On the seventh day of the apocalypse, I heroically died while trying to grab a box of braised beef instant noodles. After reincarnating, I became a... low-level zombie missing an arm and a leg, walking like I was dancing the tango?
Other zombies survive by groaning. I survive by calculating. Other zombies eat brains. I eat evolution materials and put up with a snarky AI System. Other zombie hordes rampage blindly. Mine builds infrastructure, repairs canals, imposes curfews, and even drafts a zombie constitution.
All I wanted was to be a lazy king of rot, but my zombie underlings are either gnawing on the walls or trying to play Tetris with their own ribs. As a “Zombie Lord,” I'm forced to get to work: fighting zombie hordes, negotiating deals, raiding ruins, battling AI, and even pondering philosophical questions like “Are humans worth saving?”
Call me a savior? Don't make me laugh. I can barely keep myself under control.
Call me a villain? Not quite. I only eat bad people, and I bring a little order to the world while I'm at it.
Among the ruins, I'll lead a group of zombies who aren't exactly brainy...
And build a place where we can survive.
This isn't a tale of saving the world after the apocalypse.
It's the hilarious evolution of a burned-out, lazy office worker who slacks off in a sea of zombies, builds a city, and ponders the meaning of life along the way.
