"Alright, boys—charge! Kill the humans, and feast on Neurocore!"
With that thunderous command from Big Thighs the Zombie King, a deafening roar erupted from the horde behind him. The sound rolled like thunder across the mountains, and then—like a pack of wild beasts unleashed—they surged down the snowy slopes, pouring into American territory.
Behind him, a massive army of twenty thousand zombies followed, a black tide crashing down from the pristine white mountains like a dark waterfall.
Big Thighs led the charge himself. His already massive legs bulged with even more muscle, thick and powerful, pounding the ground with explosive force. He moved like a storm, his figure a blur, leaving streaks of afterimages in his wake.
By now, only the weak, the sick, and the elderly remained in this part of the U.S. Big Thighs didn't hesitate—he swung his claws and tore through their throats like paper.
