Gatorax was getting nervous. These zombies didn't look like pushovers—but thankfully, there weren't too many of them. With his massive Zombie Horde backing him up, he wasn't too worried.
He'd come a long way—crossing mountains and rivers just to hunt down some humans. No way he was turning back now.
"I'm here to kill humans. This has nothing to do with you guys. Step aside!" he barked.
"Oh really? You come into our territory chasing humans, and you think it's got nothing to do with us?" Mist and the other zombies clearly weren't buying it.
Big Ears tilted his head, thinking for a moment. "You know what? You've got potential, kid. I'll give you a way out—how about you become my underling? I'll take care of you."
"Bullshit! I'd rather die than serve under you!" Gatorax snapped, his voice sharp with defiance. The idea disgusted him.
Big Ears raised an eyebrow. "Careful with your words. I'll give you one more chance to rephrase that."
