!"

"She's… she's a monster!"

"Yeah! We saw her picture at the graveyard—she tried to attack us!"

Their voices trembled as they pointed at the old woman.

But the flower-crowned girl beside them didn't react. She just kept smiling, calm as ever.

"Don't be scared. It'll all be over soon."

"What the hell does that mean?" Hiro's voice was tight, his gut twisting. Something was seriously wrong with this place. It all felt… off.

And then, the old woman's face began to rot.

Her skin peeled away in chunks, her eyes clouded over, and a savage gleam lit up behind them.

"Raaagh—!"

She let out a low, guttural growl—and in the blink of an eye, she transformed into a zombie.

"Get ready to fight!" Hiro gritted his teeth, forcing his exhausted body to move. He yanked out his katana, lightning crackling along the blade.

The others snapped to attention, forming a defensive stance, weapons at the ready.

But what happened next caught them completely off guard.

The people on the street—every single one of them—suddenly froze. Like someone had hit pause on the whole scene.

Then, one by one, they started growling. Their faces twisted, eyes went dead, and their bodies began to twitch and contort.

In seconds, the entire crowd had turned into zombies.

"What… what the hell is going on?" Hiro and the others stood frozen, stunned by the horrifying transformation.

No matter how hard they tried to make sense of it, nothing added up. Even in a post-apocalyptic Japan, with radiation, scarce resources, and constant danger—they'd never seen anything like this.

"This isn't a shelter at all… it's a nest. A zombie nest!"

"So that means… there were never any real people here to begin with!" The realization hit them like a punch to the gut, dragging them back into that familiar pit of despair.

What kind of world was this?

"Forget it—just fight!"

As the monsters lunged forward, Hiro swung his katana. Lightning arced from the blade as he slashed through the first zombie, then the next.

He moved fast—each strike clean and lethal. One swing, one kill.

And he quickly realized: these zombies weren't that strong. No special mutations, no high-level Zombie Kings.

"Don't panic! These things are weak—we've got a real shot at getting out of here!"

"Yeah…"

But behind him, his teammates' voices had lost their fire. Their tone had gone flat, distant.

...

To Ethan, the scene unfolding before him looked completely different.

He watched as the Japanese Awakeners stepped into the flower field—and then, shockingly, began turning on each other, drawing their weapons and fighting like enemies.

Hiro was the most ferocious of them all. In just a few seconds, he had already taken down several of his own teammates.

The strangest part? He kept shouting words of encouragement as he fought.

"Hang in there, everyone!"

"..." Ethan was speechless. This hallucinogenic ability was downright twisted. These people were being driven to their deaths without even realizing what was happening.

They were literally killing their own friends with their own hands—while still believing they were fighting side by side.

It was terrifying.

Just imagine: if this happened during a large-scale battle against a zombie horde, the chaos would be catastrophic. Entire squads would turn on each other, thinking they were still fighting the enemy, when in reality, they'd be tearing their own ranks apart.

In their subconscious minds, they were still locked in combat with the undead—completely unaware of the truth.

This ability… it was a massacre machine in team fights.

And because the hallucinations were caused by pollen affecting the physical senses—sight, sound, even touch—not even psychic-type Awakeners could detect it. It bypassed the mind entirely.

Now, the dozen or so people in the field were already on the brink of collapse.

Naomi had curled up on the ground, arms wrapped around her head, trembling violently. But Hiro, completely lost in the illusion, charged at her with his katana raised high—then brought it down in a brutal arc.

"Ahhh—!"

The girl screamed as the blade sliced through her neck, nearly severing it. Blood sprayed across the flowers, and her body crumpled to the ground.

The crimson soaked into the soil, and the pink blossoms around her began to writhe, their roots twitching as they greedily absorbed the blood. The petals bloomed even brighter, more vivid than before.

And all this time, the Zombie King—fused with the plants—hadn't even shown itself. It didn't need to. It was toying with the humans like puppets on strings.

Ethan narrowed his eyes, watching silently.

Maybe… maybe he should step in. Save these poor, deluded lambs.

At the very least, they deserved to know how they died.

A flash of red lit up his eyes.

In the next instant, the terrifying Domain of the Dead erupted from him, spreading outward like a shockwave. The pressure was immense, sweeping forward like a hurricane.

The pollen drifting in the air was instantly blown away.

The pink flowers carpeting the ground were crushed under the weight of the domain, ground into dust like they'd been run over by a massive millstone.

"Huh?"

Hiro, caught in the radius of the Domain of the Dead, suddenly felt the fog lift. The pollen around him vanished, and the haze clouding his eyes began to clear.

The illusion of the shelter dissolved. The friendly faces, the bustling streets, the aroma of food—all gone. The monsters he thought he was fighting disappeared too.

His pupils slowly refocused, and he finally saw the truth.

"Where… where am I? What happened to the shelter?" Hiro looked around, dazed and confused.

"Where is everyone…?"

He called out instinctively, searching for his teammates—but then he looked down.

Bodies. All around him.

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And among them—Naomi.

She lay motionless, eyes wide open in terror, her face frozen in a final expression of horror. Her neck was slashed open, blood pooled beneath her, soaking into the earth.

"Naomi! Naomi!!" Hiro's voice cracked as he dropped to his knees beside her, his heart imploding. It felt like something had been ripped out of his chest, leaving only a hollow, aching void.

"Why…?"

"Why did this happen?!"

His voice was raw, his teeth clenched so hard they might shatter. He was on the verge of losing it.

But then… he froze.

He looked down at his hands.

He was still holding his katana.

The blade was soaked in blood.

And it was still dripping. One drop at a time.

...