In the heart of his territory, Balkar, the most composed and strategic of the Pris, was preparing to depart—his path set for Raghul's region.
Though reluctant to leave his own lands vulnerable, he had agreed to aid in subduing the anomaly known as Ethan.
Raghul was reckless, but his death would destabilize the balance of power across Zombieland. Balkar couldn't allow that.
But just as Balkar reached the threshold of his domain, he froze. A violent tremor rippled through the psychic link connecting the Pris—like a cord snapping under impossible strain.
His eyes flared with pale green light as his senses surged.
"…How is this possible?" he muttered, voice low with disbelief.
All across Zombieland, three other Pris—Marrot, Karuk, and Bedussa—felt it too. The link was still faintly open, but where there had once been five minds, now there were only four.
Raghul was gone.
Balkar clenched his fists.
They had thought of Ethan as a strange phenonon, a wandering hazard to be monitored and neutralized with collective effort. They hadn't seen him as a true threat to their existence.
Until now.
Suddenly, the sky across four separate corners of Zombieland cracked open—four titanic auras burst outward, shaking the world and painting the sky in hues of red, blue, black, and violet.
The auras twisted the air, a fury long hidden by the Pris now released in full.
The four remaining rulers of Zombieland had been enraged.
Not rely by Raghul's death—but by the realization that Ethan wasn't a warning.
He was a reckoning.
And though fear churned in their ancient hearts, retreat was not an option. There was nowhere in this cursed land where they could hide from what was coming.
And deep down, each Pri believed sothing else—Raghul must've weakened him. He must've pushed him far enough that the four of them could finish what one could not.
So they took the sky, blazing trails of power behind them as they soared at devastating speed, converging like cots streaking toward doom.
Toward the battlefield soaked in scorched ash and death.
Toward the very place where one of them had fallen.
And there, standing in the wind beneath a cracked and dying sky, was the cause of it all—Ethan.
****
Ethan stood alone, still as stone, his white hair swaying in the rising wind like a banner of defiance. The land around him was silent—haunted by scorched remains and thick with the scent of burnt rot. He didn't move. He didn't need to.
Afterall they were coming to him.
He could feel them—four titanic forces hurtling across the sky, fueled by fury and the death of one of their own. Each second brought them closer, and yet Ethan simply waited, the golden glow in his eyes sharpening with anticipation.
Then, in a flash of searing light and thunderous impact, four streaks of blazing aura slamd down around him, cratering the earth beneath their feet. The remaining four Pris had arrived.
But they didn't attack.
Not imdiately.
Their undead eyes studied Ethan, circling him like predators uncertain if they faced prey or sothing far worse.
They'd underestimated him once. A second ti would be suicide.
Ethan tilted his head, a chuckle escaping his lips before morphing into a sharp laugh.
"I didn't know Pris were so pathetic," he said, each word like a sharpened blade slicing across their pride.
Their expressions tightened, their fists clenched, but still, they held back.
Ethan's grin widened.
"The one I took down… at least he had so spine."
That broke them.
The tension shattered like glass as the very air froze, the atmosphere dipping into a sudden unnatural chill.
Rage swelled behind their eyes as the power around them pulsed like a heartbeat gone berserk.
And then—all at once—they roared:
{"Necto!"}
The ground shook. The skies cracked. The blood moon overhead bled brighter, casting a crimson hue across the battlefield.
From above, a giant orb of deathly energy began to take form, its pull warping the clouds as if drawing in the hatred of the heavens themselves.
The four Pris—Balkar, Marrot, Karuk, and Bedussa—shot into the sky like spears of light and rged with the orb, their bodies unraveling into pure necrotic essence.
The orb grew as it pulsed and scread.
And then—
It expanded outward, morphing, twisting, evolving into a towering 17-foot undead Hydra with four snarling heads, each one exuding a different flavor of malice.
This was no ordinary fusion. This was their true form.
Long ago, they had been one being—a monstrous hydra ruling Zombieland. But as each head developed sentience and ambition, they splintered into separate entities, forming the five Pris that ruled the divided territories.
Yet, even when fragnted, their link had remained.
Now, united once again—despite Raghul's absence—they were ready to extinguish the boy who had beco their shared nightmare.
The Hydra's voice echoed in a multi-tonal harmony of death and will:
"Any last words, boy?"
But Ethan didn't flinch.
He didn't blink.
Instead, he smiled—a wild, battle-crazed grin, with electric arcs crawling across his skin.
That unnerved the Hydra.
And then Ethan said, voice low and eager:
"I was beginning to worry this would be too easy… but now?"
His golden eyes flared.
"Now it looks like I'll actually have so fun."
In an instant, he disappeared—Lightning Step triggering a sonic crack as he appeared high above the Hydra, hands crackling with raw power.
Electricity roared to life, massive bolts forming a sphere of pure voltage between his palms.
And then—
He fired it downward, a thunderous surge of light and fury erupting toward the colossal beast.
The sky wept. The ground howled.
The battle had begun.
****
The sky shattered with thunder as Ethan's lightning surged downward, a cataclysmic storm wrapped in his fury.
The Hydra roared in defiance, each of its four grotesque heads opening wide to unleash beams of necrotic energy, sickly green and crackling with death.
The beams collided with Ethan's lightning in mid-air—power eting power, chaos against chaos.
The impact was apocalyptic.
The energies imploded, creating a shockwave that fractured the ground and ruptured the very air.
Ethan was hurled back, his body streaking like a cot before crashing into a towering building, leveling it in an instant.
The Hydra wasn't spared either—it skidded back with earth-rending force, its massive fra slamming into a crumbling fortress, reducing it to dust and ash.
Silence reigned for a heartbeat.
Then—from the debris of the ruined building—four Ethans erged, lightning dancing around their forms like wild spirits. Lightning-forged images of the original, each pulsing with volatile energy.
Without hesitation as they charged.
Across the battlefield, the Hydra roared, eyes glowing with rage. It charged too, its colossal body thundering forward, each footstep a seismic quake.
As they t in the heart of the ruined city, claws and fangs swung through the air with lethal precision. One of the heads slashed at a clone—but it vanished in a flicker, dodging with Lightning Step.
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