《Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse》 Chapter 1: System Activation "I''m going to die, huh?" Thomas let out a deep breath, the fine raindrops fell on his head, in the heavy rain, Thomas recalled the horrors of the things that had just happened three days ago. It was a being he didn''t expect to exist in the real world, as they should remain only in fiction. But they are real. Zombies. A man-eating creature, they''re essentially a myth, a fictional being in movies and drama series but out of nowhere, they suddenly emerged in the real world. Unlike the zombies in the movie and drama series, these ''zombies'' were not slow, they were very fast. They were capable of running at a speed that could catch up to an average person. Fortunately, he got to the rooftop before the true hell descended upon every nook and cranny of the school. He locked himself on the rooftop but could still hear the agonizing cries of the zombies behind the door. He doesn''t know how many of them are standing beyond the barrier that serves as his lifeline, but he wouldn''t dare to find out. Thomas is safe here, the only problem right now is food. He hadn''t eaten in three days, he doesn''t have the energy to run or even stand up. The good thing is that there is a source of water, but it is coming from the rain that will end eventually. But how long can he survive here? Yes, he was safe but he felt trapped. The only way to get out of this misery is through death. Thomas couldn''t believe it. Thinking of the afterlife. He had lots of plans in life, a bucket list to be fulfilled. Thomas closed his eyes and hoped that death would be merciful. At that moment. A lilting tune, like xylophone notes, rang in his ears. [Activating Weapon System.] Thomas opened his eyes, his vision was blurred. Then his vision returned to normal. He saw a light blue screen floating mid-air. The words were written in white. "Weapon System?" Thomas muttered. [Weapon System] [User: Thomas Estaris] [Level: 1] [Experience Points: 0/ 1,917] [Skill: Weapon''s Proficiency: Level 1] [Functions: Notifications, Inventory, Shop, Map, Summon Forces, Quest, Fortune Wheel, Skills.] [A gift from the gods for one random survivor of the Apocalypse. By using this system, you will be granted powers to survive the apocalypse...though this won''t guarantee your survival. Do you want to activate the weapon system?] Thomas couldn''t grasp the situation clearly, he can only hear a computer voice ringing his head. Like what is happening? In the end, Thomas weakly nodded. [Activation successful] [Weapon System activated] [Notification: Congratulations on activating the Weapon System! You received a starter pack box.] "Huh?" Thomas rubbed his eyes to see if he was just hallucinating. The floating computer screen in front of him is still there, he tried to touch it but his hand went through. A hologram? Thomas muttered under his breath. The Weapon System sounded like those in light novels or anime where mysteriously and miraculously, a person receives power, in the form of systems. Was his situation like that? [Do you want to open the item "Starter Pack Box?"] Not only does it sound like literary fiction but a game as well. Thomas nodded. [Congratulations! You received a Beretta M9, 5x 15 rounds magazine, 10x bottled water, 5x MREs, 2x First Aid Kit.] Items that you received just now can be found in the inventory tab.] [Inventory] [Starter Pack Box] (1/1) [Beretta M9] (15/15) [MREs] (5/5) [Bottled Water] (10/10) [15 Rounds Mag] (5/5) [First Aid Kit] (2/2) Thomas can only stare at the screen dumbfoundedly. He tapped the icon of the Beretta M9 and almost immediately, it materialized in his hand. M9 - Beretta Handgun Firearm, Semi-Automatic, 9x19mm Parabellum, Capacity: 15 Rounds, Damage: Low, Range: Short, Accuracy: Low, Rate of Fire: Average, Weight: Light. "This is..." He inspected the gun closely, and it felt and looked real. He hadn''t touched a gun before and despite the system saying its weight was light, it felt heavy in his hand. And not to mention, he also hasn''t fired a gun in his life. Still, he couldn''t believe that this was happening, the system and the gun. Like why would someone choose him? And who was the entity that chose him to have this system? But¨Cthe fact that he had this power now meant that he has the means to fight against zombies. Ever since the outbreak in his country, all he had been doing was running and avoiding the zombies. It may sound cowardly but what would you do at that point? It was just pretty unrealistic for someone average like him to beat off zombies that could turn you into one with a simple scratch and bite. He couldn''t just risk it, even if he had a baseball bat or other bludgeoning weapon. As for the gun, it was safe. He could kill zombies from a distance, and it''s the powerful weapon any person can have in the apocalypse. With that, he rose to his feet, a determined expression etching his face. He walked over to the railings and below, he saw the zombies mindlessly wandering the school grounds. Almost all of them were students that turned, and he recognized some of his friends and classmates walking among them in their grotesque faces. Then¡ªhe walked back, not wanting to attract their attention. He opened his system again and studied it. It was a long panel to read and it took him ten minutes to completely finish it. So this is how the system goes. The system has seven features: Notifications, Inventory, Shop, Summon Forces, Quest, Fortune Wheel, and Skills. First, the notification tab notifies new quests, achievements, completion of a task, and so on. The inventory tab is an infinite space where he can store stuff such as weapons, supplies, foods, and so on. The third one is the Shop tab. The shop tab is where things got interesting. This is the tab where he can buy weapons, foods, supplies, military equipment. There are icons that are greyed out, indicating he can''t purchase it yet, but he can make out a picture. There are motorcycles, vehicles, and even helicopters! In short, it offers everything. To buy an item from the shop tab requires only one thing, which is a blood coin. For every kill of zombies, completion of a quest, unlocking an achievement, and so on, he can get blood coins. The fourth one is the Summon Forces. It works similarly to Shop Tab but instead of materials, weapons, or goods, Thomas can buy a "living being". However, instead of blood coins, Soul is used for the transaction. The souls are the essence of every living being, they can be found in humans, animals, and even zombies. The only way to get souls is to take them from a living being by killing them. The conversion goes like this. [INFANTRY: 1 Soul = 1 Infantry 2 soul = 1 Medic 3 soul = 1 Sniper 4 soul = 1 Commando 5 soul = 1 Engineer 6 soul = Pilot 10 Souls= 1 Special Forces 50 souls = 1 General ] The fifth one is Quest Tab. This is where he can see available quests, special quests, ongoing quests, and the rewards upon completion. The sixth one is the Fortune Wheel tab. Similar to games, most notably mobile games. The Fortune Wheel is where can test his luck. He can win Souls, Blood Coins, Items, et cetera. To spin the wheel, a special ticket is required. One special ticket is credited every 2nd of the month. The seventh feature is the Skills tab. This is the tab where he can learn new skills and check the current skill he has. For now, he only has a skill called Weapon''s proficiency, which is at level 1. It''s probably a complementary skill the system gave him so that he could shoot firearms. Setting all that aside, Thomas breathed a sigh of hope. To think that he had given up in his life, only to receive an overpowered system. Seven billion people on the planet yet he''s the one who got it. Too much for Chosen One trope. [Current Quest: Kill 50 zombies.] [Completion Reward: 100 Souls, 40000 Apocalypse Dollars] He stared at the screen blankly. What seems to be an easy quest yields such an absurd reward?! "WTF!" Thomas gasped. It was indeed an insane amount. Now that he had a goal to achieve, he grabbed the Beretta M9 and ran over to the railings. The M9 Beretta, which only has an effective range of 50 meters. He can only shoot down zombies that are below him and those near the school building. Since he''s on the fourth floor, there''s no way that those mindless creatures can reach him. The only way for them to get to him is through the door behind. 15 rounds, 5 additional mags. That gives him 90 rounds. It''s more than enough. Chapter 2: The First Mission Bang...Bang...Bang... A brief ear-splitting noise rang in Thomas''s ears as he consecutively pulled the trigger of his pistol, shooting down zombies who congregated below with their hands held up high. Some zombies jumped on their fellows while the others kept piling up corpses one after the other. It was like a never-ending wave of suicidal maniacs who is so keen on killing him. Unfortunately for them, he has the high ground. Luckily, the rain that had been going on for an hour hadn''t yet subsided. Which seemed to be overwhelming the senses of the zombies. If it weren''t not raining, then all the zombies present on the school grounds would definitely go after him. While shooting at them, Thomas analyzed their behavior, using movies and drama series as references. If he were to compare the behavior of the zombies in this world, it would be similar to World War Z or the zombies in Train to Busan. If that was the case, then getting their attention is tantamount to committing suicide. Thomas pressed his thumb onto the magazine release button. He is down to the last two mags. [Zombies killed: 35/50] Killing them is harder than he anticipated. Even when he fired multiple times on the zombie''s body, they still kept going. The only surefire way of killing the zombies were shooting them in the head, which guaranteed swift kill. Reloading the M9 Beretta with a new mag, Thomas continued firing at the zombies until the gun has nothing to spew. [Zombies killed: 44/50] Thomas inserted the last mag. After that, it''s no more. The rain had begun to ease, softening into a drizzle. He could see more zombies emerging from the school buildings below, drawn by the sound of gunfire. The situation was turning dire. "Six more to go," he muttered, glancing at the system notification panel still floating beside him. He wasn''t sure if he was talking to himself or to the system, but it didn''t matter. All that mattered was finishing this insane quest. Thomas aimed carefully. He had learned from his earlier shots that anything less than a headshot was a waste of ammo. Bang! The bullet hit a zombie square in the forehead, dropping it instantly. [Zombies killed: 45/50] Bang! Another one collapsed. [Zombies killed: 46/50] He felt a strange sense of satisfaction every time the notification updated. The system was proof that he wasn''t crazy, that all of this was real. Bang! Bang! Two more zombies fell, their heads snapping back as the bullets did their work. [Zombies killed: 48/50] Thomas''s heart pounded as he took aim at a pair of zombies staggering closer to the base of the building. They weren''t directly below him, but they were close enough to climb the wall if they somehow figured out how. Bang! The first zombie dropped. Click. His stomach sank. The slide on the M9 locked back¡ªhe was out of ammo. "No, no, no!" Thomas muttered, shaking the gun uselessly. He looked over at the system screen, desperation clawing at his chest. "There has to be another way!" The system chimed softly. [Tip: Use the Shop Tab to purchase additional ammunition.] Thomas''s eyes lit up as he quickly navigated to the Shop. The interface was intuitive, and within seconds, he found the ammunition section. [9x19mm Parabellum Rounds - 30 rounds: 10 Blood Coins] He checked his balance. [Blood Coins: 2450] Without hesitation, he purchased the ammo. A box of bullets materialized in his inventory, and he quickly pulled it out and inserted it into his Beretta. [Zombies killed: 50/50] [Experience points: 1000/1,917] [Quest Complete! Congratulations! You have earned 100 Souls and 40,000 Blood Coins.] Thomas collapsed onto the wet rooftop, panting heavily. He was soaked to the bone, his hands still trembling as he set the gun aside. "Did...did I actually do it?" he whispered. Looking at his notification system, he sure did, he completed the quest. He breathed a sigh of relief. He must admit, it was satisfying that he could kill zombies. He remembered those days when he was terrified of even seeing them, but with this system, he had now a shot of bringing them down. He rested for a bit and then¡ªhis stomach growled loudly, reminding him of his most immediate problem. He opened the system screen again and accessed the inventory tab. The MREs and bottled water were still there, waiting for him. Thomas selected one of the MREs, and it materialized in his hands. It was a small, compact package labeled "Chicken and Rice," with simple instructions printed on the front. Next, he pulled out a bottle of water, its cool surface comforting against his palm. He studied the MRE''s packaging closely. "Tear here," it read, and below that, it detailed how to activate the self-heating mechanism. He carefully followed the instructions, tearing open the top and pulling out a small heating pouch. The instructions directed him to pour a bit of water into the heating element and then place the food pouch inside. "Alright, let''s see if this works," he muttered, pouring a small amount of water into the pouch. Almost instantly, the pouch began to hiss and steam. Thomas flinched at the sudden reaction but quickly placed the food pouch inside and sealed the package. The smell of warm food soon wafted into the air, making his mouth water. He hadn''t realized just how much he missed the simple comfort of a hot meal. The aroma alone was enough to lift his spirits. As the food heated, Thomas leaned back against the wall and unscrewed the cap of the bottled water. He took a long sip, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. It was the first clean drink he''d had in days, and it felt like heaven. After a few minutes, the MRE was ready. He carefully opened the pouch, releasing a puff of steam. The sight of the warm, seasoned chicken and rice brought an unexpected wave of emotion. For a moment, it was as if he had stepped out of the nightmare and back into a normal world. Thomas grabbed the included plastic spoon and dug in. The taste wasn''t gourmet by any means, but it was warm, filling, and exactly what he needed. Each bite seemed to revive him, replenishing his strength and clearing his mind. As he ate, he glanced at the system screen again. The completed quest was still displayed, along with his newly accumulated Souls and Blood Coins. His eyes lingered on the Souls count¡ª100 Souls. Enough to summon a small squad. His thoughts drifted back to the Summon Forces tab. If he could summon even a handful of allies, his odds of survival would improve dramatically. However¡ª. [You can only summon troops once you are level 10.] Thomas''s excitement was abruptly cut short as the system displayed a restriction he hadn''t noticed before. "Level 10?!" He scanned the details of the Summon Forces tab again, hoping he had misread it. Unfortunately, the glowing text was crystal clear. [You must reach Level 10 to unlock the Summon Forces feature.] He sighed in frustration, leaning back against the wall. "Figures... Of course, there''s a catch." Despite the setback, he reminded himself that the system had already given him tools to survive¡ªtools he never would have dreamed of possessing. It wasn''t a complete loss. The Blood Coins, Souls, and the rewards for completing quests would give him a fighting chance, and the M9 was proof of what he could accomplish with a little firepower. After finishing his meal, he felt a surge of energy returning to his body. For the first time in days, his mind felt clear, and his body no longer felt on the brink of collapse. He decided to focus on leveling up. If he needed to reach Level 10 to summon reinforcements, then that was his next priority. Opening the Quest Tab, Thomas found a new notification waiting for him. [New Quest Unlocked: Eliminate 100 Zombies.] [Completion Reward: 50,000 Blood Coins, and 1,000 EXP.] The quest made his stomach tighten. Killing 50 zombies had already pushed him to the edge¡ªnow the system was asking him to double that number. "Well, no pain, no gain," he muttered, shaking his head. He couldn''t afford to waste time complaining. He glanced over the railing, surveying the school grounds below. The rain had stopped entirely now, and the skies were clearing. The zombies had scattered, some wandering aimlessly while others remained near the base of the building, drawn by his earlier gunfire. Thomas checked his ammunition. After purchasing the extra rounds earlier, he still had about 20 left in the current magazine and a box of 30 in his inventory. It wasn''t much, but it was better than nothing. Opening the Shop Tab again, he browsed for better weapons. His eyes lit up as he scrolled past an assortment of firearms¡ªrifles, shotguns, and even submachine guns. Unfortunately, most of the items were grayed out, either due to high costs or level restrictions. He sighed and selected something within his budget: [Weapon Purchased: Heckler & Koch MP5 - 1,500 Blood Coins] [Ammo: (20x) 9x19mm Parabellum 30 Rounds: 600 Blood Coins] The sleek Heckler & Koch MP5 materialized in Thomas''s hands.. He admired the weapon for a moment before checking the inventory to load the purchased ammunition. "This should make things easier," he muttered, sliding the magazine into place and cocking the bolt. About how he knew to operate the gun, he just knew it, like the system has granted him basic knowledge on every gun. Thomas leaned over the railing again, scanning the school grounds for clusters of zombies. The aftermath of his earlier fight was evident; the corpses of the undead littered the grounds, but new zombies were beginning to wander into the area, drawn by the smell of death and the faint sound of the earlier gunfire. "Alright, time to get to work." Thomas aimed the MP5 at a group of four zombies below. He took a deep breath, steadied his hands, and pulled the trigger. Chapter 3: The Second Mission The MP5 roared to life, sending a burst of bullets downrange. The first two zombies fell instantly, their heads blown apart by the precise shots. The other two were staggered but continued moving, their grotesque, decayed faces locked in his direction. Thomas adjusted his aim and fired again. Ratatatat! [Zombies killed: 2/100] [Zombies killed: 4/100] The notifications flashed in his peripheral vision, giving him a strange sense of accomplishment. The MP5 was a game-changer¡ªits rapid-fire capability allowed him to handle multiple targets with ease. As Thomas continued to fire, a growing realization dawned on him¡ªthe zombies were becoming more reactive. The sound of the MP5 echoed through the open school grounds, pulling the undead from every direction. What had initially been clusters of wandering zombies now began to coalesce into a unified horde. The reason¡ªthe rain has already turned into drizzle, providing less sound cover. Ratatatat! Another burst of bullets shredded through three more zombies, their lifeless bodies crumpling to the blood-streaked ground. [Zombies killed: 7/100] He glanced around, noticing movement on the far edges of the school property. Zombies were pouring out of classrooms and hallways, their frenzied moans growing louder with every passing second. From his vantage point on the rooftop, Thomas watched in stunned silence as the horde pressed against the wall of the school building he was on, their momentum causing them to pile on top of each other. Just like in World War Z, the zombies used their own bodies as makeshift ladders, climbing higher and higher with each second. Thomas''s heart dropped. "Oh, hell no." Panic surged through Thomas as he watched the horde of zombies pile on top of each other, creating a terrifying, writhing tower of bodies. "Oh no, this is bad," Thomas muttered under his breath, his fingers tightening on the MP5. His eyes frantically darted to the side, searching for an escape. But there was no escape as behind the main exit of the rooftop, there were zombies trying to barge in. The zombies below were now reaching up the school wall, climbing over each other, desperate to get to him. "Focus," Thomas hissed to himself. He quickly checked the ammo count. [Ammo: 50/600 (MP5)] [Blood Coins: 53,400] He opened the Shop Tab, praying the system had something that could turn the tide. Scrolling frantically through the options, his eyes landed on a solution that made his heart race. [Item Purchased: M67 Grenade x3 ¨C450 Blood Coins] [Blood coins: The grenades materialized instantly in his inventory. Without hesitation, Thomas pulled one out, yanked the pin, and hurled it straight into the writhing mass of zombies piling against the wall. BOOM! The explosion was deafening. It ripped through the undead tower, scattering charred limbs and rotten flesh in every direction. The force of the blast knocked several zombies off the wall, collapsing a large section of the pile. The sound temporarily drowned out the relentless groans. [Zombies killed: 75/100] Thomas didn''t waste time celebrating. He grabbed another grenade, pulled the pin, and tossed it at another cluster forming near the base of the building. BOOM! The second explosion obliterated more of the horde, sending chunks of undead flying. [Zombies killed: 92/100] But the grenade had an unintended consequence: it attracted more zombies from afar and rushed to the base of the school building. He has to lure them away. With that, he threw the last grenade, as far as he could toward the outskirts of the school grounds. The grenade sailed through the air before landing. BOOM! The explosion sent a shockwave across the grounds. The zombies that were gathering at the base, were momentarily distracted¡ªand then went to the source of the explosion. "Now it''s my chance!" Ratatatata. Thomas reappeared and then killed nine zombies using his MP5. [Zombies killed: 100/100] [Quest Complete! Congratulations! You have earned 50,000 Blood Coins and 1,000 EXP.] [You have leveled up!] [Level 2: 4,000/4,230] Thomas stood on the rooftop, panting and sweating, the MP5 smoking in his hands. His eyes darted to the glowing system notification, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he processed the achievement. "Level 2," he muttered, a small smirk creeping onto his face. "I''m starting to get the hang of this." The satisfaction of completing the quest and leveling up was short-lived as his ears picked up the faint groans of zombies still lingering in the area, especially from the door. Thomas wiped the sweat from his brow and quickly checked his status screen. [Current Blood Coins: 104,950] [Current Souls: 200] [Ammo: 20/600 (MP5)] "I killed 200 zombies, and I''m still just level 2?" Thomas muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. The realization hit him like a brick¡ªhe still needed 12 more kills to level up. One zombie was equivalent to 20 experience points, and while he was close to leveling up, the grind was beginning to wear on him. "Alright," he sighed, gripping the MP5 tightly. "Twelve more. Let''s finish this." Thomas scanned the school grounds from the rooftop, his sharp eyes searching for any remaining zombies. The earlier explosions had drawn many of them away, but a few stragglers wandered aimlessly below. He quickly checked his ammunition count. [Ammo: 20/600 (MP5)] [Blood Coins: 104,950] "Not much ammo left in the mag, but I can work with it," he said. He crouched low, taking aim at a lone zombie staggering near a pile of its fallen comrades. Its grotesque face twitched as it let out a low groan, unaware of the predator above. Ratatat! The burst of bullets hit the zombie square in the head, and it collapsed in a heap. [Zombies killed: 201] [Experience Points: 4,020/4,230] Thomas smirked. "Eleven more." [Zombies killed: 212] [Experience Points: 4,040/8,693] [You have leveled up!] [New Skills Unlocked: Combat proficiency Level 1] Thomas sighed and retreated away from the railings. Still, the banging from the door is jolting him. He knew that he couldn''t stay here forever as the rooftop won''t even make much sense in terms of a base. Not to mention, in the middle of the city. He had to get out of this place. But the only way to get out was through that door. If he would get through that door, he needed protection. Since he can''t summon forces right now, he must rely on protective equipment that would protect him from bites and scratches from the zombies. After all, that''s their mode of infection. Thomas quickly pulled up the Shop Tab, scanning for protective gear. He scrolled past tactical vests, riot helmets, and other military equipment before his eyes landed on something that made him pause¡ªa full SWAT Tactical Gear Set. [SWAT Tactical Gear Set - 1,000 Blood Coins] Description: Includes a bulletproof vest, helmet, gloves, elbow and knee guards, tactical boots, and a bite-resistant suit. Offers protection from bites, scratches, and moderate ballistic threats. He didn''t hesitate. [Item Purchased: SWAT Tactical Gear Set - 15,000 Blood Coins] [Blood Coins Remaining: 103,950] The gear materialized in his inventory, and he immediately equipped it. Each piece fit snugly, as if right for his size. Thomas flexed his fingers in the gloves and took a few steps in the boots. "Not bad," he muttered, feeling more confident. The groans from the door grew louder, followed by the ominous creak of the barricade. Now, he couldn''t just open the door as the moment he did that, the zombies would come rushing towards him. He needed something that would give him a moment of time to get ready for entering the door. He had an idea. A claymore. [M18 Claymore Mine - 800 Blood Coins] Description: A directional anti-personnel mine. When triggered, the explosion unleashes a deadly spray of steel balls in a 60-degree arc. Effective for clearing groups of enemies. [Item Purchased: M18 Claymore Mine x2 ¨C 1,600 Blood Coins] [Blood Coins Remaining: 102,350] Two claymores materialized in his inventory. Thomas quickly pulled two out, inspecting the compact device. It was lighter than he expected, and the system had already provided him with the knowledge of how to use it. "Perfect," he muttered. He placed the claymores a few feet in front of the barricaded door, carefully angling it toward the entrance. Then, he connected the tripwire and secured it across the doorway. Any zombies bursting through would trigger an immediate explosion. Thomas stepped back, admiring his work. "That should buy me some time." Of course, once the door was open, not all the zombies on the stairway would be caught in the explosion, so he bought three M84 stun grenades for 450 blood coins. And also for more firepower, he bought another three M67 grenades for 450 blood coins. [Blood Coins Remaining: 101,500] Luckily, the armor vest that came with the SWAT armor had holsters for the grenades. Still, he wasn''t satisfied, he needed energy. Thomas scrolled down the Shop Tab and found what he needed. [Adrenaline Shot ¨C 100 Blood Coins] Description: Temporarily boosts strength, speed, and reaction time for five minutes. Ideal for emergency escapes or combat situations. Without hesitation, Thomas purchased two shots. [Item Purchased: Adrenaline Shot x2 ¨C 200 Blood Coins] [Blood Coins Remaining: 101,300] The syringes materialized in his inventory, and he quickly tucked them into one of the utility pouches on his SWAT vest. As he stepped back to review his setup, the system chimed with a new notification. [New Mission Unlocked] [Mission: Escape the University Objective: Leave the university premises. Rewards: 25,000 Blood Coins, 1x mystery box, 3,000 experience points.] "Escape the university?" Thomas repeated. The system wanted him to leave his university? That seemed difficult, considering that there are hundreds of students present in the university. Well¡ªwhatever it takes. Thomas looked at the door, and still, it was being banged by the zombies from the other side. He took one adrenaline shot by injecting himself through his wrist. Almost instantly, a surge of energy shot through his veins like a lightning bolt. His breathing steadied, his senses sharpened, and his grip on the MP5 tightened with newfound strength. "Alright. Time to move." He leveled the MP5 at the door handle, and seconds later, he squeezed the trigger. Chapter 4: The Third Mission Bang! Bang! Bang! The handle shattered, and the door creaked open slightly under the pressure of the zombies behind it. "Here we go," Thomas muttered, stepping back to give himself some space. The claymores were in place, their tripwires ready to spring the trap. As the door burst open, a wave of grotesque, snarling zombies poured in. BOOM! BOOM! The claymores detonated, ripping through the front line of the undead. Shrapnel and steel balls sprayed outward, turning the narrow stairwell into a deathtrap. The first wave was obliterated, but more zombies were pouring in. Thomas grinned, pulling out one of the M84 stun grenades. He yanked the pin, counted to two, and tossed it into the stairwell. BANG! The flash and concussive force disoriented the zombies, giving Thomas a critical opening. He charged forward, his MP5 blazing as he mowed down the stunned undead. Ratatatat! The adrenaline coursing through his system made him feel unstoppable, but he knew better than to get overconfident. Every step down the stairwell felt like a battle for survival. As Thomas reached the third floor, he found himself facing another horde blocking the main hallway. He quickly ducked behind a nearby overturned desk, reloading his MP5. There was a horde coming towards his direction. He pulled out one of the M67 grenades, and lobbed it into the center of the horde. BOOM! The explosion ripped through the undead, scattering limbs and sending the remaining zombies into disarray. He emerged from cover, firing controlled bursts at the remaining zombies. Their grotesque forms collapsed one by one under his relentless assault. As a student working at the university, he knew the layout of the school and the shortest path possible to exit. But the shortest path was blocked by another horde of zombies that came from the second floor As a student working at the university, Thomas knew the layout of the school well. He had memorized the quickest paths to exit in case of emergencies, but now the shortest route to the main entrance was completely blocked by a new horde of zombies spilling in from the second floor. The creatures groaned and shuffled, their sheer number making it impossible to charge through without a solid plan. Thomas ducked back into a nearby classroom, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. His breathing was heavy, the effects of the adrenaline shot still coursing through his veins. He leaned against the wall, and recalled the map in his memories to reevaluate his options. "Alright," he muttered to himself. "If I can''t take the main hallway, I can cut through the gymnasium and head out to the parking lot." The gymnasium route was longer and riskier, but it was his only viable option. He glanced at his remaining inventory, taking stock of his resources. He had two M67 grenades, two M84 stun grenades, 15 rounds left in his MP5 magazine, and one more adrenaline shot. It wasn''t ideal, but it would have to do. Thomas peeked through the small glass window on the door. The zombies outside were still amassing, some shoving past each other as they clumsily searched for prey. He had to move quickly before more showed up. He pulled one of the M84 stun grenades from his vest, took a deep breath, and cracked the door open just enough to toss it into the hallway. "Here goes nothing," he whispered as he yanked the pin and lobbed the grenade into the middle of the horde. BANG! The flashbang detonated with a deafening explosion of light and sound, stunning the zombies and sending them into disarray. Thomas didn''t wait to see the aftermath. He flung the door open and sprinted into the hallway, the disoriented undead flailing blindly as he darted past them. Raising his MP5, he fired short, controlled bursts at the closest zombies still standing. Ratatatat! The system notifications popped up in his peripheral vision, but he ignored them, focusing on the task at hand. He weaved through the chaos, leaping over fallen bodies and skidding around corners. Finally, he reached the staircase leading down to the gymnasium. The door at the bottom was slightly ajar, and faint groans echoed from below. "Of course it''s not empty," he muttered. He reloaded his MP5, pulling the bolt back with a satisfying click, and prepared to clear the way. Thomas descended the stairs cautiously, his weapon raised. The moment he stepped onto the gymnasium floor, a handful of zombies turned toward him, their heads snapping unnaturally fast at the sound of his footsteps. Their snarls grew louder as they began to shuffle toward him. The last few zombies lunged at him, forcing Thomas to step back. He grabbed one of his M67 grenades, pulled the pin, and threw it into the cluster. The explosion echoed through the gymnasium, obliterating the remaining undead. Shrapnel bounced off the walls, and a cloud of dust filled the air. When it cleared, the gym was silent once more¡ªuntil it wasn''t. More zombies poured into the gymnasium and he could also hear more zombies approaching from where he came from. Thomas realized he was running out of options. Retreating was not only dangerous but also risked bottling himself in again. But he had no choice, he had to go back, he can''t face that much horde coming in compared to the hallway where the zombie numbers are short as he had already culled some. So he retreated back to the stairwell and he kicked open the stairwell door, only to be met with another small group of zombies. Their grotesque faces twisted as they let out guttural moans and began charging toward him. "Not today," Thomas muttered through gritted teeth as he raised the MP5 and let loose a controlled burst. Ratatatat! The closest zombie''s head snapped back as the bullets tore through its skull, sending it crumpling to the ground. He pivoted slightly, taking down the second and third zombies. But his luck ran out as three zombies managed to close the distance. One lunged at him with terrifying speed, knocking him off balance and sending him crashing to the ground. The MP5 skidded out of reach. Thomas growled, his back hitting the cold, hard floor. The first zombie pounced on top of him, its rotting jaws snapping mere inches from his face. Its decayed breath filled his nostrils, making him gag. Thinking quickly, Thomas shoved his forearm between the creature''s teeth, the sturdy fabric of his SWAT uniform holding firm against its desperate bites. "Get off me!" he roared, his free hand fumbling for the Beretta M9 strapped to his thigh holster. He gripped the pistol and pressed the muzzle under the zombie''s chin. Bang! The gunshot echoed in the narrow stairwell, and the zombie''s head exploded in a spray of blackened blood and brain matter. The lifeless body slumped onto him, its weight briefly pinning him down. Before Thomas could push it off, the other two zombies pounced, their claws tearing at his armored chest and arms. Their teeth snapped against his forearm guards, but the suit held firm, buying him precious seconds. "Get... off!" he hissed, twisting his body and using his legs to kick one of the zombies off balance. With his left hand, he shoved the second zombie''s head away from his face, struggling to keep its snapping jaws at bay. The situation was dire, but Thomas refused to panic. He managed to bring the Beretta M9 to bear, pressing the barrel against the temple of the zombie closest to his face. Bang! The second zombie collapsed onto him, its lifeless form adding to the growing pile of corpses. The last zombie snarled and lunged again, its teeth gnashing at his throat. Thomas twisted his body, narrowly avoiding its attack. He gritted his teeth, using every ounce of strength to flip the zombie onto its back. Pinning it beneath him, he jammed the Beretta into its mouth. Bang! The final zombie''s head exploded, the sound of the gunshot ringing in his ears. Thomas staggered to his feet, panting heavily. His body ached, and his heart pounded like a war drum, but he was alive. He retrieved his MP5 from where it had fallen, quickly reloading the weapon while keeping an ear out for approaching groans. His eyes darted around the blood-slicked stairwell, noting the growing noise of more zombies converging on his location. "Gotta keep moving," he muttered, forcing his tired legs to keep moving. He couldn''t afford another close encounter like that. He spotted a door marked "Recording Room" He tried the handle. Locked. "Damn it!" Thomas hissed under his breath. The guttural moans of zombies echoed from below, growing louder. They were closing in. He had no time to think. He raised the butt of his MP5 and smashed it against the doorknob with all his strength. CRACK! The lock gave way, and the door swung open. Thomas slipped inside, immediately closing the door behind him. He scanned the room for something¡ªanything¡ªto secure it. Spotting a wooden chair near the corner, he grabbed it and jammed it under the doorknob, tilting it to hold the door in place. "Hopefully, that holds," he muttered, backing away from the door. Thomas slumped against the far wall, sliding down to the ground. His chest heaved as he caught his breath. His hands trembled, still gripping the MP5 tightly. The adrenaline rush was wearing off, leaving him acutely aware of the exhaustion weighing on his body. [Zombies killed: 103] "I only killed 103?" Thomas exclaimed softly, he thought he had killed a lot but he was wrong. He rose to his feet, scanning the room around. There is one door which was marked "equipment room". He has watched zombie series and movies, and sometimes there are zombies hiding in unusual places. He couldn''t afford to have that moment here. He walked over to the door and tried opening it. Locked. Thomas turned the mp5 and raised its buttstock. With a swift and powerful strike, he smashed the doorknob. CRACK! The lock gave way, and Thomas pushed the door open. "Clear," he muttered under his breath, lowering his weapon slightly. The small equipment room was dimly lit, filled with shelves stacked with tangled wires, microphones, and old recording devices. Just as he was about to leave the equipment room, a faint noise caught his attention. It wasn''t the groans of zombies, but something softer. A quiet sniffle. And it''s coming from the far corner of the room. He stepped into the room cautiously, his MP5 raised and ready. As Thomas stepped further into the equipment room, his eyes scanned the dim space. The faint sniffle became clearer, and he could now make out a soft shuffle in the far corner, where shadows obscured the shelves. His grip tightened on the MP5 as he prepared for the worst. "Who''s there?" he called out. A moment later, he heard movement¡ªa rustle of fabric followed by a trembling voice. "P-please don''t hurt us..." Chapter 5: Seeing Familiar Faces Thomas froze, lowering his weapon slightly as two figures emerged from behind a stack of old sound equipment. It was two female students, their faces pale and streaked with dirt. They were clutching each other tightly, their eyes wide with fear as they stared at him. One was taller, with long, disheveled brown hair, while the other was shorter, her jet-black hair tied in a loose ponytail. Both looked like they hadn''t eaten or slept in days. As he looked closer, their faces stirred a memory. He reached up and switched on the flashlight mounted under his MP5, the beam cutting through the shadows and landing on their faces. His breath caught in his throat. "Samantha? Anna?" he said in disbelief. The taller girl, Samantha, blinked at him in surprise, her brown eyes wide with recognition. "Thomas?" she asked shakingly. "It''s really you," Thomas muttered, lowering the weapon completely. Samantha and Anna. The campus belles of Adamson University. Everyone knew them¡ªthey were inseparable best friends, and their beauty and charisma had made them stand out in any crowd. He couldn''t help but remember the last time he had seen them. It was the day everything fell apart. The zombies had appeared out of nowhere, turning the school into a nightmare. He remembered the chaos vividly¡ªstudents screaming, running in every direction, desperate to escape the undead that had infiltrated the campus. Samantha and Anna had been part of a larger group, one that seemed better equipped to protect themselves. He had assumed they''d made it out safely, but seeing them here, dirty and terrified, told a different story. "What... what happened to you?" Thomas asked. Anna clung tighter to Samantha, her body trembling as she buried her face in her best friend''s shoulder. Samantha took a deep breath, her voice shaky but steady enough to respond. "We were with a group at first... but the zombies, they... they kept coming. We got separated when the group was attacked. We ran and ended up here. We''ve been hiding ever since." "I see...are they dead? The group that you went with?" "I don''t know," Samantha simply replied, then she scanned his appearance from top to bottom curiously. "What about you? You are wearing a SWAT uniform and armed with a gun...how is that possible?" "Ah..." Common sense dictates that he couldn''t tell Samantha and Anna about the system that he had received earlier. He has to come up with a plausible reason about how he had gotten possession of firearms. And¡ªhe couldn''t think of one. Almost all of his classmates knew about his family background, he has none, he was an orphan, and a scholarship student. There was no way he could convincingly claim he had connections to military or law enforcement resources. Samantha''s questioning gaze lingered on him, and he knew he had to say something before the situation grew awkward. "I, uh... found it," Thomas said hesitantly, avoiding eye contact. "You know, in one of the abandoned storage rooms. It''s a miracle, really. Someone must have stashed it here before everything went to hell." Samantha raised an eyebrow, but she didn''t press further. "I see. Guess you''ve been lucky," she muttered, her voice tinged with disbelief. Anna, still clutching Samantha''s arm, glanced at the weapon nervously but said nothing. Thomas decided to change the subject. "You said you''ve been hiding here? How long?" Samantha let out a sigh. "Three days. We''ve barely eaten, and we''ve been trying to stay quiet. Every time we thought about leaving, there were zombies nearby. We didn''t want to risk it." Thomas nodded, understanding their plight. He knew the feeling of being trapped, helpless against the overwhelming odds. But when the system appeared, he had regained hope in this forsaken world, and he thought that he should share that hope to his classmates as well. "I have food here with me but you need to stay here as I have to prepare it." "You have food?" Finally, Anna spoke. Thomas gave Anna a reassuring nod before stepping back into the small equipment room to prepare the food. He quickly opened his system interface, navigating to his inventory. With a flick of his finger, he selected two MREs and two bottles of water. The items materialized in his hands instantly. He knelt down on the floor, tearing open the first MRE packet labeled "Beef Stew." Following the instructions printed on the side, he activated the self-heating mechanism with a small amount of water. As the pouch hissed and began to heat up, he set it aside and repeated the process for the second packet, this one labeled "Chicken Teriyaki." The smell of the food quickly filled the air, and Thomas heard a soft gasp from behind him. Turning his head slightly, he saw Samantha and Anna peeking into the room, their wide eyes fixed on the steaming pouches. Thomas'' eyes widened momentarily. Did they see him activating the system? No, he had been careful. He took a glance over his shoulder before he interacted with the system, and when he was preparing it, he threw another glance and they didn''t peek. He relaxed himself and spoke. "Are you guys familiar with the MREs?" "Isn''t it food prepared for the soldiers in the military?" Samantha replied with a thoughtful expression. "You are right, and you are lucky that I still have two," Thomas chuckled softly before offering them the MREs. "I don''t know what flavor you two prefer so you can just choose which one you like." Samantha hesitated for a moment, her gaze shifting between the steaming packets. "I''ll take this one," she said, choosing the Chicken Teriyaki. She handed the remaining packet to Anna, who nodded gratefully. "Thank you," Anna murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She quickly tore open the Beef Stew packet, her hands trembling slightly as the aroma hit her. Thomas passed them each a bottle of water. "You''ll need this too. Stay hydrated," he said firmly, watching as they took the bottles with murmurs of thanks. Samantha and Anna sat down on the floor, their backs against the wall as they dug into the food. They ate with the desperation of people who hadn''t had a proper meal in days, practically shoveling the warm food into their mouths. Samantha closed her eyes briefly, savoring the taste. "This is amazing," she mumbled between bites. Anna nodded in agreement, barely pausing to breathe as she devoured the stew. "I didn''t realize how hungry I was until now," she admitted. Thomas leaned against the wall opposite them, his MP5 resting across his lap as he kept an eye on the door. He couldn''t help but feel a sense of responsibility for the two girls whose blank eyes rekindled with hope. "So, Thomas," Samantha said after a few moments. "What were you doing?" "Well I am trying to get out of this campus but there are a lot of zombies outside. I had to retreat," Thomas said. Samantha looked at his MP5. "You were fighting zombies? I didn''t expect you to have such talent for it. Well, you were silent almost every time in class and you barely interacted with our other classmates." "Let''s just say I have a life outside other than being a student," Thomas said. "And are you going to try again?" Samantha inquired. "I have to." Hearing that, Samantha and Anna exchanged glances with one another and then¡ªturned their eyes back to him. "Thomas...uhm¡ªcan we come...with you?" Samantha finished hesitantly, her voice trembling slightly as she met Thomas''s gaze. Chapter 6: A Promise Thomas sighed, his gaze dropping to the MP5 resting on his lap. He had known the question was coming, but that didn''t make it any easier to answer. Taking them along would significantly increase the risk. They were inexperienced, frightened, and likely to slow him down. He was not yet powerful enough to play a hero and rescue the damsels in distress, but he couldn''t leave them here either. This was quite a predicament. "Samantha¡ªI''ll be honest with you. You two can''t come with me. It''s dangerous out there. There are a lot of them, and most are active due to my recent encounter with them," Thomas explained. "But we can''t stay here either," Samantha cut him off, her voice trembling with desperation. She stood up, her hands balled into fists at her sides. "Thomas, you don''t understand. If you leave us here, we won''t make it. We''ve been barely surviving for three days. We don''t have food, we don''t have water¡ªwe don''t even have a weapon to defend ourselves." Anna clutched Samantha''s arm tightly, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. "We would''ve died if you hadn''t come," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please... you''re our only chance." Thomas closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, gripping the MP5 tightly. He felt the weight of their words pressing on him like a crushing boulder. Every part of him wanted to help, but his logical side screamed that it was a bad idea. They were liabilities, plain and simple. He was struggling to stay alive as it was. "I... I understand what you''re saying. But it''s not as simple as just bringing you with me. You''ve seen how bad it is out there. I''m barely holding my own. If I have to keep an eye on both of you while fighting off zombies, I''m putting all three of us in more danger." "But we''re not asking you to babysit us!" Samantha argued, her voice rising. "We''re not helpless! We''ll do whatever you say, we''ll follow your orders¡ªwe just don''t want to die in this damn room!" Anna nodded, her tears spilling over. "Please, Thomas... we''ll do anything. We just don''t want to be alone anymore." Thomas looked at them, their faces pale and desperate, their eyes pleading with him. He felt a knot tighten in his chest. He thought about the weight of responsibility, the lives he would be gambling with if he let them come. But he also thought about the fact that they were right¡ªthey wouldn''t last much longer here. Leaving them behind was a death sentence. Then¡ªan idea came to mind. "I''ll give you guys the remaining food I have," Thomas said. "With that, you''ll be able to survive for a week. That is enough time for me and my friends to come back and rescue you two." Samantha and Anna exchanged glances, they were quite confused. But for Thomas¡ªit was all logical. In the system, once he reached level 10, he would be able to summon troops. And those troops would help him conduct the rescue operation. After all¡ªhe was already at level four. He only has to complete missions and kill as many zombies as possible to reach the required level. As for the foods, he''d buy them in his system shop using blood coins. "I know it''s hard to understand but when I get out of here, I will call my friends and then get you out of here," Thomas said. "But what if you don''t get out of here alive? What if you got killed along the way?" Anna asked reasonably. "Well¡ªthat''s something I can''t afford to happen," Thomas chuckled. "All you have to do is to trust me on this. I swear, I''ll be back." Samantha and Anna were slowly caving in, their resistance softening as they exchanged glances. Samantha took a deep breath and nodded hesitantly. "Alright, Thomas," Samantha said, her voice trembling slightly. "We''ll trust you. But please... don''t take too long." Anna reluctantly nodded as well, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "We don''t have much of a choice," she murmured. "Just... please be careful." Thomas exhaled, relieved that they had agreed to his plan. "Good. Now, I need you both to head back to the room where I found you," he instructed firmly. "Stay there and keep the door locked. I''ll bring the supplies to you." Samantha frowned, her confusion evident. "Why can''t we stay here and wait?" "Because I need space to sort everything out, and I can''t risk anything happening to you while I''m working," Thomas replied curtly. "Trust me, it''s safer this way." Reluctantly, the two girls nodded and retreated back to the equipment room. Thomas watched them go, ensuring they closed the door behind them before turning his attention to the task at hand. He opened his system interface, quickly navigating to the shop. He needed to buy enough supplies to keep them alive for at least a week. His fingers moved swiftly as he selected ten MREs and twenty bottles of water. [Purchase Complete: 10x MREs ¨C 500 Blood Coins 20x Bottled Water ¨C 500 Blood Coins] Next, Thomas selected a durable military-style backpack from the shop. [Purchase Complete: Tactical Backpack ¨C 100 Blood Coins] [Total Blood Coins: 105,350] The items materialized in front of him in neat stacks. He quickly packed the MREs and water bottles into the backpack, making sure everything fit securely. The bag was heavy, but he could carry it with relative ease, thanks to his growing stamina and strength from the system. With the supplies ready, Thomas headed back to the equipment room. He opened the door to find Samantha and Anna sitting together on the floor, their expressions a mixture of anxiety and curiosity. "Here," Thomas said, placing the backpack on the floor with a soft thud. He unzipped it, revealing the neatly packed MREs and bottles of water. Both girls gasped in shock. "That''s... a lot," Samantha said, her eyes wide. "Where did you even get all of this?" Anna''s jaw dropped. "How were you even carrying this? We didn''t see you with a bag earlier." Thomas quickly dismissed their questions with a wave of his hand. "Don''t overthink it," he said briskly. "It doesn''t matter where it came from¡ªwhat matters is that you have enough to survive. Just take it and use it wisely. Ration it properly, and it''ll last you a week, maybe more." Samantha hesitated, her curiosity still evident, but she nodded. "Alright. Thank you, Thomas." Anna reached for one of the water bottles, holding it tightly in her hands. "Thank you," she said softly. "We''ll do as you say." Thomas stood up, his MP5 slung over his shoulder. "Remember what I said¡ªstay here, keep the door locked, and stay quiet. I''ll be back as soon as I can." Both girls nodded, their expressions solemn. As Thomas turned to leave, Samantha called out to him. "Thomas... please be careful." It was the first time he had heard someone telling him that, and it moved him. "I will, thank you," Thomas said before opening the door. Chapter 7: Preparation and Testing Thomas left the room and closed the door behind him. He heard faint footsteps coming from inside and a soft screeching sound as Samantha or Anna set up the chair to block the door. If only he knew that there would be people inside, he wouldn''t break it. But given the circumstances of him assuming that everyone in this campus is dead, it was only a logical decision he could make. He looked to the left and to the right. Fortunately, there were no zombies in sight. He breathed a sigh of relief before opening his system. [User: Thomas Estaris] [Level: 3] [Experience Points: 6,100/8,693] [Blood coins: 106,450] [Skill: Weapon''s Proficiency: Level 1, Combat Proficiency: Level 1] "Only two thousand experience points away from leveling up," Thomas muttered under his breath. To be honest, he wasn''t satisfied by how little the experience points he could earn from killing zombies. It should have been higher as dealing with one without a weapon was difficult and could result in death. But since he was just getting started, who knows the system might get better in the future. For now, he has to focus on his goal. Leaving the campus. And after that, he must grind experience points and blood coins, set up an extraction team, rescue Samantha and Anna, and possibly others who they might find during the operation. To do so¡ªhe needed firepower. One thing he noticed is the MP5. Although it has a satisfying rate of fire, it''s power was lacking. If it was humans, the MP5 would have been enough, but if it''s against zombies that are resilient, one that won''t die even if you exhausted your full magazine on its body, so long its brain is unharmed. Thomas activated his system and browsed through the shop''s assault rifle section, scrolling past an array of firearms. Each weapon came with detailed specifications and stats displayed on the system screen. He stopped at the first option, his eyes narrowing as he read through the description. [M4 Carbine] Type: Assault Rifle Caliber: 5.56x45mm NATO Magazine Capacity: 30 rounds Weight: 6.5 lbs (2.9 kg) Damage: Medium Rate of Fire: High Effective Range: 500 meters Accuracy: Medium Cost: 3,000 Blood Coins The M4 Carbine was a reliable, lightweight option. Its 5.56mm rounds were standard and widely available in the shop, making resupply easier. However, Thomas hesitated. The damage rating was listed as "Medium," and given his experience with zombies, he wasn''t sure if it would have the stopping power he needed. The M4''s high rate of fire was appealing, but if it couldn''t consistently put down zombies with headshots, it would be more of a liability than an asset. [HK 416] Type: Assault Rifle Caliber: 5.56x45mm NATO Magazine Capacity: 30 rounds Weight: 7.9 lbs (3.58 kg) Damage: Medium-High Rate of Fire: High Effective Range: 600 meters Accuracy: High Cost: 4,000 Blood Coins The HK 416 caught his attention immediately. It was heavier than the M4 but offered higher damage and accuracy. Its piston-driven operating system made it more reliable, especially in harsh conditions. However, the increased weight was a downside. Zombies lunged unpredictably, and he needed a weapon he could handle swiftly without getting bogged down. Still, it was a strong contender. [FN FAL] [Type: Battle Rifle Caliber: 7.62x51mm NATO Magazine Capacity: 20 rounds Weight: 9.4 lbs (4.3 kg) Damage: High Rate of Fire: Medium Effective Range: 800 meters Accuracy: High Cost: 4,500 Blood Coins] The FN FAL was a powerhouse. Its 7.62mm rounds offered significantly higher damage than the 5.56mm rifles, meaning it could take down zombies with fewer shots, even if the head wasn''t hit directly. However, the trade-off was clear: it was heavier and had a smaller magazine capacity. Its rate of fire was also slower, which could be an issue in close-quarters combat against a fast-moving horde. [FN SCAR-L] [Type: Assault Rifle Caliber: 5.56x45mm NATO Magazine Capacity: 30 rounds Weight: 7.7 lbs (3.5 kg) Damage: Medium-High Rate of Fire: Medium-High Effective Range: 600 meters Accuracy: High Cost: 5,000 Blood Coins] The FN SCAR-L struck a balance between the M4 and the FN FAL. It had better damage and accuracy than the M4, with a manageable weight and high reliability. However, its cost was higher, which made Thomas hesitate. While he had enough Blood Coins to afford it, he had to be mindful of other purchases he might need later. [G36C] [Type: Compact Assault Rifle Caliber: 5.56x45mm NATO Magazine Capacity: 30 rounds Weight: 6.6 lbs (3 kg) Damage: Medium Rate of Fire: High Effective Range: 400 meters Accuracy: Medium-High Cost: 5,500 Blood Coins] The G36C was lightweight and compact, making it ideal for tight spaces. Its accuracy and rate of fire were solid, but its damage rating was the same as the M4. Thomas considered that its lighter weight could be advantageous for prolonged encounters, especially since zombies often swarmed unpredictably. However, its shorter effective range could limit its versatility. Thomas leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms as he reviewed his options. His circumstances demanded a weapon that was light, had sufficient stopping power, and could handle close-quarters combat efficiently. After a moment of deliberation, he made his decision. He tapped on the system interface to confirm his purchase. [Item Purchased: HK 416 ¨C 5,500 Blood Coins] [Remaining Blood Coins: 100,950] The rifle materialized in front of him. He picked it up, testing its weight. It was heavier than the MP5 but still manageable. The ergonomic design felt comfortable in his hands, and the increased accuracy and damage would be invaluable. Next, he navigated to the ammunition section and purchased three boxes of 5.56x45mm NATO rounds, each containing 90 rounds. [Item Purchased: 5.56x45mm NATO Rounds x10¨C 1,000 Blood Coins] [Remaining Blood Coins: 99,950] Thomas loaded a 30-round magazine into the HK 416, chambering the first round with a satisfying click. He slung the rifle over his shoulder, and as for the MP5...an idea popped in his mind. He thought of the MP5 being stashed in his inventory, and the moment he did, the MP5 dematerialized and a notification informed him that it was successfully stored in his inventory space. It was a convenient skill. But what if he needed it? He thought of it materializing in his free left hand and it materialized in his left hand. It was good information, no need for him to carry a lot of weapons around his body when he could conveniently stash it in his inventory. Of course, he restocked the M9 Beretta ammo and bought three fragmentation and stun grenades. Last but not least, a tactical knife. That was it¡ªhe was ready for another confrontation. Chapter 8: Intense Confrontation Yet Thomas adjusted the sling on his HK 416, ensuring it was securely strapped to his shoulder. The weight of the rifle was noticeable, but it felt reassuring in his hands. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead. His next destination: the gymnasium. The hallways were eerily quiet, the only sounds coming from his steady breathing and the faint creak of the old floors beneath his boots. He kept his eyes sharp, scanning every shadow and doorway for movement. His finger rested lightly on the trigger, ready to react at the slightest sign of danger. As he approached the stairwell leading down to the gymnasium, he heard faint groans echoing from below. The sound sent a shiver down his spine, but he pushed it aside. This wasn''t the first time he faced them, and it wouldn''t be the last. He descended the stairs cautiously, his boots barely making a sound. At the bottom, the door to the gymnasium loomed ahead, slightly ajar. Thomas peeked through the gap and immediately spotted a handful of zombies shuffling aimlessly near the basketball court. He nudged the door open with his foot and slipped inside. Raising the HK 416, he took aim at the nearest zombie and squeezed the trigger. BANG! The rifle''s report echoed through the gymnasium, the high muzzle velocity of the 5.56x45mm round punching a clean hole through the zombie''s chest. The force of the shot sent the creature stumbling backward, its spine severed. It collapsed in a heap, twitching uselessly on the floor. Another zombie turned toward the sound, its lifeless eyes locking onto Thomas. He adjusted his aim and fired again. BANG! The bullet tore through the zombie''s head, splitting its skull and spraying the wall behind it with dark, coagulated blood. . The sheer power of the HK 416 was undeniable, and Thomas felt a surge of confidence as he moved further into the gym. Two more zombies emerged from behind a row of bleachers, their decayed hands outstretched as they lunged at him. Thomas didn''t panic. He fired a controlled burst, the rounds ripping through their torsos and dropping them to the ground. A quick follow-up shot to the head ensured they wouldn''t get back up. He glanced at his ammo counter displayed in the system interface. [Ammo: 8/30] Realizing he needed to conserve his rifle rounds, Thomas made a quick decision. He thought of stashing the HK 416 in his inventory, and in an instant, it dematerialized. At the same time, the MP5 appeared in his hands. He aimed the MP5 at a zombie stumbling toward him. The MP5''s lighter 9mm rounds fired rapidly as he squeezed the trigger, peppering the zombie''s torso. While the rounds lacked the punch of the HK 416, they were still effective when aimed at the right spot. He adjusted his aim and fired a burst into the zombie''s head, the bullets shredding through its skull and dropping it instantly. The sound of gunfire drew more zombies into the gym. Thomas counted at least six staggering toward him from different directions. He aimed the MP5 at the closest one, firing short bursts to conserve ammo. Ratatatat! The zombie''s legs buckled as the rounds tore through its kneecaps, bringing it to the ground. Thomas approached swiftly, aiming downward, and finished it with a shot to the head. A sudden growl from his left made him spin around just in time to see a zombie lunging at him. He sidestepped quickly, its filthy claws swiping at empty air. With no time to raise the MP5, Thomas instinctively summoned his tactical knife. The MP5 vanished as the knife materialized in his grip. He plunged the blade into the zombie''s temple with a sickening crunch, twisting it for good measure before yanking it free. Another zombie closed in, forcing Thomas to roll to the side to avoid its grasp. He came up on one knee, switching back to the MP5 in a flash. The submachine gun appeared in his hands just as the zombie charged again. Thomas fired a quick burst, the rounds punching through its face and dropping it mid-lunge. "Too close," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. The remaining zombies were homing in fast, closing in as he moved toward the center of the gym. He fired at one, then another, each shot calculated to maximize damage and minimize waste. Click. The dreaded sound of an empty magazine froze Thomas for a split second. With the zombies still advancing, he had no time to reload. He quickly switched to his M9 Beretta, the handgun appearing in his hand as the MP5 vanished. He aimed at the nearest zombie and fired. Bang! Bang! The pistol''s shots were less powerful, but they got the job done. The first zombie dropped after a clean headshot, and the second stumbled as a round pierced its eye socket. When the M9 ran dry, Thomas once again drew his tactical knife. A zombie lunged at him, and he sidestepped smoothly, bringing the blade upward in a powerful strike that pierced its skull. He pulled the knife free with a grunt, spinning to face the next threat. The final zombie staggered toward him, its decayed face twisted into a grotesque snarl. Thomas planted his feet and gripped the knife tightly. As it lunged, he ducked low, driving the blade upward into its jaw and into its brain. The zombie went limp, collapsing at his feet. Thomas stood over the carnage, breathing heavily. The gym was littered with bodies, the floor slick with blackened blood. He wiped the knife on a torn piece of cloth from one of the zombies and sheathed it. [Zombies Killed: 14/100] [Experience Points: 7,460/8,693] Still¡ªhe wondered, why the heck are the numbers of zombies here in the gymnasium decreased? Did something that attracted their attention. And as if on jinxing him, he could now hear the groans of the zombies from afar, one being from the stairwell, and the other from the entrance of the gymnasium. He reloaded all of his weapons and injected himself a shot of adrenaline. And they entered, a horde of them. The first zombie barreled toward him, its decayed face twisted in an expression of primal hunger. Thomas stepped back, keeping his aim steady, and fired. BANG! The 5.56mm round punched through the zombie''s chest, staggering it briefly but not stopping its charge. He adjusted his aim and squeezed the trigger again. BANG! The second shot tore through the creature''s skull, splattering darkened brain matter across the gym floor. The zombie collapsed in a heap, its momentum carrying it a few inches closer before finally going still. But there was no time to celebrate. More were coming¡ªtoo many to count. Thomas began kiting backward while firing at the advancing horde. BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! Two zombies dropped, their bodies crumpling as the powerful rounds tore through their heads. Another lunged at him from the left, and Thomas pivoted smoothly, planting his feet and firing a controlled burst. The rounds ripped through its torso and skull, sending it sprawling. His system displayed a notification in the corner of his vision. The horde pressed closer, forcing Thomas to pick up the pace. He turned and sprinted toward the emergency exit at the far end of the gym, his boots pounding against the blood-slick floor. Thomas spun around mid-run, raising the HK 416, and fired another burst. The rounds struck a group of zombies in the legs, toppling them to the ground. One managed to crawl forward, its clawed hands grasping at his boots. Thomas kicked it away, its head jerking back as he fired another round into its face. Click. The rifle''s magazine ran dry. "Damn it," Thomas cursed, switching seamlessly to the MP5. The HK vanished from his hands as the submachine gun materialized in its place. He raised the weapon and unleashed a stream of 9mm rounds at the oncoming zombies. Ratatatat! The lighter rounds didn''t have the same stopping power, but Thomas compensated with precision. He aimed for the legs, crippling the zombies, tipping them over, which caused those behind to tip as well, creating a temporary barrier between him and the zombies. One zombie lunged at him, its jaws snapping inches from his face. Thomas sidestepped and drove the MP5''s barrel into its chin, pulling the trigger. BANG! The single shot blew the zombie''s head apart, but the force of the attack left Thomas momentarily off balance. Another zombie took advantage, rushing at him with its arms outstretched. Thomas pivoted, switching to his M9 Beretta in one smooth motion. Bang! Bang! The handgun barked twice, the rounds finding their mark in the zombie''s head. It crumpled to the ground, joining the growing pile of bodies that littered the gym. The zombie lunged, and Thomas ducked low, avoiding its grasp. He surged upward, driving the knife into the creature''s jaw and pushing upward into its brain. Black ichor sprayed from the wound as the zombie twitched violently before going limp. Thomas yanked the knife free and spun to face the next attacker. Two more zombies were on him. He sidestepped the first, slashing its throat. While the wound wouldn''t kill a zombie outright, it slowed it down long enough for Thomas to deal with the second. He plunged the knife into its temple, twisting the blade before pulling it free. The first zombie stumbled toward him, its movements sluggish. Thomas didn''t hesitate. He lunged forward, planting the knife in the center of its forehead. The creature collapsed, and Thomas ripped the blade free, blood dripping from its edge. More groans echoed from behind him. Thomas turned to see another wave of zombies spilling into the gym. He couldn''t afford to fight them all here. He bolted toward the emergency exit, his boots skidding slightly on the blood-streaked floor. The zombies pursued him relentlessly, their growls growing louder as they closed the distance. Reaching the door, Thomas slammed into it with his shoulder, forcing it open. He slipped through and turned to face the horde. As the first zombie reached the threshold, Thomas kicked the door shut and twisted the lock. The sound of fists pounding against the metal echoed in the stairwell as the zombies tried to break through. Thomas took a moment to catch his breath, leaning against the wall. His chest heaved, and sweat dripped down his face. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off, leaving him with a deep ache in his muscles. In that encounter, he couldn''t count how many he had killed but the system told him it was over 50. However¡ª.There was no time to rest. Thomas snapped his head toward the end of the alley where the growl originated. Emerging from the shadows was yet another wave of zombies, and this one was larger and moving faster than the last. Their bloodied faces twisted into grotesque snarls, their clawed hands reaching hungrily toward him. Thomas''s heart pounded as he assessed the situation. His HK 416 was slung over his shoulder, empty. His MP5 was low on ammunition, and his M9 Beretta was not enough to handle the sheer number of zombies barreling toward him. For a moment, the weight of the situation bore down on him, but then the adrenaline surged through his veins once more, sharpening his focus. His mind raced, and in the clarity of the moment, he came to a decision. "System Shop," he muttered, opening the interface. His fingers flew across the translucent menu, navigating to the heavy weapons section. The options were limited, but one caught his eye¡ªa machine gun that could turn the tide of the battle. [M60 Machine Gun] Type: General-Purpose Machine Gun Caliber: 7.62x51mm NATO Magazine Capacity: 200 rounds (belt-fed) Weight: 23 lbs (10.4 kg) Damage: High Rate of Fire: Medium Effective Range: 800 meters Cost: 6,000 Blood Coins Without hesitation, Thomas confirmed the purchase. [Item Purchased: M60 Machine Gun ¨C 6,000 Blood Coins] In a flash, the massive weapon materialized before him, resting on a bipod. Along with it came a belt of ammunition, ready to be loaded. Thomas dropped to one knee, grabbed the M60, and quickly loaded the ammunition belt. After that¡ªhe squeezed the trigger. RATATATATATAT! The roar of the M60 was deafening, the barrel spewing fire as 7.62mm rounds ripped through the air. The first line of zombies was torn apart instantly, their bodies shredded by the high-caliber bullets. Limbs flew, heads exploded, and torsos were ripped in half as the M60''s relentless barrage mowed them down. The sheer power of the weapon was overwhelming. Zombies fell in droves, their bodies piling up in a grotesque barricade. Those behind the fallen clawed and climbed over the corpses, but Thomas didn''t let up. He adjusted his aim, sweeping the barrel left and right to cover the entire alleyway. "Come on!" he shouted, his voice barely audible over the thunderous gunfire. Thomas kept firing, the recoil vibrating through his body as he stayed locked in position. And after what felt like an eternity, the zombies inside were all killed. [You have leveled up!] Chapter 9: Nearing Escape Thomas wiped the sweat from his brow and let out a slow, steady breath. The pile of mangled corpses around him reeked of decay, and the acrid stench of gunpowder still lingered in the air. He leaned against the wall, gripping the M60 tightly. But he couldn''t stay here. He glanced at the M60, its glowing barrel a testament to the destruction it had caused. As much as he appreciated its power, it wasn''t practical to carry it around for long distances, especially when stealth was paramount. With a thought, he opened his system inventory. The M60 vanished in a blink, safely stored away. In its place, Thomas summoned his MP5. The submachine gun materialized in his hands. He checked the magazine¡ª30 rounds, fully loaded¡ªand adjusted the sling over his shoulder. Thomas knew the MP5 wouldn''t have the same stopping power as the HK 416 or the M60, but it had one critical advantage: it was quieter. Not silent, but quieter. Zombies were drawn to sound, and every shot he fired might as well have been a dinner bell. If he wanted to make it out of the campus alive, he''d need to minimize the noise. He opened the system shop and navigated to the accessories section, scrolling through the list until he found what he was looking for. [Suppressor ¨C 9mm] Compatible with: MP5 Reduces weapon noise significantly, though not completely Cost: 100 Blood Coins [Suppressor ¨C 5.56mm] Compatible with: HK 416 Reduces weapon noise significantly, though not completely Cost: 100 Blood Coins Thomas bought both suppressors without hesitation. [Item Purchased: Suppressor ¨C 9mm ¨C 100 Blood Coins] [Item Purchased: Suppressor ¨C 5.56mm ¨C 100 Blood Coins] Both suppressors materialized in his hands. He quickly attached the 9mm suppressor to the MP5, twisting it into place until it locked securely. The suppressor added a bit of length to the weapon, but it was a trade-off he was willing to accept. Thomas knew suppressors didn''t work like in the movies. They didn''t make gunshots whisper-quiet. For humans, the noise would still be noticeable¡ªmore of a sharp crack than a loud bang. For zombies, with their heightened sense of hearing, it was still a risk. Unless there was a louder ambient noise to mask the shots, the suppressor would only buy him so much time before the undead homed in on him. He glanced outside through a shattered window. The night was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made every creak and rustle feel amplified. Rain would have been ideal, masking his movements and shots, but tonight, there was no such luck. He''d have to rely on his instincts and move carefully. Thomas adjusted the MP5''s sling, keeping the weapon close to his chest, and moved out of the gymnasium. After five minutes of no encounter of zombies, Thomas finally reached the parking lot. He saw vehicles scattered haphazardly, some with their doors flung open, others with shattered windows. It was clear that the people who had tried to flee had been overwhelmed. The drivers and passengers, once hopeful of escape, had been turned into the very monsters they were running from. Thomas crouched low, his MP5 ready as his eyes scanned the area. The parking lot was crawling with zombies, their slow, aimless shuffling punctuated by guttural groans. He counted at least thirty, far too many to confront head-on. He stayed behind a sedan and thought of his next move. The zombies hadn''t noticed him yet, but if he made one wrong step, the entire horde would descend on him like a tidal wave. He needed a distraction, something loud enough to draw them away but far enough to keep him out of danger. He reached into his inventory and pulled out a grenade. He peeked over the car, gauging the distance he''d need to throw it. His eyes locked on an open area near the far end of the lot, away from his intended path. "Here goes nothing," he muttered under his breath. Thomas pulled the pin and lobbed the grenade with all his strength. It soared through the air in a graceful arc before landing near a group of zombies. A second later, an earth-shaking BOOM erupted, the explosion lighting up the dark lot. The zombies immediately turned toward the sound, their groans growing louder as they shuffled and sprinted toward the source. Thomas waited, his breath held as he watched the horde move away. One by one, the zombies left the area, their attention fully captured by the noise and chaos. When the last straggler disappeared into the distance, he exhaled in relief. "Time to move." He stepped out from behind the sedan, keeping his movements quiet. He moved between the vehicles, his eyes darting left and right, searching for anything that could help him escape. Then, near the middle of the lot, he spotted a zombie slumped against the side of a pickup truck. Its head lolled to the side, a grotesque snarl frozen on its decayed face. Something shiny caught his eye¡ªa keychain dangling from the zombie''s waist, fastened to its jeans. Thomas approached cautiously, his MP5 trained on the undead figure. He''d seen too many times how a seemingly harmless zombie could spring to life when least expected. As he got closer, he noticed the keychain bore the emblem of a Ford logo. His heart skipped a beat. Could it be? Before taking any risks, Thomas aimed his MP5 at the zombie''s head and fired a single suppressed shot. Phfft! The bullet pierced its skull, and the zombie slumped lifelessly to the ground. Thomas nudged the body with his boot to ensure it wasn''t moving before crouching down to inspect the keychain. It was real. The keychain belonged to a Ford Raptor, and judging by the emblem''s, it was likely a new, top-of-the-line model. Thomas''s adrenaline spiked as he scanned the surrounding vehicles, hoping to spot his prize. And then he saw it. Parked a few rows away was a 2024 black Ford Raptor, its sleek body standing out amidst the rusting, abandoned cars. The sleek black paint reflected the faint moonlight, giving the vehicle an almost predatory appearance. It was pristine compared to the decayed and battered cars surrounding it, as if it had just rolled off the lot before the apocalypse struck. Large off-road tires, reinforced bumpers, and a roof rack equipped with floodlights made it clear this truck was built for durability and rugged terrain¡ªexactly what Thomas needed to escape this nightmare. But he wasn''t about to let his guard down. He kept his MP5 trained on the shadows, his finger lightly resting on the trigger as he circled the truck, checking for any signs of movement nearby. When he reached the driver''s side door, and opened it with a press of the unlock button on the keyfob. Beep-beep. The sound of the truck''s locks disengaging echoed through the still night, and Thomas tensed, his eyes darting toward the shadows. For a moment, he thought the noise might attract stragglers, but when nothing moved, he let out a small sigh of relief. He opened the door carefully, his weapon still raised. The interior was immaculate¡ªleather seats, a digital dashboard, and a faint scent of new car freshness that hadn''t yet been replaced by the stench of decay. It was a stark contrast to the chaos outside. "Jackpot," he muttered, climbing into the driver''s seat. He pressed the engine start button and the engine roared to life with a deep, satisfying growl, the kind that made his adrenaline spike. The truck''s dashboard lit up, and he quickly scanned the fuel gauge. "Half a tank," he noted, a small smile tugging at his lips. It wasn''t full, but it was more than enough to get him out of here and far away from the campus. The noise, however, was already stirring trouble. From the corner of his eye, he saw movement¡ªa zombie stumbling out from behind a minivan, its lifeless eyes fixed on the Raptor. Then another. And another. The faint groans grew louder, signaling the approach of more. "Time to go." Chapter 10: What The Hell Was That?! Thomas shifted the truck into drive and slammed his foot on the accelerator. The Raptor surged forward, its massive tires crunching over debris and cracked asphalt. The first zombie that tried to block his path was met with the full force of the reinforced bumper, its body flung to the side like a ragdoll. Thomas winced but kept his focus ahead, weaving through the maze of abandoned vehicles. The horde began to swarm, drawn by the truck''s engine and the commotion it caused. Zombies lunged at the Raptor, their decayed hands clawing at the windows and sides. Thomas gritted his teeth, gripping the wheel tightly as he navigated through the chaos. He reached a narrow section of the lot, where cars were tightly packed together. Slowing down was not an option. He switched gears, the Raptor''s powerful engine roaring as he plowed through, the reinforced frame shrugging off the impact of smaller cars and zombies alike. Broken glass and severed limbs littered the ground behind him. As he neared the exit of the parking lot, a particularly large group of zombies blocked his path. They had gathered near the gate. Thomas''s mind raced. There were too many to drive through without risking damage to the truck, and stopping was out of the question. He glanced at his inventory and smirked. "Let''s give them something to chew on." He summoned another grenade, pulled the pin, and he tossed it out of the driver''s side window and immediately accelerated. The grenade landed in the middle of the horde, and a deafening explosion followed. BOOM! The shockwave sent zombies flying in every direction, clearing the path ahead. Thomas didn''t waste a second. He drove through the smoke and debris, the Raptor''s suspension absorbing the rough terrain with ease. Finally, he burst out of the parking lot and onto the open road. The groans of the undead faded into the distance as the Raptor''s powerful engine carried him away from the chaos. Thomas exhaled, his hands still gripping the wheel tightly. The adrenaline coursing through his veins made his heart pound in his chest, but for the first time in hours, he felt a glimmer of hope. "Made it," he muttered, glancing at the rearview mirror. The parking lot¡ªand the horrors it held¡ªwere now far behind him. [Congratulations! You have completed your quest!] [You received: 25,000 Blood Coins, 1x mystery box, 3,000 experience points.] [User: Thomas Estaris] [Level: 4] [Experience Points: 12,820/14,583] [Blood coins: 139,450] Thomas barely had a moment to process the victory message that flashed in his vision. The rush of completing the quest was tempered by the grim reality around him. The night was far from over, and the road ahead was riddled with threats. Zombies were still lurking, drawn by the noise of the Raptor''s roaring engine, their mangled forms shambling out of alleyways and side streets. Thomas tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles white as he focused on navigating the road. A trio of zombies stumbled onto the road ahead, their rotting faces illuminated by the Raptor''s headlights. Without hesitation, he pressed the accelerator, the powerful truck surging forward. THUD! THUD! THUD! The reinforced bumper made quick work of the undead, flinging their broken bodies aside like discarded trash. A spray of dark ichor splattered across the windshield, but the Raptor''s wipers, equipped with all-weather blades, cleared it in a single sweep. "Sorry, no mercy tonight," Thomas muttered. Further down the road, a larger group of zombies had formed a makeshift blockade. Cars were abandoned haphazardly, their doors hanging open, and the undead clambered over the vehicles, their guttural groans growing louder as they spotted the approaching truck. "Persistent, aren''t you?" Thomas growled, his eyes narrowing. He reached into his inventory mid-drive and summoned another grenade. With his free hand, he pulled the pin and tossed it out of the driver''s side window, his eyes flicking back to the road ahead. BOOM! The explosion lit up the night, a fiery blast that scattered the horde and sent vehicle debris flying. The remaining zombies were either stunned or blown apart, their ragged forms crumpling to the asphalt. The truck rumbled forward, but there was no time to celebrate. More zombies poured onto the road from a nearby alley, their lifeless eyes glowing faintly in the dark. Thomas grimaced. This stretch of road wasn''t going to let him leave without a fight. He swerved sharply to avoid a zombie lunging at the side of the truck, the Raptor''s tires screeching as it skidded slightly. The undead creature missed its mark, tumbling to the ground and rolling beneath the rear tires. The crunch of bone and flesh was sickening but necessary. Ahead, another zombie jumped directly into his path, its bloated body slamming against the hood with a dull thud. The creature clawed at the windshield, its jagged nails scratching the glass. Thomas slammed on the brakes, sending the zombie flying forward. He shifted gears and sped up again, the Raptor plowing over the writhing creature without slowing. The road finally opened up, giving him a clear view of his surroundings. He slowed down slightly, glancing in the rearview mirror. A handful of zombies were still trailing him, their decayed forms moving surprisingly fast for their condition. But he could rest now, the read ahead of him was clear of obstruction. There''s no way for them to catch up to him even if they are running at full speed. Five minutes¡ªthere was no obstruction for five minutes, not even zombies. He allowed himself a fleeting moment of peace, his thoughts wandering back to his home, a modest house nestled in a quiet subdivision 10 kilometers from Adamson College. The thought of returning to a familiar place, even one likely overrun, brought him a sliver of comfort. Home had always been a symbol of safety, of solace¡ªa place where, even now, he might find something worth holding onto. But that peace was short-lived. A loud thud shook the truck as something heavy landed on the roof. Thomas''s eyes snapped upward in alarm, his heart skipping a beat. The sound of screeching metal followed, and suddenly, a massive claw tore through the reinforced roof like it was paper, sending shards of steel and insulation scattering into the cabin. "What the hell?!" Thomas shouted, swerving the truck violently in an attempt to dislodge whatever had landed. But the creature didn''t budge. Instead, its monstrous form leaned into the tear it had created, and for the first time, Thomas got a good look at it through the gaping hole in the roof. Chapter 11: Mutated Zombie Encounter The thing was grotesque¡ªa hulking, sinewy nightmare of muscle and exposed flesh. Its skin was raw and glistening with blood, patches of bone jutting out like jagged armor. Its glowing yellow eyes locked onto Thomas with an unsettling intelligence, and a maw filled with jagged, blood-stained teeth twisted into a snarl. Its massive arms ended in claws that gleamed like polished steel, and the sheer size of its upper body made the Raptor groan under its weight. Thomas barely had time to react as the creature let out a deafening roar, the sound reverberating through the truck. Its claws raked across the roof again, widening the gash and sending sparks flying into the cabin. "Oh, no you don''t!" Thomas growled, slamming his foot on the accelerator. The Raptor lurched forward, the sudden speed sending the creature sliding slightly toward the rear. Seizing the moment, Thomas jerked the steering wheel sharply to the left, hoping the maneuver would throw it off entirely. The beast roared again, its claws sinking into the edges of the roof for grip. It wasn''t going anywhere. Thomas cursed under his breath. He had to act fast. With one hand gripping the wheel, he reached into his inventory, summoning his HK 416 with the suppressor still attached. The rifle materialized in his free hand, and Thomas quickly shifted it upward, aiming through the torn roof at the creature. "Let''s see how you like this," he muttered, squeezing the trigger. The suppressed shots echoed in the confined space as rounds tore into the creature''s exposed chest. It roared in pain, its claws thrashing wildly, but it didn''t let go. Instead, it slammed a fist against the roof, the force denting the truck and nearly causing Thomas to lose control. "This thing''s not going down easy," Thomas muttered, gritting his teeth. He swerved again, this time toward a crumbling section of a concrete wall ahead, hoping to scrape the beast off the roof entirely. The Raptor''s reinforced side collided with the wall in a shower of sparks, the impact sending a jolt through the entire vehicle. The creature screeched as the concrete tore into its flesh, but it clung on, its claws anchoring it firmly in place. "Stubborn bastard," Thomas hissed, reloading the HK 416. He fired again, aiming for its glowing eyes this time. One of the shots struck true, and the beast roared in agony, its grip faltering for a split second. Thomas seized the opportunity. He slammed on the brakes, the Raptor screeching to a halt. The sudden deceleration sent the creature flying forward, its massive form slamming into the ground with a bone-crunching thud. Thomas didn''t wait to see if it would get back up. He shifted into reverse, the Raptor''s tires spinning as they tore into the asphalt, and then floored the accelerator, aiming directly at the downed creature. The truck''s massive frame collided with the beast, the impact sending it rolling across the road. But even as it tumbled, it began to rise, its glowing eyes burning with rage. For a moment, Thomas felt fear, similar to the ones when he first encountered zombies. Even when he shot at it, rammed into it, yet, the creature still won''t die. And looking at its physique, he could say that that was no ordinary zombie. It is the upgraded kind. Is that what they call mutated zombies? It took a step forward, claws scraping against the asphalt with a metallic screech. He didn''t have time to strategize. The creature roared and charged at the truck, its massive legs propelling it with terrifying speed. Thomas gritted his teeth and slammed the accelerator to the floor, the Raptor roaring forward to meet the monster head-on. The collision was deafening. The Raptor''s reinforced front smashed into the creature with brutal force, but the monster didn''t flinch. Instead, it braced itself, its claws digging into the asphalt as it pushed back against the truck. The front of the Raptor crumpled under the pressure, the hood buckling, and the windshield cracking as the airbags deployed with a violent hiss. Thomas''s head snapped forward, the seatbelt digging into his chest as the airbags smacked into him. Pain radiated through his torso, but he kept his foot on the accelerator, refusing to let up. The Raptor''s engine roared in protest, the tires screeching as they spun against the pavement, slowly forcing the creature back toward a nearby concrete wall. The beast snarled and clawed at the hood, its talons ripping through the metal with ease. Sparks flew as it tore into the engine compartment, black smoke billowing out as fluids leaked onto the ground. Thomas knew the truck wouldn''t last much longer, but he also noticed something else¡ªthe accelerator had jammed. Even with his foot off the pedal, the Raptor''s engine continued to rev, pushing the creature relentlessly into the wall. "Fine by me," Thomas muttered, coughing from the smoke. He reached into his inventory and summoned two grenades. The creature''s claws finally reached deep into the engine, tearing at vital components. But it was too late. Thomas pulled the pins on both grenades. "Enjoy this, you bastard," he growled, tossing the grenades through the mangled gap in the hood, and then jumped out of the truck. BOOM! The explosion rocked the area, a blinding flash of fire and shrapnel engulfing the creature. Its roar of rage and pain was almost drowned out by the deafening blast. For a moment, there was silence. Then the creature emerged from the smoke, its body battered and bloodied. Shards of flesh hung from its frame, and one of its arms dangled uselessly at its side, but it was still moving¡ªand it was angry. The monster kicked the wrecked truck out of the way with a ferocious snarl, sending it skidding across the asphalt with a deafening screech. Thomas stared at the towering monstrosity, his mind racing as he tried to suppress the rising panic in his chest. The beast''s glowing yellow eyes locked onto him, radiating a raw, primal hatred. It began to move toward him, each heavy step leaving cracks in the pavement beneath its clawed feet. Blood poured from its many wounds, yet it moved with terrifying speed, undeterred by the damage it had sustained. Thomas clenched his jaw and backed away, summoning the MP5 into his hands. He raised the weapon and fired a burst directly into the creature''s chest. Ratatatat! The rounds peppered its torso, sending sprays of black ichor into the air, but the monster didn''t even flinch. Thomas barely had time to dodge. He dove to the side, rolling to his feet as the beast''s claws slammed into the ground where he''d been standing. The impact sent shards of asphalt flying, and Thomas shielded his face with his arm as he scrambled backward. "This thing doesn''t know when to quit," he muttered, gritting his teeth. He switched to his HK 416, summoning the rifle in place of the MP5, and took aim at the creature''s head. The glowing eyes were an obvious weak point¡ªor so he hoped. BANG! BANG! Two rounds struck true, one piercing the creature''s left eye. It howled in rage, rearing back as its claws swiped blindly in his direction. But even with one eye destroyed, the monster continued its relentless advance. Thomas kept moving, kiting the beast as he fired precise shots at its exposed flesh. He aimed for joints, tendons, anything that might slow it down. The rifle''s 5.56mm rounds tore into the creature, but its sheer size and durability rendered his efforts almost futile. The monster roared again and charged, its speed catching Thomas off guard. It swiped with its good arm, the massive claws grazing his side and sending him tumbling to the ground. Pain shot through his ribs, but he forced himself to roll away as the beast''s claws slammed into the pavement next to him. Thomas reached into his stun grenade. He quickly pulled the pin with his thumb and flung it toward the beast, aiming for the ground near its feet. Clink-clink-clink. The grenade landed perfectly, rolling to a stop right beneath the monster. Thomas turned away and covered his ears, bracing for the flash and bang. BOOM! A blinding white light illuminated the darkened street, accompanied by a deafening crack that reverberated through the air. The creature roared in confusion, its massive claws flailing wildly as it stumbled backward, momentarily disoriented by the intense sensory overload. Thomas seized the opportunity. He opened his system interface, navigating frantically to the heavy weapons section. His eyes scanned the list until he found exactly what he needed. [RPG-7 Rocket Launcher] Type: Anti-Tank Weapon Ammunition: HEAT Rocket (High-Explosive Anti-Tank) Damage: Very High Effective Range: 200 meters Cost: 10,000 Blood Coins] Thomas didn''t hesitate. He selected the launcher and its rockets. [Item Purchased: RPG-7 Rocket Launcher ¨C 10,000 Blood Coins] [Item Purchased: HEAT Rocket x2 ¨C 600 Blood Coins] The RPG-7 materialized in his hands, the weight of the launcher immediately apparent. He quickly loaded one of the HEAT rockets, snapping the warhead into place and locking it securely. The beast began to recover, its glowing eye narrowing as it focused on Thomas once more. "Not this time," Thomas muttered, hoisting the RPG onto his shoulder. He aimed down the sight, steadying the weapon as the beast closed the gap. At twenty meters, Thomas fired. WHOOSH! The rocket screamed through the air, a trail of smoke spiraling behind it as it hurtled toward the monster. It struck the creature dead center in its chest. BOOOOOM! The explosion was massive, a fiery blast that engulfed the creature in a ball of flames. The shockwave rippled outward, sending Thomas stumbling backward as the concussive force hit him. Chunks of flesh and shards of bone were blasted in every direction, painting the asphalt in black ichor. The monster''s roar turned into a gurgled scream as it collapsed to the ground, its body mangled and barely recognizable. The once-massive beast was now a smoldering heap, its glowing eye flickering like a dying ember. Thomas took a few cautious steps forward, the RPG still slung over his shoulder. He kept his HK 416 ready in case the creature tried to rise again. But as he approached, he saw the damage was catastrophic. Its torso was blown wide open, its internal organs scattered across the pavement. One of its legs was completely missing, and its remaining arm twitched weakly before going limp. Thomas exhaled sharply, his body trembling from the adrenaline. "Finally." [Congratulations! You have killed one of the mutated zombies named Mawbeast!] [You received 40,000 gold coins and 3,000 experience points!] [Your level has risen to 5!] Chapter 12: He Wants to Rest This was no time of celebration as Thomas heard the groans of the zombies from the distance. Surely, his fight against the mutated zombie, Mawbeast, caused a lot of noise and attracted nearby zombies. He prepared for¡ª. "Argh~!" Thomas collapsed to the ground as the pain he incurred from the previous fight started taking its toll on him. The adrenaline that had been fueling his every move was now wearing off, leaving behind a searing ache in his ribs and a throbbing pain in his left shoulder. His vision blurred momentarily, and he struggled to take a deep breath. "Not now... not here," he muttered to himself, gritting his teeth. He planted his hands firmly on the cracked asphalt, trying to push himself up, but his arms trembled and gave out under his weight. He fell back with a grunt, his body refusing to cooperate. In the distance, the guttural groans of approaching zombies grew louder. Panic began to creep into his mind, but he fought to suppress it. He scanned his surroundings desperately, his eyes landing on a silver Toyota Camry parked a few meters away. The driver''s door was ajar, the interior illuminated faintly by the overhead light. It looked intact. "I just... need to get there," Thomas muttered, his voice strained. With every ounce of strength he could muster, he began crawling toward the car, dragging his battered body across the asphalt. Every movement sent sharp jolts of pain through his side, but he clenched his jaw and kept going. The groans grew closer. Thomas''s heart raced as he glanced over his shoulder. Two zombies emerged from an alley, their shambling forms silhouetted against the flickering light of a nearby streetlamp. Their milky eyes locked onto him, and they let out guttural growls as they quickened their pace. He growled, forcing himself to reach for the M9 Beretta holstered at his side. He drew the suppressed pistol with a shaky hand, took aim, and fired. Phfft! The first zombie dropped instantly, the round piercing its forehead and splattering dark ichor onto the pavement. Phfft! The second zombie followed moments later, collapsing into a heap just feet from where Thomas lay. He exhaled sharply, his hand trembling as he lowered the pistol. With renewed determination, Thomas clawed his way to the Camry. His fingers gripped the edge of the open door, and he used it to pull himself up. Pain flared in his side, but he ignored it, dragging his body into the driver''s seat. Once inside, he slammed the door shut and locked it, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Leaning back against the seat, Thomas glanced around the interior. It was clean, with no signs of blood or damage. His eyes fell on the key fob resting in the center console. Relief flooded his chest. "Guess this is my lucky day," he muttered, reaching for the key. He pressed the engine start button, and the Camry roared to life. The sound was like music to his ears. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, wincing as pain shot through his arm. He shifted into drive and slowly rolled the car forward. As he navigated through the empty streets, he kept his eyes peeled for any signs of danger. The groans of zombies faded into the distance, replaced by the rhythmic thrum of the tires against the asphalt. For thirty minutes, he drove in silence. Finally, the familiar outline of his rented home came into view¡ªa small, modest house offered by the orphanage where he had grown up. Surprisingly, the area was eerily quiet. There were no zombies in sight, no signs of movement. Thomas pulled the Camry into the driveway and killed the engine. He sat there for a moment, staring at the house, his body screaming for rest. Gathering his strength, he opened the door and stepped out, his legs wobbling beneath him. He limped to the front door, fumbling with the key he had kept on him since he left. The lock clicked, and the door swung open, revealing the dark interior of the house. Thomas stepped inside and closed the door behind him, locking it firmly. The familiar smell of the place greeted him, bringing a small sense of comfort. He leaned against the door, sliding down to the floor as his body finally gave out. For the first time in what felt like forever, Thomas allowed himself to breathe. "I made it," he whispered. [System Notification: User health critical. Suggested action: Use a Health Injection to alleviate pain and restore functionality.] Thomas blinked at the message, his mind sluggish as he processed the words. "Health Injection?" he muttered, pulling up the system interface with a thought. His fingers trembled as he navigated to the shop, scrolling through the categories until he found it. [Health Injections - Exclusive to User] Small Health Injection: 1,000 Blood Coins Effect: Relieves minor pain and heals small injuries. Medium Health Injection: 2,500 Blood Coins Effect: Relieves moderate pain and heals medium injuries. Large Health Injection: 5,000 Blood Coins Effect: Relieves severe pain and heals critical injuries. The descriptions were straightforward, and the word "exclusive" caught his attention, but he didn''t have time to dwell on it. His injuries were painful but not life-threatening, so he selected the Medium Health Injection. [Item Purchased: Medium Health Injection ¨C 2,500 Blood Coins] [Remaining Blood Coins: 187,950] A sleek, cylindrical injector materialized in his hand. The device was simple, with a glowing green liquid visible inside the transparent chamber. Thomas inspected it for a moment, then pressed the injector against his upper arm, gritting his teeth as he pressed the button. A soft hiss sounded as the device delivered the liquid into his bloodstream. The effects were immediate. A warm sensation spread through his body, starting at the injection site and radiating outward. The sharp pain in his ribs dulled, then faded entirely. The throbbing ache in his shoulder disappeared, replaced by a feeling of relief so profound it was almost euphoric. Thomas sat up straighter, his breathing steady for the first time in what felt like hours. "Wow," he muttered, flexing his fingers. His strength returned, and the fatigue that had been weighing him down lifted as if it had never been there. "This thing''s a lifesaver¡ªliterally." The system chimed again, as if responding to his thoughts. [Medium Health Injection successful. Current condition: Optimal. Proceed with caution.] Thomas stood up slowly, testing his balance. There was no pain, no stiffness. It was as if he hadn''t just fought a mutated nightmare and narrowly escaped death. He glanced around the dimly lit house, the silence almost unnerving after the chaos he had endured. His survival instincts kicked in as he quickly checked the windows and doors, ensuring everything was secure. Satisfied that he was safe, he collapsed onto the worn couch in the living room, finally allowing himself to relax. For now, he wanted to take a rest. Chapter 13: Morning Motivation It was early in the morning. Marking it four days since the zombies emerged from every corner of the globe. Manila, a place where he was now, being one of them. Thomas just woke up and was in his bathroom, scrubbing every bloodstain off his arms and face. The water ran red as it swirled down the sink, carrying away the dried remnants of his brutal encounters. He stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror, exhaustion lining his face. Luckily, there was still electricity. For now. The city grid was still functioning, but it was only a matter of time before the power stations were abandoned or overrun. I need to prepare for when it goes out. He splashed cold water onto his face, forcing himself to stay alert. His body was sore, and bruises lined his ribs from his fight with the Mawbeast, but thanks to the Medium Health Injection, the pain was manageable. He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his damp hair. Four days. That''s all it took for the world to collapse. After drying off, Thomas walked out of the bathroom and into the main living area of his rented house. His weapons were laid out neatly on the dining table: his HK 416, MP5, M9 Beretta, and tactical knife, all cleaned and reloaded. He had made a promise to himself¡ªnever be unarmed, never be unprepared. He grabbed a protein bar from his remaining supplies and chewed on it absentmindedly as he opened his system interface. [User: Thomas Estaris] [Level: 5] [Experience Points: 18,234/23,521] [Blood Coins: 187,950] [Inventory: You have one reward that you haven''t opened yet.] Reading the line in his inventory, he opened it. There was a glowing mystery box. He remembered that he earned it from completing the mission of escaping the university grounds. He tapped onto it, and the icon of the box was enlarged and a notification prompt appeared. [Do you want to open the mystery box? Yes or No] Thomas selected "Yes", and immediately after, the mystery box began to glow, emitting a faint hum as it hovered slightly above the system interface. His eyes narrowed in anticipation, watching as the box slowly unraveled itself, its golden light fading to reveal a new notification. [Congratulations! You have received: Experience & Blood Coin Capsule (x1)] Thomas blinked. Experience & Blood Coin Capsule? He had never seen this item before. He tapped on it to reveal its description. [Experience & Blood Coin Capsule] Effect: Quintuple all experience points and blood coins gained from kills for the next six hours. Duration: 24 hours Description: A rare system booster designed to maximize rewards in battle.] Thomas''s lips curled into a smirk. This is huge. Normally, a single zombie kill would grant him 50 Blood Coins and 20 Experience Points¡ªwith this capsule, that would skyrocket to 250 Blood Coins and 100 Experience Points per kill. If he went on a rampage, he could earn enough to level up twice, maybe even three times before the buff expired. "This..." Thomas muttered, gripping his chin thoughtfully. "This is exactly what I need." With the Mawbeast proving that stronger, mutated zombies existed, he knew that the normal undead weren''t the only threats anymore. His firepower was solid, but if things kept escalating, he''d need better weapons, better armor, and a higher level. The capsule was the perfect way to power level. Still, it has its con. In order to maximize the booster effect, he needs to face zombies and kill them. Of course, it was a basic requirement. And he needs to kill a lot of them in order to fully utilize the effect. That meant, facing off against the zombie horde. He wouldn''t want that. He was struggling when there were tens of zombies charging towards him. He needed to play it safe. For now, his goal was to reach level 10 and rescue his classmates that are still stuck in the communication room in his university. However¡ªthe experience points required to get to that level must be high. If every level, the experience points needed to get to the next level is more than six thousand, then he has to kill hundreds, if not thousands of zombies. It''s difficult. Suddenly¡ªthere was a notification in his system. [System Update: Experience points per unit kill are now tripled.] New Base Rewards: 150 Blood Coins and 60 Experience Points per zombie kill. "Wait, what?" Thomas exclaimed softly, his eyes scanning the notification that had just appeared in his system interface. Thomas blinked, processing the sudden boon. This changes everything. It tripled base rewards , meaning each zombie kill would now net him 150 Blood Coins and 60 Experience Points. His earlier calculation of needing to kill hundreds of zombies suddenly seemed far more achievable. A smirk crept across his face. "Looks like the system''s rooting for me," he muttered, gripping the edge of the dining table. The soreness in his body lingered, but his determination burned brighter now. Still, he knew this was no time to celebrate or grow overconfident. The more the system gives, the higher the stakes become. The introduction of mutated zombies like the Mawbeast was proof that things were escalating. Thomas leaned back, taking a deep breath as he planned his next move. If he wanted to maximize the capsule''s effect, he needed to head somewhere with a higher concentration of zombies. But charging into a horde without a strategy was suicide. His eyes wandered to the map of the city pinned to the wall near the dining table. It was dotted with red markers, each representing places he''d encountered zombies. The city mall, just a few miles from his house, stood out immediately. "Plenty of space, plenty of undead," Thomas muttered to himself. Malls were the epicenter of chaos when the outbreak began¡ªcrowded, confined, and teeming with people who likely turned into zombies. If he could lure small groups at a time, he could rack up kills without overwhelming himself. However¡ªhe needed hardware. Thomas scrolled through the Vehicle tab in his system shop, his eyes widening slightly at the options. Rows of military-grade vehicles filled the interface, each with detailed specifications and price tags that made him wince. Tanks, armored personnel carriers, IFV were available, but one vehicle stood out to him. [Joint Light Tactical Vehicle (JLTV): M1278 Heavy Guns Carrier] Cost: 45,000 Blood Coins Specifications: Armor Level: High Engine: Turbo-Diesel Top Speed: 110 km/h (68 mph) Weapon Mount: Equipped with an M2 Browning .50 Cal Heavy Machine Gun Capacity: Driver + 3 passengers, large cargo space Description: A state-of-the-art light tactical vehicle designed for rugged terrain and high-threat environments. Comes equipped with reinforced armor, exceptional off-road capabilities, and a mounted .50 caliber machine gun. Perfect for combat and survival situations.] Without hesitation, he selected the JLTV and confirmed the purchase. [Item Purchased: Joint Light Tactical Vehicle (JLTV) ¨C 45,000 Blood Coins] The interface shimmered briefly before a notification appeared. [Deploy Vehicle Now? Yes/No] Thomas exited his house and tried deploying it. Suddenly, a glowing magic circle appeared on the pavement in front of him, its intricate patterns pulsing with a radiant blue light. Runes he couldn''t understand spiraled around its edges, and a low hum filled the air. The circle grew brighter, and with a sudden flash, the JLTV began materializing before his eyes. Bit by bit, the tactical vehicle took shape. First, the reinforced steel frame emerged, followed by its heavy-duty tires, angular armor plating, and finally, the mounted M2 Browning .50 caliber machine gun perched on the turret. The process was mesmerizing, and within seconds, the vehicle stood fully assembled, its matte black paint gleaming in the sunlight. Thomas took a step back, his eyes scanning the beast of a machine in front of him. It was even more impressive in person than it had looked in the system description. "Perhaps with this, I can kill hundreds more zombies." Chapter 14: New Feature Unlocked After summoning the JLTV, he went back to his house and prepared his gear. He bought a new set of SWAT armor, replenished ammunition and grenades, and after five minutes, he exited the house and locked the door. Thomas climbed into the JLTV, its interior as intimidatingly advanced as its exterior. The control panel gleamed with displays, switches, and toggles, each labeled for tactical operations. The mounted M2 Browning .50 caliber machine gun on the turret above was a massive upgrade to his arsenal, but he needed to figure out how to operate it efficiently. He slid into the driver''s seat, adjusted the chair, and glanced at the turret controls on the dashboard. A touch-screen interface displayed the turret''s live feed, complete with targeting reticles and rangefinders. "Alright," Thomas muttered to himself, scrolling through the on-screen instructions. The system shop had conveniently uploaded a manual for the vehicle and its weapon systems. M1278 Heavy Guns Carrier ¨C Turret Operations: Manual Mode: Operate directly from the turret hatch. Remote Mode: Use dashboard controls for targeting and firing. Auto-Assistance: AI-assisted targeting (requires activation and additional system resources). Thomas smirked at the Auto-Assistance option but decided to test it out manually first. He climbed through the turret hatch. He gripped the twin handles and swiveled the turret slowly, getting a feel for its weight and movement. The barrel moved effortlessly as he rotated it, the mechanism responding to even the slightest adjustment. "Smooth," he muttered. He glanced at the ammo counter beside the gun¡ªit was fully loaded with 200 .50 caliber rounds. Enough to shred through a horde. Satisfied with the manual operation, Thomas climbed back down and returned to the driver''s seat. He tapped the Remote Mode option on the dashboard, and the turret''s live feed filled the display. The targeting reticle moved as he manipulated the joystick controls on the armrest, giving him precise aim without having to expose himself. "This is going to come in handy," he muttered, switching briefly to Auto-Assistance mode. The system whirred to life, scanning the empty street ahead for potential threats. A notification popped up on the screen. Auto-Assistance Activated: Scanning Area... No Hostile Targets Detected Thomas deactivated it for now. He didn''t want to waste system resources unnecessarily. Preparation for the Mall Thomas leaned back in his seat, reviewing his plan. The city mall was only a few miles away, and being in a densely populated urban area, it was likely swarming with hundreds, if not thousands, of zombies. Actually, he doesn''t have to go to the mall, he just needs to go to the city and farm blood coins and experience points. With that, he changed his mind, his target was the city. He rolled out and headed towards the city. As he turned a corner, a cluster of zombies stumbled into view. Their milky eyes locked onto the JLTV, their growls growing louder as they lunged toward the vehicle. Thomas smirked. "Let''s see what this baby can do." He flipped the Auto-Assistance toggle on the dashboard, and the turret above whirred to life. The targeting reticle on the screen locked onto the nearest zombies, and a notification appeared: Auto-Assistance Activated: Engaging Targets. The mounted Browning M2 roared to life. BANG! BANG! BANG! The heavy .50 caliber rounds tore through the zombies with brutal efficiency. Each shot sent chunks of rotting flesh and bone flying, reducing the horde to a bloody mess on the asphalt. The sound of the gunfire echoed through the empty streets, drowning out the groans of the undead. Thomas watched the notifications pile up on his system interface, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. The JLTV''s turret swept from side to side, picking off stragglers with pinpoint accuracy. The streets ahead were soon littered with the corpses of the undead. "This is almost too easy," he muttered, gripping the wheel as he maneuvered the vehicle around the wreckage. But he knew better than to let his guard down. The noise from the turret was bound to attract more zombies, and the last thing he wanted was to get surrounded without an escape route. He glanced at the map on the dashboard, which displayed his immediate surroundings. Red dots began to populate the screen, indicating the growing number of zombies converging on his location. "Here they come," Thomas said under his breath, his smirk fading into a determined grimace. Within minutes, the streets were crawling with zombies. They came from alleyways, storefronts, and abandoned vehicles, their grotesque forms shambling and sprinting toward the JLTV. Thomas estimated at least a hundred of them, if not more. He activated the Remote Mode, taking direct control of the turret. The targeting reticle on the screen allowed him to aim with precision, and he began firing in controlled bursts. BANG! BANG! BANG! The turret mowed down the front line of the horde, the heavy rounds ripping through multiple zombies with each shot. Black ichor splattered across the pavement as bodies dropped one after another. Despite the turret''s relentless firepower, the horde kept coming. Thomas gritted his teeth as he realized the sheer scale of the undead pouring into the streets. He needed to keep moving to avoid being overwhelmed. Shifting the JLTV into gear, he pressed down on the accelerator. The vehicle lurched forward, plowing through the zombies with its reinforced bumper. The sickening crunch of bones and flesh beneath the tires was almost drowned out by the roar of the engine. "Come on," Thomas growled, weaving through the debris-strewn streets. The turret continued firing automatically, thinning the horde as he made his way deeper into the city. At this point, he kind of regretted not activating the capsule. However¡ªhe knew at one point in time where that boost would be the most effective to use. For now, he''d settle on the triple boost the system just gave him. In order for him to keep battling, he constantly reloaded the bullets of the M2 Browning using blood coins. And ever since he arrived at the city of Manila, he had killed over a hundred zombies to the point his level jumped from 5 to 7, then 7 to 9, and 9 to 10. [You have reached level 10!] [New feature unlocked! Summon troops!] Chapter 15: A Moment of Refuge Thomas gritted his teeth as he pressed the accelerator, the JLTV rumbling forward despite the increasing strain on its systems. The once-pristine military vehicle was now covered in gore¡ªchunks of rotting flesh, splattered blood, and smeared entrails coated the armored frame. The reinforced bumper was dented from plowing through countless undead, and the engine was beginning to emit a low, concerning groan. The M2 Browning''s continuous fire had thinned the horde, but the sheer volume of zombies was overwhelming. Despite the turret''s automatic targeting, more of them kept flooding in from alleyways and side streets. The JLTV''s tires struggled against the slick, blood-soaked asphalt, skidding slightly as Thomas maneuvered through the clogged roads. A quick glance at the dashboard showed several warning indicators flashing red. Suspension damage. Minor engine strain detected. He had run over too many bodies, too many abandoned vehicles, and it was starting to take its toll. The weight of crushed corpses had lodged itself into the undercarriage, making each movement feel heavier. More undead swarmed, slamming their decayed fists against the reinforced glass. Some even threw themselves at the JLTV, their bodies scraping down the sides as they clawed desperately at the armored plating. The windows held firm, but the pounding was relentless. If they kept this up, something was bound to give. "Damn it," Thomas muttered. He needed to get out of this mess¡ªfast. His eyes darted across the environment, searching for an escape route. The streets were too congested with wreckage to speed through without risking a complete mechanical failure. The horde was growing, forming a near-impenetrable wall of bodies ahead. Even the .50 caliber wasn''t keeping up with their numbers anymore. Then he saw it¡ªa basement parking entrance. A partially open ramp leading underground. Without hesitation, Thomas yanked the wheel and veered hard toward it. The JLTV bounced violently as it sped onto the ramp, the reinforced tires crushing another layer of undead in its path. The basement entrance was wide enough to fit, but the sharp turn scraped the side of the vehicle against the concrete wall, sending sparks flying. Once inside, he barely had time to react. More zombies were already making their way toward the entrance, filling the open ramp behind him. Thomas pulled his M9 Beretta from its holster and rolled down the window just enough to aim, and squeezed the trigger. Phfft! Phfft! Phfft! The rounds struck the electronic panel controlling the parking gate. CRACK! SIZZLE! Sparks erupted as the panel shorted out, and the heavy metal gate groaned loudly as it jerked downward. The zombies charging toward him were just seconds away. Thomas held his breath. The gate slammed shut just as the first few undead reached it, cutting them off from him completely. A loud THUD followed as bodies crashed against the metal, but the reinforced gate held strong. For the first time in hours, there was silence. Thomas exhaled, his grip loosening on the Beretta. He rolled the window back up and rested his head against the seat for a brief moment. His heart was pounding, his arms stiff from gripping the wheel. The JLTV''s engine rumbled in idle, the heat of its overworked systems radiating into the cabin. He looked at the dashboard again¡ªmore warning signals flashing. The damage from running over countless zombies, smashing into vehicles, and the sheer wear of prolonged combat had taken its toll. If he didn''t stop to maintain the vehicle soon, it wouldn''t last much longer. But for now, he was safe. At least temporarily. Thomas pulled up the system interface, checking his status. [User: Thomas Estaris] [Level: 10] [Experience Points: 52,435/73,125] [Skills: Combat Proficiency Level 2, Weapon''s Proficiency Level 2, Charisma Level 1, Leadership Level 1.] [Souls: 875] [Blood Coins: 577,740] Seeing that he could now summon troops, Thomas''s eyes flickered with satisfaction. At long last, after dealing with hundreds of zombies, he could finally have someone fighting for him. Not to mention, there were also new skills obtained such as Charisma and Leadership. Those two might be related to the new features. And¡ªas much as he wanted to summon one right now, he couldn''t just yet. Looking out of the windshield, he saw fifteen zombies heading towards his vehicle. He can''t use the M2 Browning as it is noisy and would attract the other zombie around the area. So he hopped off the Oshkosh and summoned his MP5. He lined up his shot and with a pull of a trigger, the submachine gun purred with controlled bursts Phfft! Phfft! Phfft! Each shot struck true. The first zombie''s skull caved in as the 9mm rounds tore through its decayed flesh, dropping it instantly. He shifted his aim to the next one. Phfft! Phfft! Two more collapsed, their bodies crumpling to the cold concrete. The remaining zombies staggered forward, their grotesque faces twisted in mindless hunger. Phfft! Phfft! Phfft! Another four fell. Then another. By the time Thomas had put down the twelfth zombie, his MP5 clicked empty. Shit. He had miscalculated his magazine count. The final three zombies were already within arm''s reach, their grotesque hands clawing toward him. Wasting no time, he holstered his MP5 and drew his M9 Beretta in one smooth motion. Phfft! One shot to the forehead, and the closest zombie collapsed. Phfft! Phfft! The last two fell, black ichor oozing from their skulls as their bodies twitched before finally going still. Thomas exhaled, his grip on the pistol loosening slightly. He scanned the basement, his ears straining for any signs of movement. Silence. Good. He quickly reloaded both weapons, stuffing the empty magazines into his vest. Now, with the immediate threats taken care of, Thomas had a moment to think. His JLTV was in bad shape. The dashboard had already warned him of suspension damage and engine strain, and he could feel the roughness in the vehicle''s movement. Plowing through hordes of undead had taken a serious toll. He knew it wouldn''t be able to last another hour outside. He''ll have to abandon the vehicle. As for this place, he looked around and recalled earlier memories to figure out where he was. Luckily, he found a sign on top of a building called Conrad Hotel and Resorts, a luxurious one. Well knowing that, he now knew the zombies won''t be as high compared to outside. This hotel can be his temporary base of operations. Going back to the summons, he opened his system and the infantry tab was displayed. [INFANTRY: 1 Soul = 1 Infantry 2 soul = 1 Medic 3 soul = 1 Sniper 4 soul = 1 Commando 5 soul = 1 Engineer 6 soul = Pilot 10 Souls= 1 Special Forces 50 souls = 1 General ] [Souls: 875]. A smile flickered across Thomas''s lips. "Let''s try this." Chapter 16: The Summoned Troops Thomas pondered his options carefully. Infantry would be the safe choice, but with his current resources, he needed elite soldiers¡ªoperatives who could think tactically and execute orders with precision. Special Forces were the best investment. He navigated through the Summon Troops interface and selected 40 Special Forces operatives, noting the additional cost. The system clarified that souls alone would summon personnel, but weapons and gear required blood coins. A bundled package ensured each soldier was fully equipped with: M4 Carbine (Primary) M9 Beretta (Sidearm) Standard combat uniform Ammunition and tactical knives Radios, tactical helmets, and goggles The total cost: 50,000 Blood Coins. He confirmed the purchase. Immediately, a magic circle flared on the ground, glowing with a deep blue hue as 40 soldiers materialized in perfect formation. Their stance was rigid, postures disciplined, and each wore black tactical gear, their faces concealed beneath helmets and masks. Curious, Thomas stepped forward and reached out, pressing his hand against one of them. The soldier''s body felt real¡ªsolid muscle beneath the uniform, athletic yet unnaturally still. They were like living machines, awaiting command. As he swept his gaze over them, Thomas knew he couldn''t manage them alone. He needed one of them to step up and volunteer to act as his second-in-command. "I need one of you to volunteer. Step forward to those who are willing to be my second-in-command," he ordered. One of the operatives responded without hesitation, breaking formation. He reached up, removing his vest, then unfastened his helmet, revealing his short, light brown hair and sharp blue eyes. His chiseled jawline and hardened expression gave him the look of a battle-hardened veteran. "Do you have a name, soldier?" Thomas asked. "I don''t have one, sir. But if you prefer me to have a name, you can come up with one," said the soldier with a thick American accent. "Very well soldier, your name will be Phillip," Thomas declared. Phillip saluted, standing firm. Thomas, without thinking, returned the salute, as if it was second nature. Their hands lowered in unison. "Awaiting mission, sir," Phillip said in a sharp, professional tone. Before Thomas could answer, a system notification appeared in his interface, prompting him to check. [ New Quest: Establish a Base ] [Objective: Secure a location free of zombies and fortify it for long-term survival. Rewards: 100,000 Blood Coins, 25,000 Experience Points, and 1x Special Ticket to Fortune Wheel.] Thomas rubbed his chin. It made sense. With a force of 40 elite soldiers, he could finally start something permanent instead of constantly being on the move. He needed a base¡ªa safe zone. Another notification popped up. [Recurring Quest: Savior of Humanity ] Objective: For every survivor saved, receive 10,000 Blood Coins and 2,500 Experience Points. Duration: Permanent. Thomas''s brows lifted slightly. Unlike previous quests, which had a defined end, this one was ongoing, meaning it was designed to grow as long as he kept rescuing people. This could change everything. For now, he had two priorities: Find a base and clear it, and locate survivors. Since he had decided that this hotel would be his base of operations, he had to snuff this building out of zombies in order to finish the quest. "Okay listen up. As for your mission, we are going to exterminate all undead present in this hotel," Thomas began, his eyes sweeping across each and one of them. "We don''t know the layout of this hotel but I do know that it is a luxurious one, which means it has multiple floors, narrow hallways, and plenty of rooms where zombies could be lurking. We''ll be moving tactically¡ªroom by room, floor by floor¡ªuntil the entire building is clear. If you find a survivor, I want them contained in the place where you found them, we will deal with them later." Phillip spoke up. "How are we going to do this sir? Are we going to split up or go together?" "Since we don''t have any information regarding the layout of this hotel, I''d say we go together and split up along the way. We are going to make our way up the hotel, clear each floor, and leave a team if necessary for lookout and containment." Thomas paused, ensuring every soldier was paying attention. "We move in formation, room by room. No one rushes in blind. If we encounter a horde, we fall back to a defensive position. No unnecessary risks." Phillip gave a firm nod. "Understood, sir. What''s our entry point?" "Our entry point would be the stairwell since we''re currently in the basement parking. From there, we''ll locate the main hall and expect zombie activity along the way," Thomas explained, scanning his men''s reactions. "Stay alert. We don''t know if the stairwell is packed or if we''ll be facing sporadic resistance." "Understood sir." "Last but not least, maintain communication with one another," Thomas said. "I don''t want you guys losing on me as I have invested a lot in you." "Copy that, sir. We''ll stay sharp," Phillip assured. Thomas nodded and turned toward the stairwell door, gripping his M4 Carbine. The 40-man squad shifted into a tactical formation, rifles raised, ready for engagement. "Alright, stack up," Phillip ordered. The first fireteam moved into position on either side of the stairwell entrance, their weapons trained on the door. One soldier reached out and tested the handle¡ªlocked. Phillip looked at Thomas. "Your call, sir." "Breach it," Thomas ordered without hesitation. Phillip nodded and signaled one of the operatives to pry the door open. He aimed his M4 Carbine at the handle and with a squeeze of the trigger, the handle fell off, and after that, the operative kicked the door open. As soon as the door swung open, the three zombies let out guttural snarls, their rotting forms lurching forward in a mad dash. The operative who performed the breach procedure reacted instantly. Phfft! Phfft! The first zombie''s skull snapped backward, a burst of crimson and decayed tissue splattering against the wall as the suppressed rounds struck true. Phfft! The second zombie took a shot to the forehead, its momentum carrying it forward for another step before it collapsed in a heap. The last one lunged¡ªtoo close for comfort. Without hesitation, the operative pivoted, drew his combat knife, and thrust it upward into the zombie''s jaw, piercing straight into its brain. The creature let out a sickening gurgle before going limp. Thomas, watching the seamless execution, was impressed. [You have killed 3 zombies.] [Blood Coins +450 | Experience Points +180] He nodded in approval. "That''s what I like to see." The operative merely nodded back, wiping the black ichor from his blade before sheathing it. Phillip motioned toward the open stairwell and checked it. "Sir, we are clear. Shall we proceed?" Thomas simply nodded Chapter 17: Extermination Thomas led the squad up the stairwell with Phillip by his side, rifles raised. At the top of the stairs, Thomas paused at the doorway that led to the lobby. He raised a clenched fist, signaling the squad to halt. Phillip moved ahead, slowly cracking the door open to assess the situation beyond. "Eyes on," Phillip whispered, peeking through the narrow gap. "Large crowd. We''re talking at least thirty... no, maybe forty zombies scattered across the lobby." Thomas tightened his grip on the M4 Carbine. "No visual on any mutations?" "None spotted, sir," Phillip confirmed. "Good. We move in slow and tactical. Controlled bursts. We keep this quiet until it''s not." Thomas looked to the team. "Stack up." The fireteams quickly organized along the walls, ready to breach. "Breach in three," Phillip whispered. "Two... one..." Phillip pushed the door open quietly, but one of the zombies, a former bellhop judging by its tattered uniform, immediately snapped its head in their direction. It let out a guttural wail, alerting the entire horde. "Shit! Contact!" Phillip barked. "Engage! Light ''em up!" Thomas ordered. Phfft! Phfft! Phfft! Suppressors hissed as the soldiers opened fire in controlled bursts, the 9mm rounds punching through decayed skulls with brutal efficiency. "Keep the line tight!" Thomas shouted over the gunfire. "Advance slowly! Don''t let them flank!" "Reloading!" a soldier called, dropping back as another moved up to cover him. "Multiple contacts, left side!" Phillip warned, switching to his M4''s full-auto mode. BRRRRT! Several zombies crumpled under a hail of bullets. Despite the squad''s firepower, the sheer number of zombies quickly overwhelmed any sense of order. The horde surged forward, their grotesque forms closing the distance fast. "Falling back position! Defensive line now!" Thomas shouted. "Phillip, pop smoke!" "Roger that!" Phillip pulled a smoke canister from his vest and tossed it into the center of the advancing horde. POP-HISS! Thick, white smoke billowed out, disrupting the zombies'' line of sight. "Switch to NV!" Phillip barked. The soldiers toggled their night vision goggles, green-tinted views cutting through the smoke. The zombies stumbled blindly, their snarls growing more desperate as they thrashed about. "Now''s our chance! Take ''em down!" Thomas ordered. The squad resumed firing with renewed precision. One by one, the zombies fell. "Frag out!" a soldier called, lobbing a grenade into a dense cluster near the reception desk. BOOM! The explosion sent limbs and debris flying across the lobby. "Push forward! Keep up the pressure!" Thomas commanded. "On your six!" Phillip shouted as he fired over Thomas''s shoulder, dropping a zombie that had crept too close. Finally, after several intense minutes, the last zombie''s body hit the ground with a sickening thud. Silence fell over the lobby, broken only by the soldiers'' heavy breathing and the crackling remnants of the smoke grenade. Phillip scanned the area with his rifle raised. "All clear. No more movement." "Status check!" Thomas called out. "All good!" all operators reported. "No casualties, no injuries," Phillip added with a nod. Thomas exhaled, lowering his weapon. "Damn good work, everyone. Not a scratch on us. Keep sharp¡ªthere''s still more of this building to clear." "Copy that," Phillip acknowledged. "What''s the next move?" Thomas looked around, scanning the interior of the hotel. It seemed that they are inside a two-storey mall and atop it was a hotel, judging from the height based from his previous recollections, about six stories. Also, the interior seemed luxurious compared to the malls he had been into, is this the mall of the rich? Thomas knelt next to the zombie corpse, noting the faded Lacoste logo on the torn polo shirt. Definitely high-end. This place wasn''t just a mall; it was a shopping complex built for the elite, with the hotel above likely catering to wealthy travelers and executives. Phillip approached, rifle at the ready. "What are you thinking, sir?" "This place might have exactly what we need," Thomas continued, standing and glancing around the marble-covered lobby. "Food, medical supplies, maybe even high-tech gear. And the hotel upstairs¡ªit''s perfect for accommodations. We can house survivors there and set up living quarters for our squad." Phillip nodded, understanding the importance. "If we secure both the mall and hotel, we''ll have a fortified base with supplies nearby." Thomas turned to his squad. "Alright, listen up! We''re going to divide into four teams. Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and Delta. Each team will clear and secure one floor of the hotel starting from the third floor upwards. Our objective is to sweep each level thoroughly¡ªno zombies left standing." The soldiers nodded in unison, the faint clinks of magazines being checked and rifles adjusted filling the lobby as they prepared for further action. "Phillip, you''re leading the Bravo Team. You''ll take the fourth floor. I''ll stick with Alpha and clear the third. Charlie Team, you''ll handle the fifth floor, and Delta Team gets the top floor," Thomas continued. He pointed to one of the operators, and he named them. "Ramos, you''re in charge of Charlie Team. Diaz, you''re commanding Delta." "Yes, sir!" Ramos and Diaz responded in sync. Thomas scanned his troops. "Each team will have ten men. Maintain comms at all times. If you encounter a large horde or need backup, call it in immediately. Don''t engage recklessly." "Copy that, sir," Phillip acknowledged, stepping forward with Bravo Team already assembling behind him. "Move in tight formation. Rooms can be traps, so breach cautiously. I don''t want any surprises," Thomas emphasized, glancing between team leaders. "Any questions?" "What''s the evac plan if things go south?" Ramos asked. "If the situation gets out of control, regroup at the main stairwell or fallback to the lobby," Thomas replied. "But our goal is to clear every floor today. No leaving half the job done." "Roger that," Ramos nodded. "Alright. Alpha, with me," Thomas said, leading his team toward the stairwell. "Bravo, Charlie, Delta¡ªget to your assigned floors. Keep it coordinated." The teams moved swiftly into position, splitting off at different stairwell exits. The eerie quietness of the upper levels began to settle in, interrupted only by the muffled steps of boots on tiled floors. Thomas signaled a halt as they reached the third-floor entrance. He pointed to a soldier who stepped forward who opened the door. "Move!" Thomas ordered, rifle raised as he led the charge inside. The hallway was dimly lit, shadows stretching ominously across the floor from broken overhead lights. Rotting corpses littered the carpeted walkway, and the smell of death hung heavy in the air. Some of the doors to the hotel rooms were ajar, others still shut. "Clear the hall," Thomas instructed. "Team one, take the left corridor. Team two, you''re with me on the right." The soldiers moved like a well-oiled machine, scanning each door and securing every corner. Thomas''s heartbeat remained steady as his eyes darted from doorway to doorway. "Contact¡ªroom 302!" a soldier whispered urgently over comms. "On me!" Thomas responded, rushing toward the room. Inside, a zombie in tattered formal wear stumbled toward the soldiers, snarling. Before it could lunge, one of the operators dropped it with two precise shots to the head. "Room clear," the soldier reported. "Keep it moving," Thomas ordered. They continued their sweep, encountering a few scattered zombies along the way, each quickly dispatched without incident. Above their floor, Phillip led his team through the fourth-floor corridor, maintaining a steady pace. "Sir, movement ahead," one soldier called out, pointing toward the end of the hall. A shadow shifted behind a corner. Phillip raised a clenched fist to halt the team. "Contact. Weapons free, but keep it quiet." The team crept forward, rifles trained on the shadow. As they rounded the corner, a small group of zombies, likely former hotel staff, staggered in their direction. "Engage," Phillip commanded. Suppressors hissed as rounds punched through skulls. Within seconds, the zombies were down. "Clear," Phillip muttered. "Stay sharp. There could be more." Over the next half hour, each team relayed their progress. Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and Delta cleared room after room with minimal resistance, keeping casualties on the enemy side only. Third and fourth floor are now cleared. He tapped his radio. "Charlie, Delta¡ªstatus?" "Charlie Team reporting. Minor resistance on floor 5, but we''ve got it under control. Five more rooms to clear." "Delta here. We''re sweeping the final rooms on floor 6. No contact yet," Diaz reported. "All stations, have you encountered any survivors?" "Negative, sir," Phillip replied. "Just corpses and hostiles." "Same here," Ramos from Charlie Team added. "Nothing but bodies and a few stragglers." "Delta reporting," Diaz chimed in. "Top floor''s quiet. No survivors spotted. We''re finishing the last sweep now." Thomas exhaled heavily. He had hoped to find someone¡ªanyone¡ªalive. Still, there was no time for sentiment. They needed to finish the job and secure their new base. "Copy. Maintain vigilance. Everyone regroup at the main stairwell once your floors are fully cleared," Thomas ordered. He turned to his men. "Alpha Team, let''s wrap up here and head back." One by one, the teams converged at the stairwell between the hotel floors. Each operator reported in, confirming their sections were clear of hostiles. "Report status," Thomas instructed. "All rooms cleared on floor 4," Phillip confirmed. "Floor 5 clear," Ramos added. "Delta confirms floor 6 clear. No movement detected," Diaz finished. Thomas nodded, taking in the reports. "Good work. No casualties and no survivors, unfortunately. We''ll take that as a win given the circumstances." Just then, a notification flashed on his system interface. [Mission Complete: Establish a Base] Objective Completed: Entire location secured and cleared of all hostiles. Rewards: 100,000 Blood Coins 25,000 Experience Points 1x Special Ticket to Fortune Wheel Thomas read the notification aloud to Phillip, who smirked. "Well, that''s good news." "Damn right it is," Thomas replied, glancing at the men. "We''ve got a solid foothold here now. Let''s not waste it." "Sir, what''s next on the agenda?" Ramos asked, wiping sweat from his brow. "We are going to clean up this place, it''s a mess," Thomas replied. Chapter 18: Adding Manpower Thomas headed toward a section of the lobby labeled Admin Offices. The frosted glass doors were slightly ajar, marked with a gold sign that read Management Only. He pushed one open and stepped inside. The air inside was stale, but it was quiet¡ªexactly what he needed right now. The office was spacious but cluttered. Papers and documents were scattered across the mahogany desk, while overturned chairs and broken picture frames littered the floor. A faint layer of dust covered everything. Despite the state of disarray, Thomas could already envision this space becoming his command center. He cleared some debris from the desk and pulled out the large leather chair, settling into it. The chair creaked slightly as he leaned back, but it held firm. He allowed himself a brief moment of calm, resting his arms on the table. "This''ll do," he muttered. He accessed the system interface, bringing up his stats and recent rewards. [User: Thomas Estaris] [Level: 11 Experience Points: 77,435/85,000 Blood Coins: 727,740 Special Tickets: 1 Souls: 1025] Thomas stared at the Special Ticket in his system interface for a moment. This was the reward that he received from establishing the base. He wondered how it works. He tapped the Wheel of Fortune option in the system. A holographic image of a large, colorful wheel appeared in front of him, spinning slowly in place. The eight sections were labeled with different amounts: 100,000 Blood Coins 250,000 Blood Coins 500,000 Blood Coins 750,000 Blood Coins 1 Million Blood Coins 1.5 Million Blood Coins 2 Million Blood Coins 3 Million Blood Coins Thomas glanced at the third section and thought it wouldn''t be too bad to land there, though he obviously had his sights set on the highest prize. "Alright, here goes nothing," he said, gripping the virtual spin lever and pulling it down. The wheel spun rapidly, colors blurring together in a hypnotic swirl. The hum of the system''s spinning mechanism filled the room. Thomas leaned forward, his eyes tracking the slowing sections as the wheel began to decelerate. "C''mon... something big," he muttered under his breath. The wheel clicked through the 1.5 million section, then 2 million, before the momentum slowed further. The pointer hovered briefly over 500,000, then ticked forward again, landing solidly on 750,000 Blood Coins. [Congratulations! You have won 750,000 Blood Coins!] Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Third highest... not bad at all." The notification chimed as his balance updated. [Updated Blood Coins: 1,477,740] "Damn," he muttered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "That''ll go a long way." Thomas leaned forward in the leather chair, opening his Summon Interface once more. He glanced at his current resources and then at the amount of souls he had¡ª1025. It was enough to summon a significant force, but he knew that maintaining too many summons was unsustainable in the long run. Resources would be stretched thin without survivors to assist in running day-to-day operations. He considered his options carefully. The base needed a sustainable workforce, not just combat specialists. Cleaning, patrolling, and maintaining the hotel and mall would require a combination of security and support personnel. "I''ll need security teams patrolling the perimeter and floors regularly. And also for labor. The infantry will handle that. Medics will be on standby, and engineers will help with keeping this place operational and constructing defenses." He tapped the Infantry Summon option. "Let''s start with basic security patrols." Thomas selected 30 infantry¡ªa manageable number that wouldn''t overwhelm the current infrastructure. These soldiers would work in shifts, providing 24/7 surveillance of the base. [Souls Used: 30 | Blood coins spent: 30,000 | Infantry Summoned: 30] The same familiar blue glow appeared as infantry soldiers materialized in front of him, each in full combat gear, standing at attention. Their equipment was basic but effective¡ªcombat uniforms, rifles, and tactical gear. "Stand by for assignment," Thomas ordered. They saluted silently in response, awaiting further orders. Next, he summoned 10 medics, costing 20 souls and 10,000 gold coins for their equipment and tools. They materialized with white armbands marked by red crosses. Each was equipped with field medic gear, including trauma kits and sidearms. Finally he summoned eight engineers for a total of 40 souls and 5,000 gold coins. The medics and engineers, all male, appeared before him, making the admin room crowded. "Medics, you''ll be deployed to the infirmary. It''s located on the second floor, near the main staircase. Get it set up and ready to handle injuries or any medical emergencies. Take inventory of whatever supplies you can find and report any critical shortages." One of the medics, a tall man with short-cropped hair, nodded. "Understood, sir. We''ll secure the area and get the infirmary operational." "Good. Move out," Thomas ordered. The medics saluted before gathering their trauma kits and heading toward the second floor as instructed. Turning to the engineers, Thomas continued. "Engineers, you''re headed to the maintenance and engineering office. It should be in the lower level of the building, near the utility rooms and backup generators. Your job is to assess the structural integrity of the building. Look for weak points, damaged wiring, and any systems that need immediate repairs¡ªespecially power, plumbing, and ventilation. Once you''ve identified key issues, give me a full report. Got it?" The lead engineer, a burly man with a tactical vest and a wrench hanging from his belt, stepped forward. "Copy that, sir. We''ll check the critical infrastructure and let you know what needs fixing." "Good. Get to it. We need this place fully operational as soon as possible," Thomas instructed. The engineers gave a collective nod and exited through the lobby, their footsteps fading into the distance. Thomas watched them leave and then glanced at the remaining infantry. "Alright, now for you. Well, I intentionally summoned you for patrols and security but we can set that aside as there are no immediate threats as of the moment. I want you to help clean this place, burn the zombies, clean every corpse, sweep the floors, gather spent casings, and make this entire place livable," Thomas finished, locking eyes with the infantry squad leaders. One of the soldiers cleared his throat. "Sir, with all due respect, we don''t think we can do that with our numbers and it''s out of scope of our work. Isn''t there non-combat staff in your summon that can do the job instead of us?" "What?" Thomas was quite baffled slightly from their response as he didn''t expect it. "There aren''t any options..." In order to make sure, he checked his summoning tab and scrolled through the available categories. His eyes landed on a section labeled Non-Combat Personnel¡ªa tab he hadn''t noticed before. He tapped on it, and a new interface appeared, listing various support roles. [Available Non-Combat Summons: Maintenance Crew (1 Soul each) Cleaners (1 Soul each) Administrative Staff (1 Soul each) Cooks (1 Soul each) Logistics Coordinators (1 Soul each) ...] Thomas''s lips curled into a grin. "Well, I''ll be damned. I guess I overlooked this." He selected the Cleaners category and summoned 40 of them at once, using 40 souls. They materialized in the office moments later, dressed in simple work uniforms, carrying brooms, mops, and cleaning supplies. The workers stood at attention, awaiting instructions. "Alright, you''ll be responsible for the full clean-up operation¡ªremoving zombie corpses, clearing debris, and making this place sanitary. Work in teams and start with the mall''s main areas, then move floor by floor," Thomas instructed. "Yes, sir!" one of the lead cleaners replied, nodding confidently. Next, Thomas tapped on the Maintenance Crew option and summoned 20 workers. They appeared with toolkits and utility belts, ready for assignments. "Maintenance crew, you''ll assist the engineers with repairs and inspections. Prioritize electrical systems and structural integrity. Report any major issues directly to the engineers." "Understood, sir," said the lead maintenance worker, giving a brief salute. Thomas quickly summoned twenty Cooks to establish a basic kitchen setup. Their job would be to prepare meals for his personnel using any supplies found in the mall or hotel storage areas. Finally, he summoned five Logistics Coordinators, who would handle the inventory of supplies and manage resource distribution. Once the non-combat staff dispersed to their assigned tasks, Thomas turned to the summoned infantry. "Now that support staff are handling the clean-up and logistics, you''ll return to primary duties. I want teams assigned to patrol and secure critical areas: the hotel perimeter, stairwells, rooftop access points, and the mall''s major entrances." "Yes sir!" Chapter 19: Working on the Essentials Part 1 Thomas trudged through the silent hotel corridors, making his way to one of the luxurious suites he had cleared earlier. The room, like much of the hotel, showed signs of abandonment but remained mostly intact. Plush furniture, a king-sized bed, and a panoramic window overlooking the city greeted him. He sighed in relief, locking the door behind him. The bed looked more inviting than anything else at that moment. After a long day of combat, summons, and delegations, exhaustion had finally caught up with him. He removed his gear, placing his HK and tactical vest on the dresser. Flipping a light switch, he was pleasantly surprised when the overhead lights flickered on. "At least the electricity''s still running," he muttered, though he knew it was temporary. After a quick shower, Thomas settled into the large bed, letting the comfortable mattress ease his tension. Within moments, sleep took over. The following morning, Thomas woke to the sound of faint footsteps and distant chatter echoing from below. He stretched, feeling far more refreshed than he had in days. After another quick shower, he dressed in his combat uniform and strapped on his sidearm. It wasn''t likely that he''d encounter any immediate threats inside the base, but it was better to stay armed and prepared. Exiting the suite, he made his way down the stairwell to the mall. As he reached the lobby, he immediately noticed a stark difference: the area was spotless. Gone were the piles of corpses, spent casings, and debris. Floors gleamed under the soft light, and the faint scent of disinfectant filled the air. It was surreal¡ªlike the apocalypse had never touched this place. He wandered through the main hall of the mall, marveling at how quickly the cleaners had restored order. While some areas still bore scars of the initial chaos¡ªshattered glass walls and broken store signs¡ªeverything looked as presentable as it could be under the circumstances. "Morning, sir!" a familiar voice called out. Thomas turned to see Phillip approaching with a friendly grin. "Good morning. Place looks a lot different," Thomas remarked. "Yeah, the cleaners worked through the night. Honestly, it''s impressive how fast they got it done. You''d almost think we were back in normal times," Phillip replied, his eyes scanning the gleaming floors. "Oh, and the cooks got the restaurants running. There''s still plenty of stock in the storage rooms, so you can grab a proper breakfast. They set up at the Texas Roadhouse over there." Phillip gestured toward one of the restaurants down the hall. Thomas chuckled. "A proper breakfast, huh? Sounds good to me." "Take your time, sir. You''ve earned it," Phillip added with a nod before moving off to check on the patrol teams. Thomas stepped inside the Texas Roadhouse, where the rich aroma of sizzling meat and freshly baked bread greeted him. One of the cooks, a burly man with an apron and a confident demeanor, approached him. "Morning, sir! We''ve got breakfast ready for you. Menu''s limited for now, but I can whip you up some steak and eggs. There''s still a lot of food in the inventory, so we''re set for a couple of months," the cook explained. "That''ll do. Thanks," Thomas replied, taking a seat at one of the booths. The cook returned shortly with a steaming plate of steak, scrambled eggs, and freshly baked rolls. Thomas took a bite, savoring the taste. And¡ªit was very delicious. Like he hadn''t been in one of the fine restaurants before as the cost of a dish here could reach thousands. He was glad that he could taste it once in his life, and if he has the money, it would have been worth it. "You weren''t kidding. This hits the spot," Thomas commented between bites. "Glad you like it, sir. We''ll keep the kitchen running as long as we have supplies," the cook replied before returning to his duties. As Thomas was finishing his meal, an engineer approached, his tool belt clinking with each step. He gave a respectful nod before speaking. "Good morning, sir. I wanted to give you an update on the power situation." "Go ahead," Thomas said, setting down his fork. "The main power grid went out overnight. We''re running on the building''s backup generator now. It''ll hold for about two days, but after that, we''ll need fuel. Without a steady supply, things could get complicated fast." Thomas exhaled through his nose. He had expected this. "Alright. Thanks for the heads-up. I''ll prioritize fuel resupply after breakfast. Anything else I should know?" "Nothing critical right now, sir. The building''s structure is holding up fine, and essential systems are stable for the moment," the engineer reported. "Good. Keep monitoring everything." "Understood. I''ll be at the maintenance office if you need me," the engineer said before heading off. Thomas leaned back in his seat, mulling over his next move. The base was taking shape faster than he had anticipated, but challenges like fuel supply reminded him that survival was a constant battle. He stood, adjusted his gear, and made his way out of the restaurant. Time to get to work. *** First, Thomas visited the maintenance office, a room filled with tools, spare parts, and various equipment neatly organized on shelves. Inside, he found the engineer from earlier, who was inspecting a control panel. "Good to see you again," Thomas greeted, stepping forward. "I didn''t catch your name earlier." "That''s because I don''t have one sir," the engineer replied as he rubbed the back of his head. "Okay...your name will be Connor Reyes." "Very well sir." "Alright, Connor," Thomas replied, nodding. "Let''s go over that power issue again." Connor gestured toward a set of blueprints on a nearby worktable. "The main power grid for this area is down, probably due to infrastructure damage outside. We''ve been relying on the building''s backup generator. It''s keeping the essential systems running¡ªlights, ventilation, and security. But it''s a temporary fix at best." Thomas crossed his arms. "And how long do we have?" "Two days of fuel at the current usage rate," Connor explained. "After that, the generator will shut down. No power means we''ll lose lighting, refrigeration, security systems¡ªeverything." "Alright. Can you escort me to the generator room? I want to see exactly what we''re dealing with," Thomas requested. Connor nodded. "Of course, sir. Follow me." The generator room was located on the lower level of the building, deep within the utility sector. The smell of oil and metal hung in the air as Connor led Thomas inside. The massive diesel generator rumbled steadily, its control panel displaying output levels and fuel reserves. "This is our primary backup generator," Connor began, patting the large machine. "It''s a Cummins C275D5, capable of producing 275 kilowatts of power. That''s enough to power most essential systems here but with limited capacity for non-critical areas." Thomas examined the generator closely. "And what kind of fuel does it run on?" "Diesel, sir. We need high-grade diesel to keep this thing running smoothly. We''ve got about 800 liters left in the storage tanks, but that''s dropping fast with continuous use." Thomas nodded thoughtfully. "Alright, so high-grade diesel. Let me check my system." He scrolled through the system interface, navigating to the Resource Exchange tab. There, he searched for available fuel supplies. After a few moments, he found what he needed. [Resource: Diesel Fuel (1 Barrel) Cost: 5,000 Blood Coins (Each barrel contains 200 liters)] "Five thousand for one barrel... That''s steep," Thomas muttered, frowning at the price. He turned to Connor. "How much fuel does the generator consume per hour?" Connor checked a digital monitor on the control panel. "The Cummins C275D5 consumes about 40 liters of diesel per hour under the current load. If we reduce non-essential systems, we could maybe push that down to around 30 liters, but it won''t go much lower without compromising critical functions." Thomas did some quick calculations in his head. "Alright. So, at 30 to 40 liters per hour, that''s about... 720 to 960 liters a day. How many liters would we need to keep everything running for a full week?" Connor nodded, doing the math. "If we average the current usage at 35 liters an hour, that''s roughly 5,880 liters for seven days. You''d need about 30 barrels to keep us going for a full week." "Thirty barrels, huh?" Thomas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. That was 150,000 Blood Coins¡ªa significant expense, but one he couldn''t avoid for now. He also knew this was only a temporary solution. He needed to secure a reliable, long-term fuel source soon. Taking over an oil depot might be the only option in the future. "Alright, Connor. I''ll purchase the fuel for now, but I''ll need you and the logistics team to monitor consumption and find ways to optimize energy usage. We can''t afford to waste a single drop." "Understood, sir. We''ll keep a close eye on it," Connor replied. Thomas opened the Purchase Interface in the system and selected the diesel barrels. He confirmed the order, watching as his Blood Coin balance updated. [Purchased: 30 Barrels of Diesel Fuel Cost: 150,000 Blood Coins Remaining Balance: 1,327,740 Blood Coins] Within seconds, a notification appeared, confirming his purchase. Chapter 20: Working on the Essentials Part 2 Thomas crossed his arms and turned to Connor, watching as the system notification confirming the fuel purchase disappeared from his interface. "Alright, that settles our electricity for now," Thomas said, his voice firm but calm. "But what about our water supply? Have you checked on that system yet?" Connor gave a slight nod. "Yes, sir. I inspected the water system earlier when we ran diagnostics on essential utilities. It''s operational, but we''re on limited reserves." "Give me the details," Thomas requested. Connor pulled out a tablet and brought up a schematic of the building''s infrastructure. "This complex relies on both a municipal water connection and a rainwater collection system. The municipal supply''s been cut off¡ªlikely due to damaged pipelines or city-wide outages. What''s keeping us going is the rainwater storage tanks and the building''s filtration system." Thomas frowned slightly. "How much water do we have left in those tanks?" "We have about 150,000 liters stored across all tanks. Based on current usage¡ªshowers, toilets, cooking, and cleaning¡ªwe''re burning through about 4,000 to 5,000 liters a day," Connor explained, scrolling through system reports on his tablet. Thomas did a quick mental calculation. "So that gives us roughly 30 to 35 days before we run dry." "Correct. We could stretch that to about 45 days if we implement rationing. That means limiting showers, cutting back on cleaning operations, and conserving wherever possible," Connor added. Thomas sighed, processing the information. "We''ll need a plan to secure more water soon. Either find another source like a reservoir or take control of a water treatment facility nearby." Connor nodded in agreement. "That would be the best long-term solution. In the meantime, we''ll ensure the filtration system stays in good condition. As long as it''s working, the rainwater collection should provide some ongoing supply, but it won''t be enough to sustain us indefinitely." "Good work, Connor. Keep monitoring both the water and power systems. Notify me of any changes or emergencies," Thomas ordered. "Understood, sir. I''ll also have the maintenance crew check for any leaks or inefficiencies in the plumbing," Connor responded before heading off to relay instructions to his team. Thomas stood in the generator room for a moment, his thoughts racing. The power problem was temporarily solved, and the water system was holding for now. Still, the clock was ticking. Resources were finite, and the survival of his base would depend on securing long-term infrastructure. After spending time on his thoughts, Thomas decided it was time to take stock of the mall''s remaining resources. He exited the utility sector and made his way back to the main hall. As he walked through the vast corridors lined with luxury boutiques, his mind raced with possibilities. If this place catered to the elite, there could be a wealth of valuable supplies hidden in plain sight. His first stop was a high-end apparel store. The entrance was framed by mannequins dressed in designer clothes. Inside, racks of premium clothing filled the space¡ªleather jackets, high-performance outdoor gear, and formal wear. "Could be useful," Thomas muttered as he sifted through some of the garments. He noted that many of the items were made of durable, weather-resistant materials. Tactical clothing might be scarce here, but high-quality shoes, jackets, and thermal gear could still be repurposed for long-term survival and operations. He tapped his radio. "Phillip, have someone inventory all the clothing stores. Prioritize any useful gear like boots, jackets, and outdoor wear." "Copy that, sir. I''ll send a team over," Phillip''s voice crackled through the radio. Thomas moved on to an electronics store. He was greeted by rows of smart TVs, refrigerators, and other high-end appliances. Most of these items were useless without a steady power supply, but some smaller electronics might still be worth taking. "Portable battery packs, power tools, radios..." He began mentally listing items that could aid the base''s infrastructure. At the back of the store, he found several high-capacity generators and portable solar panels still sealed in crates. These were a jackpot in a world where energy was now one of the most precious resources. Thomas tapped his radio again. "Connor, I found a stash of portable generators and solar panels in the electronics store. I want them inspected and tested. We might be able to use them as backup power sources." "On it, sir. I''ll send an engineer team," Connor replied. Next, Thomas headed toward the mall''s supermarket. The aisles were largely intact, though there were signs that some people had scavenged here before. Still, shelves held plenty of canned goods, dry foods, and bottled water. He noted that the freezers and refrigerated sections were no longer operational, but the non-perishable items would be crucial to their survival. Moving toward the pharmacy section, he found rows of over-the-counter medications, first-aid supplies, and hygiene products. In a home improvement store, Thomas found everything from hand tools to construction materials. This store was a goldmine for fortifying the base and repairing damaged areas of the building. He ran his hand along a stack of reinforced steel bars. "Perfect. We can use these for barricades and reinforcement." He made a mental note to assign this store to the engineers for immediate use. Finally, Thomas entered a high-end boutique filled with jewelry, watches, and luxury goods. He couldn''t help but chuckle. "None of this will help us survive, but maybe it''ll be useful for trade in the future," he mused. For now, he left the luxury items untouched. After spending a couple of hours exploring and taking notes, Thomas regrouped with Phillip near the center of the mall. "Sir, teams are already moving inventory and securing the supplies. Looks like we hit the jackpot here," Phillip reported with a satisfied grin. "Good. This place has more resources than I expected," Thomas replied. As he just said that, he remembered something. "Shit¡ª" "What is it sir?" Phillip asked. "My classmates in the university. I told them that I will come back." "We can conduct a rescue operation sir for your classmates, how many?" "Just two." "Then it''ll be easy sir," Philip said with a confident smirk. Chapter 21: The Promise Remembered It has been two days since Thomas left the university, and he promised two of his classmates that he would come back for them. He doesn''t know their current state as there was no way of finding out. And there was no certainty that they were still in that room where he left them. But, he did advise them not to leave the room under any circumstances. He could almost picture them now, anxiously waiting, perhaps whispering reassurances to each other that he would return. Thomas exhaled deeply. Responsibility weighed heavily on his mind. He knew all too well the crushing burden of hope¡ªhow it could be both a beacon and a curse in these desperate times. He couldn''t abandon them now, not when he had given them something to hold onto. "Sir, when do you want to conduct the rescue operation?" Phillip asked. Thomas flickered his gaze to Phillip and replied. "What time is it now?" "So you want to conduct the operation now sir?" Phillip said. "Very well, let''s discuss how we are going to extract them." With that, the two of them headed to the admin room. Thomas took a seat behind the large desk, resting his hands on the surface while Phillip remained standing, arms crossed in thought. "We need to plan this carefully," Thomas began. "The university has a huge number of zombies and I can confirm it, because I have been there. Going by land would be risky as we might run into mutated zombies. I''m thinking we will fly in." "But sir¡ªwe don''t have any aerial assets as of the moment," Phillip pointed out and then suddenly realize that his master could summon any military hardware from the system. "You must have forgotten my abilities, Phillip," Thomas chuckled. "Anyways, I want you to suggest a helicopter that we could use in this situation? The building that my classmates were in has rooftop access. We can enter from there." "Helicopter huh..." Phillip muttered thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "Alright, for this kind of operation, I''d recommend a few options. Black hawks and Chinooks. Either of those two are a good choice, it''s only a matter of preference." "Hmm...what''s the difference between the two?" Phillip straightened up and began explaining the differences, his tone professional. "Well, sir, let''s start with the Black Hawk¡ªthe UH-60. It''s a multi-mission utility helicopter. Fast, maneuverable, and versatile. It can carry up to eleven soldiers fully equipped and has moderate armor. It''s reliable for quick insertions and extractions, especially when you need flexibility and speed in an urban environment." He paused for a moment, then continued. "On the other hand, the Chinook¡ªthat''s the CH-47¡ªfocuses on heavy lifting. It can carry over 30 personnel or large amounts of cargo. It''s also decently fast for a helicopter of its size, but it''s much bulkier and requires a more spacious landing zone. Plus, it makes a bigger target. However, if you''re expecting to extract multiple survivors or carry additional supplies, the Chinook''s carrying capacity is invaluable." Thomas leaned back, processing the information. "The Black Hawk seems more suitable for this mission. I want us in and out fast. The rooftop landing zone isn''t large enough to safely accommodate a Chinook anyway." Phillip nodded. "Good call. With the Black Hawk, we''ll be able to deploy a squad quickly, secure the rooftop, and extract your classmates without drawing too much attention." "Alright. I''ll summon two Black Hawk," Thomas said, accessing the system interface. He quickly navigated to the Military Hardware tab, selecting the helicopter. [Purchasing: UH-60 Black Hawk Cost: 300,000 Blood Coins Status: Processing... Completed] A system notification appeared, and Phillip glanced at Thomas. "We are going to need another helicopter, an attack variant." "You want an attack helicopter for support?" Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow. Phillip nodded. "Yes, sir. We need air support in case we encounter large hordes or mutated zombies during extraction. I recommend the AH-64 Apache. It''s armed with a 30mm chain gun, Hellfire missiles, and Hydra rockets¡ªmore than enough to provide suppressive fire and neutralize any major threats from the air." Thomas considered it for a moment. "Sounds like a solid plan. Having air support will give us some breathing room if things go south." He navigated the system interface once more, searching for the Apache in the Military Hardware section. [Purchasing: AH-64 Apache Attack Helicopter Cost: 350,000 Blood Coins Status: Processing... Completed] His balance updated, and a new notification appeared confirming the purchase. Phillip''s face lit up with a confident grin. "Now we''re talking, sir. With both Black Hawks and the Apache, we''ll have tactical superiority in the area." "Alright," Thomas said, standing from his seat. "I''ll assign one Black Hawk for troop insertion and the other as a secondary for rapid evac. The Apache will fly close support." "Understood. I''ll handle the teams and brief them," Phillip replied. "And I''ll be coming with you," Thomas said, rising to his feet. "No problem sir." *** As the final preparations were underway, Phillip led Thomas to the briefing room adjacent to the admin room. Inside, ten special forces soldiers, fully geared in tactical combat uniforms, stood at attention. Phillip stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Alright, listen up. This is a critical extraction mission. We''ll be inserting into a university complex infested with a significant number of hostiles¡ªzombies and potentially mutated variants. The mission objective is to secure two survivors and extract them safely." Phillip motioned toward a map displayed on a large screen. It showed the layout of the university, with key points like the building rooftops, entrances, and known obstacles highlighted. "We''ll be using two Black Hawks for this mission. One for insertion and ground support, and the other for rapid evacuation. An AH-64 Apache will provide overwatch and close air support. The insertion team will consist of ten operators, led by me and supported by Sir Estaris. We''ll land on the rooftop of this building"¡ªhe pointed to a marked structure¡ª"and establish a perimeter." One of the soldiers raised a hand. "What''s the expected resistance on the ground? Thomas spoke up. "High. When I was last there, the campus was crawling with zombies. We''re expecting hordes to gather if they hear or see the helicopters. That''s why speed and precision are critical. We need to secure the survivors quickly and get out before things escalate." Phillip nodded. "Exactly. The Apache will engage any large groups to keep the landing zone clear, but we can''t rely on prolonged air support. Once we hit the ground, we''ll have to move fast." Another soldier chimed in. "What''s the evac plan if the primary LZ is compromised?" "We have a contingency," Phillip replied. "The secondary Black Hawk will remain airborne. If the rooftop becomes unusable, we''ll regroup at the main courtyard, where there''s a larger open area suitable for a quick extraction." Thomas crossed his arms, scanning the room. "Any more questions?" The room remained silent, the soldiers exchanging glances but offering no further inquiries. "Good. Gear up and be ready in fifteen minutes. We lift off soon," Phillip ordered. The soldiers saluted before breaking off to check their equipment. Phillip turned to Thomas as the room emptied. "Looks like everyone''s locked in, sir. We''ll be ready to move soon." Thomas nodded. "Good. I''ll head to the helipad and summon the helicopters." Chapter 22: Prelude to Extraction Thomas stepped onto the rooftop helipad of the Conrad Hotel. The helipad was expansive, large enough to accommodate all three helicopters with room to maneuver. It was a good thing the hotel was designed for high-profile visitors and emergency landings¡ªthis would make operations smoother. Accessing his system interface, Thomas navigated to the Military Hardware tab. He selected the helicopters one by one. [Summoning: UH-60 Black Hawk] A pulse of blue light shimmered at the center of the helipad as the first Black Hawk materialized. Its matte-black fuselage gleamed under the sunlight. Within moments, the rotors began spinning slowly as the system summoned the crew¡ªtwo pilots, a crew chief, and a door gunner¡ªall dressed in combat flight gear. They stepped out momentarily to confirm the helicopter''s condition. Thomas repeated the process: [Summoning: Second UH-60 Black Hawk] The second helicopter appeared adjacent to the first, its crew already in place and performing pre-flight checks. Finally, Thomas summoned the AH-64 Apache: [Summoning: AH-64 Apache Attack Helicopter] The iconic, dual-rotor attack helicopter formed in a burst of light, its reinforced armor and weapon mounts imposing. Twin Hellfire missile pods and Hydra rocket launchers were secured beneath its stub wings, while the 30mm chain gun hung ominously under the nose. The Apache''s pilot and co-pilot remained in their seats, already running diagnostics on the targeting and navigation systems. Phillip walked over, inspecting the helicopters. "Looks perfect, sir. Crews are fully staffed and seem experienced. They''re ready for briefing." Thomas nodded and approached the lead pilot of the Apache. "Report." The pilot saluted before speaking. "All systems green, sir. Armaments are fully loaded¡ªsixteen Hellfires, four rocket pods, and the chain gun ready to fire. We''ll maintain overwatch from an altitude of 1,500 feet and engage any threats within your designated perimeter." "Good. Stay sharp," Thomas said before turning to the Black Hawk teams. "Pilots, your mission is critical. The first Black Hawk will insert us on the rooftop of the university building, while the second stays airborne for rapid evacuation. Keep communication lines open at all times. If anything goes wrong, I want immediate updates." "Yes, sir," replied one of the Black Hawk pilots. Phillip stepped forward to address the crew. "We''ll be under heavy pressure once we''re inside the complex. Timing is everything. We can''t afford delays, so be ready to adjust based on how the situation unfolds." Thomas gave one final nod. "Alright. Everyone, mount up. We''re wheels up in five." The soldiers quickly boarded the primary Black Hawk, securing their weapons and strapping into their seats. Thomas climbed aboard, sitting near the open side door where the door gunner adjusted his M240 machine gun. Phillip took a seat across from him, checking his radio and weapon one last time. "Radio check," Phillip said through the comm system. "Loud and clear," Thomas replied as the pilots acknowledged as well. "Let''s come up with call signs for this operation," Thomas said as the Black Hawk''s rotors gained momentum, the powerful vibration thrumming through the cabin. Phillip nodded. "Agreed. Got any preferences, sir?" Thomas thought for a moment, recalling his role as leader and strategist. "Call me Eagle. If things get chaotic, I''ll be Eagle Actual when commanding." Phillip grinned slightly. "Fitting, sir. Sharp-eyed and leading from above. Works for me. I''ll go with Shadow 1¡ªcoordinating ground movements." Thomas chuckled. "Shadow 1 suits you. Silent, precise, and deadly." Phillip nodded in approval. "Alright. We''ll stick to those. The two Black Hawks will be Raven 1 and Raven 2. The Apache will be Viper 1." Thomas activated his radio to relay the assignments. "All units, this is Eagle. Assigning call signs for the mission. Raven 1 is the primary Black Hawk for insertion, Raven 2 for evac support. Viper 1 will provide air support. Shadow 1 is ground team lead. Acknowledge call signs." "Raven 1, copy," the pilot of the primary Black Hawk confirmed. "Raven 2, copy," came the voice from the second Black Hawk. "Viper 1, acknowledged," the Apache''s pilot reported. Phillip adjusted his headset. "Shadow 1, ready and standing by." Thomas smirked. "Good. Maintain formation and stay alert. We don''t know what''s waiting for us at the university." As the helicopters lifted off the helipad, Thomas glanced out of the open side door. The city below stretched endlessly, pockets of destruction visible even from this altitude. Smoke billowed in places, remnants of chaos caused by the apocalypse. "Shadow 1, this is Eagle. ETA to target?" Thomas asked through the comms. "Approximately fifteen minutes," Phillip replied, checking the mission timer on his wrist. Thomas leaned back and tightened his grip on the overhead handle. In fifteen minutes, they''d be on the ground¡ªhopefully retrieving his classmates and getting out alive. "Eyes open, everyone," he reminded the team. "The mission''s just getting started." Chapter 23: Where are They? The sound of helicopter rotors slicing through the air filled the cabin as the Adamson University complex came into view. Thomas leaned toward the open door, gripping the handle tightly as he scanned the area below. His heart sank at the sight. "Shadow 1, this is Eagle. Eyes on the rooftop. We''ve got a situation," he said over the comms. The rooftop was crawling with zombies. Dozens of them staggered across the flat surface, their decayed forms swaying as if in search of prey. Even worse, the campus ground was a sea of undead. Hordes clustered around the entrances of the main building, their grotesque faces turned upward as if sensing the incoming helicopters. "Confirmed, Eagle. Multiple hostiles on the rooftop and campus ground. Looks like we''ll have to clear the LZ first," Phillip''s voice came through. "Viper 1, this is Eagle. You''re clear to engage. Suppress and draw as many hostiles as you can. Focus on the main building''s entrances," Thomas ordered. "Copy that, Eagle. Engaging hostiles now," Viper 1''s pilot responded. The AH-64 Apache, hovering slightly higher than the Black Hawks, adjusted its position. The nose-mounted 30mm M230 chain gun swiveled downward, locking onto the dense crowd of zombies gathering near the building''s main entrance. "Viper 1, opening fire," the gunner announced. A deafening BRRRRT echoed as the chain gun unleashed a rapid burst of 30mm high-explosive incendiary rounds. Each impact tore through clusters of zombies, detonating in a burst of shrapnel and fire. Limbs and torsos were ripped apart, and the hordes began to scatter in confusion. "Direct hits," Viper 1''s gunner reported. "Crowd dispersing." The Apache wasn''t done. The pilot banked the helicopter slightly, giving the gunner a clear line to the perimeter. Twin Hydra rocket pods activated next. With a whoosh, a salvo of 70mm rockets streaked down toward the densest parts of the horde, exploding on impact and sending shockwaves through the campus grounds. "Ground forces are thinning out. Proceeding to secondary target," the pilot said, turning the Apache to lead a decoy maneuver. It began circling away from the building, its chain gun continuing to fire at scattered zombies along the way. "Raven 1, LZ is still hot but manageable. Move to land on the rooftop. Raven 2, hold pattern and stay alert for evac support," Thomas commanded. "Raven 1 copies. Beginning descent," the pilot confirmed. The primary Black Hawk banked left and lined up its approach to the rooftop. The door gunner swung his M240 machine gun into position, aiming at the zombies still lingering on the landing zone. As they drew closer, the gunner opened fire, unleashing a hail of 7.62mm rounds. "Clearing the LZ," the gunner muttered, his voice steady over the comms. Thomas watched as several zombies collapsed under the barrage. The remaining undead turned toward the noise, shambling toward the edge of the roof. A few managed to climb onto maintenance equipment and air ducts, but they were quickly neutralized by additional bursts of suppressive fire. "LZ is 70% clear. Still got a few runners on the far side," Phillip reported, peering out the opposite door. "I see them," Thomas replied, signaling to the door gunner. "Finish them off. We''re landing now." The Black Hawk touched down with a jolt. Soldiers poured out of the side doors, forming a tight defensive perimeter around the helicopter. Phillip disembarked first, leading a fireteam toward the stairwell entrance. "Secure the stairwell! Watch for any surprises," Phillip barked. Thomas jumped down next, his rifle at the ready. He swept his gaze across the rooftop, ensuring there were no immediate threats before signaling to the pilot. "Raven 1, hold position until further orders. Keep the rotors hot." "Roger that, Eagle," the pilot replied, maintaining engine power. Phillip''s team breached the rooftop access door, clearing the stairwell landing in swift, methodical movements. Thomas followed close behind, keeping his weapon raised as they advanced. And as they moved on, he felt a sense of nostalgia as he recalled himself battling against zombies on his way down to the building. "Area clear," one of the soldiers reported after checking the immediate corridor. "Good. Let''s move," Thomas ordered. "Shadow 1, take point. We''re heading to the designated room. Stick to the plan." Phillip nodded. "Copy, Eagle. Let''s get this done." Thomas and his team swept through the third floor. The soldiers moved in pairs, covering each hallway and classroom. The eerie silence was broken only by the muffled groans of zombies below and the distant hum of the helicopters. Rooms were cleared swiftly, doors breached with tactical efficiency. Occasionally, a stray zombie would lurch out from a corner or a darkened room, only to be met with controlled bursts of gunfire. "Third floor secured. No significant hostiles," Phillip reported through the comms. "Copy that. Move to the second floor," Thomas ordered, taking position near the stairwell. The team descended cautiously, weapons raised. The second floor was more chaotic. Bloodstains streaked the walls, and overturned furniture created obstacles. This time, the undead presence was heavier. Several zombies staggered out of classrooms, their hollow eyes locking onto the team. "Contact left!" a soldier called out. "Engage!" Phillip ordered. Gunfire erupted as the soldiers eliminated the threats. Thomas fired two controlled shots, taking down a zombie that had been crawling toward the stairwell. Within minutes, the floor was cleared. "Area secure," Phillip confirmed. "Good work. Proceed to the room," Thomas instructed. Phillip led the way down the hall to the room Thomas had described. The soldiers breached the door, rifles sweeping the interior. The room was empty¡ªno signs of his classmates, only scattered belongings and signs of brief habitation. "Eagle, this is Shadow 1. Room''s clear. No sign of the survivors," Phillip reported grimly. "What do you mean?" Thomas immediately went over to the room and inside, there were actually no signs of his classmates. Though the MREs and the bottled water are still there. No bodies were found either so the zombies didn''t break in and devoured them. "Where the heck did they go?" "It''s been two days sir, a lot could have happened. Maybe they got scared and left on their own," Phillip said. "If they do that, they won''t survive within five minutes," Thomas said. "We came here for them but they are nowhere to be seen." "Perhaps we should start looking at other buildings sir." Thomas sighed. "Okay let''s do that. But we have to be quick." Chapter 24: Not Giving Up The team exited the first building, moving swiftly across the open courtyard toward the second structure. Zombies littered the grounds, many of them aimlessly wandering after the earlier assault from the Apache. As they approached the entrance, several undead turned toward the sound of boots on concrete. "Hostiles inbound. Ten o''clock," a soldier reported. "Take them out," Thomas ordered. Gunfire echoed through the courtyard as controlled bursts of 5.56mm rounds tore through the approaching zombies. The team moved in formation, securing the main entrance and breaching the double doors with a loud CRACK. Once inside, Thomas signaled for everyone to stay alert. "Clear every room. Stay in pairs. We need to find those survivors," he instructed through the comms. "Copy that, Eagle," Phillip responded, splitting off with a fireteam. The building was eerily similar to the first¡ªdim corridors, classrooms filled with overturned desks, and the occasional shambling figure. As the team advanced, more zombies emerged from dark corners, drawn by the noise of their footsteps. Each encounter ended swiftly, the soldiers maintaining strict fire discipline. "Second floor clear," one soldier reported after a sweep of the upper level. "Move to the first floor," Thomas instructed. The team descended cautiously, the smell of decay growing stronger. They cleared hallways and classrooms one by one, the repetitive nature of the task weighing heavily on everyone. Thomas was in a room near the eastern wing when he heard the familiar, guttural snarl of a zombie. He turned and fired, dropping one that lunged at him. As he stepped further down the corridor, he froze. A figure staggered toward him¡ªa young woman with long, matted hair and tattered clothing. Her face, though gaunt and pale, struck a chord of recognition. Anna. Thomas felt his stomach drop. It was her. One of the classmates he had promised to save. Her eyes were clouded with the mindless hunger of the infected, but something about her movements felt almost hesitant, as if some trace of her consciousness lingered deep within. "Anna...?" Thomas whispered, lowering his rifle slightly. Anna let out a guttural snarl and lunged at him with surprising speed. Thomas reflexively stepped back, raising his weapon but hesitating to fire. He couldn''t bring himself to pull the trigger. "Sir! What are you doing? Shoot!" Phillip''s voice echoed in his ear. Thomas didn''t move, still caught in the moment. He gritted his teeth, unsure of what to do, until suddenly, a gunshot rang out. Anna''s head exploded in a spray of dark blood and brain matter, her body crumpling lifelessly to the ground. Phillip stood a few meters behind Thomas, lowering his rifle with a puzzled expression. "Why didn''t you shoot sir?" Thomas remained silent for a moment, staring at Anna''s lifeless form. His hands trembled slightly as he finally spoke. "It was her... She was the reason we came here. We were too late..." Phillip''s expression softened. He glanced at the body on the floor, then back at Thomas. "I see... I''m sorry, sir. Does that mean our extraction operation failed?" "You could say that," Thomas sighed deeply. "Ah¡ªshit...I told them not to leave that room and they didn''t listen." "Maybe sir...they thought you weren''t going to return. Also, they might have thought you were dead." "But still¡ªthey had supplies that could last them for a week," Thomas muttered, his voice laced with frustration. He clenched his fists, unable to shake the sense of failure. "They were supposed to wait for me." Phillip placed a hand on his shoulder. "Sir, in a world like this, fear can push people to do irrational things. Maybe they panicked, or maybe they were forced out by something. We''ll never know for sure." Thomas exhaled slowly, releasing some of the tension in his body. He glanced at Anna''s corpse one last time before giving a firm nod. "We have to keep searching. There''s still a chance the other one might be alive. We''re not leaving empty-handed. It''s only Anna, Samantha could be alive." "Understood, sir," Phillip replied. He motioned for the rest of the team to regroup. "Let''s sweep the rest of the building." The soldiers moved, , clearing the remaining rooms on the ground floor. Bloodstains, discarded belongings, and occasional barricades hinted at the desperate fight for survival that had taken place here. Each door breached brought a fresh surge of anticipation, but every room revealed the same grim truth: empty spaces devoid of life. As they neared the final wing of the building, one of the soldiers on point raised his fist, signaling the team to halt. "Got movement," he whispered into the comms. Thomas took a position beside the soldier and peeked around the corner. A lone figure stumbled through a broken doorway at the far end of the hall. It wasn''t moving like the other zombies¡ªthey weren''t aimlessly wandering or snarling. Instead, it staggered, as if injured or disoriented. "Hold fire," Thomas ordered quietly. He advanced cautiously, weapon raised but finger off the trigger. As he approached, he noticed more details. The figure was dressed in a torn school uniform, and there was no sign of decay or infection. When it turned to face him, Thomas was slightly taken aback as he saw the face being bruised and battered, as if someone beat the shit out of him. Still, he recognized the face. "Jason?" Thomas said it was his classmate Jason. "Thomas? Is that you..." Jason replied weakly. "Yeah it''s me...what the hell happened to you? And why are you wandering alone?" "They kicked me out..." "Who kicked you out?" Suddenly, Jason groaned and clutched his stomach. His body began to shudder uncontrollably. "Jason?" Thomas said with urgency, stepping closer. "Hey¡ªwhat''s going on?" Jason''s eyes widened in panic as convulsions overtook his body. He let out a choking gasp, and in the blink of an eye, his demeanor shifted violently. He lunged at Thomas, teeth bared, snarling like a rabid animal. "Shit! He''s turning!" one of the soldiers yelled, raising his rifle. Thomas instinctively pushed Jason to the ground, pinning him with his boot. His mind raced, piecing together what must have happened. Jason had been bitten at some point¡ªhe had lied or didn''t realize it himself. But that doesn''t matter now, he already turned, and once turned, there''s nothing that can be done. He fired one round on his forehead, ending his suffering. He recalled his last words. "They kicked me out." That meant that there are still survivors, and Samantha could be among them. Chapter 25: There Are Indeed Survivors Thomas clenched his jaw as the team advanced deeper into the building. Jason''s final words echoed in his mind: They kicked me out. That meant there were still survivors somewhere in this complex¡ªpossibly hostile ones. But Samantha could still be alive. He tightened his grip on his rifle, his eyes scanning every corner and shadow for movement. "Keep your eyes peeled," Thomas ordered quietly through the comms. "We''re dealing with more than just zombies here." The soldiers acknowledged, moving with heightened caution. They cleared each hallway, their footsteps muffled on the dusty floors. Bloodstains, broken furniture, and makeshift barricades lined the corridors¡ªevidence of the desperate fight that had taken place in this forsaken building. Every so often, they encountered stray zombies, but these were quickly dispatched with silenced shots to the head. Phillip suddenly raised a fist, signaling the team to halt. "Hearing something. Far side of the hall," he whispered into the comms. Thomas tilted his head, listening intently. Faint voices echoed from down the corridor. He could barely make out the words, but the tone was unmistakably aggressive. Laughter. Taunting. He felt a wave of anger rising in his chest. "Shadow 1, take point," Thomas whispered. "We''re moving in." The team advanced silently, keeping low. As they approached the source of the noise, the scene began to come into view. Through the cracked glass window of a large classroom door, Thomas saw them: a group of six men, armed and ragged, surrounding a huddled figure on the floor. It was Samantha. Her clothes were torn, and she was struggling against two of the men holding her down. The others jeered and laughed cruelly. "Son of a bitch..." Phillip muttered under his breath, fury flashing across his face. Thomas''s vision narrowed. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. "No mercy," he growled into the comms. "We''re going in hot." "Copy that," Phillip replied coldly. Thomas raised his hand, signaling the breach. One soldier silently moved forward and wedged a breaching charge against the doorframe. The countdown in Thomas''s head felt agonizingly long, though it was only seconds. With a muted pop, the door burst inward, and the soldiers stormed the room with lethal precision. "DOWN ON THE GROUND!" Thomas roared, his voice echoing like a gunshot. The men inside froze in shock, their faces contorting in fear and confusion. One of them, armed with a knife, reacted too slowly. A soldier fired, the shot hitting him square in the chest and sending him crumpling to the floor. The others scrambled for cover, but there was no escape. One man tried to pull Samantha in front of him like a human shield. Thomas didn''t hesitate. His rifle barked twice, the rounds striking the man in both legs. He collapsed, screaming in agony as he released Samantha. "Get your hands off her!" Thomas growled, stepping forward and aiming his weapon at the others. They dropped their weapons immediately, raising their hands in surrender. Phillip and the rest of the team moved swiftly, securing the hostiles and disarming them. One by one, the captives were forced to their knees. Thomas knelt beside Samantha, his voice softening. "You''re safe now. It''s me¡ªThomas. Are you hurt?" Samantha''s wide, terrified eyes gradually recognized him. Tears streamed down her face as she broke into a sob, clinging to him. "Y-You came back... I thought... I thought we were all going to die..." "Not on my watch," Thomas whispered. He gently helped her to her feet, guiding her toward one of the soldiers, who draped a blanket over her shoulders. Phillip approached, his expression hard. "What do you want to do with these bastards?" Thomas looked at the kneeling captives, hatred boiling in his veins. His finger tightened slightly on the trigger, but he forced himself to take a breath. Killing them here would be too easy. "We will leave them here and let the zombies decide their fate," Thomas replied as he swept his gaze over to the remaining students. There were nine of them, six females, three men, Samantha included. Thomas turned to Phillip. "Call Raven 1. We''re extracting them now. Secure the perimeter until we''re ready to move." Phillip nodded, stepping aside to relay the orders through his comms. Meanwhile, Thomas addressed the remaining survivors, his voice calm but commanding. "Listen up. We''re here to get you out of this hellhole. Stick close to my team and follow every order I give. Do not stray, do not panic. If you do exactly as I say, we''ll get you out alive. Understood?" The students nodded shakily, their fear giving way to faint hope. Samantha, still clutching the blanket around her shoulders, managed to steady her breathing. "What about us?! You shot at us!" Thomas turned to face the student who spoke up¡ªa scrawny young man, trembling yet defiant. He was one of the six captives kneeling on the floor, his face twisted in both fear and anger. "You shot at us like we were animals!" the student protested, his voice shaking. "You are animals," Thomas shot back coldly, his gaze hard. "You lost any right to mercy the second you tried to hurt one of your own." The man swallowed hard but continued, his defiance faltering. "We¡ªw-we didn''t mean for it to get out of hand! We were just trying to survive!" "Survive? You call what you were doing survival?" Thomas stepped closer, the muzzle of his rifle just inches from the man''s face. What you did¡ªwhat you were about to do¡ªwas something else entirely." The room fell into an oppressive silence. Samantha shuddered at the memory of her ordeal and turned away, wiping tears from her face. The other rescued students glared at the captives with a mixture of disgust and rage. Phillip approached from behind. "Sir we have to go, the zombies are approaching fast" Thomas glanced at Phillip, nodding in agreement. The sound of approaching footsteps and guttural moans echoed faintly from the hallways. Time was running out. "Let''s move," Thomas ordered. He turned back to the six captives kneeling on the floor. Their faces now showed pure terror as the distant growls of zombies drew nearer. "You can''t leave us here!" one of them screamed in desperation, straining against the cable ties around his wrists. "Please, don''t do this!" "You made your bed. Now lie in it," Thomas replied icily, stepping past them. He motioned for his team to fall in. Samantha and the other rescued students were ushered toward the exit, flanked by soldiers in a protective formation. "No! Don''t leave us! Please!" another captive cried out, his voice breaking. Thomas didn''t look back as he and his team moved out of the room, the heavy door slamming shut behind them. The desperate screams of the captives faded slightly as they continued down the hall, but they were quickly replaced by another sound¡ªa deep, guttural snarl. Inside the classroom, the captives twisted and writhed in panic as zombies began to claw at the door and windows. The first of the creatures broke through, shattering the glass and tearing at the wooden frame. "NO! Get away from us!" one of the captives shrieked as a decaying arm grabbed him by the neck and yanked him toward the broken window. He kicked and screamed, but more zombies poured in, overwhelming him in seconds. The remaining captives screamed in terror as the horde surged into the room. The chaos was deafening¡ªhowls of agony, snapping jaws, and the sickening sound of flesh being ripped apart. The zombies showed no mercy, descending upon their prey in a frenzy. By the time Thomas and his team reached the stairwell leading to the rooftop, they contacted Raven 2. "Raven 2, we are coming in hot with nine survivors, be prepared for extraction." "Roger that, Eagle Actual, Raven 2 is on stand-by." Chapter 26: Leaving "Shadow 1, form a defensive line. Hold the stairwell entrance. We''re almost there!" Thomas barked, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Copy, Eagle," Phillip responded as he and the soldiers took up firing positions near the top of the stairs. The sound of pounding footsteps and snarling zombies echoed from below. Within seconds, the first wave of undead appeared on the stairwell, their decayed forms clawing and scrambling over each other in a desperate rush toward the survivors. "Open fire!" Phillip commanded. A coordinated barrage of gunfire erupted, the soldiers laying down controlled bursts of 5.56mm rounds. The narrow stairwell became a deathtrap for the zombies, their bodies piling up as more continued to surge forward. Blood splattered across the walls as headshots dropped the creatures in rapid succession. "Keep them pinned! Don''t let them breach!" Phillip yelled over the gunfire. Meanwhile, Thomas guided the survivors toward the rooftop access door. Samantha stumbled slightly but was quickly steadied by one of the soldiers. The group moved in a tight formation, fear etched across their faces as the gunfire and snarls intensified behind them. "Move! Move!" Thomas urged, pushing the pace. They burst onto the rooftop, where Raven 2 was already touching down. The helicopter''s rotors whipped the air around them, creating a deafening roar. "Raven 1, maintain overwatch and provide covering fire if needed," Thomas ordered through the comms. "Roger that, Eagle Actual. We''re holding pattern and ready to engage," the pilot of Raven 1 responded. Phillip and his team continued to hold the stairwell, but the horde showed no signs of slowing. One of the soldiers called out, "They''re pushing harder, sir! We can''t hold this forever!" "Time to fall back!" Phillip ordered. "Eagle, we''re pulling out!" "Understood. Get to the chopper now!" Thomas replied. The special forces team executed a tactical retreat, laying down suppressive fire as they withdrew. The zombies surged into the open, pouring out onto the rooftop like a wave of nightmares. Thomas raised his rifle and fired, taking down several of the closest threats. "Viper 1, this is Eagle. We need immediate fire support on the rooftop perimeter!" Thomas called over the comms. "Copy, Eagle. Engaging now," Viper 1''s pilot confirmed. The AH-64 Apache appeared on the horizon, its nose-mounted M230 chain gun swiveling to lock onto the mass of zombies spilling onto the roof. A thunderous BRRRRT echoed as high-explosive incendiary rounds tore through the horde. Limbs and torsos exploded in a gory display, the remaining zombies scattering under the onslaught. "Perimeter is clear for now! Raven 2, lift off now! Raven 1 come and get us!" "Roger, Eagle Actual. Lifting off now," the pilot of Raven 2 acknowledged. The Black Hawk carrying the survivors ascended swiftly, its rotors kicking up a gust of wind and debris as it climbed away from the rooftop. The terrified students clung to the seats inside, Samantha still clutching the blanket around her as she glanced down at the chaos below. "Raven 1, inbound for extraction," the pilot of the second Black Hawk confirmed over the comms. Thomas turned to Phillip and the remaining soldiers. "Hold your positions! We need to buy Raven 1 time to land." The rooftop shook slightly from the concussive shock of the Apache''s continued fire support. Viper 1 hovered nearby, the chain gun spewing another volley of rounds that tore into the zombies flooding the rooftop. The creature''s grotesque forms disintegrated under the barrage, but more surged from the stairwell. "They just keep coming!" a soldier shouted, firing another burst from his rifle. "We''re almost out of ammo!" another reported, slamming a fresh magazine into his weapon. "Just a little longer!" Thomas barked, firing controlled shots at the advancing horde. Within moments, Raven 1 swooped low over the building, its searchlight illuminating the rooftop like a beacon. The helicopter''s door gunner opened fire, his M240 machine gun spitting out a steady stream of 7.62mm rounds to suppress the remaining zombies near the landing zone. "Eagle, we''re ready for pickup. Land zone is hot but manageable," the Raven 1 pilot reported as the Black Hawk touched down with a jolt. "Move, move, move!" Thomas yelled, waving his team toward the helicopter. Phillip and the soldiers fell back in disciplined formation, covering each other as they sprinted for the chopper. Zombies lunged at their heels, but precise headshots from the team and the door gunner kept them at bay. Thomas was the last to board, pulling himself up onto the helicopter''s floor just as the gunner unleashed another hail of bullets to cover their retreat. "Go, go!" Thomas shouted to the pilot, slamming the cabin door shut. "Roger that, Eagle Actual. We''re airborne," the pilot confirmed as the Black Hawk lifted off, narrowly avoiding a pair of zombies that had leapt toward the skids. As the helicopter gained altitude, Thomas looked down at the rooftop one last time. The remaining zombies swarmed aimlessly, their grotesque forms still reaching for the departing aircraft. The Apache circled back around, unleashing a final strafing run that decimated the remaining horde before banking away to join the extraction formation. "Everyone accounted for?" Thomas asked. "All present and accounted for, sir," Phillip replied, securing his weapon. The soldiers gave brief nods of confirmation. Thomas exhaled slowly, the weight of the mission''s success settling over him. Despite the chaos, they had accomplished their objective¡ªmost of the survivors were safe, including Samantha. "Mission is complete. We''re heading back to base," Thomas said through the comms. "Copy that, Eagle Actual. Falling in," the Apache pilot responded. The helicopters flew in formation, the city below growing smaller as they ascended into the sky. Chapter 27: The Return to the Hotel As the helicopters soared through the night sky, a familiar ding echoed in Thomas''s mind. The system interface materialized before him, the glowing text filling his vision. [System Notification: Mission Complete Recurring ¨C Rescue Survivors Objective: Successfully extract and rescue survivors from the university complex. Status: Completed Rewards: 50,000 Experience Points 15,000 Blood Coins] [Level Up! New Level: 12] Thomas blinked, absorbing the information. The interface faded as the notification completed. He felt a small surge of energy coursing through him. "Sir?" Phillip''s voice brought him back to reality. Thomas nodded, shaking off the notification''s lingering presence. "Mission''s done. We''ll debrief once we''re back at Conrad." The helicopters soon arrived at the Conrad Hotel. The massive structure stood illuminated like a beacon of safety amid the darkness of the surrounding city. As the Black Hawks descended onto the spacious helipad, soldiers on the ground signaled their approach. The rotors slowed gradually as the aircraft touched down, the familiar hum finally easing into silence. Thomas and his team disembarked, guiding the survivors down the helipad stairwell. Samantha stayed close to him, her grip on the blanket tightening nervously as they made their way inside. "Alright," Thomas said, addressing the remaining soldiers and survivors. "You''re safe now. We have rooms prepared for all of you. Food and water will be delivered shortly. Rest, and recover. We''ll discuss the next steps tomorrow." Phillip nodded and turned to the soldiers. "Escort the survivors to their rooms. Ensure they get settled in properly." "Yes, sir," a soldier responded, stepping forward to lead the group. The survivors shuffled forward, their exhaustion finally catching up to them. The tension in their bodies seemed to ease as they realized they were truly safe. Samantha glanced at Thomas, her eyes filled with both gratitude and lingering fear. "Thank you... for coming back," she said softly. "You don''t need to thank me," Thomas replied, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You survived. That''s what matters. Get some rest." "But Anna...she was..." Samantha sobbed. Thomas gently squeezed her shoulder, his expression softening. "I know. It''s not easy, but you need your strength. You''ve been through a lot. Tomorrow, we''ll talk about Anna and everything else. For now, rest." Samantha wiped her eyes with the corner of the blanket and gave a small nod. "Okay... thank you." She turned and followed the other survivors, who were being escorted by soldiers to their assigned rooms. Thomas watched her disappear down the corridor, her steps still unsteady. Phillip approached from behind, his boots echoing softly against the polished floor. "Everyone''s getting settled," Phillip reported. "Medical''s been notified. We''ll have a team check on the survivors first thing in the morning." "Good," Thomas replied with a sigh. "Make sure they also get meals tonight. We don''t need anyone collapsing from hunger or exhaustion." "Already arranged," Phillip confirmed, his tone steady and efficient. "You should get some rest too, sir." Thomas gave a faint smirk. "You sound like my conscience." Phillip chuckled lightly. "Someone''s got to look out for you. You''ve been pushing yourself too hard." "I''ll rest soon," Thomas assured him. "After I finish reviewing the mission data." Phillip nodded, understanding the routine. "Alright. I''ll check in with the rest of the team. Debrief is still set for an hour?" "Yeah. I want everyone ready." An hour later, Thomas entered the briefing room at the Conrad, the atmosphere tense yet focused. Soldiers and team leaders, including Phillip, stood at attention before taking their seats. The room was equipped with tactical displays and digital monitors that showed an overview of the university complex, mission data, and key highlights from the operation. Thomas stood at the front of the room, placing his hands on the table as he surveyed the team. "Let''s get this started. Phillip, give me the initial report." Phillip nodded and stood, pulling up a display of mission footage. "The primary objective¡ªrescuing the survivors¡ªwas accomplished with minimal casualties on our side. No wounded, no losses. We extracted nine survivors, including Samantha. Raven 2 handled the extraction successfully, while Viper 1 provided crucial fire support to clear the rooftop perimeter." The footage played in the background, showing key moments: the stairwell defense, the Apache''s strafing runs, and the tactical retreat to the helicopter. The soldiers watched silently, some still tense from the memory of the relentless horde. Phillip continued, "The horde presence at the university was higher than anticipated, especially near the stairwell and rooftop. We managed to neutralize over a hundred hostiles, but they kept coming, suggesting an increased rate of zombie congregation in densely populated areas." Thomas folded his arms. "We were fortunate that the helicopters arrived on time. If Raven 2 had been delayed, we''d have had more casualties or worse." "Sir, it''s clear that these hordes are becoming more organized or reactive. We need to consider the possibility that some mutated variants are capable of drawing other zombies toward noise or human activity." "No, that is just their heightened senses," Matthew simply dismissed and elaborated. "Their heightened senses explain the increased congregation of zombies. They''re instinctively drawn to noise and movement in densely populated areas. It''s not about organization¡ªit''s just survival behavior on a massive scale." Phillip frowned but nodded. "That could explain some of it, but we still saw abnormal patterns near the stairwell. They surged in larger waves than usual, almost like something was guiding them." Thomas processed both points of view and raised his hand, silencing further debate. "Both possibilities are worth consideration. Whether it''s instinct or something more, we need to stay prepared. For now, we''ll assume that in high-traffic areas like universities, the horde response will be faster and more aggressive than expected. For now we rest and conduct an operation in the future dates. The operation will be about us gathering as many resources as we can in order for us to be self-sufficient." "Yes sir!" "That will be all¡ªdismissed!" Chapter 28: Questions in his Mind Thomas stood outside Samantha''s room at the Conrad Hotel, his mind racing with thoughts of everything that had transpired. He took a deep breath and knocked gently on the door. After a few moments, he heard footsteps approach, and the door opened to reveal Samantha. She was dressed in clean clothes¡ªsimple but comfortable¡ªa far cry from the ragged and torn attire she had worn at the university. "Thomas?" Samantha''s voice was soft, a hint of surprise in her tone. "Hey." "Hey," Thomas greeted, offering a small smile. "Mind if I come in? Just wanted to check on you." "Of course, come in," Samantha said, stepping aside and motioning for him to enter. Thomas walked inside and took a brief glance around the room. It was spacious and well-furnished, with modern decor. The air conditioning hummed softly, keeping the room cool and refreshing. A tray with remnants of a meal¡ªsteak, mashed potatoes, and vegetables¡ªsat on a small table near the bed. "Comfortable?" Thomas asked, turning back to her. Samantha nodded as she closed the door. "Yeah. It''s... really nice. Honestly, it feels surreal after everything. The bed''s soft, the hot showers work, and the air conditioning is a blessing. I did open the windows at first, but the smell outside..." She shuddered slightly. "It''s awful. The air is thick, like death is clinging to it." "I can imagine," Thomas said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "You''ve been through a lot. No one''s expecting you to get used to things right away." Samantha walked over to the table and sat down, her eyes flicking toward the meal tray. "Even the food here is incredible. It tastes like something out of a five-star restaurant. I''m not used to eating like this." Thomas chuckled lightly. "It should taste good. That''s Texas Roadhouse. We''ve got access to their kitchen and chefs. Figured we should eat well when we can." Her eyes widened slightly. "Seriously? I thought it was just some fancy catering. No wonder it was so good." He smiled but quickly grew serious. "I''m glad you''re comfortable here, Samantha. But I need to talk to you about what happened at the university. I need to know why you left that room. I told you all to stay put until I came back." Samantha''s expression darkened, and she sighed, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. "We... thought you were dead, Thomas. You were gone for two days. There were more and more zombies outside, and we started losing hope. The fear got to us. We thought if we stayed there, we''d just starve to death or get overwhelmed eventually. Some of us believed our only chance was to leave and look for other survivors." Thomas''s gaze softened as he listened. He had expected some form of this answer, but hearing it still hit him hard. "I get it. Fear does things to people. So you left... and then what happened?" "We found a group," Samantha said, her voice trembling slightly. "At first, we thought they were good people. They had weapons, supplies, and seemed organized. They promised us protection, said we''d be safe with them. But it wasn''t long before we realized how wrong we were." She paused, her hands tightening into fists on her lap. Thomas remained silent, giving her the space to continue. "They were monsters," she said quietly. "They weren''t like you or your team. They were just... boys who thought they could control everything through fear and violence. They had rules. If you wanted protection, you had to obey. And for the women... it meant something worse." Thomas clenched his jaw. He didn''t need her to elaborate. He had seen it with his own eyes during the rescue. The rage he had felt then began to resurface, but he kept his composure for Samantha''s sake. "They... they told us that if we didn''t comply, they''d throw us out," she continued, her voice cracking. "Anna... she refused. She fought back when they tried to force her. They didn''t care. They dragged her outside and locked the doors. We heard her screaming... and then it stopped." Samantha wiped at her eyes, her breath shuddering. "She didn''t deserve that. None of us did." Thomas took a step forward and knelt beside her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I''m sorry, Samantha. I''m sorry you had to go through that. If I''d gotten there sooner¡ª" "No," she interrupted, shaking her head. "You did get there. You saved us. You saved me. If you hadn''t come when you did..." She swallowed hard, her voice dropping to a whisper. "They would have done the same to me. I told them I''d rather be thrown outside like Anna, but they didn''t care. They were going to..." Her words faltered, and she squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming down her face. Thomas''s grip on her shoulder tightened slightly, grounding her. "You''re safe now," he said firmly. "No one''s going to hurt you here. Not on my watch." Samantha sniffled and nodded slowly. "Thank you. For everything. I thought I was going to die... or worse." "You don''t need to thank me," Thomas replied gently. "Just focus on healing. You''ve been through hell, but you''re not alone anymore." They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of her story hanging in the air. Finally, Samantha spoke again, her voice steadier this time. "Do you think... there''s a chance we could build something here? Something better than just running and surviving?" Thomas stood, his gaze thoughtful as he crossed his arms. "That''s the plan. We''re going to gather resources, make this place self-sufficient. We''re not just surviving anymore, Samantha. We''re going to live. And we''re going to fight for it." She nodded, a spark of hope returning to her eyes. "I''d like to help, if I can." "You will," Thomas promised. "Rest tonight. We''ll talk more tomorrow about how you can get involved." As he turned to leave, Samantha called out softly, "Thomas?" "Yeah?" He paused at the door, glancing back at her. "Thank you... for not giving up on us." He gave her a small but reassuring smile. "Always." With that, he stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking softly shut behind him. He exhaled deeply, the tension slowly leaving his body. There was still much to do, but for the first time in a while, he felt a sense of hope. Chapter 29: Their Next Objective Thomas sat at the large oak desk in the Conrad Hotel''s command office, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the polished surface. Phillip entered and closed the door behind him and stepped forward, placing a tablet on the desk. "Morning, sir," Phillip greeted. Thomas nodded. "Morning. Have a seat. We''ve got a lot to discuss." Phillip pulled out a chair and sat down, handing the tablet over to Thomas. "Here''s the latest supply report. We''ve done an inventory of all food, water, ammunition, and medical supplies. We''re in decent shape for now, but if we keep taking in more survivors and maintaining the operations tempo we''ve had, we''ll run dry within two to three months." Thomas swiped through the data, his brow furrowing. The numbers weren''t encouraging, but they weren''t disastrous either¡ªyet. They had to act before things deteriorated. "Two to three months isn''t good enough. If we''re going to keep this place running and take care of our people, we need more than that. I''m not interested in just scraping by." "Agreed," Phillip said. "The good news is, we''ve identified a potential solution. There''s a Landers Supermarket about five kilometers northeast of here. It''s a large complex¡ªwarehouse-style. If we can secure it, we''re looking at up to six months'' worth of non-perishable food supplies, maybe more depending on what''s still intact." Thomas leaned back in his chair, considering the plan. "Five kilometers is a manageable distance. What do we know about the area?" "Well we don''t know yet. We haven''t reconned the area. I was hoping you could give us a military drone that can survey it." "Okay, what type of drones are you looking for? I''m sure it won''t be a drone that needs runway." Phillip nodded, understanding Thomas''s point. "Exactly. We don''t need anything too large or complex. Ideally, something tactical¡ªshort takeoff or vertical launch capability. We''re thinking along the lines of a VTOL drone or a rotary-wing UAV. Something like the MQ-8 Fire Scout or the RQ-11 Raven. It should give us real-time reconnaissance without drawing too much attention." Thomas pondered for a moment. "I have a few options in the system shop." Thomas opened the system interface, scrolling through the available options in the shop. The interface presented him with a variety of drones, each equipped with different capabilities. [System Shop Options: MQ-8 Fire Scout (VTOL, equipped with high-resolution optics and thermal imaging, operational range: 15 kilometers) ¨C Cost: 300,000 Blood Coins RQ-11 Raven (Portable hand-launch UAV, real-time surveillance, effective range: 10 kilometers) ¨C Cost: 75,000 Blood Coins PD-4 Recon Falcon (Advanced quadcopter drone with enhanced stealth and long-duration flight capability, operational range: 12 kilometers) ¨C Cost: 150,000 Blood Coins] Thomas clicked on the PD-4 Recon Falcon''s details, nodding in approval as he read its capabilities. "This one fits our needs. It''s designed for stealth, has a solid operational range, and provides long-duration surveillance." He selected the drone and finalized the purchase. [System Notification: PD-4 Recon Falcon purchased successfully. 150,000 Blood Coins deducted from account. Drone deployed to Conrad Hotel Helipad.] Phillip raised an eyebrow at the price. "150,000 Blood Coins, huh? That''s a hefty cost, but I''d say it''s worth it." "It''s not about the cost," Thomas replied. "It''s about survival. If this drone helps us secure those supplies without losing anyone, it''ll pay for itself. Now, let''s set up the rig for the drone in another room where we can monitor the area without interruptions," Thomas continued. He stood from the desk and motioned for Phillip to follow. Together, they made their way through the corridors of the Conrad, eventually reaching the control center¡ªa spacious room equipped with multiple monitors, communication arrays, and tactical planning tools. Technicians were already waiting for them. One of the operators greeted Thomas with a salute before gesturing to the primary monitor. "Sir, the PD-4 Recon Falcon is operational. We''re ready to begin the live feed." "Good. Let''s get a full sweep of the area surrounding Landers," Thomas ordered, taking a seat near the central display. The screen lit up, providing a bird''s-eye view as the drone smoothly navigated the city skyline. The onboard camera captured a mix of eerie stillness and ominous movement. Abandoned streets stretched below, vehicles left in disarray, and signs of past conflicts were evident¡ªburnt-out husks of cars, barricades, and dried bloodstains marking various intersections. Here and there, small groups of zombies staggered aimlessly, though none appeared organized or in large hordes yet. "Increase altitude slightly," Phillip instructed. "Let''s see if we can spot any major clusters." The drone obeyed, climbing to a safer height and tilting its camera downward. The surrounding buildings loomed in the feed, casting long shadows in the early morning light. After a few minutes, the Landers Supermarket came into view. The building was massive, with a large parking lot in front that showed signs of decay¡ªovergrown weeds and shattered glass from looted cars. "Switch to thermal imaging," Thomas requested. The screen shifted to a heat-based display, revealing glowing signatures within the supermarket. Several scattered humanoid shapes moved slowly through the aisles inside. However, there were no signs of a concentrated horde, which was a relief. "Looks like there are still some hostiles inside," Phillip muttered. "But nothing unmanageable. Could be zombies, or maybe stragglers from other survivor groups." Thomas nodded, analyzing the thermal data. "It''s too quiet, though. We need to proceed cautiously. They might be dormant, but any sudden noise could wake them up and trigger a swarm." The drone continued its survey, circling the perimeter of the supermarket. They identified key entry points, including a front entrance, two side loading docks, and a rear emergency exit. Nearby, a few alleyways and side streets could potentially be used for tactical positioning. "We''ll need a strike team to secure these entry points," Thomas said. "One squad at the front entrance, another covering the loading docks, and a third holding the emergency exit. If things go south, we''ll need a clear path for retreat and extraction." Phillip tapped a few notes on his tablet. "Agreed. We''ll need at least three fireteams, fully equipped. One team can handle initial breach and recon inside while the others secure the perimeter." Thomas continued observing the feed as the drone completed its surveillance sweep. "No signs of rival survivor groups nearby?" "None so far," one of the technicians replied. "If anyone was camped near the supermarket, they''re either gone or staying hidden." "Good. We might have the element of surprise on our side." Thomas leaned back slightly, his mind already planning the operation in detail. "Now, to increase our chance of success, we''ll have to lure the zombies out from the supermarket using a loud noise. We''ll drop bombs on random areas and the loud noise it produces should be enough for the zombies to be drawn out." "And what hardware are we using here in this mission?" Phillip asked. "We''ll go in by air as it is difficult to get there by foot or vehicle due to the road being blocked." "Copy that sir¡ªlet''s get to preparation." Chapter 30: Operation Silent Harvest Briefing The lights dimmed in the Conrad Hotel''s tactical operations room as Thomas and Phillip stood before a television. Around the room, soldiers filed into their seats, their eyes sharp and alert. Most were veterans of previous operations, hardened by months of survival in the apocalypse. Others were fresh recruits from recent survivor groups who had shown promise in security roles. Despite their varied backgrounds, every man and woman in the room shared one goal: survival. Thomas stepped forward, clearing his throat as the chatter died down. The display switched to a 3D holographic map of the area surrounding Landers Supermarket. Key points of interest¡ªentryways, high-risk zones, and fallback routes¡ªhighlighted in red, yellow, and green. "Listen up," Thomas began with a tone of authority. "We''ve got a new mission. This isn''t just another supply run; this is a long-term investment in our survival. We''re calling it Operation Silent Harvest. Our objective is simple¡ªsecure the Landers Supermarket and take control of its supplies. If we succeed, we''ll secure enough food and non-perishables to keep our entire operation running for at least six months. Failure is not an option." He paused, letting the gravity of the mission sink in. "Now, here''s the situation. The supermarket is five klicks northeast of our current position. The surrounding roads are heavily obstructed¡ªburnt-out vehicles, barricades, and debris make it nearly impossible to reach by ground. We''ll be deploying by air, using Ravens 1 and 2 to insert fireteams directly into the target zone." The display zoomed in on the supermarket''s layout. Thomas pointed to the large front entrance. "This is the primary entry point. Team Alpha will be responsible for breaching and clearing this area. We''ve detected multiple thermal signatures inside the building¡ªlikely a mix of dormant zombies and potentially hostile survivors. Your job is to neutralize any immediate threats and secure the front lobby." He shifted his attention to another section of the map. "Team Bravo, you''ll cover the side loading docks here. These docks provide the largest access points to the warehouse floor. If anything goes wrong inside, this is where the bulk of the enemy reinforcements are likely to push through. Your mission is to lock down these entrances and prevent any breach." Finally, he gestured toward the rear emergency exit. "Team Charlie, you''ve got rear security. The emergency exits lead to a narrow alleyway that can serve as a secondary extraction point. Hold this position at all costs¡ªthis alley is our escape route if things go south. We can''t afford to be trapped inside with no way out." Phillip stood up, taking over the next phase of the briefing. "We''ll be using the PD-4 Recon Falcon for continuous overwatch. This drone will provide real-time intel on zombie movements and any incoming threats. If at any point we detect a large horde converging on the building, we''ll sound the evacuation signal, and all teams will regroup for extraction." The display shifted to a tactical breakdown of the initial assault plan. A small animation showed simulated bombs being dropped on nearby abandoned structures, creating loud shockwaves. "We''ll start by drawing the zombies out of the supermarket," Phillip explained. "Viper 1 will deploy high-decibel incendiary munitions to designated decoy points. These explosions should create enough noise to lure the majority of the hostiles out of the area. With any luck, that''ll give us a clean entry window." A soldier from Team Alpha raised his hand. "What if we secured the supermarket? Are we going to stay there?" "In the event that nothing happens...yes I will deploy soldiers in the area to secure the supermarket as we can''t haul every food out from the supermarket using only helicopters." "So we are just securing our food source?" Thomas nodded, addressing the soldier''s question with a serious expression. "Exactly. This mission is about long-term survival. We need to ensure that Landers remains under our control. It''s not enough to just raid it once and haul what we can. We''ll establish a forward operations post there with a security team on rotation to hold the area. The supermarket will serve as both a supply depot and a fallback point in case things ever go south here at Conrad." Phillip interjected, "Once the site is secured, Team Bravo and Charlie will oversee the initial perimeter defense. We''ll also set up barricades and scouting patrols to make sure no rival groups or large hordes take us by surprise." Another soldier from Team Bravo raised a hand. "What''s the plan for hauling supplies out, sir? Are we looking at phased extractions over several days?" Thomas crossed his arms and leaned slightly forward. "Good question. We''ll be doing phased extractions, starting with high-priority items¡ªnon-perishable food, medical kits, and water purification supplies. Once those are secured, we''ll bring in vehicles as we clear access routes. Ideally, within a week, we''ll have full control and operational supply lines between Conrad and Landers." Phillip nodded in agreement. "We''re also working on a plan to bring in large trucks, but that depends on how soon we can clear the roads. Until then, the helicopters will handle the critical extractions." The display updated to show potential threats. Thermal scans had highlighted key hotspots around the supermarket, including clusters of zombies near nearby intersections. Phillip tapped on the screen to highlight them. "This is what we''re up against. Recon suggests scattered groups, but as we''ve seen before, zombies can cluster quickly if triggered. Noise discipline is essential once we''re inside. We can''t afford a full-scale swarm converging on us." "Exactly," Thomas said, reinforcing the point. "Once we''re inside, you move fast and keep it quiet. No unnecessary noise. Remember, once we start firing, we''re on a clock. The longer we stay, the greater the chance we''ll attract reinforcements¡ªzombie or human." Phillip gestured toward the drone operator sitting near the control terminal. "Our recon feed will keep you updated on any large movements. If a major horde starts moving in our direction, you''ll hear it from command." Thomas turned his attention back to the room. "Alright, let''s go over squad assignments." The display split into three sections, each listing the team designations and their roles: Team Alpha (Primary Breach and Interior Recon): Squad Leader: Davies Objectives: Secure the front entrance, sweep and clear aisles, secure priority supplies. Team Bravo (Loading Dock Defense): Squad Leader: Phillip Objectives: Secure the side loading docks, prevent unauthorized entry, coordinate logistics for extraction. Team Charlie (Rear Perimeter and Extraction Support): Squad Leader: Kim Objectives: Secure emergency exits, maintain a fallback path, provide covering fire if necessary. Thomas pointed toward each team leader in turn. "You''ve got your assignments. I expect tight coordination between squads. We''re deploying with minimal margin for error. If anyone deviates from the plan, it could compromise the entire operation. Are we clear?" "Crystal clear, sir!" the soldiers answered in unison. Phillip gave a slight smirk and stepped forward again. "We deploy at 0600. Gear up, check your weapons, and get some rest. We''ve got a long day ahead." Chapter 31: Operation Silent Harvest Part 1 The dawn sky was a mixture of dark gray and pale orange as the soldiers of Operation Silent Harvest prepared for deployment. The helipad atop the Conrad Hotel was alive with activity¡ªblades spinning, equipment being checked, and soldiers moving with practiced efficiency. The atmosphere was tense but focused. Thomas adjusted his headset as he watched the multiple screens in the command center. He tapped the side of his helmet, activating the comm link that connected him to the entire operation. "Control to all teams, report status," Thomas said, his voice calm and steady. "Team Alpha ready for deployment," came Davies'' voice through the channel. "Team Bravo standing by," Phillip followed. "Team Charlie, ready and waiting," Kim confirmed. "Viper 1, you in position?" Thomas asked. "Affirmative, Eagle Actual," replied Viper 1''s pilot. The AH-64 Apache hovered in the distance, armed and ready. "We''re set for phase one. High-decibel munitions are armed and prepped." Thomas glanced over at Phillip, who nodded in approval. Everything was moving according to plan. "Alright, all teams, this is it. Stick to the mission parameters, stay sharp, and communicate. We move as one. Let''s bring this home." The helicopters lifted off in unison, Raven 1 and Raven 2 soaring into the air with a deafening roar. The city below stretched out like a desolate battlefield. Abandoned cars and buildings lined the streets, and scattered zombies wandered aimlessly among the debris. From above, the world seemed both eerily quiet and hostile. Thomas focused on the mission feed displayed inside his visor. The PD-4 Recon Falcon provided an aerial view of the Landers Supermarket and its surrounding area. The drone circled high above the target zone, its thermal imaging revealing scattered hostiles inside and near the perimeter. "Approaching target zone," Raven 1''s pilot announced. "Copy that," Thomas replied. "Viper 1, initiate phase one. Light it up." "Roger, Eagle Actual. Dropping ordinance," Viper 1 confirmed. The Apache banked to the right, lining up its first target¡ªa collapsed office building approximately three hundred meters from the supermarket. Moments later, a series of high-decibel incendiary bombs dropped from the helicopter, detonating with a thunderous boom. The explosion sent a shockwave rippling through the area, shattering windows and kicking up plumes of dust and debris. The zombies reacted immediately. On the recon feed, Thomas watched as the thermal signatures inside the supermarket began to stir. The undead were drawn toward the noise like moths to a flame, shuffling and crawling their way toward the source of the disturbance. "Target movement confirmed," Phillip reported over the comms. "They''re heading toward the decoy points." "Good," Thomas muttered. "Keep it up. Viper 1, hit the second target." Another series of explosions rocked the area, strategically placed to lure any remaining zombies out of the supermarket. The plan was working. The feed showed large clusters of undead converging on the blast zones, leaving the interior of Landers relatively clear. "Ravens, move in. Deploy fireteams," Thomas ordered. Both Black Hawks descended toward the rooftop of the supermarket. The whine of their engines and the whirling rotors echoed through the air, but with most of the zombies distracted by the explosions, there were no immediate threats to the landing zone. Raven 1 touched down first, its skids making contact with the cracked concrete roof. The soldiers of Team Alpha moved quickly, disembarking in a disciplined formation with their weapons raised. Davies led the charge, scanning the area as his team secured the rooftop perimeter. "Alpha on the ground. LZ secure," Davies reported. Raven 2 landed a few moments later, deploying Team Bravo and Team Charlie. Phillip gave a sharp nod as he stepped off the helicopter, gesturing for his squad to take up defensive positions near the rooftop access point. "Teams are deployed. Ravens, pull back to standby altitude," Thomas commanded. "Copy that, Eagle Actual. Returning to overwatch position," Raven 1''s pilot acknowledged as both helicopters lifted off and climbed back into the sky. The teams moved swiftly to their designated positions. Davies led Team Alpha down the rooftop stairwell, his squad descending into the building with methodical precision. The hallways were dark and cluttered with debris¡ªoverturned shelves, discarded shopping carts, and broken glass littered the floor. The stench of decay hung heavily in the air. "Switch to NVG," Davies ordered, activating his night-vision goggles. The green-hued display illuminated the path ahead, revealing a few shambling figures in the distance. "Contact," a soldier whispered. "Three hostiles, twenty meters." "Take them out quietly," Davies responded. Two soldiers raised their suppressed rifles and fired in unison. The zombies dropped silently to the floor, their bodies crumpling without a sound. "Area clear. Moving forward," Davies reported. Meanwhile, Team Bravo secured the loading docks on the eastern side of the supermarket. Phillip crouched behind a stack of wooden pallets, scanning the area with his rifle''s scope. The thermal feed from the PD-4 Recon Falcon confirmed no immediate threats, but he wasn''t taking any chances. "Bravo in position," Phillip announced over the comms. "Loading docks secure. No hostiles in sight." "Charlie, report," Thomas called. "Charlie here. Rear perimeter secured," Kim replied. "We''ve got eyes on the alleyway. All clear for now." Thomas monitored the mission feed from the command center at the Conrad Hotel. The operation was progressing smoothly, but he remained on edge. In his experience, missions rarely went off without a hitch. He kept his attention focused on the recon data, ready to adapt if anything changed. "Teams, maintain noise discipline and continue securing the site," Thomas instructed. "We need a full sweep before we start extraction procedures." "Roger that," came the unified response from the team leaders. The soldiers moved deeper into the supermarket, clearing each section aisle by aisle. The eerie silence was broken only by the occasional muffled gunshot as more zombies were quietly dispatched. So far, there were no signs of rival survivors or large hordes¡ªjust the scattered remnants of the undead drawn out by the decoy blasts. Thomas exhaled slowly, his grip on the console relaxing slightly. "So far, so good," he muttered to himself. Phillip''s voice crackled through the comms. "Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie are all in position. We''re holding steady." "Good. Stay alert. We''re not out of the woods yet," Thomas replied. The mission was far from over, but for now, everything was going according to plan. Silent Harvest had begun. Chapter 32: Operation Silent Harvest Part 2 The supermarket''s interior echoed with a low, haunting stillness as Team Alpha continued its sweep. Davies raised a clenched fist, signaling his team to halt. His eyes scanned the aisles illuminated by their night-vision goggles. The eerie green glow revealed toppled shelves and forgotten products, now coated in dust and decay. "Alpha to command. We''re nearing the center aisle. So far, minimal resistance," Davies reported softly through the comms. "Copy, Alpha. Keep it quiet," Thomas replied from the command center. He watched the live feed from Alpha''s helmet cams, noting the methodical progress they were making. He switched views to Team Bravo''s feed next. Phillip and his squad held defensive positions near the loading docks, stacking crates and metal shelving as improvised barricades. "Bravo, report," Thomas called. "Loading docks remain clear. No movement detected," Phillip answered, his voice calm but focused. He signaled his team to reinforce the entrance with more barriers. "We''ve got fallback cover set. We''re holding tight." "Roger. Charlie, how''s your sector?" "Rear perimeter''s locked down, sir," Sergeant Kim confirmed. "We''ve scouted the alleyways. No threats in the immediate area." "Good. Hold your positions and stay sharp. We don''t want any surprises," Thomas ordered. Back inside the supermarket, Team Alpha advanced cautiously. A faint noise¡ªlike a shuffle¡ªechoed from a nearby corner. Davies signaled his squad to fan out and flank the source of the sound. A soldier crept forward, weapon at the ready. The feed showed the figure of a lone zombie slumped against a display rack, slowly clawing at the floor. "Contact. One hostile," the soldier whispered. "Drop it," Davies ordered. The soldier squeezed the trigger of his suppressed rifle, a muted crack echoing as the zombie''s head jerked back. The creature slumped to the ground, motionless. "Hostile neutralized," the soldier reported. "Clear the next aisle," Davies commanded, keeping his voice low. The team moved in formation, sweeping each section of the store. They passed through the frozen goods section, where long-defrosted refrigerators housed rotting food. The stench was nearly unbearable, but the soldiers pressed on, their respirators filtering most of the foul air. "Command, we''re clearing the frozen section," Davies updated. "Copy that," Thomas acknowledged. "Bravo, any signs of movement outside the docks?" Phillip responded immediately. "Negative, command. Still quiet." The drone operator chimed in over the comms. "PD-4 Recon Falcon here. We''ve got scattered heat signatures moving further down the street, likely stragglers drawn by the explosions. No immediate threat to the perimeter." Thomas nodded to himself, taking in the information. So far, the mission was progressing smoothly. The drone''s surveillance showed that most of the nearby zombies had indeed been lured away by the decoy blasts, giving the teams precious time to secure the supermarket. But Thomas knew this lull wouldn''t last forever. "Alpha, what''s your status?" Thomas asked. "We''re approaching the central storage area," Davies replied. "Looks like this is where they stockpiled supplies before the outbreak." The feed showed a large, open space with rows of metal shelving units stretching to the ceiling. Many of the shelves were still stocked with canned goods, bottled water, and other non-perishables. It was a goldmine of resources. "Jackpot," Davies muttered. "Plenty of supplies here. Looks like no one got to this place before us." Thomas leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he examined the video feed. "Start cataloging high-priority items. Focus on food, water, and medical supplies. We''ll deal with logistics once the site is fully secured." "Copy that. Alpha, begin inventory," Davies ordered his squad. As the soldiers started marking key supplies, a faint static crackled over the comms. Thomas frowned and adjusted his headset. "Command to all teams, sound off." "Bravo, all clear," Phillip responded. "Charlie here. No movement," Kim added. Davies''s voice came through, but it was slightly distorted. "Alpha''s still secure. Could be interference from the building structure." Thomas nodded slowly but remained cautious. "Stay on high alert. We''re deep enough in this mission that something''s bound to go wrong." Phillip''s voice cut in again. "Command, I''ve got something here. Picking up faint movement about fifty meters south of the loading docks. Could be zombies." "Copy. Recon Falcon, can you confirm?" Thomas asked. "Scanning now," the drone operator replied. The thermal feed shifted, focusing on the southern perimeter. After a few tense moments, the operator reported, "Multiple heat signatures detected. Looks like a small group¡ªfive to seven hostiles, shambling at a slow pace. They''re approaching the loading dock." "Bravo, you''ve got incoming," Thomas said. "Prepare to engage quietly." Phillip relayed the command to his team. "Positions! We take them out silently. Suppressors on." The soldiers crouched behind cover, weapons aimed at the entrance. Through their scopes, they could see the zombies slowly staggering toward the dock area. The creatures were drawn by residual noise from the helicopters and faint echoes from inside the store. "Hold... hold..." Phillip whispered, waiting for the right moment. As the first zombie stumbled into the open, Phillip gave the signal. Suppressed gunfire cracked in short bursts, and the zombie dropped instantly. The team maintained their composure, taking down each target one by one. Within moments, the area was clear. "Bravo to command. Hostiles neutralized. No additional movement detected," Phillip reported. "Good work," Thomas said. "Keep an eye out. There could be more." The tension in the room remained palpable as the teams continued their respective tasks. Time seemed to slow as each second of silence stretched into the next. Everyone knew that the calm wouldn''t last forever. "Alpha to command," Davies called in. "We''ve finished our initial sweep of the central storage area. Supplies are confirmed. We''re setting up a defensive perimeter now." "Copy, Alpha. Begin phase two," Thomas instructed. "Bravo and Charlie, prepare for sustained perimeter defense. We''re bringing in the first wave of extraction helicopters in thirty minutes." "Roger that," both Phillip and Kim acknowledged. The mission was progressing, but Thomas''s instincts told him to stay on guard. The quiet was unsettling, and in a world overrun by the undead, silence often preceded chaos. "Let''s finish this by the book," Thomas muttered, his gaze fixed on the monitors. The teams were in position, and the operation was entering its most critical stage. They had come too far to fail now. Chapter 33: Securing the Supermarket The helicopters roared through the sky, the rhythmic hum of their rotor blades slicing through the thick air of the ruined cityscape. Thomas sat inside Raven 2, gripping the side handle as he watched the Landers Supermarket come into view. Below, his men were executing the operation with the kind of precision only days of experience in an undead-ravaged world could hone. "Command, this is Viper 1. Beginning final noise distraction. Deploying incendiaries at designated points," came the pilot''s voice over the radio. "Copy, Viper 1. Make it count," Thomas responded. The AH-64 Apache hovered just a few blocks away from the supermarket before letting loose a barrage of high-decibel incendiary munitions. The ground rumbled as fireballs erupted from nearby abandoned buildings. The controlled chaos sent shockwaves through the streets, drawing out any lurking undead. On the supermarket''s perimeter, Bravo and Charlie teams maintained their watch. The explosions did their job well¡ªzombies poured out of the surrounding structures, shambling toward the chaos like moths to a flame. "Alpha, report," Thomas ordered. Davies'' voice came through the comms, calm and professional. "Command, we''ve secured the interior. Minimal resistance. All entry points reinforced." Phillip chimed in from the loading docks. "Bravo is holding steady. No threats in our immediate area." Kim followed shortly after. "Charlie here. The alley is secure. Extraction routes remain clear." A small smirk formed on Thomas'' lips. This was going better than expected. "Alright. Command is inbound. ETA two minutes," Thomas announced. The helicopter carrying Thomas descended rapidly toward the supermarket''s rooftop. Below, Viper 1 unleashed one final barrage to keep any remaining zombies distracted. As soon as Raven 2 3 landed, Thomas hopped out. He idnd''t came alone, he brought with him five special forces. "Secure the rooftop. I want an overwatch post set up," Thomas instructed as he made his way toward the stairwell. Descending into the supermarket, Thomas was met with the sight of his teams operating at peak efficiency. Alpha had finished inventorying the most essential supplies, while Bravo and Charlie maintained defensive positions. "Sir." Davies greeted Thomas with a crisp nod. "Supermarket is secured. No major resistance." Thomas surveyed the interior. The lighting was dim, but with the emergency power running from the backup generators, it was enough to illuminate the organized chaos inside. Shelves of food, crates of bottled water, and stacks of first-aid kits had been neatly cataloged by the teams. "Damn good work," Thomas muttered approvingly. Phillip approached, wiping sweat from his brow. "Couldn''t have gone smoother. This place is a goldmine." Thomas nodded. "That''s why we''re keeping it." Phillip grinned. "Figured as much." Turning to the soldiers gathered nearby, Thomas addressed them. "This is our new supply depot. We''ll be setting up a permanent garrison here. I am going to summon additional soldiers." Thomas pulled up his system interface, his fingers swiftly navigating through the menus. He selected the Summon Troops Tab. He summoned 30 soldiers for thirty souls and 50 non-combat personnel for fifty souls. A magic circle appeared and they emerged from it. Then¡ªThomas also considered summoning heavy weaponry and hardware. Thomas navigated the system interface, scrolling through the Armored Vehicles & Heavy Weaponry section. He needed to fortify the Landers Supermarket properly¡ªturn it into a near-impenetrable stronghold. This meant not just troops but also tanks, infantry fighting vehicles, anti-aircraft systems, and all-terrain combat vehicles. The system shop displayed several options: [[System Armored Vehicle & Heavy Weaponry Shop] M2 Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicle ¨C Equipped with a 25mm M242 Bushmaster chain gun, TOW missile launchers, and reinforced armor. Cost: 80,000 Blood Coins per unit M1A2 Abrams Main Battle Tank ¨C Heavy armor, 120mm smoothbore cannon, advanced composite armor, and high-speed mobility. Cost: 250,000 Blood Coins per unit AN/TWQ-1 Avenger Anti-Aircraft System ¨C Armed with Stinger missiles and a .50 caliber M3P machine gun, designed for short-range air defense. Cost: 100,000 Blood Coins per unit JLTV (Joint Light Tactical Vehicle) Oshkosh ¨C Highly mobile, off-road capable combat vehicle, resistant to small arms fire and IEDs. Cost: 45,000 Blood Coins per unit] Thomas quickly calculated what he needed. Landers had to be fortified like a military base, not just a supermarket. That meant a mix of firepower and mobility. [Purchase Selection] 4 x M2 Bradley IFVs ¨C 160,000 Blood Coins 2 x M1A2 Abrams Tanks ¨C 500,000 Blood Coins 3 x Avenger Anti-Aircraft Systems ¨C 300,000 Blood Coins 8 x JLTV Oshkosh ¨C 360,000 Blood Coins Total Cost: 1,320,000 Blood Coins] [System Notification] Transaction Complete. Vehicles deployed at Landers Supermarket Parking Lot. Outside, a bright glow appeared as the vehicles materialized one by one in the parking lot. The soldiers standing guard watched in awe as the M2 Bradleys, Abrams tanks, Avengers, and Oshkosh JLTVs emerged from thin air along with their crews. Phillip, seeing the hardware arrive, let out a low whistle. "Well, shit," he muttered. "Now we''re talking." Thomas stepped forward, inspecting the vehicles. Each was pristine, freshly equipped, and combat-ready. "This should be enough for the defense of the supermarket." Phillip stood next to Thomas, crossing his arms. "This is military-grade firepower, boss. We could hold this place for years if we manage resources right." Thomas nodded. "That''s the idea. We''re not just surviving anymore, Phillip. We''re building a stronghold. A real base of operations." Phillip smirked. "Then let''s get it running. Good thing this supermarket had walls around it. We can simply add barbed wires or a fence along the top of the walls." "That''s a good idea. For that, I''m going to need engineers. I''ll summon ten engineers and sixty workers that will help the engineers construct the infrastructure that we need." "I''ll assign a soldier that will guard them sir," Phillip added. "Thank you for that." Thomas navigated the system interface, swiftly selecting the Summon Engineers tab. His eyes scanned through the available units, knowing that fortifying Landers Supermarket required more than just firepower¡ªit needed infrastructure and sustainability. A blue magic circle materialized and the personnel emerged from it. They saluted and Thomas promptly informed them of their roles, to which they quickly nodded and got to work. Chapter 34: Supermarket Fortification Briefing Thomas stood inside the makeshift command center set up within the supermarket''s back offices. The dimly lit room had been converted into a temporary operations hub, with tables covered in blueprints, maps, and tactical equipment. Several engineers stood in front of him, ready to present their fortification plans. Donovan, the lead combat engineer, placed a large schematic of Landers Supermarket on the table. His expression was professional, his posture stiff but confident. Beside him stood Mason, a civilian construction foreman, who had been selected to oversee the general workforce of 60 construction workers assigned to the project. Phillip stood near the wall, arms crossed, listening intently. Phase One: Perimeter Reinforcement Donovan tapped the schematic. "Sir, our first priority is perimeter reinforcement. Right now, the supermarket''s walls are made of concrete but weren''t designed for sustained combat or siege scenarios. We need to strengthen them if we want this place to survive against large hordes." Thomas nodded. "What are we looking at?" Donovan pulled up another document and continued. "We''ll reinforce the existing perimeter walls with steel plating scavenged from construction sites and industrial zones. The plating will be welded onto the concrete walls, ensuring enhanced durability against both zombie and human attacks." Mason chimed in. "That''s going to require at least 20 tons of structural steel, cutting torches, welding kits, and industrial adhesives." Thomas made a quick note and asked, "How long will it take?" "With enough manpower and the right materials? One week for full perimeter reinforcement." Thomas nodded. "Consider it done. What else?" Phase Two: Watchtowers and Defensive Positions. Donovan pointed to the four corners of the supermarket compound on the schematic. "We''re constructing four watchtowers, each standing 15 feet tall. These towers will be made of steel scaffolding and reinforced concrete foundations, with sandbag fortifications around the base for added protection. They''ll be equipped with: Mounted M240B machine guns (7.62mm) for sustained fire Spotlights for nighttime surveillance Radio communication equipment for constant updates Each tower will have three-man teams rotating shifts to ensure 24/7 security." Thomas glanced at Phillip, who nodded approvingly. "That''ll give us good overwatch on all sides," Phillip said. "If anything gets close, we''ll see it coming." Mason added, "We''ll also install two layers of barbed wire along the perimeter, just outside the walls, to slow down zombies before they even reach us." Thomas agreed. "Alright. Materials needed?" "Steel beams, prefabricated guard posts, sandbags, and four high-output generators for the spotlights," Donovan listed. Phase Three: Anti-Vehicle and Entry Control Points Donovan flipped to another schematic. "We can''t afford to let enemy vehicles breach the perimeter. We need anti-vehicle defenses installed at all major access points." Thomas frowned. "What''s your plan?" "We''ll deploy concrete barriers and steel spike strips at the front and rear entrances, preventing unauthorized vehicles from ramming through. The JLTV Oshkosh vehicles will be stationed at each entry point, ready to engage if needed." Phillip interjected, "We''ll also install automated sentry turrets near these points, controlled from the command center. That way, if a breach occurs, we can eliminate threats remotely." Thomas smirked. "I like that idea. How many turrets do you need?" Donovan calculated. "At least six turrets¡ªtwo at each entrance and two covering the loading docks." Thomas accessed the System Shop and quickly purchased: 6 Automated Sentry Turrets (5.56mm Gatling Guns) ¨C Cost: 180,000 Blood Coins A blue glow formed outside as the turrets materialized, already primed for installation. "Good. What about pedestrian access?" Thomas asked. Mason responded, "We''ll add steel-reinforced security gates at all personnel entry points. They''ll have keycard access controls, ensuring only authorized personnel can enter." Thomas approved. "Excellent. Anything else for this phase?" Donovan shook his head. "That covers structural fortifications." Phase Four: Supply Chain and Internal Defenses Thomas leaned forward. "Now, how do we keep this place sustainable?" Mason pointed to a section of the supermarket''s rear compound. "We''ll convert part of the loading dock area into a water purification station. This will allow us to collect and purify rainwater, ensuring we have an independent supply." "Estimated time?" "Three days with proper filtration systems and plumbing equipment." Thomas made a note. "And power?" "We''ll install three large diesel generators," Donovan said. "These will power the sentry turrets, security gates, watchtower spotlights, and internal refrigeration. We''ll need fuel reserves as well." Thomas accessed the System Shop again: Industrial Diesel Generators ¨C Cost: 90,000 Blood Coins 30 Barrels of Diesel Fuel ¨C Cost: 150,000 Blood Coins The generators materialized near the loading docks, ready for deployment. "What about internal security?" Thomas asked. Phillip answered, "Close-quarters kill zones. We''ll set up sandbag barricades, makeshift cover, and fallback positions inside the supermarket itself, ensuring that if something breaches the outer defenses, we have layers of defense inside." Thomas nodded. "I want emergency lockdown systems as well. If we need to seal off sections of the supermarket, I want that option." Mason jotted it down. "That means reinforced shutters and emergency blast doors installed inside." Thomas added it to the list. "Approved." Phase Five: Long-Term Sustainment Mason took over this section. "Sir, with proper defenses, Landers can become a long-term survival hub. But we need agriculture and food production." Thomas raised a brow. "You''re suggesting farming?" "Exactly. We''ll set up a hydroponic farm on the supermarket''s rooftop. We can grow vegetables, herbs, and medicinal plants. It''ll take time, but it''ll reduce dependency on supply runs." "How much space will it need?" "Half the rooftop. The other half will be used for solar panels." Thomas liked the idea. "I''ll handle the solar panels." ? 200 Solar Panels ¨C Cost: 200,000 Blood Coins ? Battery Storage Units ¨C Cost: 50,000 Blood Coins The panels and batteries materialized outside, ready for installation. Phillip grinned. "Damn, boss. We''re really making this place a fortress." Thomas smirked. "We''re not just surviving anymore, Phillip. We''re taking over." Final Logistics and Deployment. Thomas looked at Donovan and Mason. "How long will all of this take?" Donovan estimated, "Two weeks for full fortifications, one month for sustainment projects." Thomas exhaled. "Then get it done." The engineers and workers snapped salutes, immediately dispersing to begin fortifying Landers Supermarket. Phillip watched them go. "What''s next, boss?" Thomas stared at the horizon, where the ruins of the city loomed. "Next? We expand. This is only the beginning." Chapter 35: A Blunder? Thomas stood on the rooftop of Landers Supermarket, overlooking the vast ruins of Metro Manila. His arms were crossed, his mind working through the possibilities. The fortifications of Landers were progressing ahead of schedule, and the place was shaping up to be a near-impenetrable fortress¡ªbut something was bothering him. Landers was good, but it wasn''t enough. Phillip stood beside him, looking out at the landscape. "You look like you''re planning something big again," he remarked. Thomas didn''t respond immediately. He was studying the Diosdado Macapagal Boulevard, a wide thoroughfare that ran parallel to the Manila Bay. On the other side of the boulevard, the entirety of the SM Mall of Asia (MOA) Complex stretched before them. It suddenly clicked in Thomas''s mind. "This entire area... it''s free real estate," he said. Phillip raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" Thomas gestured toward the SM MOA Complex. "The Conrad is part of a much larger compound. We''re talking about an entire city within a city¡ªmultiple buildings, a massive mall, parking lots, storage depots, an IKEA, even call center hubs that were fully stocked with survival gear before everything fell apart." Phillip''s eyes widened as he followed Thomas''s logic. "So, if we fortify the boulevard..." "...we effectively turn SM MOA into a massive safe zone," Thomas finished. "The entire complex is bordered by water, just like a medieval fortress with a moat. If we block off Macapagal Boulevard, we can cut off all zombie threats from the mainland." Phillip let out a low whistle. "That''s... genius. But it''s a massive undertaking." Thomas smirked. "Massive, yes. Impossible? No." He pulled out his tablet, quickly opening the system map overlay. He zoomed in on Diosdado Macapagal Blvd and marked key locations for barriers, defense points, and checkpoints. "We''re going to establish a fortified wall along the boulevard," Thomas explained. "That''s step one. If we can block all access points leading into SM MOA, we control everything within the perimeter." Phillip scanned the map and noticed something. "Sir...I don''t think that by blocking the boulevard the SM MOA complex would be secure. There is still a boulevard cutting through it." He paused as he pointed on that boulevard. Thomas followed Phillip''s finger tracing along the line and nodded. "The J.W Diokno Boulevard. I didn''t see that, nice catch," Thomas said, chuckling. "Well sir if we are going to expand, we should expand beyond the SM MOA Complex. Because there are two other huge facilities on either side of the complex." Phillip then pointed to the map again. "Let''s take the SM MOA Complex as the center of the base. On its eastern sector, there are Philippine International Convention Center, Star City, World Trade Center, Cultural Center of the Philippines, et cetera. And in the western sector, there''s Solaire Resort, Okada Manila, and other high-end hotels. And I suggest that we extend the perimeter from the Diosdado Macapagal to Roxas Boulevard, that way we can get as many territories as we can without sacrificing much on safety." As expected from real special forces, they really do think strategically and tactically. Phillip''s suggestion wasn''t just ambitious¡ªit was a game-changer. Thomas studied the map carefully, tracing the boundaries of their proposed stronghold. "If we do this right," Thomas said, his voice steady, "we''ll control one of the largest defensible zones in Metro Manila. This isn''t just about survival anymore. This is about taking the city back¡ªturning this wasteland into a functioning civilization again." Phillip nodded. "So what''s the plan, boss?" "Well...we are going to take them one by one," Thomas said. "If we are to calculate the entire area where the eastern and western sector is accounted for. We are looking at over eleven million square meters of land. That is a huge chunk of land and by the number of our forces. I don''t think we can really clear every zombie in the area if we are to take them all together." "I follow you boss," Phillip acknowledged Thomas''s words. "So we are going to focus on the SM MOA complex first?" he asked as he looked at him. "I just realized something," Thomas said. "I think taking landers was a blunder on our part. We shouldn''t really go to this supermarket when there is already a treasure trove near the Conrad. I''m sorry, I don''t know the layout of the city. I should have studied the area surrounding our base before making such decisions." "Don''t be too hard on yourself sir," Phillip replied, patting him on the back. "We all make mistakes sometimes. Let''s not lowball our efforts here. Taking Lander is still a huge success." "I know¡ªbut I already deployed all the military hardwares in this supermarket. It''s not like we can transport them from this location to SM MOA. All major roads leading to that complex is blocked by abandoned traffic¡ª" "Then why not put them into your inventory sir?" Phillip suggested. Thomas blinked. Phillip''s suggestion was so simple yet so perfect. "You''re right," Thomas said, opening the System Interface. "I can just put the vehicles back into the inventory and redeploy them at SM MOA." Without wasting any time, he navigated to the Asset Management Tab, selecting every vehicle and heavy defense system stationed at Landers Supermarket. [System Notification] 4 x M2 Bradley IFVs returned to inventory. 2 x M1A2 Abrams Tanks returned to inventory. 3 x Avenger Anti-Aircraft Systems returned to inventory. 8 x JLTV Oshkosh returned to inventory. 1 x Industrial Diesel Generators returned to inventory. 30 x Barrels of Diesel Fuel returned to inventory. 200 x Solar Panels returned to inventory Battery storage units returned to inventory One by one, the military hardware disappeared in a blue glow, stored safely in Thomas''s System Inventory. Phillip let out an impressed chuckle. "That system of yours is cheating reality itself." Thomas smirked. "It''s what''s keeping us alive." With all military assets secured in the System Inventory, Thomas turned toward Phillip. "Alright, I''m not wasting another second here. We''re pulling out." Phillip gave a sharp nod. "I''ll inform the teams." Thomas activated his comms, his voice firm. "All stations at Landers, prepare for immediate withdrawal. We are abandoning this site and returning to Conrad." Chapter 36: Prelude to the Purge Three hours later. Thomas stood before a massive tactical map displayed on a digital screen inside Conrad Hotel''s command center. Around him, key personnel gathered¡ªPhillip, Davies, Kim, and several intelligence officers. The entire retaking of the SM MOA Complex was about to be planned, and no detail could be overlooked. He turned to the recon team leader, Russell, who had been assigned the task of estimating the zombie population within the complex. Russell took a deep breath before speaking. "Sir, based on pre-outbreak records, SM MOA Complex had a daily visitor count ranging from 200,000 to 1 million people. That doesn''t include mall employees, call center workers, and tourists from nearby hotels and casinos. At the time of the outbreak, we estimate that a large portion of these people got trapped within the mall, surrounding buildings, and underground parking areas." Phillip exhaled. "Jesus. We''re talking about hundreds of thousands of zombies inside one area." Russell nodded. "Based on our initial drone surveillance, we estimate at least 350,000 infected within the entire SM MOA Complex. The highest concentrations are inside the mall itself, the Arena, and IKEA. There are also significant clusters in the underground parking lots, which means we can''t risk fighting them in close quarters." Thomas stared at the screen, considering the logistical nightmare they were about to face. "How many roam outside the buildings?" he asked. Russell tapped the screen, highlighting thermal imaging data. "Approximately 20,000 to 30,000 roam the roads and open spaces. The good news is that the boulevard is relatively clear due to abandoned vehicles forming natural barricades." Thomas studied the data in silence. 350,000 zombies. A city of the dead. And they had to wipe them out. "How many personnel do we need to effectively clear out the area?" Russell took a deep breath before answering. "Sir, to completely clear out 350,000 zombies while minimizing casualties, we would need at least 1,500 to 2,000 combat personnel, with a rotational schedule to avoid fatigue. That includes infantry, heavy weapons teams, and sniper teams. Phillip rubbed his chin. "And that''s just for the cleanup. Holding the area afterward will require an entirely different force." Russell nodded. "Correct. If we want to fortify SM MOA Complex and maintain control, we''ll need at least 2,500 to 3,000 personnel¡ªincluding logistics, medical teams, engineers, and perimeter security forces." Thomas exhaled slowly. He had 200 soldiers under his command, plus another 150 support personnel at Conrad. Not enough. Phillip glanced at him. "So, boss... how many troops can you summon?" Thomas opened his System Interface and navigated to the Summon Troops tab and checked his soul reserves. 3,850 Souls After a brief calculation, he issued the largest troop deployment yet. [Summoning Units] 1,000 Infantry Soldiers ¨C Cost: 1,000 Souls 250 Heavy Weapons Specialists ¨C Cost: 500 Souls 150 Engineers ¨C Cost: 450 Souls 100 Snipers ¨C Cost: 200 Souls 100 Special Forces Operators Cost: 500 Souls 100 Medics ¨C Cost: 200 Souls Total Summoning Cost: 2,850 Souls Remaining Souls: 1,000 [System Notification] Summoning Complete: Deployed at Conrad Hotel''s Main Plaza A blinding blue glow appeared outside as 1,700 soldiers materialized. But, they don''t have weapons. He checked his balance on Blood Coins. Blood Coins Available: 2,750,000 Thomas immediately navigated to the Armory & Equipment Shop within the System Interface. The newly summoned soldiers were standing by outside, completely unarmed, waiting for deployment. Without proper weapons and gear, they were useless. [System Armory & Equipment Shop] Standard Assault Rifles (M4A1 w/ ACOG & Suppressor) Light Machine Guns (M249 SAW w/ Drum Magazine & Bipod) Sniper Rifles (M82A1 Barrett .50 Cal) Anti-Material Rifles (XM500 Semi-Auto .50 Cal) Rocket Launchers (M136 AT4, Disposable) Flamethrowers Frag Grenades (M67 Fragmentation, Pack of 5) Claymore Mines (M18A1 Anti-Personnel Mine, Pack of 3) Ballistic Armor (Level IV Ceramic Plate Carrier & Helmet) Total cost: 1,250,000 blood coins. Now that weapons were purchased, Thomas had one last critical step¡ªammunition. A soldier without bullets was just another body waiting to be torn apart. Navigating to the Ammunition Depot section of the System Shop, he checked the available inventory. He bought about 2 million rounds, costing him about 850,000 blood coins. "Okay¨Cthat''s good, let''s meet the army." Another hour later. The weapons, ammunition, and armor were finally distributed. Thomas stood at the head of the command table and watched the CCTV cameras that has a view of his entire army, all armed and ready. Russell cleared his throat and spoke first. "Sir, with our current numbers, we have 1,900 combat personnel, including heavy weapons teams, snipers, and special forces. The zombie population is estimated at 350,000. Our current ammo supply is two million rounds, which means each soldier gets about 1,000 rounds on average. It''s a solid number, but we still need to use them wisely." Thomas nodded. "We''re not doing this the hard way. We will not fight them in a way that wastes bullets. We are going to clear them with strategy¡ªmaximum kills, minimal ammo usage." Phillip smirked. "That''s what I was hoping to hear, boss." "Let''s use the intercom and announce the operation to our men." "Yes sir." The intercom system crackled to life as Thomas activated the microphone. His voice was firm, commanding, and clear as it echoed throughout the Conrad Hotel, reaching every soldier standing in formation outside. "Attention, all units. This is Commander Thomas Estaris speaking." The soldiers straightened up, eyes locked on the speakers mounted throughout the plaza. "We are about to undertake the most significant operation since the outbreak began. The SM MOA Complex¡ªone of the largest commercial hubs in Metro Manila¡ªis infested with approximately 350,000 zombies. That''s nearly an entire city''s worth of the dead, packed into one location." He let the gravity of that number sink in. "But we are not here for a suicide mission. We are here to wipe them out, take back the land, and build a new future. This is not just a one-time raid. This is a reclamation. Once we take MOA, it will become a self-sustaining zone¡ªour first real stronghold in the heart of the city." He paused, scanning the surveillance monitors showing the soldiers'' disciplined rows. "Our strategy is simple: maximum efficiency, minimal waste. This will not be a chaotic firefight. Every bullet counts. Every move is planned. We control the battlefield, not the other way around." Thomas turned to Phillip and nodded. Phillip stepped forward, taking over the intercom. "Alright, listen up! Group assignments are as follows:" Group Assignments & Responsibilities [First Assault Team ¨C "Hammer" Personnel: 500 Infantry Soldiers + 50 Heavy Weapons Specialists Commanding Officer: Captain Davies Objective: Clear the outer perimeter of SM MOA, eliminate all zombies in open spaces before main assault begins. Firepower: 2 M1A2 Abrams Tanks (Supporting Fire) 2 M2 Bradley IFVs (Infantry Cover) ] [Sniper Support from rooftops Rooftop & High-Ground Teams ¨C "Eagle Eye" Personnel: 100 Snipers + 50 Heavy Weapons Specialists Commanding Officer: Captain Kim Objective: Secure high vantage points across Conrad Hotel, SMX Convention Center, and SM Mall rooftops. Provide long-range cover and priority elimination of high-threat zombies. Firepower: M82A1 Barrett Sniper Rifles (Anti-Personnel) XM500 Anti-Material Rifles (Armored Targets) M249 SAWs for Suppression Equipment: Thermal Imaging Drones for Recon Laser Target Designators for Precision Strikes] [Firebreak & Perimeter Control ¨C "Firewall" Personnel: 200 Engineers + 150 Infantry Commanding Officer: Captain Mason Objective: Create controlled kill zones by using explosives, barricades, and firebreaks to funnel zombies into open spaces for mass elimination. Firepower: 200+ Claymore Mines Flamethrower Teams Sentry Turrets at Chokepoints Additional Support: Avenger AA Systems reconfigured for ground suppression Gasoline-based incendiary traps along choke points [Breaching & Interior Clearance ¨C "Razor" Personnel: 500 Infantry + 100 Special Forces Commanding Officer: Phillip Objective: Once the outer areas are cleared, move into key buildings (MOA Arena, IKEA, Underground Parking). Conduct room-by-room elimination while minimizing ammunition usage. Firepower: M4A1s + Suppressors Flashbangs & Frag Grenades Flamethrowers for tight spaces Tactics: Use high-decibel distractions to lure zombies out of confined areas into kill zones. Breach doors using controlled explosives. Move in phased formations to minimize risk. [Medical & Logistics Team ¨C "Guardian" Personnel: 100 Medics + 200 Support Personnel Commanding Officer: Dr. Elara Objective: Establish field triage stations at Conrad and secure supply lines for medical support. Capabilities: Mobile field hospitals Immediate combat casualty evacuation Stockpile of blood packs, antibiotics, and trauma kits] "This is not going to be a walk in the park, but high risk means high reward. We are not here to scavenge, we are here to take back what belongs to us. This will be a sustained operation, lasting several days. Every squad will follow their assignments to the letter." He paused, then delivered the final orders. "Final checks are in effect. All teams, gear up and be ready. Operation MOA Purge begins at 0600 hours. Dismissed!" The intercom shut off, and a brief silence followed before the plaza erupted with synchronized movement. Officers barked orders, soldiers performed last-minute inspections on their weapons, and engineers loaded up necessary supplies. The entire military machine was now in motion. Chapter 37: Operation Moa Purges Begin 0555 Hours. Before the operation begins, Thomas opened his inventory and consumed the pill: Experience & Blood Coin Capsule. Effect: Quintuple all experience points and blood coins gained from kills for the next six hours. Duration: 24 hours. "Okay, that''ll do. Let''s begin." 0600 Hours. The sun was barely rising over the Metro Manila skyline when the first wave of armored vehicles rumbled out of the Conrad Hotel perimeter. The two M1A2 Abrams tanks took the lead, flanked by two M2 Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicles, their engines roaring as they advanced down Diosdado Macapagal Boulevard. Behind them, Hammer Team, consisting of 500 infantry soldiers and 50 heavy weapons specialists, moved in tight formation. Their M4A1 rifles were loaded, and their movements were disciplined. The sniper teams of Eagle Eye had already secured positions on the rooftops, their thermal imaging drones scanning for threats. Inside the command vehicle, Thomas monitored the operation through multiple live drone feeds. "Status check," he ordered through his comms. Captain Davies, leading Hammer Team, responded immediately. "Hammer is moving into position. No resistance yet." Captain Kim from Eagle Eye chimed in. "Snipers are set. Covering your approach." Captain Mason, handling Firewall Team, confirmed. "Explosives primed. We''ll funnel them straight to you, Commander." Thomas nodded. "Then let''s get started." 0615 Hours ¨C Initial Contact As Hammer Team advanced past the abandoned vehicles blocking Seaside Boulevard, the first wave of zombies emerged. "Contact front!" a soldier shouted. Dozens of infected surged toward them, their movements erratic but aggressive. The M1A2 Abrams turret rotated, locking onto the largest cluster. "Main gun, HEAT round! Fire!" Captain Davies ordered. Boom! The 120mm shell obliterated the first wave of zombies, sending burning flesh and debris flying. The impact cratered the asphalt, leaving a mangled pile of infected bodies. "Light ''em up!" one of the M2 Bradley gunners shouted, unleashing a stream of 25mm rounds from the Bushmaster chain gun. The bullets tore through the advancing horde, shredding limbs and torsos. The infantry advanced carefully, firing in controlled bursts. Suppressors helped conserve ammunition while preventing unnecessary noise from drawing more undead. "Keep your spacing!" Davies barked. "Don''t get overrun!" The soldiers moved in tight formation, leapfrogging forward, using abandoned vehicles as cover. 0730 Hours ¨C Strategic Funnel Activated Firewall Team had completed the barricades and chokepoints along J.W. Diokno Boulevard. Explosives had been placed to create kill zones. "Commander, traps are set," Mason reported. "Detonate them when they hit the kill box," Thomas ordered. Moments later, the zombie horde moved into the chokepoint, a large stretch of road barricaded on both sides. "Fire in the hole!" Mason called. The C4 charges detonated, ripping through the first wave of zombies. The explosions funneled them directly into the gunfire of Hammer Team, forcing them to cluster tightly into the narrow path. Snipers from Eagle Eye began picking off key targets¡ªeliminating runners and potential threats before they could reach the main force. 1045 Hours. With the outer perimeter steadily being cleared, Thomas gave the next order. "Razor Team, move in." Phillip and his 500 infantry and 100 Special Forces operators surged forward, splitting into squads. Objective: Secure key buildings (MOA Arena, IKEA, and Underground Parking). "Go silent," Phillip ordered. "We''re not wasting ammo in close quarters." Using flashbangs and suppressed weapons, the first breach teams entered IKEA. Inside, the massive warehouse-like store had turned into a deathtrap. The entire first floor was packed with zombies. "We need a lure," one of the Special Forces operators suggested. Phillip pointed at the store''s PA system. "Set a high-frequency siren at the far end of the store. Draw them there." A soldier rigged the system, and seconds later, a blaring alarm rang out on the opposite side of IKEA. The zombies turned en masse, shambling toward the noise. "Move now!" Phillip ordered. The troops advanced quickly, clearing small groups of stragglers with knives and silenced pistols. The team reached the second level, where fewer zombies roamed. "Secure the exits. We hold this position," Phillip instructed. Eagle Eye snipers provided overwatch, eliminating any zombies trying to re-enter the building. 1500 Hours. Meanwhile, another detachment moved toward MOA Arena, where a dense horde of at least 50,000 zombies was gathered. "Heavy weapons team, you''re up," Thomas said through comms. The M136 AT4 rocket launchers fired first, launching high-explosive warheads into the crowd. The detonations sent flaming bodies flying. Following up, two flamethrower teams advanced, spreading streams of fire across the arena entrance, creating an impassable wall of flames. "Keep them burning!" Captain Davies shouted. As the zombies screamed and burned alive, machine gunners positioned on the arena''s rooftop rained down fire, ensuring nothing survived. The massacre continued for ten minutes before only a few stragglers remained. "MOA Arena secured," Davies confirmed. 1900 Hours. Back at the command center, Thomas monitored the drone feed. "All breaching teams, fall back from underground," he ordered. Explosives had been strategically placed at key structural points in the underground parking structures. "On my mark... Detonate." A moment later, the ground trembled as multiple controlled explosions went off. The entire parking complex collapsed, burying thousands of zombies alive. Russell, monitoring from the rooftop, whistled. "That''s one way to clear them out." Phillip''s voice came through comms. "Underground threat neutralized." 2230 Hours. With most open areas cleared, the remaining zombies were pinned down inside the main mall structure. "All teams, regroup. Final assault on the mall begins," Thomas ordered. With snipers covering entrances, heavy weapons softening defenses, and firebreaks set, the soldiers stormed the mall, clearing it floor by floor. Phillip''s team moved swiftly, using flashbangs to stun zombies before executing them. By Day 2, 0230 hours, the last of the undead had been wiped out. MOA Complex was officially reclaimed. Thomas stood at the center of the mall''s atrium, where a massive MOA sign still hung. Around him, soldiers cheered, exhausted but victorious. Phillip approached, blood and sweat covering his uniform. "We did it, boss." Thomas surveyed the area¡ªthe dead lay scattered, barricades in place, key structures secured. "We did more than win," he said. "We just took back the city." [Total Enemy Eliminated: 350,000+ Zombies Friendly Casualties: Minimal MOA Complex Fully Secured] Chapter 38: Begin the Cleanup! Day 2 ¨C 0300 Hours. The battle for the SM MOA Complex was over, but the work had only just begun. The aftermath of the operation left streets, hallways, and buildings littered with rotting corpses, burned remains, and pools of coagulated blood. The stench of decay mixed with the lingering scent of gunpowder and burnt flesh, creating a suffocating atmosphere. Standing at the center of the mall atrium, Thomas issued his next command. "Initiate the cleanup operation. I want this entire area secured and cleared by 0800 hours. All fire teams, burn the bodies. Engineers, assess structural integrity. Medics, prepare triage for any survivors." 0305 Hours. The "Firewall" team, led by Captain Mason, began setting up controlled burn pits around the complex. The sheer volume of corpses required multiple incineration sites, with soldiers stacking bodies onto makeshift pyres built from broken furniture, wooden pallets, and debris. "Gasoline ready," one engineer reported. "Light it up," Mason ordered. A single flare ignited the first burn pile, quickly spreading flames across the mass of corpses. Thick black smoke rose into the night sky, carrying the last remnants of the undead into oblivion. Meanwhile, a secondary team worked on clearing debris from key roadways, using bulldozers and forklifts recovered from abandoned construction sites. They pushed the burned remains into large craters created during the battle, covering them with rubble and concrete to prevent future contamination. 0320 Hours. The engineering teams spread out across the complex to evaluate building integrity. The heavy use of explosives and incendiary weapons during the purge had weakened some structures, particularly in the underground parking lots and IKEA. At the MOA Arena, Captain Mason inspected a collapsed section near the east wing. "Structural damage here is bad. Reinforcements are needed to prevent further collapse." "Understood," Thomas responded. "Salvage what we can. If it''s unsalvageable, we''ll demolish it and rebuild." The engineers used laser scanners and ground-penetrating radar to map out unstable areas while reinforcing weakened pillars with steel supports. 0345 Hours. With the immediate clean-up operations underway, Thomas turned his attention to finding survivors. "Phillip, take Razor Team and start clearing the interior structures. Move room to room, check every floor." Phillip nodded. "Understood. Moving now." The search teams swept through the mall in tactical formations, their weapons raised as they checked for signs of life. They moved cautiously¡ªalthough most of the zombies had been exterminated, there was always a chance that some infected remained hidden. Inside a call center office on the second floor, a soldier called out. "We got movement!" The team raised their weapons as they approached a locked janitor''s closet. A faint knocking sound came from inside. "It''s barricaded from the inside," one soldier noted. Phillip stepped forward. "We''re not here to hurt you! If you''re alive, open the door!" A tense moment passed before the lock clicked open. The door slowly creaked, revealing a young woman in tattered office clothes, clutching a makeshift weapon¡ªa broken broom handle with a sharpened tip. She looked at the soldiers, her eyes sunken and weary. "Are... are you real?" she whispered. "Yeah, we''re real," Phillip said calmly. "How many people are with you?" She hesitated, glancing back into the darkness of the room. "There''s... six of us. We''ve been hiding here for weeks." Phillip turned to his men. "Get them water, food, and bring them to the triage zone. Keep moving." 0400 Hours. As the search continued, multiple survivor groups were found barricaded in stores, restrooms, and maintenance rooms. Some were barely hanging on, malnourished and dehydrated from weeks of hiding. In a storeroom behind a fast-food restaurant, a team found an elderly couple with their teenage grandson, surviving on rotting canned food and rainwater collected in plastic bottles. Inside a luxury watch shop, they discovered a group of security guards¡ªformer mall staff¡ªwho had managed to hold out using batons and scavenged firearms. A total of 82 survivors were rescued in the first two hours. Thomas monitored the incoming reports. "Good. Keep looking. There could be more." 0500 Hours. With cleanup and rescues underway, Thomas turned his attention to fortifications. "Eagle Eye, I need a full recon report on all entry points. We need to seal this place up tight." Captain Kim, commanding the sniper teams, responded. "Copy that, Commander. We''ll get drone surveillance over the perimeter now." Engineers worked to reinforce barricades, installing steel barriers and automated turrets at the main entry roads leading into the complex. They secured: Diosdado Macapagal Boulevard (West Entrance) J.W. Diokno Boulevard (North Entrance) Seaside Boulevard (East Entrance) Roxas Boulevard (South Entrance) Sentry turrets were mounted, and roadblocks made from concrete barriers and armored vehicles were positioned at choke points. At the MOA Atrium, Dr. Elara set up a field hospital to examine the rescued survivors. "Dehydration, starvation, mild infections¡ªnothing severe," she reported. "But they''re traumatized. Some of them lost family in this hellhole." Thomas approached one of the security guards, a man named Ramon Santiago, who had been working at MOA when the outbreak hit. "You held out for a long time," Thomas said. Ramon nodded, his voice hoarse from exhaustion. "We tried to fight. But there were too many of them. Most of us didn''t make it." "You made it," Thomas said. "That''s what matters." Ramon looked at the military vehicles and soldiers patrolling the area. "Are you... rebuilding?" Thomas gave a firm nod. "Yeah. We''re taking this city back." 0700 Hours. By dawn, the MOA Complex was fully secured. [350,000 zombies eliminated Survivors rescued: 123 (Additional survivors found overnight) Main roads barricaded and secured Triage and resupply stations established Structural reinforcements underway] Thomas stood on the rooftop of Conrad Hotel, overlooking the cleared ruins of Metro Manila. The city was still broken, but for the first time in months, there was hope. Phillip approached, handing him a canteen of water. "Not bad for two days of work," he said. Thomas took a sip, exhaling slowly. "We''re just getting started. And by getting started, I mean it''s time for shopping." Chapter 39: Shopping Time Thomas didn''t look much at his stats during the operation as it was a nuisance to him. How annoying? Well imagine having your facebook notifications flooded every second informing you that you have killed a zombie. Not to mention, the chime was noisy that reverberated in his head. Due to that, he doesn''t know how much he has gotten from the operation and what level he is. But one thing is certain, he had gotten a copious amount of blood coins, soils, and experience points. Opening his system stats, his eyes widened in shock. [User: Thomas Estaris] [Level: 40] [Experience Points: 35,556,213/36,147,970] [Skills: Combat Proficiency Level 3, Weapon''s Proficiency Level 3, Charisma Level 3, Leadership Level 3. Driving Level 3. Aviation Level 3.] [Souls: 353,412] [Blood Coins: 89,543,674] Thomas stared at the numbers, unable to believe the sheer scale of his gains. The six-hour experience multiplier had done its job, catapulting him straight to level 40 and rewarding him with an absurd amount of blood coins and souls. Phillip, standing nearby, noticed Thomas'' reaction. "Something wrong, boss?" Thomas exhaled sharply. "Not wrong. Just... unexpected." "I see." "We are going to do a serious upgrade in this complex," Thomas said. Phillip crossed his arms. "So, what''s next? You said something about shopping." Thomas nodded. "We just took back MOA, but we need to fortify it properly. We won''t always be able to pull off a large-scale operation like this. I want this place to be self-sustaining and nearly impenetrable." He navigated the System Shop, scrolling through high-end military and infrastructure options. The first priority was turning SM MOA into a fully operational fortress. Thomas selected Tier-4 Perimeter Walls, reinforced with steel plating and watchtowers, to enclose the entire complex. Concrete and Steel Walls (10m high, 5m thick) ¨C Cost: 600,000 Blood Coins Automated Sentry Guns (20 Units, mounted on walls) ¨C Cost: 500,000 Blood Coins Electric Fencing (Outer Perimeter) ¨C Cost: 400,000 Blood Coins Watchtowers (15m high, stationed at key points) ¨C Cost: 80,000 Blood Coins [Total Cost: 1,580,000 Blood Coins] Thomas confirmed the purchase, and those purchases went straight to his inventory. He checked it briefly in his inventory and figured that he''ll deploy those once he is done with all the purchase. Now, securing the territory was one thing¡ªsustaining it was another. Thomas turned to the Urban Development section of the shop. Water Purification Plant (Independent filtration & storage) ¨C Cost: 500,000 Blood Coins Solar & Wind Hybrid Power Grid ¨C Cost: 350,000 Blood Coins Hydroponic Farming System (Indoor agriculture for sustainable food) ¨C Cost: 200,000 Blood Coins Automated Manufacturing Plant (Basic ammo & weapon repair station) ¨C Cost: 800,000 Blood Coins [Total Cost: 1,850,000] The next step was reinforcing their forces. Thomas checked his soul count¡ª353,412 souls¡ªand decided to make another large-scale recruitment. 2,000 Infantry Soldiers ¨C Cost: 2,000 Souls 500 Heavy Weapons Specialists ¨C Cost: 1,000 Souls 100 Engineers ¨C Cost: 500 Souls 100 Medics ¨C Cost: 200 Souls 1,000 Construction Workers - 1,000 Soults [Total souls: 4,700 Souls] With still over 80 million blood coins left, Thomas decided to expand his military arsenal as well. Good thing it was easy for him to navigate as he could simply select a country where the hardware originated from and he''ll just have to choose. He chose the obvious choice, the United States Armed Forces. And then the display from the Army, Airforce, and Navy was displayed on his interface. His first focus was armored ground forces. Tanks, infantry fighting vehicles, artillery, and mobile support were all necessary to maintain absolute control over the area. Main Battle Tanks (MBT) M1A2 SEPv3 Abrams (Advanced Model) ¨C 30 units ¨C Cost: 250,000 Blood Coins Total Cost: 7,500,000 Blood Coins The M1A2 SEPv3 Abrams was the latest in U.S. MBT technology, boasting enhanced armor, improved targeting systems, and superior mobility. The M60A3 Patton, while outdated compared to the Abrams, still packed serious firepower and could serve as secondary defensive assets. Infantry Fighting Vehicles (IFVs) M2A4 Bradley IFV ¨C 50 units ¨C Cost: 3,000,000 Blood Coins Stryker Dragoon (30mm Autocannon Variant) ¨C 50 units ¨C Cost: 4,000,000 Blood Coins Total Cost: 7,000,000 Blood Coins The Bradley IFVs would provide mobility and fire support for ground troops, while the Stryker Dragoon offered increased firepower and faster response times for urban engagements. Armored Personnel Carriers (APCs) & Transport M1126 Stryker APC ¨C 100 units ¨C Cost: 5,000,000 Blood Coins JLTV Oshkosh Tactical Vehicles ¨C 100 units ¨C Cost: 4,500,000 Blood Coins M939 6x6 Military Cargo Trucks ¨C 50 units ¨C Cost: 1,000,000 Blood Coins Total Cost: 10,500,000 Blood Coins These vehicles would be crucial for troop movement, supply distribution, and battlefield logistics. Artillery & Mobile Fire Support M109A7 Paladin Self-Propelled Howitzer ¨C 40 units ¨C Cost: 4,000,000 Blood Coins M270 MLRS (Multiple Launch Rocket System) ¨C 30 units ¨C Cost: 4,200,000 Blood Coins M120 Mortar Carriers (120mm) ¨C 50 units ¨C Cost: 1,000,000 Blood Coins Total Cost: 9,200,000 Blood Coins These would serve as long-range suppression, area denial, and counter-battery firepower, ensuring that enemy threats would be eliminated before they even got close. Air Defense Systems. MIM-104 Patriot Missile Batteries ¨C 8 units ¨C Cost: 6,000,000 Blood Coins AN/TWQ-1 Avenger Mobile SAM ¨C 20 units ¨C Cost: 2,000,000 Blood Coins Total Cost: 8,000,000 Blood Coins These would ensure complete aerial superiority, defending against hostile aircraft, drones, or missile threats in the future. Now for air. Attack & Multi-Role Helicopters AH-64E Apache Guardian ¨C 20 units ¨C Cost: 6,000,000 Blood Coins UH-60M Black Hawk (Troop & Cargo Transport) ¨C 50 units ¨C Cost: 5,000,000 Blood Coins CH-47F Chinook (Heavy-Lift Helicopter) ¨C 20 units ¨C Cost: 5,000,000 Blood Coins Total Cost: 16,000,000 Blood Coins With these, MOA would have rapid-response air mobility, heavy-lift capability, and lethal aerial attack forces. Fixed-Wing Close Air Support & Gunships. AC-130J Ghostrider Gunship ¨C 1 units ¨C Cost: 2,500,000 Blood Coins A-10C Thunderbolt II (Warthog) ¨C 5 units ¨C Cost: 4,000,000 Blood Coins MQ-9 Reaper Drones 5 units ¨C Cost: 5,000,000 Blood Coins Total Cost: 11,500,000 Blood Coins The AC-130 Ghostrider and A-10 Warthog would give them devastating close-air support, while the Reaper drones would provide real-time intelligence, reconnaissance, and long-range precision strikes. Phase Three: Military Construction & Supply. With his final purchases, Thomas ensured MOA could be refurbished within its walls and expand beyond it. M9 ACE (Armored Combat Earthmover) ¨C 50 units ¨C Cost: 300,000 Blood Coins M88A2 Hercules (Heavy Recovery Vehicle) ¨C 20 units ¨C Cost: 300,000 Blood Coins Heavy Fuel Tankers ¨C 30 units ¨C Cost: 100,000 Blood Coins Mobile Field Hospitals ¨C 10 units ¨C Cost: 100,000 Blood Coins Total Cost: 800,000 Blood Coins. These vehicles would support battlefield engineering, fortification construction, and logistics. Total spent: 73,930,000 Blood coins. Additional expenses on weapons for troops: 10,000,000. Total spent: 83,930,000 blood coins. With all of that settled, it''s only a matter of implementation. But that would be for another day. For now, they are safely stored in his inventory. Once everything calmed down within the complex, he''ll summon everything he had bought. Chapter 40: Military Complex Samantha stepped out of her assigned room in Conrad Hotel, rubbing her eyes as the early morning sun streamed through the wide glass windows. It had been a week since she was rescued¡ªdragged out of her hellish confinement at the university where she thought she would die. But even now, walking through the halls of this supposed "safe zone," she couldn''t shake the eerie feeling that something was off. She wasn''t ungrateful¡ªfar from it. She owed her life to Thomas Estaris, her former classmate, who had somehow risen to a level of authority that no one seemed to question. But there were things that didn''t make sense, things she had been too exhausted to process before. Today, as she finally stepped out of the Conrad and into the streets of what used to be the SM Mall of Asia, she finally saw it¡ªthe impossible transformation. Samantha had expected to see survivors trying to rebuild their lives, forming makeshift markets, scavenging for supplies, or finding ways to live normally. That was not the case. Instead, she was met with a fully militarized city. She stopped in her tracks, staring at the rows upon rows of armored vehicles parked along the wide boulevard. There were M1A2 Abrams tanks, M2 Bradleys, and massive military transport trucks. Some were lined up, others were actively moving supplies. Further down, she spotted construction teams welding steel reinforcements, erecting watchtowers, and installing automated sentry turrets along the perimeter walls. The former commercial district had been turned into a war zone. "What the hell...?" Samantha barely recognized the MOA Complex anymore. It wasn''t just a safe zone¡ªit was a fortress. Ten-meter-high concrete walls now surrounded the entire area, topped with what looked like electric fencing and mounted machine guns. At the intersection leading to Diosdado Macapagal Boulevard, massive Patriot missile batteries stood guard, their sleek forms aimed at the sky. Soldiers¡ªhundreds of them¡ªpatrolled the streets, fully equipped with modern combat gear, moving in tight formations as if preparing for a battle that hadn''t even started yet. "Where did they come from?" No one knew. Even the survivors she spoke to were just as clueless. Some whispered that Thomas had connections to the government, others believed the military had hidden itself here before the outbreak. But Samantha knew better. None of this was here a week ago. Her feet carried her to where most of the survivors were gathered¡ªa processing center set up near the former SMX Convention Center. The survivors from Conrad and the MOA Complex operation were all lined up, waiting to receive their new identification cards and living assignments. Samantha sighed and joined the queue. She could hear muffled conversations around her. "Have you seen the military presence here?" one man whispered behind her. "They weren''t here before, right?" "No way," another muttered. "I was at Conrad the whole time. There weren''t this many soldiers before the purge. Now they''re everywhere." A woman in front of them shushed them. "Does it matter? We''re alive, aren''t we?" Samantha didn''t say anything. But she felt the same unease. She moved forward, reaching the registration desk where a military officer in digital camo uniform sat behind a terminal. "Name?" "Samantha Garcia," she answered. The officer typed something into his tablet before nodding. "Former occupation?" "Student." "Any medical conditions?" She shook her head. The officer handed her a plastic identification card. Samantha took it hesitantly and read the details. ID: 0223-SG Name: Samantha Garcia Civilian Status: Tier 1 Resident Work Assignment: Pending Housing Unit: Shore Residence Tower D, Level 3, Room 318 "Shore Residence Tower D?" She glanced up at the officer, but he was already calling the next survivor forward. Stepping aside, she turned her gaze toward the massive high-rise buildings just beyond MOA Arena. It was a newly-constructed residential building. So it made sense that''s where they''ll put the survivors. When she visited her room, it was like in the Conrad, it was a studio type room with one bed, and everything was tidy as if it was just your premium hotel. It has water and electricity and every necessities required for survival such as clothes. "They turned a corporate office into an apartment complex." It was strange¡ªefficient, but strange. Her stomach growled, reminding her of her next priority¡ªfood. Samantha followed the signs leading to the food distribution center, located near MOA Arena. She wasn''t alone. Hundreds of survivors stood in line, clutching their ration vouchers as they shuffled forward. Armed guards were stationed at key points, watching over the crowd. When she finally reached the serving station, she was handed a steel tray with a scoop of steamed rice and a single canned sardine. She stared at it. "That''s it?" But she didn''t complain. Food was food. Samantha took her tray and walked toward the seating area¡ªa long row of plastic chairs and folding tables under a military-grade tent. She sat down, staring at her meal. The rice was dry, the sardine smelled metallic, and the water was lukewarm. It was barely enough to sustain someone. Across from her, a man let out a heavy sigh, stirring his rice with a spoon. "You''d think with all the military gear they have, they''d have better food," he muttered. Samantha looked up. "What do you mean?" The man shook his head. "The soldiers, the tanks, the aircraft. Where did all of it come from?" He leaned in slightly. "They didn''t have all this before. Now they''re everywhere." Samantha frowned. "I was thinking the same thing. But we should be grateful that we are alive thanks to them," Another survivor¡ªan older woman¡ªspoke softly. "I agree. I don''t care where it came from. As long as we''re safe." Samantha picked at her sardine with her fork. It was a far cry from the sumptuous meal that she had during her stay in Conrad. Is Thomas becoming practical? After finishing her meal, she returned to Shore Residence Tower D, where she walked toward the window and watched the scene outside. Military presence but didn''t belong to the armed forces of the Philippines. "Thomas Estaris...just who are you?" Chapter 41: Setting Up Chain of Command Location: Conrad Hotel ¨C Command Center Thomas sat at the head of the command table inside Conrad Hotel''s command center, staring at the live feed displayed on multiple monitors. The entire MOA Complex was now a fortress, filled with thousands of heavily armed soldiers, state-of-the-art military hardware, and defensive structures that made it nearly impenetrable. But there was a problem. Command and control. His forces had grown too large. At the start, he only had a few hundred troops¡ªmanageable through direct oversight. But now? He commanded nearly 3,000 soldiers, engineers, medics, and specialists. Every decision, every minor report, every tactical issue had to be routed directly to him. It was unsustainable. "I need an actual chain of command." With that decision made, Thomas opened the System Interface and navigated to the Personnel Summoning Section. He scrolled through the Officer Roster, taking note of available options. Each officer cost 15 Souls to summon. With over 350,000 Souls in his reserve, he had more than enough. Phase One: High Command First, he needed a structured military hierarchy. Chief of Staff: Thomas Estaris (Supreme Commander of all Military & Strategic Operations) Deputy Chief of Staff: (Second-in-Command, manages overall coordination & mission execution) Military Divisions (Reports directly to the Chief of Staff) Chief of Army (Ground forces, infantry, heavy weapons, engineers, special forces) Chief of Air Force (Helicopters, fixed-wing aircraft, UAVs, transport & airstrikes) Chief of Logistics & Supply (Ammunition, vehicle maintenance, fuel, rations, medical supplies, and construction materials) Each Chief commanded their respective divisional officers, making sure Thomas was no longer burdened with micromanagement. On the civilian side, Thomas had also established a governing body to maintain order and efficiency within the MOA Complex. Civilian Administration (Reports directly to the Chief of Staff) Director of Civilian Affairs (Ensures law, order, and governance of civilians within the safe zone) Director of Infrastructure & Development (Manages water, power, food supply, and urban expansion) Director of Security (Oversees internal peacekeeping, law enforcement, and counter-intelligence) Director of Medical & Health Services (Hospitals, disease control, medical personnel, and public health initiatives) With this structure, the military and civilian administration could function without him having to directly intervene in every issue. "Finally, a proper command system. Now that we have a draft, let''s summon some officials to fill that role." Thomas wasted no time. He opened the Personnel Summoning Interface, scrolling through the available officer candidates. Each Officer cost 15 Souls, a negligible amount compared to his vast reserve of over 350,000 Souls. He selected the first batch of officers to fill in the top positions. High Command Assignments. Deputy Chief of Staff ¨C Marcus Holt (Second-in-Command, responsible for overall coordination and mission execution) Skills: Large-scale military operations, logistics, and crisis management. Chief of Army ¨C Elias Carter (Responsible for all ground forces, including infantry, armor, engineers, and special forces) Skills: Urban warfare, mechanized operations, infantry command, and battle tactics. Chief of Air Force ¨C Adrian Vance (Oversees all aerial operations, including attack helicopters, transport aircraft, and UAVs) Skills: Air superiority, precision strikes, aerial logistics, and close-air support coordination. Chief of Logistics & Supply ¨C Howard Briggs (Manages supply chains, rations, fuel, and ammunition stockpiles) Skills: Resource allocation, military construction, vehicle maintenance, and sustained operations. Civilian Administration Assignments Director of Civilian Affairs ¨C Rebecca Langley (Ensures law, governance, and social stability within the MOA Safe Zone) Skills: Civil governance, diplomacy, law enforcement coordination, and social order management. Director of Infrastructure & Development ¨C Edgar Dawson (Oversees water, power, food supply, and urban reconstruction) Skills: Urban planning, civil engineering, infrastructure maintenance, and energy management. Director of Security ¨C Vincent Rourke (Responsible for internal policing, counter-intelligence, and law enforcement) Skills: Counter-intelligence, internal security, surveillance operations, and threat assessment. Director of Medical & Health Services ¨C Charlotte Hayes (Responsible for all hospitals, medical facilities, and disease prevention efforts) Skills: Emergency medicine, disease control, medical logistics, and trauma management. 15 Officers Summoned Successfully! A bright blue glow illuminated the command center as the newly appointed commanders and directors materialized, standing at attention in their freshly summoned military and civilian uniforms. Thomas scanned the room, taking in the physical appearances of his newly summoned officers. Marcus Holt, the Deputy Chief of Staff, was a tall man with short black hair, a square jaw, and gray eyes. His uniform fit snugly on his broad frame, and he carried himself with a straight posture. Elias Carter, the Chief of Army, had a stocky build, short-cropped gray hair, a beard, and deep-set blue eyes. His face had a few scars, and his rough appearance matched his role. Adrian Vance, the Chief of Air Force, had an athletic build, short blond hair, and green eyes. He had sharp facial features and a lean frame. Howard Briggs, the Chief of Logistics & Supply, was bald with a thick beard and brown eyes. He had a sturdy build and broad shoulders. Among the civilian officials, their appearances were noticeably different. Rebecca Langley, the Director of Civilian Affairs, had long golden hair, blue eyes, and a slender figure. Edgar Dawson, the Director of Infrastructure & Development, had messy black hair, dark brown eyes, and wore glasses. His frame was lean but well-kept. Vincent Rourke, the Director of Security, had short brown hair, gray eyes, and a toned build. Charlotte Hayes, the Director of Medical & Health Services, had chestnut-brown hair tied in a bun, hazel eyes, and a slim build. Thomas nodded to himself. These were the people who would help him run everything. Moments later, one of them stepped forward. "On behalf of the newly appointed officers, it is my pleasure to serve." Thomas nodded. "Your name?" Though he already knew her name because the system had automatically named her, he still wanted to make sure that it was the same. "Rebecca Langley, Director of Civilian Affairs." She placed a hand over her chest. "You summoned us with purpose. We will carry out that purpose to the best of our abilities." The others followed suit, saluting in perfect unison. "Sir! Ready to receive orders!" Thomas exhaled slowly. This was it. The start of a real chain of command. "Follow me, we have something to discuss," he ordered and seconds later, the summoned officials complied and followed him outside and then into the next room. Chapter 42: Another Operation Next Week Thomas sat at the head of the command table, his expression firm as he scanned the digital map of Metro Manila displayed on the massive screen in front of him. The MOA Complex had been fully secured, but they weren''t stopping there. The next phase of expansion planning was about to begin. His newly appointed officers sat around the table, waiting for orders. "Let''s get straight to business," Thomas said, leaning forward. "We control the MOA Complex, but that''s not enough. We need to expand outward and secure more territory. Our next targets: Baclaran and Tambo in the west, and Star City, PICC, and Sofitel in the east." The room remained silent, the officers absorbing the information. Westward Expansion: Baclaran & Tambo. Thomas highlighted the western sector on the map. The area covered luxurious hotels, casinos, and commercial hubs such as: Okada Manila ¨C A large casino and hotel resort with valuable power infrastructure and high-security fortifications. Solaire Resort & Casino ¨C Another strategic commercial asset that could serve as a command center or resource depot. City of Dreams Manila ¨C A massive entertainment hub that, if secured, could be repurposed for civilian housing or logistics. Baclaran Market & Church ¨C One of the most populated areas before the outbreak. It could be infested with thousands of zombies, making it a high-risk, high-reward target. He tapped the Baclaran area, zooming in on the densely packed streets filled with abandoned vehicles, makeshift barricades, and roaming undead. "This sector is one of the most dangerous areas due to its pre-outbreak population density. We''re looking at possibly 100,000 zombies in Baclaran alone. However, once secured, we gain access to major roadways leading north, including EDSA and Roxas Boulevard." Elias Carter, Chief of Army, nodded. "Urban combat in tight spaces means we''ll need riot shields, flamethrowers, and breaching charges. We can deploy our IFVs to push through the main roads, but we''ll have to clear the interiors building by building." Thomas turned to Adrian Vance, Chief of Air Force. "Air support?" Vance studied the map. "The rooftops in Baclaran are low-rise and packed close together. We can deploy Apache gunships for precision fire, but drone reconnaissance will be critical to identifying zombie hordes before we move in." Thomas nodded. "Good. Now, for Tambo. This sector houses NAIA Runway 06/24, meaning we''ll have access to a major runway for future aircraft operations." Howard Briggs, Chief of Logistics & Supply, interjected. "We can also use the hotels and casinos for high-security storage facilities. They''re built to withstand attacks, which makes them ideal strongholds for future expansion." Thomas tapped the screen, confirming their objectives for the western sector. Eastern Expansion: Star City, PICC, Sofitel, & Cultural Center. The map zoomed to the east, displaying key locations: Star City ¨C A large abandoned amusement park, perfect for repurposing into a training facility or civilian shelter. Philippine International Convention Center (PICC) ¨C A massive fortified complex that could serve as an official headquarters for military and government operations. Sofitel Hotel & Cultural Center of the Philippines ¨C Luxurious hotels and cultural landmarks that, once secured, could be turned into VIP accommodations, medical centers, or strategic command posts. Thomas continued, "The eastern sector is more spread out, but it has strategic value. PICC was a government facility, meaning it likely has secure bunkers and undiscovered stockpiles. Sofitel and Star City are ideal for civilian expansion, and once secured, they will provide additional housing and food production capabilities." Vincent Rourke, Director of Security, frowned. "How many zombies are we dealing with in this sector?" Russell, the recon officer, stood up. "Star City had thousands of visitors before the outbreak, many of whom likely got trapped inside. We estimate 50,000 to 70,000 zombies in that park alone. PICC and Sofitel are less populated, but they might be hiding other survivor factions." Rebecca Langley, Director of Civilian Affairs, raised a concern. "If we encounter hostile survivors, do we engage or negotiate?" Thomas folded his arms. "That depends on their intentions. If they''re open to cooperation, we bring them in. If they''re hostile, we neutralize them. We cannot afford another faction claiming these areas before we do." He continued. "Now once we have successfully finished the operation, we are going to set a wall along Roxas Boulevard, basically similar to what we are doing right now to the highway after my men took this complex from the undead. The reason why we are doing this is because if we set up a wall, no zombies would ever enter the territory that we have occupied. The MOA complex along with the eastern and western sector is a strategic base that we are lucky to have been blessed with." The command room remained silent for a brief moment as Thomas''s words settled in. His officers processed the scale of the upcoming operation¡ªa massive expansion effort that would push their borders further than ever before. The plan was ambitious, but it was necessary. Establishing walls along Roxas Boulevard would effectively cut off the largest zombie-infested parts of Manila from their secured territory. If they pulled this off, they would control one of the safest and most strategic zones in the entire country. Thomas leaned forward, his fingers tapping on the edge of the table. "We''re not taking any chances this time. We execute this as a full-scale military operation. We''re not scavengers looking for supplies¡ªwe''re an army reclaiming territory. That means overwhelming force, careful planning, and total dominance over these areas." His officers nodded in agreement. "When are we going to conduct the operation?" Carter asked. "Well since we have just conducted a major operation that took this complex, I''d say about in a week. Our men are still exhausted from the previous fight so I want them to be in their best condition before we send them out in another operation. This will also help you recuperate and familiarize yourself with the base." His officers nodded in agreement again, seeing that it was a reasonable explanation. "Now, if you have any further questions, you can find me in my office. I will be there most of the time but if I am not, you can reach out to me through radio. That will be all, dismissed." Chapter 43: Some Irate Survivors Part 1 As Thomas dismissed the meeting, Phillip went into the room and saluted. "Pardon for the interruptions, ladies and gentlemen, but can I borrow our Supreme Commander for a few seconds?" "What''s this about Phillip?" Thomas asked. "I''d like to discuss it in private." "Don''t worry, you can have our Supreme Commander as we have just finished our meeting," Rebecca said as she smiled warmly. "Thank you, ma''am?" Phillip asked. "Rebecca, Rebecca Langley. I''m the newly summoned official of Mr. Estaris. I am the Director of Civilian Affairs." "Director of Civilian Affairs?" Phillip repeated as if pondering something. "Very well, I think you should come with me as well Ms. Langley. The concern is related to your position." Thomas glanced at Rebecca and then back to Phillip. "Very well, let''s convene in my office." The two followed Thomas to his office. They entered the office with Phillip closing the door behind him. "Have a seat you two," Thomas gestured to the two vacant chairs. "Thank you sir, but this won''t take long," Phillip said as he gathered his thoughts. Rebecca looked at Phillip, waiting for him to reveal what he wanted to tell. "Sir, we have a situation with a group of survivors," Phillip began. "They''re causing a bit of trouble and demanding to speak with you directly." Thomas leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "What kind of trouble?" Rebecca observed silently, waiting for more details. "They''re a group of South Korean survivors," Phillip explained. "Apparently, they were part of an event at the MOA Complex when the outbreak started. They''ve been stuck here ever since, and now that they see the place getting rebuilt, they''re demanding immediate repatriation to Korea." Thomas frowned. "Koreans? Who are they exactly?" Phillip sighed. "They call themselves RAVE. A K-pop group. Four members, all women, plus their manager." Thomas blinked. "A K-pop group? You''re telling me that out of all the survivors, a bunch of idols have somehow managed to survive in MOA all this time?" Phillip nodded. "Yes, sir. Apparently, they locked themselves inside a VIP suite at one of the hotels when things went to hell and had enough supplies to last a while. Eventually, they ran out of food and had to start scavenging. They linked up with other survivors before we found them." Thomas crossed his arms. "So, what''s the problem?" "The problem isn''t them, sir. It''s their manager," Phillip said, his jaw tightening. "He''s loud, aggressive, and incredibly entitled. The moment we processed them at the survivor intake, he started demanding to meet with the ''person in charge.''" Rebecca raised an eyebrow. "Demanding?" Phillip exhaled sharply. "Yeah. He''s convinced that since we''re rebuilding, we have the means to send them back to Korea. He''s been yelling at my men, cursing in both Korean and English, calling us incompetent, and treating my soldiers like they''re his personal staff. I nearly lost my patience and punched him." Thomas smirked. "I would''ve paid to see that." Phillip snorted. "Well, I would''ve enjoyed it, sir, but I didn''t want to set a bad example in front of the other survivors." Rebecca tapped her fingers on the desk. "So, to be clear, the idols themselves aren''t the problem? Just their manager?" Phillip nodded. "Correct. The four members of RAVE seem fine, a bit shaken but grateful to be alive. It''s just their manager who''s making things difficult." Thomas sighed. "Great. Another headache." Phillip glanced at him. "Orders, sir?" Thomas thought for a moment before standing up. "Let''s go meet them. If their manager tries anything stupid, I''ll handle it myself." Rebecca stood as well. "I''ll come along. If they''re civilians, it falls under my jurisdiction." Phillip smirked. "This is gonna be fun." Thomas rolled his eyes. "Let''s get this over with." *** Thomas, Phillip, and Rebecca walked through the streets of the MOA Complex, heading towards the buildings where the survivors were assigned. As they moved, Thomas took a moment to observe the surroundings. The streets, once desolate, were now alive with activity. Military trucks rumbled past, delivering supplies, while construction workers reinforced barricades and set up additional fortifications. The sounds of welding, hammering, and heavy machinery echoed across the district. Among the survivors walking around, Thomas noticed something peculiar¡ªthere were a lot of foreigners. Americans, Europeans, Chinese, Japanese, Koreans¡ªpeople from different nationalities were present. It made sense; before the outbreak, Manila had been a hotspot for international tourists, business travelers, and entertainment events. Many of them must have been stranded when society collapsed. No wonder I raked in so many Blood Coins from saving them, Thomas mused. Phillip, walking beside him, cleared his throat. "Sir, you should probably be prepared for whatever nonsense that manager is going to pull." Rebecca sighed. "I don''t understand why people still act entitled after everything that''s happened. They''re lucky to be alive." Thomas smirked. "Some people don''t change, no matter the circumstances." The trio arrived at Shore Residences ¨C Tower B, where the South Korean survivors had been housed. Two armed guards were stationed outside one of the rooms, standing firm with their rifles slung over their shoulders. One of the guards, a burly-looking soldier, saluted as they approached. "Sir, the group is inside. The manager has been shouting for the past hour, demanding to see you." Thomas exchanged glances with Phillip, who simply shook his head in irritation. "Alright, let''s get this over with," Thomas muttered before stepping forward. The soldier opened the door, and as soon as it swung wide, a voice erupted from inside. "What the hell is taking so long?! Do you people even know who you''re dealing with?! This is unacceptable! I demand to speak to your leader¡ª" The man''s ranting stopped the moment he saw Thomas step into the room, followed closely by Phillip and Rebecca. The room was relatively spacious, a repurposed hotel suite converted into temporary housing. The four members of RAVE were sitting on the couch, looking uncomfortable as their manager stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, an expression of frustration on his face. The manager was a short, stocky man in his late forties, with neatly combed black hair and an expensive-looking suit that was now wrinkled and stained from weeks of surviving in a collapsed world. His eyes immediately locked onto Thomas. Chapter 44: Some Irate Survivor Part 2 — Sudden Quest "You! Who are you? You''re just a kid! Are you kidding me?" Thomas''s expression remained neutral as he stepped forward, hands in his pockets. "Thomas Estaris. Supreme Commander of this settlement. I was told you wanted to speak with me?" "Wait¡ªwhat the heck? Are you joking with me right now?" Phillip clenched his fist, feeling the urge to punch him in the face again. "Lower your tone, you are speaking to our Supreme Commander. Any more insulting words coming out from your mouth and I will swear I am going to land a punch on the other side of your face." "Now now¡ªthat''s not proper, Phillip," Thomas said, calming Phillip down, he waited for a few seconds for silence, and it was granted to him. "If you''re done throwing your tantrum, let''s get to the point." The four members of RAVE sat stiffly on the couch, clearly uncomfortable with their manager''s behavior. One of them, a young woman with shoulder-length brown hair, subtly nudged the manager''s arm as if telling him to calm down. He ignored her. "I''ve been telling your soldiers¡ª" the manager spat the word as if it disgusted him, "¡ªthat we need to get back to Korea immediately! We are not meant to be stuck here. My clients are superstars! Do you have any idea how valuable they are?" Thomas''s expression remained blank. "And?" The manager blinked, caught off guard. "And you should be prioritizing their evacuation! You have an army, don''t you? You have helicopters, planes, tanks for God''s sake! You should be doing everything in your power to get us back home!" "What makes you think that you can order me like that? Don''t you realize that we are the ones who rescued you. If it was not for us, you would have been a feast to the zombies. You are all staying here in this complex. There''s no safe place in the world other than here. But if you still want to leave, I can let you live, but you''ll be on your own. Do you want that?" One of the RAVE members, the young woman with shoulder-length brown hair who had nudged the manager earlier, suddenly stood up. She was visibly distressed, her hands clasped together as she bowed deeply in front of Thomas. "I-I''m so sorry about our manager!" she said in accented but fluent English. "He doesn''t mean to be rude! Please forgive him!" The other three members quickly followed her lead, standing up and bowing as well. Thomas sighed, already knowing how this would play out. He recognized them now¡ªRAVE, one of the biggest rising K-pop groups before the outbreak. He had listened to some of their songs before, and while he wasn''t a die-hard fan, he knew they had been famous. Looking at them up close, they truly lived up to their idol status. The woman who spoke, likely the leader, had a refined beauty with soft brown eyes and a graceful posture. Next to her, a tall woman with platinum blonde hair and piercing blue eyes had a more mature, commanding presence. Another member, with dark hair tied up in a stylish bun, looked the youngest and had an elegant, almost doll-like appearance. The last member had striking jet-black hair with bangs framing her sharp features, giving off a more intense, charismatic aura. Despite their beauty and grace, it was clear they had suffered in this apocalypse. Their clothes were worn out, their makeup long gone, and there was a weary exhaustion in their eyes that no amount of fame could shield them from. The manager, seeing his clients bowing and pleading, looked flustered. "W-What are you all doing?! We don''t have to beg¡ª" "Shut up, Mr. Kang!" the leader snapped at him in Korean, her usual polite demeanor cracking for a moment. She then turned back to Thomas, her eyes filled with sincerity. "We are really grateful that you saved us," she continued. "We will follow whatever rules you set for us. We just... we didn''t know what was happening outside, and our manager still thought things were like before." Thomas observed them carefully. Unlike their manager, they weren''t arrogant or demanding. They understood the reality of their situation. He exhaled, then turned to Phillip and Rebecca. "Well, at least some people here still have common sense." Phillip smirked. "About time." Thomas looked back at them. "I''m not heartless. I understand why you''d want to go back home, but right now, that''s impossible. The world as you knew it is gone. The safest place for you is here. Do you understand?" The leader nodded immediately. "Yes, we do." "Good." Thomas then glanced at the manager, who had his head down, avoiding eye contact. "And you? You got anything else to say?" The man hesitated before mumbling, "I... I understand." Thomas smirked. "Louder." The manager clenched his fists, swallowing his pride. "I understand." "Good. I don''t want to hear another complaint from you." Thomas turned back to the idols. "As for you four, you''ll be treated like any other survivor. That means you''ll be assigned housing, rations, and potential work duties if necessary." "We understand," the blonde one said with a small nod. Thomas took one last look at them before sighing. "Get some rest. You''re safe here." As Thomas was about to leave¡ªthe notification system prompted. [Emergency Quest activated!] [Emergency Quest Activated!] [Quest Name: Testing Your Mettle.] [Description: The undead horde has detected your presence. A massive wave of zombies is mustering for an attack on your stronghold. Estimated numbers: 800,000+. Time until impact: 2 hours. Primary Objective: Defend MOA Complex from the incoming horde. Failure would result in the immediate termination of the system. During the quest, the user won''t be able to access the system features. Prove your worth to the system and you will be rewarded for continued use of its features.] Thomas''s eyes narrowed as he quickly processed the message. A massive horde was on the move, and it was heading straight for them. Two hours¡ªthat was barely enough time to prepare. He exhaled through his nose and turned to Phillip and Rebecca. "We need to go. Now." Phillip, noticing the sudden shift in Thomas''s expression, stiffened. "What''s wrong, sir?" "We have incoming," Thomas simply replied before storming out from the room. Phillip and Rebecca flickered their gaze to one another before following Thomas. Chapter 45: Scrambling Part 1 [Time: 0900 Hours] [Location: Conrad Hotel ¨C Command Center] [Date: May 30, 2024] Thomas walked into the Command Center, his steps firm, his expression unreadable. Phillip and Rebecca followed behind, both sensing the urgency in his posture. Inside, his officers were already present. Marcus Holt, Deputy Chief of Staff, stood at the head of the table, while the heads of the Army, Air Force, Logistics, Security, and Civilian Affairs were seated around the large tactical display. The room buzzed with quiet conversations, but all fell silent when Thomas entered. He wasted no time. "We have a problem." He told them about the mission''s description that he received from the system and a minute later, silence filled the room as they processed the information. Marcus was the first to react. His fingers curled into fists. "Eight hundred thousand?" he repeated, voice steady but grave. "That''s more than double the largest horde we''ve encountered." Elias Carter, Chief of Army, leaned forward, eyes locked on the screen. "And the system is cutting off all support? No summoning, no purchases, nothing?" "Correct," Thomas confirmed. "For the next two hours, we''re on our own." Adrian Vance, Chief of Air Force, clicked his tongue. "We need confirmation. I''ll deploy a MQ-8 Fire Scout north of our position immediately." "Do it." Adrian turned to his officers and gave the order. Within minutes, a the MQ-8 Fire Scout Drone was airborne, soaring towards EDSA, the main arterial road leading towards MOA Complex from the northern part of Metro Manila. Five minutes later, live feed images began appearing on the large screen. The aerial view showed the highways, once packed with cars, now filled with tens of thousands of zombies. They moved in a fast relentless march, , funneled between the abandoned vehicles that clogged the roads. Many were crawling over car hoods, others forcing their way through narrow gaps between buses and trucks. Howard Briggs, Chief of Logistics & Supply, inhaled sharply. "Jesus. They''re coming from all directions." "Look at EDSA," Vincent Rourke, Director of Security, pointed at the live drone footage. "Traffic congestion is slowing them down. Probably from when the outbreak first started¡ªrush hour panic left the roads gridlocked." Thomas nodded. "That''s buying us time, but they''re still coming. Once they reach Roxas Boulevard, they''ll have a clear path to us." Marcus took a deep breath. "Estimated time of arrival?" Adrian checked the drone telemetry. "Given the congestion and density of the horde, I''d say they''ll hit our perimeter in approximately one hour and fifty minutes." Silence settled over the room. The weight of reality pressed on everyone''s shoulders. "I don''t know whether it was a divine intervention or the system that is causing those zombies to come over to us, but nevertheless, the threat is real and we have to be ready when they arrive." Elias Carter, Chief of Army, broke the silence. "Sir, this calls for a full-scale mobilization." Adrian Vance, Chief of Air Force, nodded. "We can''t wait for them to hit our walls. We take the fight outside the perimeter and thin them out before they get too close." Vincent Rourke, Director of Security, agreed. "We deploy snipers, gunners, and strike teams. We turn the northern approach into a meat grinder." Marcus Holt looked to Thomas. "Sir, we need authorization to initiate full military mobilization." Thomas exhaled sharply, scanning the drone feed once more before making his decision. "Do it." [MOBILIZATION INITIATED] A red alert flashed across the command screens. Immediately, sirens blared throughout MOA Complex, signaling full-scale combat deployment. Within minutes, thousands of summoned troops moved with precision across the complex, executing their roles with military efficiency. M939 Trucks, Oshkosh MRAPs, and IFVs roared to life, soldiers rapidly loading into the transport vehicles. Convoys were forming at strategic exit points, preparing to push outward and establish the first line of defense. Apache helicopters, stationed on makeshift helipads atop the mall''s parking buildings, whined as their rotors powered up. Black Hawks began lifting off, carrying infantry squads to forward positions outside the complex. "Alright, listen up!" bellowed Richards, one of the senior officers assigned to direct ground operations. His voice cut through the controlled chaos of mobilization. "First line units, you''re boarding the trucks. You hold EDSA until you hear the order to fall back. No heroics! Second line, you reinforce the first the moment they break through! Heavy gunners, I want LMGs and grenade launchers on every major choke point. If anything gets too close, I want it shredded before it even reaches our barricades! Understood?!" "YES, SIR!" thousands of voices roared back in unison. In the distance, M1A2 SEPv3 Abrams tanks rumbled forward, their 120mm cannons loaded and ready to fire. Engineers finished mounting TOW missile systems onto key intersections leading towards the battlefield. Up on the tallest buildings around MOA, snipers took up their positions. "Adjust windage. That''s a long way to hit." "Rangefinder says 900 meters to the first bottleneck. Perfect kill zone." "Targets incoming in about two hours. Upon arrival, old fire until command gives the green light." "Talon-One, engines green, ready for takeoff." "Talon-Two, all systems operational. Give us the go, command." Inside the cockpit of Talon-One, the lead AH-64E Apache Guardian, the pilot Captain Daniels adjusted his targeting system while his co-pilot armed the Hellfire missiles. "This is Viper Command. You are cleared for takeoff." The Apaches lifted off, banking northward toward the incoming horde. *** Meanwhile, inside the command center, Thomas realized something. "They are coming from EDSA right?" "Yes sir." "In that case, let''s slow them down a bit further so we can buy ourselves more time." "What''s the plan sir?" "There is a bridge called Guadalupe bridge that cross the Pasig river. It''s the main bridge so bringing If we take it down, it''ll cut off a massive portion of the horde from getting a straight shot at us." Howard immediately pulled up a structural map of the bridge on one of the screens. "That bridge is reinforced, but given the damage from abandoned vehicles, a well-placed explosive strike should collapse it." Thomas nodded. "What''s the fastest way we can destroy it?" Adrian Vance, Chief of Air Force, spoke up. "A Patriot missile can be reconfigured for ground-target destruction, but that''s overkill. We''d be wasting a strategic air-defense asset." "It''s okay, I want you to reconfigure that missile right now. Don''t stop thinking it would be a waste, it will be a waste if we can''t even use it." "Yes sir! I''ll send the order. Time for reconfiguration is fifteen minutes. Some zombies might be able to cross the bridge by that time." "It''s okay, we''ll send the Apaches to clean them up." Chapter 46: Scrambling Part 2 The tension in the Command Center was thick as the Patriot missile team worked rapidly to reconfigure the system for ground-target strike. A large monitor displayed a live drone feed of Guadalupe Bridge, where the undead continued pouring in, though slowed by traffic congestion and barricades. Thomas stood with Marcus Holt, Adrian Vance, and Elias Carter, watching the process unfold. "Status update, Patriot team?" Marcus called into the radio. A sharp reply came through. "Zeus 0-1, missile team is completing reconfiguration now. ETA two minutes before we can fire." Adrian exhaled. "We''re cutting it close. Some zombies are already making it across." The drone feed zoomed in, showing clusters of zombies climbing over abandoned cars, their numbers steadily increasing. A few hundred had already crossed, but the bulk of the horde was still stuck on the bridge. Thomas grabbed his radio. "Apaches, clear out whatever crossed the bridge. Keep them from advancing further." Ten minutes later. Captain Daniels, pilot of Talon-One, gripped the controls of his AH-64E Apache Guardian, banking hard toward the Guadalupe Bridge. Through his helmet display, he spotted clusters of zombies already on the other side. "Command, this is Talon-One. We have eyes on hostiles past the bridge. Engaging now." The 30mm M230 chain gun beneath the Apache''s nose rotated, locking onto a swarm of undead pushing through abandoned vehicles. "Guns, guns, guns!" A burst of high-explosive rounds shredded the first wave of zombies, limbs flying as rounds tore through rotting flesh and bone. From Talon-Two, the second Apache, the co-pilot armed a Hydra rocket pod. "Firing rockets. Splash in three." FWOOOOSH! Two Hydra 70 rockets streaked toward the bridge, impacting a cluster of zombies attempting to sprint forward. The explosion sent dozens flying, the fireball lighting up the area. Back at the Command Center, the drone feed showed the carnage in real-time. Marcus smirked. "Hell of a light show." Thomas, however, remained focused. "Patriot team, status?" A massive military truck sat parked on an elevated clearing near the MOA perimeter, where a MIM-104 Patriot missile launcher had been hastily recalibrated for ground-target strike. A group of technicians and operators worked fast, finalizing targeting parameters. The team leader, Lieutenant Parks, grabbed his headset. "Command, this is Zeus 0-1. The missile is ready for immediate delivery. Standing by for launch." The missile''s targeting computer locked onto Guadalupe Bridge, displaying precise coordinates on the operator''s screen. "Coordinates locked. Target designated." A missile officer began a final countdown. "Missile armed. Three... two... one... shot out!" From the drone''s infrared camera, a massive streak of heat ignited as the Patriot missile blasted off from its launch platform, roaring into the sky with a fiery tail. "Missile is loose!" the Patriot team confirmed. The entire Command Center watched as the missile arced upward, then began its steep descent toward Guadalupe Bridge. The drone operator zoomed in, watching as hundreds of zombies continued surging forward¡ªuntil the missile made impact. BOOOOOOOM! A deafening shockwave ripped through the city as the Patriot missile struck dead center on the bridge. The explosion was catastrophic, sending chunks of concrete, twisted metal, and undead bodies hurtling into the Pasig River below. A fireball erupted, engulfing everything in a blinding white-hot inferno. The entire bridge collapsed, breaking apart in a chain reaction as its supports buckled, sending thousands of zombies plunging into the raging waters below. Those who had already crossed were cut off from reinforcements, leaving them stranded without the massive horde backing them up. Back at the Command Center, the drone feed flickered before stabilizing, now showing a smoking ruin where the bridge once stood. A loud cheer erupted among the military personnel in the room. "Direct hit! The bridge is gone!" "Eagle Actual to Zeus 0-1, target is destroyed." "Roger that, Zeus 0-1 standing by for another target." Marcus let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Damn good shot." Elias Carter smirked, arms crossed. "That''s one hell of a bottleneck removed. They''ll have to go around now." Adrian Vance, however, kept a serious expression. "That won''t stop them completely. They''ll find alternate routes." Thomas remained calm. "Exactly. But now, they''ll have to take longer paths, giving us extra time to prepare. We''ve won ourselves at least another 40 minutes." Howard Briggs updated the holographic battlefield map, marking Guadalupe Bridge as destroyed. Vincent Rourke nodded. "We should still expect smaller waves coming from different directions. But we have Apache so they''ll take care of that." Thomas tapped the tabletop map, looking at the routes leading from the north to MOA Complex. "They''ll be forced to go through alternative crossings. Check Makati, Mandaluyong, and any other bridges they might use." Adrian nodded. "I''ll send additional drones to monitor those routes." Marcus clapped his hands together. "Alright, next steps. We still have over an hour before the main wave arrives. What''s the plan?" Thomas exhaled, his mind working through the next phase of defense. "We''re taking advantage of every second. We strengthen our perimeter, deploy more military hardware, and set up kill zones along their new routes. We bleed them dry before they even reach us." The Command Center buzzed as officers relayed new orders. This battle was far from over. But now, they had the advantage. [Time: 1015 Hours] [Location: MOA Command Center] The destruction of Guadalupe Bridge had bought them time, but the battle was far from over. Thomas knew that while the zombies would now be forced to take alternative routes, they would still keep coming. Adrian Vance, Chief of Air Force, adjusted the battlefield map on the holographic display. "From the new recon footage, we''ve identified the closest alternate crossings. Makati-Mandaluyong Bridge, Estrella-Pantaleon Bridge, and the Jones Bridge further east." Elias Carter, Chief of Army, folded his arms. "If we''re lucky, most of the horde will funnel toward these crossings, giving us more chokepoints to destroy them in smaller waves instead of one giant surge." Marcus Holt, Deputy Chief of Staff, turned to Thomas. "Do we take out another bridge?" Thomas shook his head. "No. We already used one Patriot missile for Guadalupe. If we take out more bridges, we risk isolating ourselves in the long run." Howard Briggs, Chief of Logistics, nodded in agreement. "And it would stretch our supply lines if we need to push outward later." Thomas tapped the table. "Then we turn those bridges into kill zones. We don''t destroy them¡ªwe fortify them." Chapter 47: I Have Seen You Before The Guadalupe Bridge had been destroyed, forcing the horde to reroute. The new priority was securing the alternate crossings before the undead could reach MOA. "We''re sending fireteams to each bridge," Thomas ordered. "We hold those crossings at all costs." Elias Carter, Chief of Army, nodded. "Fireteams will deploy via Black Hawks. Each team consists of seven riflemen and three heavy gunners. They''ll establish a defensive perimeter and eliminate anything that moves." Adrian Vance, Chief of Air Force, added, "We''ll keep the Black Hawks on station above each fireteam to provide air support with M134 miniguns." Marcus Holt turned to the comms officer. "Get those birds in the air. We move now." The sound of helicopter rotors filled the air. Three UH-60 Black Hawk helicopters were fueled and armed, their side-mounted M134 miniguns prepped for fire support. Soldiers loaded onto the aircraft, their weapons checked and ready. Captain Ryan Keller, leader of Fireteam Alpha, stepped into the Black Hawk as the engines roared. "Mount up! We move in sixty seconds!" Fireteam Alpha: Deploying to Makati-Mandaluyong Bridge Fireteam Bravo: Deploying to Estrella-Pantaleon Bridge Fireteam Charlie: Deploying to Jones Bridge "Coming in hot! 30 seconds to drop!" Inside the Black Hawk, Fireteam Alpha checked their weapons. Seven infantry and three heavy gunners prepped their M4A1 carbines, M240B machine guns, and M67 frag grenades. The co-pilot relayed intel from the drone feed. "Zombies approaching from the north side. Estimated 2,000 in the first wave." Keller tightened his grip on his M4A1. "We hold this damn bridge until we get the order to fall back." "Ten seconds!" The Black Hawk hovered just above the bridge, side doors open as the fireteam fast-roped down. The moment their boots hit the ground, they moved to cover positions. "Move, move! Gunners, set up your positions!" The three M240B machine gunners took up defensive positions, bipods deployed, covering the northbound lanes. From above, the Black Hawk''s minigun spun to life. "Engaging targets!" BRRRRRRRRTTTTTT! The 6,000-round-per-minute M134 minigun ripped through the first wave, bodies dropping like flies as the rounds tore through flesh and bone. Keller''s radio crackled. "Fireteam Bravo, we''ve landed at Estrella-Pantaleon. Engaging now." "Copy, Bravo. Charlie, what''s your status?" "Setting up at Jones Bridge. Contact imminent!" Keller peeked over his cover. The horde kept coming. "Machine gunners, lay it down!" The M240B gunners opened fire, the deep, thunderous sound of their 7.62mm rounds hammering into the undead. Spent casings clattered onto the pavement. Keller sighted down his M4A1, took a deep breath, and squeezed the trigger. Pop! Pop! Pop! Headshot. Headshot. Headshot. The undead collapsed, but more surged forward. Above, the Black Hawk banked left, its minigun sweeping another column of zombies. "Shit! We''ve got fast-movers!" A dozen zombies in tattered running gear broke from the pack, moving twice as fast as the others. "Take them out!" The gunners shifted fire, but a few breached the perimeter. One lunged at one of the soldiers, tackling him to the ground. "Get it off me!" Keller spun, knife drawn, and drove it deep into the zombie''s skull, yanking the soldier to his feet. "Keep your head on a swivel!" More rounds poured into the horde, but they kept advancing. "Reloading!" one of the machine gunners yelled. Keller saw something worse¡ªanother wave closing in. "Black Hawk, we need another pass!" "Copy, coming around!" The minigun lit up the bridge once again, mowing down another hundred undead in seconds. But it wasn''t enough. Keller''s radio crackled. "Command, we''ve got heavy resistance at Makati bridge!" Thomas''s voice came through. "Hold the line. Air support are en route." "Copy that, we are holding the line." The firefight was relentless. The Black Hawks circled above, miniguns spewing hot lead into the endless wave of undead. The soldiers held their ground, their rifles barking as they picked off the advancing zombies. The M240Bs thundered as belt-fed rounds shredded through the front ranks of the horde. But then... something changed. A soldier near the edge of the bridge suddenly stopped firing. His breath hitched, eyes wide in horror. "What the hell is that?" he muttered, gripping his M4A1 tightly. Keller turned in the direction of the soldier''s trembling aim. The camera feed from the soldier''s helmet transmitted the footage back to Command. Thomas, watching from the MOA Command Center, felt his blood run cold. His eyes widened. "No..." The unmistakable hulking frame of the Mawbeast came into view, crouched low atop an abandoned delivery truck. Its grotesque, sinewy form rippled as it sniffed the air. Its maw opened, revealing jagged teeth dripping with viscous black saliva. Then another one appeared. And another. A pack of them¡ªtwenty in total¡ªcrawled from the shadows, their clawed hands gripping the cracked pavement as their deep-set, glowing eyes locked onto the soldiers. Keller instinctively gritted his teeth, raising his rifle. "Command, this is Fireteam A. We got incoming! Not zombies¡ªMONSTERS!" he yelled over the radio. Before anyone could react, the first Mawbeast lunged. It exploded forward, clearing the 20-meter distance between it and the front line in a single bound. Its razor-sharp claws ripped into the nearest soldier, tearing through body armor like paper. "AAARGH¡ª!" The soldier''s scream was cut short as his head was torn clean off. "CONTACT!" Keller roared. "OPEN FIRE!" The soldiers unleashed a barrage of gunfire. The Mawbeasts, however, were fast¡ªinhumanly fast. They zigzagged between vehicles, using the wreckage as cover. Some climbed onto the walls of the buildings while others leaping from rooftop to rooftop like predators closing in on their prey. Another Mawbeast lunged. A soldier turned just in time to fire point-blank, the M4A1''s 5.56mm rounds punching into its chest¡ªbut the monster barely flinched. It ripped the gun from his hands and snapped his neck with a single twist. "BLACK HAWK, WE NEED FIRE SUPPORT NOW!" Keller shouted. The circling UH-60 Black Hawk swooped in, side gunners training their miniguns on the creatures. "Engaging!" the door gunner confirmed. BRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTT! The M134 minigun unleashed a storm of tungsten rounds, punching through the asphalt as they swept across the pack. Two Mawbeasts took the brunt of the bullets, their grotesque bodies jerking violently as 7.62mm rounds tore into their flesh. Unlike the undead, which crumpled under sustained fire, these creatures refused to die instantly. Blackened ichor sprayed from their wounds, but they kept moving¡ªslower, but still moving. "FUCK! THESE THINGS CAN TAKE A BEATING!" one of the gunners yelled. The first Mawbeast staggered, its torso riddled with bullet holes. It let out a deep, guttural snarl, limbs twitching, as if the bullets were fueling its rage rather than killing it. The second one lurched forward, crawling on all fours. Its left arm was hanging by strands of flesh, nearly severed from the M240''s gunfire¡ªbut it didn''t stop. "KEEP FIRING!" Keller roared. The M240 gunners squeezed their triggers, emptying their belts into the injured creatures. The first Mawbeast''s skull finally cracked open, gray matter and dark blood splattering the pavement as a final burst tore through its head. The second, still moving, lunged with its remaining arm¡ªbut a well-placed burst from a rifleman shredded its kneecap, causing it to collapse. "Grenade out!" One of the soldiers lobbed an M67 frag grenade right onto the downed Mawbeast''s back. BOOM! A chunk of its body was blown apart, ribs and spine exposed¡ªand yet, even as it twitched violently, it still tried to crawl forward. Keller stepped forward, drew his M9 Beretta, and emptied the mag into its skull. POP-POP-POP-POP-POP! The Mawbeast''s body finally went still. Two down. Eighteen left. Above, the Black Hawk gunner watched the scene unfold, his hands sweating over the minigun grips. "They''re not going down easy," the co-pilot muttered. The pilot nodded grimly. "We need to get the hell out of here before¡ª" THUMP! Something slammed into the Black Hawk''s side. "What the hell was that?!" the door gunner shouted. The pilot''s blood ran cold as he looked to his left¡ªonly to see a Mawbeast clinging onto the Black Hawk''s fuselage. "SHIT! IT''S ON US!" The creature had leaped from a rooftop, clawing into the armor plating. It let out a shrill, distorted snarl, its glowing eyes locked onto the cockpit. The gunner swung the minigun to fire, but the Mawbeast climbed over the fuselage, staying out of his line of fire. "GET THIS THING OFF ME!" the pilot screamed. Then, before anyone could react, another Mawbeast leaped from a nearby building¡ªstraight onto the tail rotor. CRUNCH! The entire aircraft shuddered violently. "WE''VE LOST TAIL CONTROL¡ª" SPINNING! The Black Hawk spiraled downward, its fuselage twisting uncontrollably. The Mawbeast ripped into the tail section, snapping cables and tearing through the stabilizer. The entire aircraft pitched violently, alarms blaring in the cockpit. "WE''RE GOING DOWN!" Below, Keller and his fireteam watched in horror as the Black Hawk lost altitude. "BRACE FOR IMPACT!" BOOOOOM! The helicopter slammed into the pavement, sliding across the bridge before crashing into a pile of abandoned vehicles. Flames erupted from the wreckage. Silence. Then, movement. A single Mawbeast crawled out of the burning debris. Its flesh charred, but its body still moving. It let out a deep, guttural growl, locking onto the soldiers. Keller gritted his teeth, raising his rifle. "Hold the line!" The Mawbeasts charged. The soldiers opened fire. And the real massacre began. Chapter 48: Our Turn "Talon-1 and Talon-2, inbound to Fireteam A position. ETA: Two minutes," said the pilot of the Apache with a callsign, Talon 1. Inside Talon-1, Captain James Whitaker, the lead pilot, scanned the battlefield through his helmet-mounted display. "IR sensors picking up multiple hostiles," his co-pilot, Chief Warrant Officer Derek Nolan, reported. "A lot of movement on the bridge. What''s left of Fireteam Alpha?" Static filled the radio before Command''s grim response came through. "Fireteam Alpha is gone. Assume all ground personnel are KIA," Thomas informed with a low voice, completely affected from their loss as they were the first summons that had been killed. Whitaker tightened his grip on the cyclic stick. "Shit." Talon-2''s pilot, Lieutenant Brian Adler, came through the radio. "Command, confirm if any survivors are still moving." "Negative. Drone feed shows no movement. Your priority is eliminating all remaining hostiles." A pause. Then Thomas''s voice came through¡ªcold, controlled. "Do not drop below 500 feet. Those things can reach you. Engage from range." Whitaker nodded. "Copy that. We''ll light them up from here." His HUD locked onto the Makati-Mandaluyong Bridge, the infrared sensors painting eighteen remaining targets¡ªthe Mawbeasts, still prowling near the wreckage of the downed Black Hawk. "Talon-1 engaging." Whitaker flicked the weapon selector on his cyclic stick, switching to the M230 30mm chain gun. Meanwhile, the Mawbeasts sniffed the air, their elongated heads snapping toward the approaching helicopters. Their glowing eyes reflected the searchlights from above. One of them¡ªthe largest in the pack¡ªlet out a deep, guttural snarl. They knew they were being hunted. Talon-1 opened fire. THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP! The M230 chain gun sent explosive 30mm rounds raining down on the bridge, the rounds detonating on impact. A Mawbeast caught the first burst center mass, its chest obliterated in an instant, its body shattering apart as the force of the blast flung it off the bridge into the murky waters below. Another Mawbeast sprinted, zigzagging through the wreckage. Talon-2''s gunner adjusted his aim, tracking it. "Got you." THUMP-THUMP-THUMP! The 30mm rounds smashed through its ribcage, the sheer kinetic force splitting it in half, sending a shower of blackened ichor into the air. One of the Mawbeasts leapt from the wreckage, trying to scale a nearby building. Whitaker switched to Hydra rockets. "No, you don''t." FWOOOOSH! A pair of Hydra 70 rockets streaked down. BOOOOOM! The explosion engulfed the creature, the shockwave sending shrapnel in all directions. Its charred remains crumbled off the side of the bridge, a smoldering husk. The remaining Mawbeasts scattered, realizing that their usual predatory tactics meant nothing against the sheer firepower raining down from the sky. Talon-1''s gunner lined up another shot. "Next target." One of the Mawbeasts broke into a sprint, heading for the ruins of the Black Hawk, trying to use it as cover. THUMP-THUMP-THUMP! The 30mm cannon rounds found their mark. The Mawbeast''s upper body disappeared in a fine mist, its lower half collapsing onto the burning wreckage. A second Mawbeast attempted to leap off the bridge, diving into the streets below. Talon-2 didn''t let it escape. FWOOOOSH! A Hydra rocket intercepted it mid-air. BOOM. The fireball illuminated the night sky, chunks of flesh raining down onto the city streets below. Nine left. Whitaker switched back to his M230 chain gun, tracking two more Mawbeasts darting between wrecked vehicles. "Still moving. Engaging." THUMP-THUMP-THUMP! The first was ripped apart, its limbs separating from its torso as the explosive rounds ripped through its carapace-like hide. The second dodged, leaping behind an overturned bus. But Talon-2 anticipated it. Adler lined up his sights. THUMP-THUMP! The first round punched through the bus, setting off a chain reaction as the vehicle exploded, sending debris flying in all directions. The Mawbeast never emerged. Whitaker''s HUD pinged three more targets¡ªone of them, the Alpha Mawbeast, the largest in the pack. It wasn''t running. It stood its ground. Whitaker smirked. "Let''s see how tough you really are." He fired a Hellfire missile. WHOOSH! The AGM-114 Hellfire missile streaked down, its laser-guided system locking onto the Alpha Mawbeast''s heat signature. The creature finally moved¡ªtoo late. BOOOOOOM! The explosion devastated the bridge, the shockwave collapsing what little structure remained under the Mawbeast''s feet. When the smoke cleared¡ªnothing was left. "Direct hit," Nolan confirmed. Talon-2 cleaned up the last two stragglers. THUMP-THUMP-THUMP! The final Mawbeast fell, its body reduced to a pile of steaming gore. The bridge went silent. Thomas watched the drone feed as the last Mawbeast ceased moving. He exhaled. It was done. "Makati-Mandaluyong Bridge is clear, but we still have undead crossing it," Whitaker reported. Thomas sat in the MOA Command Center, his eyes locked onto the live drone feed. Though the Mawbeasts had been eradicated, thousands of shambling undead were still pouring onto the bridge. The initial collapse of Guadalupe Bridge had rerouted the horde, and now they were funneling toward the remaining crossings. He pressed his radio. "Talon-1, Talon-2, return to base, the rest of the air support in the air will take care of their respective fireteams, over." "Copy that." Thomas exhaled, his mind already shifting to the next point of battle. The horde was adapting, and so would they. He turned to Adrian Vance, Chief of Air Force. "Status on the other bridges?" Marcus adjusted the holographic display, highlighting the remaining two strategic crossings. "Fireteam Bravo is still holding at Estrella-Pantaleon, but they''re seeing increased undead movement. Fireteam Charlie at Jones Bridge is reporting large groups of fast-movers, possibly more enhanced infected." "Are those normal or mutated?" Adrian asked, turning his head to Thomas. "Nope, those zombies just moved fast," Thomas replied, though he could certainly notice that the other zombies are just moving too fast than the others. Marcus crossed his arms. "If they get overrun like Fireteam Alpha¡ª" "They won''t," Thomas interrupted. His eyes were cold. "We''ve learned our lesson. Deploying Apaches first, ground forces second. We clear the area before we send in boots on the ground. Now, let''s consider the worst possible scenario. If there are other mutated zombies like the Mawbeast who are stronger than them, then we''ll have to prepare for the possible overrun. Even though we blew up the Guadalupe bridge, the timer didn''t even change. We now have less than an hour before the real wave begins." "What is your plan sir?" Marcus asked. Thomas then flickered his gaze to Rebecca. "I want all civilians and non-essential staff in the SMX Convention Center. That way when the fighting reaches the MOA complex, they won''t distract our troops, as they are going to simply focus on killing the zombies, not rescuing them in each of their rooms." Chapter 49: Rebecca Doing Her Job Rebecca straightened her posture as she received Thomas''s orders. Her icy blue eyes flickered with determination as she acknowledged his command with a firm nod. "Understood," she replied. There was no room for hesitation. The battlefield wasn''t just out there at the bridges¡ªit was here as well. If they lost control of the civilian population when the horde arrived, they would be fighting a war on two fronts. That was unacceptable. Rebecca turned on her radio. "All security units, this is Langley. Priority One Order from Command¡ªeffective immediately, all non-essential personnel and civilians are to be relocated to the SMX Convention Center. This is not optional. Begin evacuation procedures now." A chorus of acknowledgments crackled through the comms. She turned to her adjutant. "Get the PA system ready. Every building in the MOA Complex needs to hear this. If there are stragglers, I want them moved¡ªwhether they like it or not." "Yes, ma''am!" he hurried to the communications hub. Rebecca took a deep breath and activated the intercom system that connected to every building under their control. A high-pitched chime rang through every speaker in the MOA Complex, signaling an urgent announcement. "Attention all civilians and non-essential personnel. By direct order of Command, you are to immediately evacuate your current location and proceed to the SMX Convention Center. This is a mandatory relocation for your safety. Any resistance or refusal to comply will be considered obstruction and dealt with accordingly. Security teams are en route to assist with relocation. Move immediately. This is not a drill. I repeat, proceed to the SMX Convention Center now." The message repeated on a loop, the chime ringing between each transmission. *** Samantha Garcia had barely laid down in her assigned bed when the announcement blared through the room''s speakers. Her eyes snapped open, heart pounding. She pushed herself up from the mattress, listening carefully. The message repeated itself again, the words sending a chilling sense of urgency through her body. An evacuation order? She glanced out the window of her high-rise suite. Below, the streets of the MOA Complex were already filled with movement. Soldiers in full combat gear patrolled with firm, controlled urgency, herding survivors toward the SMX Convention Center. The tension in the air was palpable. Something big was about to happen. Samantha quickly grabbed her backpack that she found in the room and that was filled with essentials, biscuits and water, and stepped out into the hallway, where a growing crowd of confused civilians had begun to gather outside their rooms. "What''s going on?" a middle-aged man in tattered office attire muttered. "Why are they moving us now?" another woman asked nervously. "Are the zombies coming?" Then, the sound of approaching boots echoed through the hallway. A team of four heavily armed security personnel moved through the corridor, rifles at the ready. Their faces were unreadable beneath their combat helmets and tinted visors. "Move," the lead soldier ordered. His voice was firm but emotionless. "Everyone to the SMX Convention Center, now. No exceptions." A few people hesitated. "But why? What''s happening?" an older man questioned. The soldier didn''t answer. Instead, he simply raised his rifle slightly, not in an outright threat¡ªbut as a warning. "You don''t have time for questions. Move or be moved." Samantha shivered. She had seen soldiers before, but these ones felt different. There was no hesitation in their movements, no uncertainty in their tone. They knew something the civilians didn''t. That scared her. She fell in line with the crowd, herding toward the lobby of the building. Outside, military trucks and armored vehicles lined the streets, ready to transport those who couldn''t move fast enough. The entire MOA Complex was mobilizing. But as things progressed, chaos were brewing. The Shore Residence, Tower A, which housed over 2,000 civilians, was in an uproar. People rushed out of their studio apartments, carrying bags filled with what little possessions they had left. Tension ran high. "Where are they taking us?" someone yelled. "Why now?!" A mother clutched her crying child as she struggled to move through the panicked crowd. "Everyone, calm down!" a security officer bellowed. "The SMX Convention Center is more secure! We need to move you now!" It was a half-truth. The real reason? When the wave arrived, anyone outside of the secured zones would be left behind. Rebecca watched from the command center, onitoring the evacuation through the tactical drone feeds displayed on her tablet. She tapped her earpiece. "Status on evac?" A voice replied through the radio. "Shore Residences is at 70% evacuated. Some civilians are refusing to leave. Do we force them?" Rebecca''s expression hardened. "Give them one final warning. If they resist after that, leave them. That should scare them." "Understood." Rebecca sighed, rubbing her temple. *** In the SMX Convention Center had already been transformed into a massive refugee shelter. Rows of cots and makeshift tents filled the large hall, and hundreds of people were being processed as they entered. Medical teams checked for injuries. Logistics officers handed out ration cards. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter, making it clear that this was no ordinary shelter¡ªit was a controlled zone. Samantha stepped inside, still clutching her backpack. She was immediately processed by a soldier at the entrance. "Name?" "Samantha Garcia," she replied. The soldier scanned her ID, nodded, and gestured for her to enter. As she walked past the security checkpoint, she caught sight of hundreds of civilians settling into the shelter. Some looked relieved. Others looked terrified. Then, her eyes landed on a large digital screen mounted at the front of the hall. It displayed a countdown timer. 00:35:12 Her heart skipped a beat. "What the hell is that?" she muttered. She asked one of the soldiers nearby about the timer. The soldier¡ªhis face hidden behind a tactical helmet and dark visor¡ªbarely moved. He didn''t even look at her. Instead, he turned away and resumed his patrol. "Hey!" Samantha called after him, stepping forward. "I asked you a question! What''s the countdown for?" No response. She clenched her fists. Why wasn''t anyone answering? Around her, the other civilians had also noticed the timer. A murmur rippled through the crowd, hushed voices whispering theories, growing more anxious by the second. "Thirty-five minutes? Until what?" "They''re not telling us anything." "Maybe it''s a supply drop countdown?" "Or a lockdown..." Samantha''s stomach churned. A lockdown? That would mean no one was getting in or out once that timer hit zero. Her eyes flickered to the security personnel stationed throughout the shelter. Every single one of them was armed and on edge. Unlike the usual military presence she''d seen before, these soldiers weren''t standing at ease. They were ready for combat. Samantha didn''t like this. *** Rebecca watched the evacuation unfold through the camera feeds on her tablet. The civilians were finally settling in, but tension hung thick in the air. She didn''t blame them. The countdown was a psychological tool. Fear kept people in line. The less the survivors knew, the less likely they were to panic. If they truly understood what was coming, chaos would erupt. "Status?" she asked. A nearby officer replied, "Ninety-two percent of all civilians are inside SMX Convention Center. Some stragglers still being rounded up." "Anyone resisting?" "Only a handful." "Good." She turned to Thomas, who was standing at the center of the command room, staring at the large digital countdown displayed on the tactical map. Thirty-two minutes left. "Everything''s in place," Rebecca informed him. Thomas nodded. Chapter 50: Bombardment Thomas stood inside the MOA Command Center, his sharp eyes fixed on the massive holographic display in front of him. The countdown timer continued to tick down. 00:25:47 Through the real-time drone feeds, he watched as the military forces he had deployed outside the MOA Complex solidified their positions. Rows of M1A2 Abrams tanks lined the streets, their massive 120mm smoothbore cannons pointed toward the approaching horde. Behind them, M2A4 Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicles and Stryker APCs formed a secondary line, ready to provide cover and mobility for the infantry battalions positioned between them. Farther back, the artillery batteries were in place. M109A7 Paladin self-propelled howitzers had taken up firing positions, their long barrels aimed toward the city outskirts. M270 MLRS (Multiple Launch Rocket System) vehicles stood at the ready, their launch tubes filled with high-explosive rockets, waiting for the signal to unleash hell. Overhead, the airspace was controlled. AH-64E Apache Guardians patrolled the skies, their Hellfire missiles and 30mm chain guns primed for close air support. Drones circled above, providing live intelligence to the tactical network. Despite their overwhelming firepower, Thomas knew this would be a battle of attrition. The zombies were endless. If the line broke at any point, MOA itself would become a war zone. But they could thin the line. On the EDSA and other major avenues and boulevards, a huge sum of zombies could be seen. "Let''s use the Paladin and the MRLS." Inside the SMX Convention Center, Samantha sat on her cot, her hands gripping her backpack tightly. The tension in the air was suffocating. Everyone in the hall could feel it¡ªthe unspoken sense of dread that came with waiting. No one knew what the countdown meant. No one knew what was coming. Yet, outside, the military was preparing for something huge. Samantha swallowed hard, her mind racing. Why wouldn''t the soldiers tell them anything? She looked at the large digital screen displaying the countdown. 00:23:32 Her fingers twitched. The last time she felt this level of unease was when the outbreak first started. She could still remember it¡ªthe screams, the chaos, the way people turned in an instant. Was it happening again? A deep voice interrupted her thoughts. "You''re nervous." Samantha turned her head. A man in his late thirties, rugged, with a military bearing, sat beside her. His scarred hands suggested experience in combat. "You feel it too, don''t you?" the man continued, his gaze locked onto the screen. Samantha hesitated but nodded. "You military?" she asked. The man smirked slightly. "Not anymore. But I know a battlefield when I see one." He glanced at the soldiers stationed around the hall. "They''re not treating this like a normal evacuation," he murmured. "They''re treating this like a containment zone." Samantha''s grip on her bag tightened. Containment? Before she could respond¡ª BOOM. The ground shook slightly. Muffled explosions echoed in the distance, and the lights flickered for a moment. A moment of silence. Then panic. "What was that?!" "Something''s happening outside!" People rushed toward the reinforced doors, but the soldiers stationed there immediately raised their rifles. "Back away from the exits!" one of them bellowed. "Stay in designated areas!" The order was clear. No one was leaving. Samantha exchanged uneasy glances with the man beside her. Something was happening. Something bad. But outside, it wasn''t that bad. *** At the rear artillery positions, a coordinated effort was already in motion. The M109A7 Paladin self-propelled howitzers, lined up in staggered formation, had their 155mm shells loaded and locked onto the largest zombie concentrations. The lead gunner for Battery One received the firing solution from command. "All crews, fire for effect," came the order. KA-THUNK! A 155mm high-explosive shell was slammed into the breech. "Fire!" BOOOOOM! The first shell left the barrel, its massive recoil rocking the entire vehicle. Seconds later, a thunderous detonation erupted in the middle of EDSA, reducing hundreds of zombies to smoldering remains. Another round loaded. "Fire!" BOOOOM! The second shell found its mark on Buendia Avenue, obliterating a dense cluster of infected that had been advancing in waves. The barrage continued, each round landing with devastating precision. Buildings shook as the artillery shells tore apart concrete and asphalt, sending debris and body parts flying. The shockwaves flattened entire waves of undead, leaving nothing but burning husks in the impact zones. Within minutes, dozens of shells had been fired, thinning the approaching horde by the thousands. While the Paladin batteries pounded the horde, another powerful weapon was brought into action. The M270 MLRS was already in position. Crewmen secured the launch coordinates. A series of six Guided MLRS rockets were locked onto targets deep in the zombie-infested zones. "Launch!" WHOOSH-WHOOSH-WHOOSH! A barrage of rockets streaked across the sky, their flaming tails cutting through the darkness. Seconds later¡ª BOOOOOM! Each GMLRS missile landed deep in the hordes, their 200-pound warheads detonating on impact. Entire city blocks were flattened, their structures collapsing as fire and shrapnel consumed everything. A second wave followed. WHOOSH-WHOOSH! BOOOOOM! The explosions sent shockwaves through Makati, wiping out tens of thousands of zombies that had been funneling through the city''s main arteries. From the MOA Command Center, Thomas could see the effects in real-time. Through the drone feed, the massive zombie horde had been decimated¡ªthe streets now littered with mangled bodies, burning wreckage, and craters where the undead had once been. Yet, the horde was still pushing forward. They weren''t stopping. Thomas exhaled. This was to be expected of a country that has over a hundred million in population and congregated in NCR. "Reload and continue firing," he ordered. He continued watching the onslaught of his artilleries against the zombies with satisfied look. he 155mm shells and guided rockets had effectively thinned out hundreds of thousands of zombies, reducing once-bustling avenues into craters of burning corpses. Then it happened. Without warning, something just emerged from the street directly to Buendia Avenue¡ªdirectly in the path of the incoming rockets. A colossal, grotesque entity, unlike anything they had encountered before. WHOOSH-WHOOSH-WHOOSH! A fresh salvo of MLRS missiles screamed toward the target. The creature moved. A massive, organic shield, resembling chitinous armor fused with pulsating flesh, expanded from its malformed arm. The entire limb twisted and warped, forming a gigantic defensive plate, jagged and layered like a grotesque exoskeleton. The missiles struck, but instead of detonating on impact, the shield absorbed the explosions¡ªas if swallowing the force whole. BOOOOM! Smoke engulfed the area, but when it cleared... The creature stood unscathed. "What in the actual fuck?" Chapter 51: Unknown Mass Target Standing at over twenty feet tall, the monstrosity was a horrifying fusion of muscle, bone, and living armor. Its torso was heavily mutated, with exposed tendons and fleshy tubes pulsing with some unknown energy. One arm had been entirely warped into a biological shield, a massive, grotesque slab of hardened chitin and layered tissue, capable of withstanding missile impacts without so much as a dent. Its other arm, elongated and razor-sharp, twitched with a terrifying amount of muscular density, likely capable of slicing through armored vehicles with ease. Its head was barely recognizable as human, twisted into an elongated, fang-filled maw, devoid of eyes¡ªbut it could sense them. Then it did something they didn''t expect. It turned its head toward the MOA defensive line. It was aware. Thomas narrowed his eyes. "This isn''t just a zombie," he muttered. "This is something else." "Did it just block our missiles? Can you zoom in to that shield and see if we even damaged it?" The drone cameras zoomed in, focusing on the grotesque biological shield attached to the entity''s mutated arm. The surface of the chitinous slab was blackened from the missile impact, but intact. Not a single crack. Not a single break in its structure. The entire artillery barrage had been nullified. "The shield absorbed all the kinetic energy from the explosion. It didn''t even deflect it¡ªit just ate the force." Thomas''s jaw clenched. "That thing isn''t just strong... It''s intelligent enough to defend itself at the right moment." Then¡ªit moved. With an unnatural, bone-scraping sound, the behemoth raised its massive shield¡ªand then slammed it into the ground. BOOM! The sheer impact of the shield hitting the pavement sent a shockwave outward, cracking the roads and sending debris flying in every direction. Then, the behemoth lunged forward. It charged, pressing the entire surface of the shield against the road, plowing through everything in its path like an unstoppable battering ram. Screeching metal. Collapsing concrete. Exploding infrastructure. The MRT railway above the highway crumbled as the creature''s unstoppable momentum tore through the supporting structures like they were made of paper. Massive steel beams snapped, and entire sections of the railway came crashing down, burying thousands of zombies under tons of rubble. But the behemoth didn''t stop. It kept accelerating, its massive bulk flattening the horde, turning zombies into piles of shattered bones and pulverized flesh. Its sheer size crushed vehicles, mangled roadblocks, and demolished anything that stood in its way. From the command center, Thomas and his officers watched in horror. "This thing isn''t just some mindless brute!" Marcus shouted. "It''s using its shield to turn itself into a living bulldozer!" "With its current speed, it''ll get here in ten minutes," Adrian informed. "Then throw everything at it! Make it stop charging!" Thomas barked, his fists clenched. The tactical display in the MOA Command Center flashed red, highlighting the behemoth''s approach vector. It was gaining speed, tearing through everything in its path like a juggernaut of destruction. The MRT was gone, collapsed into a sea of steel and concrete, leaving nothing but a trail of obliteration in its wake. The horde of zombies that had once clogged the streets was now just a pulped mass of crushed bodies. And it was heading straight for them. Marcus turned sharply to his officers, who were relaying orders to the ground forces. "I want Paladins and the MLRS firing everything they have! We need to slow that thing down now!" At the rear artillery positions, the M109A7 Paladin self-propelled howitzers adjusted their targeting systems, focusing all available batteries on the behemoth''s projected path. "All crews, fire at will!" KA-THUNK! BOOOOOM! The first 155mm high-explosive shell detonated directly in the behemoth''s path, sending an explosion of shrapnel, debris, and fire roaring across the ruined highway. More shells followed. BOOOOOM! BOOOOOM! BOOOOOM! Each impact shattered the asphalt, sending shockwaves across the battlefield. Chunks of debris and twisted steel were flung into the air. But the behemoth kept moving. Its shield absorbed most of the concussive force, leaving it largely unharmed. Every impact only staggered it slightly, its legs pushing through the chaos with terrifying determination. Further back, the MLRS (Multiple Launch Rocket System) repositioned, their launch tubes locking onto the charging monstrosity. "Target confirmed¡ªlaunching rockets!" WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH! A six-missile salvo streaked through the sky, each rocket carrying a 200-pound warhead. BOOOOOOM! The explosions engulfed the behemoth in fire, sending thick plumes of smoke and dust into the air. For a brief moment, visibility was completely obscured. Everyone in the command center held their breath. Had it stopped? The smoke and dust lingered in the air, masking the battlefield. The command center''s tactical feed struggled to get a clear read through the infrared haze. For a brief moment, silence reigned. Then¡ª A deafening crack. Through the thick clouds, a massive object tumbled forward¡ªthe behemoth''s shield. It was shattered, massive chunks of chitinous armor splintered across the battlefield, embedded into the streets and the ruins of crushed vehicles. The unstoppable brute had finally been stopped. The creature stood motionless, its grotesque form swaying slightly, as if the sudden loss of its shield had left it stunned. A deep guttural howl ripped from its twisted maw, echoing across the ruins of the city. Its massive arms twitched, the pulsing flesh on its body convulsing violently, struggling to regenerate what had been lost. But it wasn''t regenerating fast enough. Thomas''s hands clenched into tight fists as he saw the monster finally falter. "NOW! HIT IT WITH EVERYTHING!" he barked. Marcus immediately relayed the order to all remaining artillery and air support. "All units¡ªconcentrate fire! Target is stunned! Fire at will!" BOOOOOOM! A fresh wave of 155mm Paladin howitzer shells detonated directly onto the behemoth, sending massive fountains of black ichor and mutated flesh into the air. The force of the blasts ripped through its torso, exposing layers of twitching muscle and bone underneath. "Confirmed damage!" an officer called out. But they weren''t done. "MLRS, fire another volley!" "Roger! Rockets away!" WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH! The MLRS rockets launched in unison, streaking through the night sky before slamming into the weakened monster. BOOOOOOOM! Each impact sent seismic tremors across the battlefield, gouging deep craters into the streets, tearing apart the behemoth''s legs and exposing its raw, pulsating insides. Another salvo did the job as it exploded at the pulsating insides. Seconds later, it dropped to the ground. [Congratulations! You have killed Titan!] Chapter 52: Countdowns Over The countdown ticked down, the bright red numbers on the holographic display casting an eerie glow across the MOA Command Center. 00:02:15 Thomas stood still, his arms crossed, eyes locked onto the real-time battlefield feed. The Titan-class mutant was dead, its massive, grotesque corpse laying in a crater of blackened ichor and shattered chitin. The soldiers on the front lines watched in relief¡ªbut Thomas knew the real battle was just beginning. The Titan had been a test, a prelude to the true wave. And now, the main event was about to begin. "Status on all defensive units?" Thomas asked, his voice firm. "All units in position," Marcus reported. "First line of defense is fully manned¡ªtanks, infantry, IFVs. Artillery has reloaded and HIMARS launchers are standing by for fire missions." "Apache squadrons are holding pattern, awaiting orders," Adrian added. "They''re armed with Hellfires, Hydra rockets, and chain guns. We also have MQ-9 Reaper drones providing overwatch." "Anti-air systems are active," another officer confirmed. "Patriot missile batteries and Avenger SAMs are online in case of aerial threats." "Good." Thomas exhaled sharply, glancing at the timer. 00:01:05 The distant tremors of countless footsteps rumbled through the city ruins. The zombies were coming. On the thermal drone feeds, the streets leading to the MOA defensive perimeter glowed bright white¡ªmillions of heat signatures, densely packed together, marching forward in unrelenting waves. 00:00:30 "We''re seeing movement!" one of the drone operators called out. "Estimated horde size¡ªmillions. Confirmed multiple enhanced variants mixed in with the regular undead." The first wave of the apocalypse was here. Thomas clenched his jaw. "All units¡ªhold your fire until I give the order." The soldiers at the frontline braced themselves. Tank crews tightened their grips on their controls, infantry adjusted their sights, and artillery crews held steady, waiting for the command to unleash hell. 00:00:05 00:00:04 00:00:03 00:00:02 00:00:01 00:00:00 A loud chime echoed through the command center. SYSTEM DEACTIVATED. The red glow of the timer vanished. A deep silence followed. Then¡ª The zombies surged forward. "OPEN FIRE!" Thomas ordered. The battlefield erupted. The first line of defense, consisting of M1A2 Abrams tanks, M2A4 Bradley IFVs, and Stryker APCs, unleashed a devastating volley of firepower. BOOOOOOM! The 120mm cannons of the Abrams tanks fired in perfect sync, their armor-piercing high-explosive shells ripping massive holes into the incoming horde. Dozens, if not hundreds of zombies, were instantly obliterated, their rotting bodies torn apart by sheer kinetic force. Behind them, the M2A4 Bradleys and Stryker Dragoon IFVs let loose their autocannons. BRRRRRRRRTTTTT! The 30mm cannons shredded the front ranks, sending limbs and decayed flesh flying in all directions. The concussive force of the impacts shattered bones and pulped organs, cutting through multiple undead with each burst. The infantry, positioned behind armored barriers and sandbag emplacements, opened up with their M240B machine guns and M4A1 carbines. Pop-pop-pop-pop! Long bursts of gunfire cut down the frontlines, targeting heads with surgical precision. The first few ranks of undead fell instantly, but the horde didn''t stop. They climbed over the bodies, uncaring, relentless. "KEEP FIRING!" a squad leader yelled. "DON''T LET THEM CLOSE THE GAP!" "Artillery¡ªfire for effect!" Marcus commanded. The M109A7 Paladins roared. BOOOOOOOM! The 155mm high-explosive shells detonated deep within the horde, sending shockwaves of fire and debris into the air. Entire sections of the zombie mass were vaporized, their rotting bodies turned to burning remnants. The M270 MLRS launchers fired next. WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH! A barrage of rockets streaked through the sky before slamming into the densest portions of the horde. BOOOOM! BOOOOM! BOOOOM! The explosions tore through thousands at a time, but still¡ªthey kept coming. "Jesus," Adrian muttered, watching the drone feed. "There''s too many of them." "Keep up the fire," Thomas ordered. "This is a test of endurance. We break their numbers by sustained fire, not a single decisive blow." The regular zombies weren''t the only threat. Beneath the relentless tide of the undead, movement stirred in the darkened ruins of the city. Faster, stronger, and infinitely more dangerous predators emerged from the depths of the horde. [Mawbeasts Incoming] A deep, guttural howl reverberated across the battlefield. From the shadows of collapsed buildings and sewer tunnels, Mawbeasts poured into the streets. Dozens. No¡ªhundreds. Their elongated, muscular limbs propelled them forward with terrifying speed, their spiked claws glinting under the fires of the ongoing battle. "Mawbeasts sighted!" one of the forward observers yelled. "They''re moving at sixty miles per hour and closing fast!" "Anti-personnel teams! Target those bastards before they hit our lines!" Marcus barked. The Apache gunships immediately adjusted their sights, swiveling their M230 chain guns downward. BRRRRRRRRRRTTTT! A storm of 30mm rounds rained down, ripping through the charging Mawbeasts. Their thickened muscle fibers could withstand regular rifle rounds, but they were torn apart by the sheer force of the gunship''s cannons. Some collapsed mid-sprint, their spines snapped, bodies mangled, yet more surged forward. "Fire the Hydras!" Adrian ordered. WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH! A volley of Hydra 70 rockets streaked downward, impacting the leading Mawbeasts and sending fireballs of flesh and debris into the air. BOOOOM! The explosions tore through their ranks, vaporizing some of the creatures outright. But they were smart¡ªthey adapted. Some of the Mawbeasts leapt onto the ruins, using the wreckage of the battlefield as cover, darting between rubble and debris to avoid direct fire. A squad leader''s voice crackled through the radio: "INFANTRY! Switch to AP rounds! Aim for the head or the legs! DO NOT LET THEM CLOSE!" POP-POP-POP-POP! The infantry redirected their fire, unleashing armor-piercing rounds into the feral, leaping beasts. Some were downed mid-air, their heads exploding into bloody mist, but others were too fast. They reached the first defensive trenches. The battlefield turned brutal. Mawbeasts pounced on soldiers, ripping through armor with their claws, tearing men limb from limb. Blood sprayed across sandbags and armored emplacements as the monstrous creatures shredded through forward units. "TRENCHES ARE BEING OVERRUN!" a panicked radio call came through. "Strykers! FLAMETHROWERS!" A row of M1126 Stryker APCs activated their mounted flamethrowers, unleashing torrents of fire into the enemy. FWOOSH! The flames engulfed the Mawbeasts, their inhuman shrieks echoing as they burned alive. But even as they fell, something even worse arrived. A deep, thundering quake shook the battlefield. Massive behemoths, nearly as large as the Titan-class mutant they had just killed, emerged from the horde. These weren''t ordinary Mawbeasts. Their entire forearms were encased in thick, rock-like chitin, forming massive battering rams of pure destructive force. Their heads were heavily plated, and unlike the regular Mawbeasts, they did not move erratically. They marched forward like living tanks, their earth-shaking steps smashing debris underfoot. One Juggernaut charged a wrecked bus, plowing straight through it, sending the twisted metal hurling through the air. Another smashed through an overturned Stryker APC, sending it tumbling like a toy. "What the heck is that?" Thomas''s system notification alerted and informed him that it was a Mawbeast Juggernaut Variant. He wondered why it chimed when it was deactivated, he tried opening the system but well it was indeed deactivated. "They''re breaking through our defenses!" "Tanks! Fire AP rounds!" BOOOOOM! BOOOOOM! BOOOOOM! The Abrams tanks fired directly at the Juggernauts, their 120mm depleted uranium rounds slamming into the creatures'' plated chests. One Juggernaut staggered, a massive hole blown through its torso, but it kept moving. Another took a round to the knee, its entire limb exploding, forcing it to collapse. But they were still advancing. "HIT THEM AGAIN!" The MLRS fired another salvo, sending rockets streaking down. WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH! BOOOOOOM! A massive detonation ripped through the Juggernaut ranks, obliterating several in the blast radius. But even as they fought, something even worse appeared. A piercing shriek cut through the chaos. Then¡ªmovement. From the rooftops of collapsed buildings, slithering creatures with elongated tongues and exposed muscle tissue began crawling on all fours. They moved like insects, their clawed hands and feet digging into walls, crawling at inhuman angles. Their heads were smooth, with exposed brain matter, and their tongues lashed out like whips, grabbing soldiers and yanking them into the air. "NEW VARIANT SPOTTED!" a drone operator shouted. [You have encountered Stranglers] the system notified again. The Stranglers dropped from buildings, latching onto infantry, ripping into them with razor-sharp claws. One landed on top of an IFV, tearing into the gunner, its tongue wrapped around the soldier''s neck, snapping it instantly. "Get those things OFF US!" The Apaches turned their guns, aiming directly at the Stranglers. BRRRRRRRRTTTTT! The 30mm cannons tore through them, shredding their soft, exposed muscle tissue. Their elongated tongues snapped mid-air, their bodies riddled with bullets. "They''re attacking from above!" Adrian warned. Snipers redirected their fire, aiming at the crawling horrors on the buildings. BOOM! A Strangler''s skull exploded, its body dropping like a ragdoll. BOOM! BOOM! More fell, but not fast enough. The Juggernauts were pushing through, the Mawbeasts were still attacking, and the Stranglers were taking soldiers from the rooftops. Thomas exhaled. "I''m going in," Thomas said as he stood up on his feet. Chapter 53: Witnessing the Battlefield Thomas stood at the center of the MOA Command Center, his gaze locked onto the battlefield feed. The fight was escalating¡ªMawbeasts tearing through trenches, Juggernauts smashing aside armored vehicles, and the newly identified Stranglers decimating rooftop units. Despite the overwhelming firepower, their defensive line was beginning to buckle. Thomas''s fists clenched. He had seen enough. "I''m going in." The room fell silent. Everyone turned toward him, disbelief flashing across their faces. Marcus Holt, his Deputy Chief of Staff, was the first to speak. "Sir, you can''t be serious. You''re the Supreme Commander¡ªyou belong here, coordinating the operation." Adrian Vance, Chief of the Air Force, stepped forward. "We have the best-trained forces on the front lines. Sending you there is unnecessary." Phillip, standing nearby, grinned. "He''s not changing his mind." Thomas''s voice was cold, steady. "I am the Supreme Commander. But I''m also a fighter. My skills? Combat Proficiency. Weapons Proficiency. Leadership. Aviation. Driving." He glanced around the room. "None of those are for sitting in a chair." He gestured toward the live battle feed. "That is why I summoned you ladies and gentlemen. You are here for the technical and the know-how of the military and civil operation, but I? I was meant to fight in the frontlines." A heavy silence settled over the room. Marcus exhaled sharply. "Then I''m going with you. I may not look like a fighter but I am a good one." "No." Thomas shook his head. "You stay here. Someone has to coordinate the battle. If this place falls into chaos, we''ll lose everything." Phillip rolled his shoulders. "Well, you''re not going alone." He grabbed his custom SCAR-H, slinging it over his shoulder. "We''re doing this together." Thomas nodded. "Fine. Gather the special forces¡ªwe''re heading out." Conrad Manila ¨C Ground Level The moment Thomas stepped out of the Conrad, he was greeted by chaos. Helicopters roared overhead, gunships firing in strafing runs as tracer rounds tore into the horde. M1A2 Abrams tanks rolled out, their turrets adjusting mid-movement, firing into the waves of undead. Stryker APCs were unloading troops, soldiers moving in tight formations, their rifles spewing bullets into the darkness. Multiple military trucks zipped through the streets, transporting reinforcements toward the front lines. Phillip whistled. "Hell of a battlefield." Thomas wasted no time. He flagged down one of the JLTV Oshkosh. The driver¡ªa young soldier, barely in his twenties¡ªlooked stunned for a moment before snapping to attention. "Sir! You''re¡ª" "Cut the chatter. We''re taking this truck," Thomas ordered, swinging open the reinforced door and stepping into the front passenger seat. Phillip climbed in beside him, while their handpicked team of special forces operators filled the rear compartment. "Take us to the front," Thomas commanded. The soldier hesitated. "Sir, are you sure? The outer defenses are¡ª" "I know," Thomas cut him off. "Drive." The JLTV''s engine roared to life, its heavy-duty tires tearing through debris as it sped toward the front gates of the MOA Defensive Perimeter. The closer they got, the more chaos engulfed the streets. Gunships strafed the horde with bursts of 30mm cannon fire. Abrams tanks fired high-explosive shells, reducing undead masses into smoldering heaps. Soldiers fired from barricades and rooftops, their muzzle flashes lighting up the battlefield. Thomas could hear the radio chatter, a mix of panicked voices and hardened commands. "Left flank collapsing! We need support!" "We''re losing ground! Mawbeasts are breaching the trenches!" "Juggernauts incoming! We need tank fire on them NOW!" The JLTV swerved to avoid a crater in the street¡ªa remnant of an earlier HIMARS strike¡ªbefore skidding to a stop near the reinforced entrance gate. "Everyone out!" Thomas barked. Phillip was the first to move, jumping out with his SCAR-H in hand. The rest of the team followed, fanning out as the gates rumbled open, revealing the battlefield. Beyond the gates was hell on Earth. A storm of gunfire, explosions, and roars of the undead filled the air. The horizon was nothing but a sea of decayed flesh and twisted mutations, surging toward the MOA defenses. Mawbeasts leaped over trenches, eviscerating soldiers before being gunned down. Juggernauts smashed through barricades, shrugging off small-arms fire. Stranglers skittered along ruined buildings, their tongues lashing out, dragging screaming soldiers into the dark. A deep, rumbling roar shook the battlefield. Phillip turned to Thomas. "We''ve got another Titan-class incoming." Thomas exhaled sharply. "Then let''s move." They rushed forward, joining the frontline forces. Thomas sprinted toward the nearest trench line, where soldiers were struggling against the incoming Mawbeast wave. A soldier screamed as a Mawbeast lunged, its spiked claws tearing through his chestplate. Before it could strike again¡ª BANG-BANG-BANG! Thomas fired three precise shots, his HK416 punching through the Mawbeast''s skull. The creature twitched once, then collapsed. Another Mawbeast jumped toward Phillip. BRRRRRRTTTT! Phillip emptied a burst from his SCAR-H, blowing its front legs off before finishing it with a shot to the head. "Stay in your lines! Keep your spacing!" Thomas barked at the troops. The remaining infantry rallied, falling into tight formations, firing in coordinated volleys. Helmet-mounted optics locked onto targets. Armor-piercing rounds shredded through the enemy. Flamethrowers ignited clusters of the undead, creating a burning barrier. A Juggernaut charged forward, its massive, rock-like arms smashing through an Abrams tank, causing a huge dent and almost making it tip over to the side. But the Abrams re-centered its balance, its turret locking onto the Juggernaut. The creature''s massive, rock-like arms lifted, preparing to strike again, but the tank crew didn''t wait. BOOOOOOOM! A 120mm depleted uranium shell slammed into the Juggernaut''s plated chest, punching straight through its hardened exterior. The force of the impact ripped open its torso, black ichor spraying across the battlefield. But it didn''t fall. The Juggernaut roared, its remaining arm slamming into the Abrams'' hull, denting its reactive armor and forcing the vehicle to slide backward. BOOOOOM! The second APFSDS (Armor-Piercing, Fin-Stabilized, Discarding Sabot) round tore through the creature''s kneecap, blowing its leg clean off. The massive beast collapsed, struggling to push itself up. WHOOOSH! A Hellfire missile from an Apache gunship streaked downward, slamming into the Juggernaut''s exposed wound. BOOOOOOM! The blast annihilated what remained of the beast, sending chunks of mutated flesh flying in all directions. The line held, but barely. [Flanking Maneuvers] Thomas turned his attention to the left flank, where the trench lines were struggling. Mawbeasts had broken through, their spiked claws eviscerating soldiers who couldn''t react in time. "Phillip! With me!" Thomas barked. The two sprinted toward the collapsing left flank, their boots crunching against the blood-soaked battlefield. A Strangler lashed out from above, its elongated tongue whipping toward Thomas. He dodged left, narrowly avoiding being ensnared. BANG! A precise shot from Phillip''s SCAR-H severed the Strangler''s tongue, causing the creature to screech and fall from the ruined building. It crashed onto the ground, writhing. Thomas didn''t hesitate. He rushed forward, switching to his combat knife, and plunged it deep into the Strangler''s skull. The creature twitched violently before going still. Another Mawbeast lunged toward them. Thomas fired in full burst hitting it in the chest, then the head, before it having to go sideways as it couldn''t handle the pain. "Push them back!" he yelled at the soldiers near the trenches. They complied. The infantrymen reformed their lines, pouring suppressive fire into the enemy ranks. Flamethrower teams torched the encroaching undead, their flames roaring to life, creating a wall of fire. The tide shifted and the battle still raged on around him. [Zombies killed: 75,256] "Still far from their original number," Thomas sighed as he prepared for another fight. Chapter 54: More Chaos The battlefield was chaos. Gunfire, explosions, and the screeches of the undead filled the air as Thomas and his forces held the line against an endless wave of monsters. The ground was slick with blood and charred remains. The heat from burning corpses and destroyed vehicles created a hellish haze over the battlefield. Thomas reloaded his HK416, slamming a fresh magazine into place. He didn''t have time to check his kill count. The only thing that mattered was that the enemy kept coming. "Phillip, we''re moving!" Thomas shouted, motioning toward a section of the trenches where the line was at risk of collapsing. They sprinted across the mud-soaked ground, ducking behind the remains of a flipped Stryker. Bullets zipped past them as friendly forces continued their suppression fire. Soldiers in the trenches were struggling¡ªMawbeasts had jumped in, tearing through them with brutal efficiency. A Mawbeast lunged at a downed soldier, its spiked claws raised for the kill. BANG-BANG-BANG! Thomas fired three rounds into the creature''s side, causing it to stagger. Before it could recover, he closed the gap, flipping his rifle around and smashing the buttstock into the Mawbeast''s skull. It snarled and swiped at him, but he sidestepped the attack and plunged his combat knife into its eye socket. The Mawbeast twitched before collapsing. "GET UP!" Thomas grabbed the wounded soldier, dragging him back toward cover. "MEDIC!" A field medic rushed in, pulling the injured man into a dugout as Thomas turned back to the fight. Phillip was already in the middle of the chaos. His SCAR-H thundered, cutting down another Mawbeast before he switched to full auto, shredding a cluster of zombies that had jumped into the trenches. "KEEP PUSHING THEM OUT!" Thomas yelled. More Mawbeasts leaped in, overwhelming a squad of infantry. Thomas sprinted forward, pulling a frag grenade from his belt. "FIRE IN THE HOLE!" He yanked the pin and tossed it into the center of the largest cluster. BOOOOOM! The explosion tore through the trenches, sending Mawbeast remains flying. The shockwave knocked Thomas back, but he quickly recovered, switching back to his rifle. A Strangler dropped from above, its grotesque tongue whipping toward him. Thomas dodged left, but the tongue wrapped around his rifle, yanking it away. Before the Strangler could drag him in, Thomas drew his sidearm¡ªa Glock 19¡ªand emptied the magazine into its skull. The creature shrieked and collapsed, its tongue twitching before finally going still. He retrieved his rifle and turned toward the trench entrance. The Mawbeasts were thinning, but the Juggernauts were still pushing forward. [Fighting the Juggernauts] A Juggernaut charged toward a squad of troops, its massive, rock-like arms raised. The soldiers fired, but their rounds bounced off the hardened surface. Thomas didn''t hesitate. "AP rounds! Aim for the knees!" he shouted. The squad complied, switching to armor-piercing ammo. BOOM-BOOM-BOOM! The concentrated fire shattered the Juggernaut''s kneecap, forcing it to collapse. Thomas leapt onto its back, pulling out his combat knife. The creature thrashed, but he plunged the blade into the exposed flesh of its neck. Dark ichor sprayed out, but it wasn''t enough. The Juggernaut tried to rise, despite its injuries. "STAY DOWN!" Thomas grabbed a thermite charge from his belt, slapping it onto the Juggernaut''s skull. FWOOSH! The thermite ignited, burning straight through the creature''s head. It let out a final, agonized roar before collapsing, motionless. [Holding the Perimeter] The fighting continued for what felt like hours. More Mawbeasts fell under suppressive fire. More Juggernauts were brought down with combined arms tactics. The Stranglers'' numbers had been significantly reduced thanks to the coordinated efforts of the snipers and air support. Still, the horde wasn''t stopping. A fresh wave of undead surged forward, forcing Thomas and his men to fall back to the next line of trenches. Phillip reloaded beside him, breathing hard. "This is endless." Thomas wiped sweat from his forehead. "We knew it would be. But we have to hold." "East flank is barely holding!" a soldier reported over the radio. "Juggernauts are pushing through!" "Send two Abrams and an Apache to support them," Thomas ordered. "Copy that!" He took a deep breath, scanning the battlefield. Despite the heavy casualties, they were holding the line. But Thomas knew one thing. Before they could even reach the fallback line, a new problem emerged. A Juggernaut thundered toward them, its massive rock-like fists slamming into the ground, sending debris flying in all directions. It roared, its monstrous plated face devoid of emotion, only rage. It charged. "AP ROUNDS! HIT THE KNEES!" Thomas shouted. The nearest Abrams tank swiveled its turret, locking onto the Juggernaut''s legs. BOOOOOOM! A 120mm depleted uranium round tore through the creature''s right knee, shattering the rock-hard armor and exposing raw, mutated flesh underneath. The Juggernaut stumbled. "AGAIN!" BOOOOM! The second shot blew off the creature''s lower leg, sending it toppling onto its side. It let out a distorted, rage-filled bellow, thrashing in the dirt. "Phillip! Let''s finish it!" Phillip tossed him a thermite charge, and Thomas rushed forward, dodging a swinging, half-destroyed arm. He slammed the charge onto the exposed wound and detonated it. FWOOSH! The Juggernaut howled as the thermite burned through its insides, melting it from within. Seconds later, it stopped moving. One down. But there were more. Phillip pointed toward the left flank. "They''re getting slaughtered over there!" Thomas turned his head¡ªhe saw the issue immediately. A new wave of Mawbeasts and Stranglers were overwhelming the trenches. The defenses were on the verge of collapse. Soldiers were running low on ammo, and the flamethrower teams were either dead or retreating. Thomas grabbed his radio. "Command, this is Estaris. I need air support on the left flank, now!" "Copy that, sending Apaches your way! ETA thirty seconds!" They didn''t have thirty seconds. "MOVE!" Thomas shouted to his team as he sprinted forward, firing as he ran. He dropped a Mawbeast mid-leap, dodged the swinging claws of another, and stabbed his combat knife into the skull of a Strangler that had just latched onto a soldier. The enemy was overwhelming, but Thomas refused to back down. "TANK CREWS, AIM LEFT!" The Abrams repositioned, their cannons blasting holes into the horde, but it wasn''t enough. The Mawbeasts were too fast. They were climbing over corpses, using the terrain to their advantage. Suddenly, Thomas felt something coil around his leg. Before he could react, a Strangler''s tongue wrapped tightly around him, yanking him backward. He slammed into the ground, dragged toward the creature''s gaping maw. Phillip turned, saw what was happening, and fired¡ª BANG-BANG-BANG! The Strangler shrieked as Phillip''s bullets ripped into its skull. It released its grip, and Thomas rolled away, regaining his footing. "You owe me for that one, boss." Thomas exhaled sharply. "You''ll get your bonus later." Before they could regroup, another Strangler leapt from the ruins, its claws outstretched toward Phillip. Thomas didn''t think. He lunged, tackling Phillip out of the way, and emptied an entire magazine into the monster''s face. BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG! It dropped instantly, black ichor pouring from its wounds. Phillip groaned. "Okay, okay¡ªI''ll take a raise." Before Thomas could respond¡ª The sky erupted with a thunderous barrage of explosions. BRRRRRRRRTTTT! The Apaches finally arrived. The 30mm chain guns shredded through the Mawbeasts, turning them into mulch. Hydra rockets pounded the undead masses, sending limbs flying. The frontline was finally stabilizing. Thomas pushed himself off the ground, gripping his rifle tightly. "WE ARE NOT LOSING THIS POSITION!" He roared. The remaining soldiers regrouped. They lined up, firing in coordinated volleys. Mawbeasts collapsed. Stranglers were gunned down mid-air. Juggernauts were bombarded into oblivion. Minutes passed. Then¡ªsilence. The battlefield was littered with corpses. Their forces had held the line. Phillip coughed, wiping sweat from his brow. "That was one hell of a warm-up." Thomas glanced at the system log. [Zombies Killed: 350,772] He exhaled sharply. Chapter 55: New Threat in the Sky The battle had been raging for eighteen hours straight. The soldiers on the front lines were exhausted and stretched to their limits. But Thomas knew there was no room for rest. The enemy was relentless. MOA''s defensive perimeter was still holding, but barely. The ground was covered in charred remains, pools of black ichor, and shredded corpses of Mawbeasts, Juggernauts, and thousands of undead. Shell casings and discarded magazines littered the battlefield. And yet, the horde kept coming. Thomas crouched behind a destroyed IFV, quickly swapping his empty magazine for a fresh one. His HK416 was running hot from continuous fire, but he had no choice. The left flank was under siege. "KEEP FIRING!" Thomas shouted as he rose from cover, unleashing a controlled burst into an advancing Mawbeast. His rounds tore through its chest, causing it to stagger, but it still lunged forward. BANG! BANG! Two well-placed shots to the head finally put it down. Phillip, positioned to Thomas''s right, fired his SCAR-H, dropping a Strangler mid-air before it could latch onto a soldier. The creature let out a shriek before collapsing into the mud. "Boss, this is getting ridiculous," Phillip grunted, ejecting an empty magazine and slamming in a new one. "We''ve been fighting for almost a day straight, and they''re still pouring in!" Thomas reloaded quickly, scanning the battlefield. The trenches were a choking mess of blood, debris, and burning corpses. Abrams tanks, their armor blackened from battle, continued blasting holes into the horde, while flamethrower teams worked overtime torching any undead that got too close. "Incoming!" a soldier screamed. Thomas turned just in time to see a Juggernaut barreling toward the southern barricade, its massive arms raised to smash through the line. "AP SHELLS! NOW!" BOOOOOM! A 120mm APFSDS round from an Abrams tank slammed into the Juggernaut''s chest, punching a hole straight through its hardened exterior. The creature staggered, but it wasn''t dead. BOOOM! A Hellfire missile from an Apache screamed through the air, striking the exposed wound. The Juggernaut let out a deafening roar before collapsing onto the remains of a destroyed Humvee, its body twitching before going still. Another one down. But Thomas knew it wasn''t over. A brief moment of silence fell over the battlefield, but it wasn''t peace. It was a shift¡ªsomething was changing. Phillip wiped sweat from his brow. "You feel that?" Thomas did. A strange pressure hung in the air, as if something unnatural was watching them. "Drone recon, report," Thomas said into his radio. "We''re picking up something weird, Commander," the drone operator responded. "There''s movement above us." Before Thomas could respond, a blood-curdling shriek tore through the sky. It was not a Mawbeast. It was something new. WHOOSH! A massive winged creature dropped from the sky like a living missile, snatching a soldier off the barricade before anyone could react. The man screamed as the monster carried him high above the battlefield, flailing in sheer terror. Then¡ª SNAP! With one powerful bite, the creature severed the soldier''s head clean off, his decapitated body convulsing as it was unceremoniously dropped back onto the battlefield. The headless corpse crashed into the trenches, sending soldiers into a panic. "HOLY SHIT!" someone shouted. "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!" The creature let out another high-pitched screech, circling just beyond the reach of the Apache gunships. Thomas didn''t hesitate. "KILL IT!" he barked. The creature banked hard, then dove toward the trenches, its bat-like wings outstretched, talons extended to grab another victim. "FIRE!" BRRRRRRRTTTTT! The 30mm chain guns of the Apaches opened up, raking the sky with tungsten rounds. The creature twisted unnaturally in mid-air, dodging some of the bullets, but a few rounds struck its left wing. It screeched, momentarily losing control, before it regained its balance, flapping hard and retreating back into the darkened clouds above. "Drone operator, what the hell are we dealing with?!" Thomas demanded. "Sir... We''ve got a swarm of those things approaching," the operator said, his voice tense. "Estimate dozens, possibly hundreds." Thomas''s stomach dropped. One had been bad enough. A swarm was a nightmare. "ALL UNITS! FOCUS ON THE SKY!" Thomas roared into his radio. "Avenger teams, lock onto those targets!" Marcus''s voice came through the comms. The Avenger missile launchers repositioned, their targeting systems locking onto the flying creatures. "Target acquired¡ªlaunching!" WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH! Stinger missiles shot into the sky, tracking the airborne threats. A handful of direct hits exploded mid-air, tearing apart several creatures instantly. Their mangled remains fell like meteorites, crashing into the burning battlefield below. But many of them dodged, twisting their bodies mid-flight, avoiding the missiles with inhuman precision. Then, they dove. "Here they come!" Phillip shouted. Thomas spun, aiming upward as a Reaper swooped down, claws extended toward him. He unloaded a burst of 5.56mm rounds into its chest, causing it to shriek in pain. But it didn''t stop. The creature slammed into him, knocking him off his feet. "SIR!" Phillip shouted. The Reaper pinned Thomas to the ground, its mouth snapping inches from his face. He grabbed his combat knife and slammed it into the side of its skull. The creature twitched violently, black ichor spilling from the wound, but it still fought. It took all of Thomas''s strength to keep its razor-sharp teeth from tearing into his throat. Then¡ª BANG! A sniper round tore through the Reaper''s head, sending it slumping lifelessly onto Thomas. Phillip ran up and yanked the corpse off him. "You okay?!" Thomas coughed, wiping the disgusting ichor from his face. "Yeah..." He exhaled. "But these things are worse than anything we''ve fought so far." He looked up. The sky was filled with them now. Thomas''s grip on his HK416 tightened as he stared up at the sky. The creatures¡ªthe Reapers¡ªweren''t just circling anymore. They were preparing for a full assault. The sky above MOA was a storm of black wings and piercing red eyes, dozens¡ªno, hundreds¡ªof the flying abominations flapping in unison, their unnatural screeches blending into a terrifying chorus. He had never seen anything like this. Chapter 56: Kidnapped by Reaper Thomas didn''t have time to process the implications. WHOOSH! A Reaper dived toward a cluster of soldiers near the barricades, talons outstretched. BANG! BANG! BANG! Multiple troops fired up at it, their rounds ripping into its leathery wings. The creature screeched in pain, but it still grabbed one of the men¡ª And ripped him in half mid-air. His lower body dropped limply to the ground, his upper half dangling lifelessly in the Reaper''s grip before it discarded him like trash. "WE NEED MORE FIREPOWER UP TOP!" Marcus yelled over the radio. "AA GUNS, PRIORITIZE AERIAL TARGETS!" Thomas barked. "Roger!" The Avenger missile launchers repositioned, their sensors locking onto the incoming Reapers. WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH! More Stinger missiles fired into the sky, exploding mid-air, tearing several Reapers to shreds. Their mangled bodies plummeted into the battlefield, some crashing into the trenches, causing havoc among the soldiers. But for every Reaper they downed, five more took its place. "COMMAND, THEY''RE TOO FAST!" a soldier yelled over comms. Thomas ducked behind a sandbag, barely avoiding a Reaper that swooped down to grab him. It missed, but clawed through a nearby soldier instead, dragging him screaming into the air. SNAP! Another headless corpse fell back to the ground. These things were hunting them. WHOOSH! Another Reaper dove. Thomas barely had time to react. The creature slammed into him at full speed. His breath was knocked out of his lungs as he felt massive, clawed talons wrap around his torso, lifting him off the ground. "FUCK!" He tried to wrestle free, but the grip was like iron, squeezing his ribs to the point of near suffocation. The battlefield shrunk beneath him, the once chaotic trenches and tanks growing smaller and smaller as the Reaper carried him higher into the night sky. He was being taken away. His radio crackled¡ª "ALL STATIONS! I''M AIRBORNE! I REPEAT¡ª STATIC. The Reaper''s other claw slashed down, tearing the radio from Thomas''s vest and sending it tumbling into the abyss below. His connection to command was gone. And he was alone. The wind howled past his ears as the Reaper carried him higher, weaving through ruined skyscrapers like a predatory bird. Thomas gritted his teeth, his mind racing. I have to kill this thing before it gets me too high. With his left hand, he reached for the combat knife strapped to his chest¡ª But the Reaper noticed. SNAP! The creature''s razor-sharp beak lunged toward his head, forcing him to jerk back just in time. It was toying with him. It wanted him alive. Maybe it knew a fall from this height would kill him. Not happening. With his free hand, Thomas drew his M9 Beretta, pressed it against the Reaper''s exposed chest, and¡ª BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! The 9mm rounds slammed into its flesh, causing the creature to shrieeeeek in agony. Its grip loosened slightly¡ª That was all he needed. Thomas forced his body upward, using the momentum of the recoil to wrench himself free¡ª And drove his combat knife deep into the Reaper''s shoulder joint. SCHLUCK! The creature let out a piercing screech, its body convulsing from the pain of the deep stab wound. Its wings faltered¡ª And they both started plummeting. Thomas held on for dear life, his knife still buried in the beast''s flesh. The Reaper thrashed wildly, trying to shake him off, its wings beating erratically to regain control. The ground was rushing up fast. They slammed into a high-rise building. CRAAAAAAASH! Glass and concrete shattered on impact as both bodies tore through the side of the structure, tumbling through abandoned office floors, bouncing off desks and collapsed cubicles. Thomas felt his ribs crack as he skidded across the floor, slamming hard into a concrete pillar. His vision blurred for a second. Everything was spinning. Debris and dust settled slowly around him. He coughed, blood dripping from his lip. The Reaper lay motionless a few feet away, its wings twitching weakly, its chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. For a moment, there was silence. Then¡ª It moved. Thomas barely had time to react before the Reaper shrieked and lunged forward. He rolled away, narrowly avoiding its razor-sharp talons. The creature wasn''t dead. And now, it was pissed. Thomas forced himself to his feet, gripping his HK416 tightly. His radio was gone. No backup. No support. Just him and this monstrosity inside the skyscraper, surrounded by nothing but broken steel and shattered glass. The Reaper let out a low, guttural growl, its glowing red eyes locking onto him. Then¡ª It charged. Thomas sidestepped, firing a burst¡ª BANG-BANG-BANG! Rounds tore through the creature''s chest, but it didn''t stop. With a single powerful leap, the Reaper closed the distance, swinging its massive talons¡ª Thomas ducked, but felt the claws graze his shoulder, nicking the armored vest he had on but there was no bleed. He grunted in pain, staggering backward. The Reaper pressed forward, swiping again¡ª SLASH! Thomas barely managed to block the blow with his rifle. The sheer force of the impact sent him sliding backward, his boots scraping against the concrete floor. This thing was stronger than he expected. But he wasn''t out yet. Thomas grabbed a flashbang from his vest. Pulled the pin. Tossed it directly at the Reaper''s face. BANG! A blinding white light exploded. The Reaper shrieked in agony, flailing wildly as its enhanced senses were overloaded by the intense flash and sound. Thomas didn''t waste a second. He rushed forward, flipping his rifle to full-auto, pressing it against the Reaper''s chest¡ª And unloaded every remaining round. BRRRRRRRRTTTT! Bullets ripped through its body, punching holes through its flesh, wings, and limbs. But the final shot¡ª That was for the head. BANG! The bullet pierced the creature''s skull, sending brain matter splattering against the concrete. The Reaper let out a final, choked gasp¡ª Then collapsed. Thomas exhaled sharply, dropping his empty magazine. His body ached, his wounds stung, but he was alive. He looked around. Zombies inside the skyscraper heading towards him. "Just when is this going to end?" Thomas asked himself. Chapter 57: Trapped in the Building Thomas exhaled sharply, his HK416 clicking empty as he dropped the spent magazine. He was stranded, outnumbered, and cut off from command. And to make things worse? A horde of undead was now funneling into the high-rise, drawn by the noise of his fight with the Reaper. Their rotting figures stumbled through the ruined office space, former employees now shambling monsters, their dead eyes glowing faintly in the dim emergency lights. Thomas knew he couldn''t fight them all here. He needed to move fast. The only escape? The rooftop. He reloaded his last magazine, gripping his rifle tight as the first wave of zombies lunged forward. BANG-BANG-BANG! Each headshot dropped a target instantly, but more kept coming. They crawled over cubicles, pushed through shattered glass partitions, and toppled over office chairs in their relentless pursuit. One of them¡ªa former security guard, still wearing his ragged uniform¡ªlunged at him, hands outstretched. Thomas sidestepped, planting his boot into the zombie''s knee, snapping it backward with a sickening crunch. The creature collapsed, but he didn''t let it hit the ground. SHINK! He slammed his combat knife into its skull, wrenching it free just in time to parry another attacker. A bloated corpse in a torn business suit grabbed at his vest. Thomas drove his rifle barrel into its mouth and pulled the trigger. BANG! Skull fragments painted the ceiling, and the creature dropped lifelessly. More were coming. No time to waste. Thomas sprinted for the emergency exit, kicking the stairwell door open. CLANG! The echo was like a dinner bell, and immediately, the sound of shuffling feet and guttural moans rose from above. The stairwell was crawling with infected. And they were waiting for him. He didn''t hesitate. BANG-BANG-BANG! His shots tore through the closest zombies, clearing a brief opening. But the stairwell was cramped, a perfect kill zone for the undead. They didn''t need tactics¡ªonly numbers. And Thomas was trapped between them and the rooftop. "Shit." No choice. He had to fight through. He charged forward, slamming his rifle butt into the face of a snarling office worker. Teeth shattered, and the zombie stumbled back. With one smooth motion, he drew his knife, driving it up under the jaw of another attacker, twisting the blade before ripping it free. More zombies crawled from the floors above, some dropping onto the railings, trying to pounce on him like animals. One fell straight at him. Thomas reacted instantly, catching it mid-air and using its momentum to slam it into the wall so hard its skull caved in. Another one lunged, its mouth wide open, ready to sink its teeth into his arm. He grabbed it by the throat, turned, and threw it down the stairwell. The zombie hit the ground three floors below, bones snapping on impact. He kept pushing upward, carving his way through the narrow stairwell, step by step. His muscles burned, exhaustion clawing at him, but he refused to stop. One floor left. Almost there. The rooftop access door was just ahead¡ª But so was a cluster of zombies blocking the last flight of stairs. And there is a lot of them, going through them would be suicide and he doesn''t have much ammo left in him. The only thing he could do was to lure them out of the stairwell by letting them chase him. He still has a bit of stamina left. He can do it. "Alright, you freaks," he muttered under his breath, gripping his rifle tightly. "Let''s play." Thomas turned on his heel and sprinted back into the cubicle farm. The zombies snarled, their guttural moans rising as they lurched after him. The first cubicle wall was low. He vaulted over it with ease, landing in a crouch. A zombie lunged from the side¡ª he ducked, rolled forward, and came up running. The next cubicle had a desk. He hopped onto it and leapt forward, gripping the top of a partition wall. His body swung over the edge, and he kicked off with his feet, propelling himself toward the next set of workstations. The zombies were barreling through desks and partitions behind him, clumsy but relentless. One got too close. Thomas spun midair, aimed downward, and fired¡ª BANG! The headshot splattered brains across the ceiling, and the corpse crumpled against the overturned chairs. His momentum carried him forward. He landed, rolled, and sprang onto another desk. A cubicle wall ahead was too high to vault. Thomas planted his foot on an abandoned office chair and kicked off it, launching himself upward. His fingers caught the ledge of the cubicle wall, but the weight of his gear nearly pulled him back down. A zombie clawed at his boot, its fingers grazing the fabric. "Not today," Thomas grunted. With sheer strength, he hauled himself up, rolled over the top, and dropped down on the other side. But he wasn''t safe yet. More zombies rounded the corner, their decomposing bodies squeezing through the narrow cubicle aisles. "Shit." He needed a way out¡ªfast. His gaze flicked to the emergency exit sign at the far end of the room. A door. An escape. But he had to reach it first. Thomas sprinted again, weaving through the maze of office furniture. His boots thumped against the tile floor as he dove between overturned desks, narrowly dodging the grasping hands of the infected. Another cubicle wall blocked his way. No time to slow down. Thomas kicked off a filing cabinet, vaulted onto a desk, then leapt forward¡ª His hands caught an exposed ceiling beam. Using his core strength, he swung forward, releasing at the peak of his momentum¡ª And landed directly in front of the emergency exit. But just as he grabbed the handle¡ª A zombie lunged from the side. Thomas turned, rifle raised¡ª Click. "Shit. Out." The zombie snarled, its rotten breath washing over him as it threw itself at him. Thomas didn''t hesitate. He sidestepped, grabbed the back of its head, and slammed its skull against the metal door. CRACK! The impact caved in its face, and the creature slumped lifelessly to the floor. Before he could recover, another zombie lunged¡ª Thomas ducked, reaching for his combat knife¡ª But before he could strike, CRACK! A baseball bat swung out of nowhere, obliterating the zombie''s skull in a spray of bone and rotting flesh. Thomas barely had time to react before the attacker¡ªthe one who had just saved him¡ªstepped into view. A woman. She was short-haired, just about her neck, and wearing a white button-down shirt stained with blood tucked into a black skirt¡ªas if she had once been a secretary before the world collapsed. She held the bloodied bat over her shoulder, her expression calm but wary. "Who the hell are you?" Chapter 58: Good, A Survivor Thomas quickly followed the woman as she gestured for him to move. She led him toward an office room down the hallway, her grip on the bloodied bat firm, her eyes scanning their surroundings for any more threats. She was fast and moved with precision¡ªsomeone who had been surviving here for a long time. Thomas didn''t ask questions. His instincts told him to trust her¡ªat least for now. They reached a door marked "Manager''s Office." The woman pulled out a keycard from her pocket, swiped it against the electronic lock, and pushed the door open. Thomas slipped inside first, and she followed quickly, slamming the door shut behind them. A heavy click echoed as she engaged the manual locks. Then, silence. The only light in the office came from a dim red emergency light on the wall, casting eerie shadows across the room. Thomas could make out a large wooden desk, filing cabinets, and a couch pushed against the far wall. Papers and office supplies were scattered across the floor, but it was surprisingly clean¡ªno blood, no rotting corpses. Someone had been using this place as a hideout. Thomas exhaled, rolling his shoulders. His body ached from all the fighting, and his ribs still throbbed from his earlier fall. The woman turned to face him, arms crossed, her sharp eyes studying him. "Alright," she said finally, her voice steady but filled with suspicion. "Who the hell are you?" Thomas met her gaze. "Thomas," he answered simply. She raised an eyebrow. "Thomas who?" "Just Thomas." The woman frowned, tightening her grip on the bat. "And how exactly did you get here? You don''t look like you work in this building." Thomas ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. He couldn''t tell her the full truth. No one would believe he had a private military force stationed at MOA, or that he had been dragged away by a flying monstrosity. So, he gave her a half-truth. "I was outside," he said. "One of those flying things grabbed me. We fought mid-air, crashed into this building. The rest you saw yourself." The woman narrowed her eyes, skeptical. "You''re telling me you got snatched by a goddamn monster and survived?" Thomas simply nodded. "Yeah." She studied him for a moment before her eyes flicked down to his clothes. The military vest, the tactical gloves, the combat boots. "You wearing all that for fun?" she asked, pointing at his gear. Thomas smirked slightly. "Protection." She scoffed. "Right. So, you''re not actually military?" Thomas didn''t answer. The woman sighed, shaking her head. She clearly didn''t buy everything he said, but she wasn''t pushing for details¡ªyet. Then, suddenly, she raised her bat, aiming it at his chest. "Alright, take it off," she ordered. Thomas blinked. "What?" "Your clothes. Take them off." His mind stalled for a second. "Look, I appreciate the save, but this isn''t the time¡ª" She jabbed the bat forward, nearly touching his sternum. "Don''t get cocky," she said flatly. "I need to check if you''re bitten." Thomas exhaled sharply. "If I was bitten, I''d have turned already." "Not always," she countered. "I''ve seen people take hours before they changed. Some even lasted a day before they lost it." Wait¡ªso the infection is different from everyone else? She wasn''t taking any chances. Thomas sighed. He was too exhausted to argue. "Fine." He unbuckled his tactical vest, tossing it onto the desk. Then his combat belt, followed by his shirt, revealing his scarred, muscular torso. The woman examined him carefully, her eyes scanning every inch of his skin for any sign of a bite. She circled around him, her bat still at the ready. Thomas rolled his eyes. "See? No bites." "Keep going," she ordered. He frowned. "Seriously?" "Seriously," she said. "Pants too." Thomas hesitated. "I don''t think this is necessary." The woman''s grip on the bat tightened. "Pants." Thomas muttered a curse under his breath before unbuckling his cargo pants and letting them drop. Now, he stood there in just his briefs, arms crossed, exasperated. The woman glanced down, then back up, her face unreadable. After a few seconds, she nodded, lowering the bat. "Alright," she said. "You''re clear." Thomas sighed and grabbed his pants, pulling them back up. "Glad we settled that." The woman smirked slightly. "Could''ve been easier if you just listened from the start." Thomas shook his head, buttoning his pants. "And what''s your name?" The woman leaned against the desk, arms still crossed. "Erica," she said. "Welcome to my office, Thomas." "Office...so you work here," Thomas said, glancing around the room. "Yes...and I have been here since the apocalypse," Erica replied. "Alone?" Thomas asked. "I wasn''t alone the whole time." Erica''s voice trailed off, her expression darkening as if recalling something painful. She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her short hair. "We were twenty people at the start," she continued. "Co-workers, security personnel, a few unlucky folks who got trapped here when everything fell apart. We barricaded the stairwells, scavenged supplies from the upper floors, and tried to wait it out." Thomas adjusted his tactical vest, listening intently. "What happened?" Erica''s grip on the bat tightened. "It was going well... at first. We had food, water, even power from the emergency generators. But then the first infection hit. One of us got bit during a supply run to the lower floors¡ªhe didn''t tell anyone. Thought he could fight it." She shook her head, her jaw tightening. "He turned in the middle of the night. Killed three people before we even knew what was happening. After that, it was like a chain reaction. Some got bit. Others panicked and tried to run. The infected kept multiplying, and before long, the barricades didn''t mean shit." Thomas could picture it. A secure office turned into a death trap. "How many made it?" he asked. Erica scoffed, gesturing around the empty office. "You''re looking at her." Thomas exhaled through his nose. Alone for this long? That took a different level of resilience. "You got a plan?" he asked. Erica leaned against the desk. "I was planning to make a break for the rooftop. Thought maybe I could find a way down or signal for help. But..." she hesitated, glancing toward the locked door. "That stairwell is crawling, and I don''t exactly have an arsenal like you." Thomas nodded. "You were waiting for a better chance." "Something like that," she muttered. "But even if I were to get myself on the rooftop, survival wasn''t guaranteed. It''s not like someone would come up there and rescue them." Thomas just simply listened to her story. "Still¨CI''m glad that I am not alone now," Erica said, turning her gaze towards him. "But if you were to do something funny, I wouldn''t hesitate to harm you." She held his gaze for another few seconds before exhaling, her shoulders easing ever so slightly. She leaned back against the desk, gripping the edge. "Alright, then. If you''re really not here to screw me over, then we better figure out what the hell we''re going to do next." Thomas nodded. "You still set on making it to the rooftop?" Erica scoffed. "You got a better plan? Because the only other way out of here is down, and I don''t think I have to tell you how bad of an idea that is." He considered her words. She wasn''t wrong. Trying to clear a path back to ground level would be suicide, especially with the zombies still circling outside. The rooftop was their best bet. He hoped that his men had managed to pinpoint his location and send a rescue helicopter. And that is a big if¡ªafter all, his radio was broken and there was no way for him to access the features of the system. His best hope was that his men were to finish the wave on their own, and judging from the kill counts, it is steadily increasing. "First¡ªwe have to rest, and then we make it to the rooftop tomorrow morning," Thomas said. "And what are we going to do once we are on a rooftop?" "We hope that someone will rescue us," Thomas answered. Chapter 59: A Casual Chat with Erica Thomas stood near the floor-to-ceiling window, his hands resting on the cracked glass as he gazed out at the ruined cityscape. Fires still burned in the distance, illuminating the skeletal remains of collapsed buildings. The night had turned eerily quiet, save for the occasional distant explosion or burst of gunfire from MOA''s defensive lines. His eyes narrowed as he noticed something unusual. A large mass of zombies was sprinting toward the MOA complex at an unnatural speed. Their movements weren''t the sluggish, aimless shuffling of regular infected. These ones were driven. Determined. They were running toward something. Toward someone. Erica stepped up beside him, her bat resting against her shoulder as she followed his gaze. Her expression darkened. "I''ve been noticing that lately," she said. "They don''t just wander anymore. They move like they''ve got a purpose." Thomas didn''t respond. Because he knew where they were heading. MOA. His men. They were still fighting. The battle wasn''t over. He clenched his fists, knowing there was nothing he could do from here. Not yet. He needed to get back. But first, they had to survive the night. Thomas let out a quiet breath and pulled away from the window, moving toward the office chair in the center of the room. He sat down with a sigh, his body finally catching up to the exhaustion weighing on him. Erica leaned against the desk, watching him carefully. "You fight like you''ve done it a thousand times," Thomas said, looking up at her. "That bat isn''t just for show." Erica smirked slightly. "I played baseball when I was a kid," she said. "Didn''t think it would help me survive the apocalypse, though." "Guess you got lucky having a bat in your office," he replied. She scoffed. "Lucky? That''s one way to put it." Her smirk faded slightly. "If I didn''t have it, I''d be dead." Silence settled between them for a moment before she tilted her head slightly, studying him again. "You hungry?" she asked. Thomas glanced at her, noting the slight hesitation in her voice. The way she avoided direct eye contact. She was reluctant to even offer it. He saw the way she had rationed everything in this office, keeping it orderly despite the chaos outside. She had been surviving here alone for a long time, and resources were scarce. Thomas didn''t want to take anything from her, not if she needed it more. Instead, he asked, "Do you have water?" Erica nodded. "Yeah. But only six bottles left." She turned toward a filing cabinet, pulling open the top drawer and grabbing a half-full bottle. She hesitated for a second before tossing it to him. "I''ve been rationing it," she admitted. "We''ll have to share." Thomas nodded, taking a small sip before handing it back to her. "I can manage." Erica took a sip herself before placing the bottle back in the drawer. She sat on the desk, exhaling. "So, Thomas... what''s your story?" Thomas leaned back in the chair, thinking for a moment. He couldn''t exactly tell her the truth. "I was a high school student," he said simply. Erica blinked, staring at him as if he had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. "Bullshit." Thomas smirked. "Why''s that?" "Because you look like you''re in the damn military," she said, motioning to his tactical vest and his well-built frame. "You fight like a soldier. Move like one, too. And your face? No way in hell you''re a high schooler." Thomas chuckled. He had noticed it himself. His face had matured, his body stronger and more defined. Possibly a side effect of the system. He decided to take it as a compliment. "Well, I''ll take that as a good thing," he said. Erica shook her head, still in disbelief. "High school, huh? That''s insane." Thomas shrugged. "What about you? How have you been handling life here?" Erica scoffed. "Badly," she admitted. "But I don''t really have a choice, do I?" She leaned forward slightly, watching him closely. "Before I answer that, tell me something first. What were you doing before you ended up in this building?" Thomas exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Got kidnapped." Erica''s eyes widened. "What?" "One of those flying things," Thomas clarified. "A Reaper. Grabbed me mid-battle. Carried me away. I managed to kill it, but we crashed here." Erica stared at him in shock. "There are flying zombies?" Thomas nodded. "Yeah." She muttered a curse under her breath, gripping her bat tighter. "That''s just fucking fantastic." Then her gaze shifted slightly. "Wait¡ªyou said mid-battle? You were fighting zombies before you got here?" Thomas nodded again. Erica''s suspicion returned. "Who were you fighting with?" Thomas hesitated. He couldn''t just tell her he had a private military force holding the line at MOA. That would raise too many questions, ones he wasn''t ready to answer. Instead, he gave her just enough. "My group," he said simply. Erica frowned. "Your group?" Thomas nodded. "We were clearing out the area. Then I got grabbed." She studied him for a moment, trying to decide if he was lying. Finally, she exhaled. "Huh. Didn''t think anyone else was still fighting back." Thomas didn''t respond. Because he knew the truth. His men weren''t just fighting back. They were holding the front lines of an entire war. Erica stretched her arms, letting out a small sigh before pushing off the desk. She grabbed her bat and set it against the wall before turning back to Thomas. "We should get some sleep," she said. "We need to be at full strength tomorrow." Thomas nodded. His body was screaming for rest, but he knew he wouldn''t be able to sleep soundly. His mind was still at MOA, still thinking about his men, still wondering if they were holding the line. Erica pointed toward the couch. "I''ll sleep first. You keep watch." Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Just like that? You trust me?" She scoffed. "No. But I don''t have a choice." She walked toward the couch and sat down, adjusting a small backpack to use as a makeshift pillow. But before she laid down, she shot him a sharp glare. "Just so we''re clear¡ªif you try anything while I''m asleep, I will kill you." Thomas let out a tired chuckle. "I won''t touch you." Erica narrowed her eyes, as if trying to detect any deception, but after a moment, she exhaled. "Good." She laid back, turning to face the couch, her bat still within arm''s reach. Thomas sat down on the chair, resting his arms on his knees. He kept his gaze on the door, listening to the distant sounds of zombies roaming the halls outside. Minutes passed. Then hours. Thomas remained still, focused. He had been in battles before, had fought through exhaustion, had forced himself to keep moving when his body begged for rest. This was no different. At some point, Erica stirred, her voice groggy. "Your turn." Thomas glanced at her as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. "Get some rest," she muttered. "I''ll wake you if something happens." Thomas hesitated for a moment but eventually stood up. "Alright." He moved toward the couch, sitting down before leaning his head back. Erica sat on the chair, her bat across her lap, her eyes locked on the door. Thomas let out a slow breath and, for the first time in what felt like forever, allowed himself to close his eyes. Chapter 60: To the Rooftop Dawn broke through the cracks in the office windows, casting an eerie glow over the ruined city. Thomas''s eyes snapped open instantly. He wasn''t used to waking up slowly anymore. His body had trained itself to always be alert. He sat up, stretching his arms slightly. Erica was by the window, peering out at the streets below. "You''re up," she said without looking at him. Thomas stood. "Anything happen?" She shook her head. "Nothing major. But I don''t like the look of the streets." Thomas walked over, standing beside her. Zombies still moved through the streets, but the ones heading toward MOA had thinned out. The battle must''ve still been going. "We should get moving," Thomas said. Erica nodded. "Yeah. The rooftop is our best bet." She turned away from the window, grabbing her bat. "But first, we need to make sure we don''t get torn apart before we get there." Thomas smirked. "Agreed." They began preparing, gathering what little supplies they had. They put the water bottle, some canned foods in her bag, and since Thomas doesn''t have a weapon aside from the tactical knife, she handed him the extra baseball bat. It seemed that Erica loves bringing her bat in her office. Thomas gripped the baseball bat she had given him, testing its weight. It was solid¡ªgood balance, strong enough to cave in a skull if used properly. "You ready?" he asked, glancing at Erica. She tightened the straps on her backpack and gripped her own bat. "As ready as I''ll ever be." Thomas nodded, then slowly unlocked the door. He eased it open, scanning the dimly lit hallway. The eerie red emergency lights still cast long, distorted shadows along the walls. The horde from last night had thinned. Many of the zombies had wandered off to other parts of the building, leaving only a handful scattered across the hallway. "Less of them now," Erica murmured. "Yeah. But we still have to be careful." They stepped out, moving quietly. Thomas took the lead, his stance low, his movements calculated. He had done this before¡ªmoved through hostile territory, neutralized threats, survived against impossible odds. The first zombie turned toward them¡ªa former office worker, its sunken eyes locking onto Thomas as it let out a low, guttural groan. Thomas didn''t hesitate. He surged forward, closing the distance in a blink. The zombie swiped at him with slow, clumsy movements, but Thomas weaved around it, sidestepping with the grace of a trained fighter. With a single, controlled motion, he gripped the bat with both hands and swung. CRACK! The zombie''s skull caved in instantly. The force of the impact twisted its head at an unnatural angle before it collapsed onto the floor, motionless. Erica blinked, stunned. "Holy shit." Thomas ignored her and kept moving. Two more zombies lurched from a side office, drawn by the noise. Thomas exhaled and adjusted his grip on the bat, waiting for them to make the first move. The first zombie lunged, reaching out¡ª Thomas sidestepped again, lightning-fast. He twisted his body, delivering a spinning back kick straight into its chest. The impact sent the undead crashing into the second zombie, knocking them both to the ground. Before they could recover, Thomas lifted the bat and swung downward in a brutal arc. CRUNCH! The bat caved in the first zombie''s skull. Without missing a beat, he spun on his heel, driving the end of the bat into the second zombie''s jaw, snapping its neck on impact. Erica let out a slow breath, her eyes glued to him. She had seen people fight before¡ªseen security officers shoot zombies, seen survivors swing bats and knives in blind desperation. But this? This was something else entirely. Thomas moved like a soldier¡ªlike a predator. Every motion was fluid, controlled, efficient. No wasted energy. No hesitation. And fuck¡ªit was kind of turning her on. She had no idea why. Maybe it was the way his muscles flexed when he swung the bat. Maybe it was how composed he remained, even when surrounded by death. Or maybe it was the simple fact that, for the first time in forever, she wasn''t the only one fighting to stay alive. She realized she had been staring. Shaking her head, she gripped her bat tighter and turned toward the stairwell. "Come on," she muttered, trying to focus. "We''re almost there." Thomas didn''t notice her flustered expression as they pushed forward. The stairwell door was slightly ajar. Thomas pressed a hand against it, listening carefully. No movement. No sounds. He motioned for Erica to stay behind as he slipped inside first. The stairs stretched upward, dimly illuminated by flickering lights. A few zombies remained, some slumped against the walls, others dragging themselves toward the faint sounds of the outside world. Thomas moved first. He darted forward and grabbed the nearest zombie by the collar, using its own momentum to slam it against the stair railing. Before it could react, he delivered a rapid series of knee strikes to its ribcage, shattering bones with each impact. A final elbow strike to the skull sent it tumbling backward, its limp body crashing down the stairs. Another zombie lunged. Thomas ducked, pivoted, and swung his bat in an upward arc¡ª CRACK! The impact lifted the zombie off its feet before it collapsed in a heap. Erica''s grip on her bat tightened. "Okay, now you''re just showing off." Thomas smirked, wiping sweat from his brow. "You still standing there, or are you gonna help?" She scoffed, stepping forward. "Fine." She lifted her bat and swung wildly, smashing a zombie''s head with sheer brute force. It wasn''t graceful. It wasn''t controlled. But it got the job done. Another zombie stumbled toward her. She raised her bat again, ready to swing¡ª But she hesitated. For just a moment, she watched Thomas again¡ªwatched how effortlessly he fought, how every move seemed calculated. She didn''t see the third zombie creeping up behind her. Thomas did. He moved before she could even react. In one swift motion, he dropped his bat, grabbed the zombie by the back of its head, and slammed it against the stair railing. The force shattered its jaw instantly. Not letting go, he spun the creature around and snapped its neck with one brutal twist. The body crumpled to the floor. Erica''s heart was pounding. She looked at Thomas¡ªhis calm expression, his controlled breathing¡ªand for the first time in a long time, she felt something she hadn''t felt since this apocalypse began. Safe. She quickly shook off the thought. "I had that," she muttered, trying to hide the heat rising to her face. Thomas smirked. "Sure you did." She glared at him but said nothing. The rooftop door was just ahead. Thomas walked up to it, testing the handle. It was unlocked. They exchanged a glance. "This is it," he said. Erica nodded. "Let''s hope we didn''t fight all the way up here just to get stuck." Thomas took a deep breath and pushed the door open. The rooftop was empty. For now. The cold morning air hit them instantly as they stepped outside. The city stretched before them, a ruined wasteland of collapsed buildings and smoke-filled skies. The wind howled against the metal structures, sending shivers down Erica''s spine. Thomas scanned the horizon. No helicopters. No signs of rescue. But that didn''t mean they weren''t coming. "We made it," Erica said, exhaling. "Yeah," Thomas replied, gripping his bat. "Now we just have to survive long enough to get out of here." Chapter 61: What now? [Time: 0530 Hours] [Location: Unknown Rooftop ¨C Manila] Thomas stood at the edge of the rooftop, gripping the metal railing as he scanned the ruined city below. The battle for MOA was still raging, but from here, it felt like they were completely alone. Erica leaned against a rusted air-conditioning unit, taking slow, deep breaths to steady herself. They had made it to the rooftop. But now what? There were no helicopters, no rescue signals, nothing but the wind howling through the shattered buildings around them. Thomas exhaled and opened the System Interface in his mind. [Zombie Kill Count: 600,000 / 800,000] Still 200,000 short. His grip on the railing tightened. The battle isn''t over. At that rate, it''s going to take them a day or two before his army were to conduct a rescue operation to locate him. Though he''d want them to focus on ending the wave so he would simply summon troops and get himself and Erica back to MOA. But staying here wouldn''t also be ideal in the long term as there are aerial threats like Reaper. He looked up to the sky, scanning it, and saw no flying creatures in sight. There might be none for now but what about later? He looked at Erica, who was still panting from exhaustion. "Did you lock the door?" Thomas asked. "I did," Erica replied as she looked to the door which was being banged by the zombies behind it. "I really hope that someone will come and get us out of this place. We can''t survive here." "And we can''t survive there either," Thomas said and continued. "We''ll only last there until your supply lasts and after that, we''ll be forced to make hard decisions which could lead us to our deaths. At least here on the rooftop, we have a better chance of survival as there might be military operations in this city." Erica sighed, as if disappointed. "You are expecting a military to come here and save us? I don''t think that is going to happen given that the government failed to contain the spread of the virus." "How can you tell that?" Thomas probed. "Because I was looking out of the window. There were no military helicopters, and if there were helicopters, I''m sure those are for the rich." Thomas smacked his lips. "They really collapsed that fast huh? Well anyways be optimistic." He walked towards her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Erica looked up and was not sure this happened before but there was a glint in her eyes that spoke of something¡ªlike it was her first time seeing hope in this apocalyptic world. He then removed his hands and offered it to her. "Let''s go, we have to take cover. We can''t afford to get spotted by the flying creatures. Luckily there is a storage room up there." He pointed at what seemed to be a storage room not far from them. Erica hesitated for a brief moment before reaching out. Her fingers brushed against his palm before she fully placed her hand in his. It was the first time she had willingly placed her trust in someone since the outbreak started. For a second, she simply looked at their joined hands before gripping his tightly. Thomas gave her a reassuring nod and led the way, carefully stepping across the rooftop towards the storage room. The storage room was just a few steps away. Thomas reached the door first and turned the knob. It didn''t budge. He tried again, twisting it harder, but it was locked. "How do we open it?" Thomas glanced at her, then at the bats still strapped to their backs. "With force." Without another word, he pulled out his bat, adjusting his grip before taking a powerful swing. The impact sent a loud crack through the rooftop as the knob snapped off, leaving the door slightly ajar. Thomas held up a hand, signaling Erica to wait. He pushed the door open just enough to peek inside. The storage room was dim, but it didn''t carry the rancid stench of rotting flesh. Still, he wasn''t taking any chances. He tightened his grip on the bat and stepped inside cautiously. His eyes scanned the corners, the shelves filled with rusted tools and abandoned supplies. No movement. No growls. "Clear," he muttered before turning back to Erica. "Come in." She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. For the first time in hours, they had a secure place to rest, even if only for a little while. Erica sat down against the wall, hugging her knees. "I can''t believe we made it." Thomas leaned against a metal shelf, gripping his bat as he listened to the distant chaos. "We''re not safe yet. But we''re alive." And for now, that was enough. *** Meanwhile, in the command center Conrad, MOA Complex. It has been a day since Thomas went missing, and the officials were restless. "Do we have any clues on where Eagle may have landed?" Marcus asked and hoping he''d get an answer that he desperately needed. As the Deputy Chief of Staff, his responsibility is to ensure and maintain order when the Supreme Commander is incapable of executing his duty, making him the leader of the private army that Thomas summoned. "Negative, we are still checking every angle on where that flying creature took Eagle, and its wide area of search," one of the staffers answered. "Damn it!" Marcus banged the table, venting his frustration. "We have to get him back at all cost!" "We can''t do that, we are still facing a wave of zombies. As of right now, we can''t commit our forces into conducting a wide search operation on Eagle. And I believe that Eagle is capable of defending himself and I am sure of it. Because if he is dead, we would get a notification," Elias chimed in with a pragmatic tone. "I can''t believe that you can stay that with a straight face," Marcus noticed. "We are individuals summoned by the Supreme Commander to fulfill a responsibility, and our responsibility is to get through this wave of zombies so that our Commander can access his system and get himself out wherever he is," Elias continued, keeping his voice even despite Marcus''s frustration. "We can''t afford to be reckless. If we throw resources into searching for Eagle without securing MOA first, we risk losing everything¡ªincluding him." Marcus exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "I know that. But sitting here and doing nothing isn''t an option either." "I''m tasking a drone to conduct the search," Adrian said, ending what could be their scuffle. "Who was he with before he was taken?" "I believe it''s Phillip, Special Forces. He was still on the ground fighting against zombies," Marcus answered. "Then we''ll ask him the direction on where he was taken, narrowing our search," Adrian replied. "Thank you." Chapter 62: A Weird Question [Time: 1200 Hours] [Location: Storage Room ¨C Unknown Rooftop, Manila] The rhythmic pounding on the door had stopped. Thomas sat upright, his bat resting against his knee as he listened intently. The groaning and clawing that had filled the night had vanished, replaced by the distant sounds of gunfire and explosions in the city. Erica, still seated on the floor near the wall, noticed his sudden focus. "What is it?" Thomas didn''t answer immediately. Instead, he rose from his spot and cautiously approached the door. He pressed his ear against it, listening for any movement. Nothing. Slowly, he turned the knob and nudged the door open just enough to peer outside. The stairwell was empty. "They''re gone. But I still wouldn''t go down there. We are under equipped to fight them." "That''s... weird. They were just out there a few hours ago." Thomas nodded. "Too weird. Either they lost interest... or something else drew them away." He looked out over the rooftop railing toward the distance. The hordes that once clawed at the building were now squirting out of the building toward the MOA complex. His men were still fighting. Thomas exhaled. He needed to get back. His stomach let out a faint growl, interrupting his thoughts. Erica smirked, arms crossed. "Looks like even the great survivor needs to eat." Thomas let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, well... it''s been a long day." Erica grabbed her bag and opened it.. "Well, since the zombies are gone, we might as well eat." She pulled out a half-full bag of chips and a single bottle of water. "Not much, but it''s something." Thomas took a seat on the floor, and Erica sat across from him, placing the snacks between them. She opened the bag and handed it to him. "Go on, you first." He grabbed a small handful, popping them into his mouth. The stale, salty taste wasn''t ideal, but right now, it was the best meal he could ask for. He passed the bag back to Erica, who did the same before opening the water bottle. "We''ll have to share," she reminded him before taking a sip. She handed the bottle to him, and he drank just enough to quench his thirst before passing it back. For a moment, they ate in silence, the city''s chaos feeling like a distant memory. "So," Erica finally spoke, "do you have a girlfriend?" Thomas raised an eyebrow at the sudden question, not to mention, kind of a weird one. He swallowed his bite before shaking his head. "No." Erica looked at him in mild disbelief. "No way." He smirked. "Why''s that?" She tilted her head, examining him as if he were a puzzle she couldn''t solve. "Come on. A guy like you? You''re a fighter, built like you''ve been through hell and back, and you carry yourself like someone who''s always been in control. No way some girl hasn''t thrown herself at you." Thomas chuckled, shaking his head. "Not really. I was too busy." "For what?" Thomas shrugged. "Studying." Erica hummed, taking another chip. Thomas took a sip of water before passing it back to her. "What about you?" Erica scoffed, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. "Nope." That surprised Thomas. "Seriously?" She rolled her eyes. "Oh, what, now it''s hard to believe that I don''t have a boyfriend?" "I mean... yeah," he admitted. "You''re, what, mid-twenties? You''re beautiful. There''s no way someone hasn''t¡ª" Erica held up a hand, cutting him off with an amused smirk. "Alright, alright, I get it. Flattering, but no. Never had one." Thomas gave her a curious look. "Why?" She shrugged, leaning back against the wall. "Never had time for it. I worked in an office before all this¡ªjust a secretary trying to get by. I spent most of my time dealing with annoying bosses and company drama. Romance? Never crossed my mind." Thomas smirked. "So you were one of those overworked employees, huh?" Erica sighed. "Yep. Suits, deadlines, coffee addiction¡ªthe whole deal. And then, one day, I wake up, and the world is ending. Funny how life works." Thomas chuckled. "Yeah. Real funny." For a moment, they both just sat there, staring at the floor, lost in thought. Then, a distant screech pierced the sky. Erica stiffened. "What is that..." Thomas immediately grabbed his bat and Erica''s arm and ran toward the door of the storage room. He took her inside, and after that, he peeked outside, he scanned the sky, eyes narrowing. A dark figure circled above the city. A Reaper. And there are a lot of them, and most probably heading to MOA Complex. "Are those?" "Reapers," Thomas said before closing the door. "That is the thing that took me into this building. I apologize for suddenly pulling you inside, but if they see us, we''re dead." Erica pressed her back against the wall, gripping her bat tightly. "You''re telling me there are more of those things?" Thomas simply nodded. He took a seat across from her. "Are you okay? Did I grab you too hard?" Erica smirked as she leaned back against the wall. "No, but you did grab me pretty tight," she said, rolling her shoulder. Thomas let out a small chuckle. "Sorry about that. Just wanted to make sure you weren''t yanked out into the open." She waved a hand dismissively. "It''s fine. Actually..." She trailed off, reaching up to the buttons of her shirt. Thomas''s eyes followed her movements, curiosity creeping in. With a casual motion, Erica began unbuttoning her bloodstained button-down shirt, revealing a snug white undershirt beneath. The fabric clung to her figure, highlighting her toned form¡ªher collarbones stark against her alabaster skin, the curve of her shoulders, the slight rise and fall of her ample chest. Thomas caught himself staring. He quickly averted his gaze, clearing his throat. Erica, of course, noticed. "Something wrong?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, amusement dancing in her dark eyes. Thomas shook his head. "No, just¡ªuh, didn''t expect you to start undressing." Erica laughed softly. "Relax, I''m just showing you something." She pulled her sleeve back, revealing the faint marks on her upper arm. "This is where you grabbed me." Thomas frowned, leaning in slightly to get a better look. Sure enough, there was a faint redness around her arm where his grip had been. He hadn''t even noticed in the moment. "Guess I was rougher than I thought," he admitted. "You okay?" Erica grinned, her smirk teasing. "Oh? So you were looking that time?" Thomas blinked, realizing what she just said. "What? No¡ªI mean, I was just checking your arm¡ªBesides, why ask such questions, like earlier about you asking if I have a girlfriend." Erica simply smiled at his response. And then¡ªa question formed in her mind. "Thomas, I want to ask you a question," her tone suddenly grew bashful. "Sure what is it? And it''s better to be a normal question," Thomas replied. "Are you...uhm," Erica stammered, as if deciding whether she''ll ask it or not. "What?" Thomas urged. Here goes nothing. "Are you a virgin?" Chapter 63: Getting Sus Thomas was taken aback from the sudden question. "What kind of question is that?" he said incredulously. "Because¡ªyou were a senior high school student and you dying in the apocalyptic world without experiencing such things would be definitely a waste in your life. You know, in the movies or series¡ªhehehe..." Thomas cringed at the laugh that followed. Erica was clearly enjoying making him uncomfortable. He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well... yeah, I''m a virgin." Erica''s smirk widened. "No way." He shot her a dry look. "Why is that so hard to believe?" She shrugged, still grinning. "I don''t know. You just don''t seem like the type. You fight like a seasoned soldier, act like you''ve been in command for years. But a virgin? It''s kinda funny." Thomas rolled his eyes. "Well, I never had a girlfriend, so it''s not like I had the chance." Erica hummed thoughtfully before leaning forward slightly, resting her chin on her knee. "Alright, fair enough. But now I gotta ask¡ªif you could''ve, would you have wanted to?" Thomas gave her a deadpan look. "What kind of question is that?" She laughed. "Just curious. You know, we''re in the middle of an apocalypse. You could die at any moment. If you had the chance, would you have wanted to experience it?" Thomas hesitated for a second before sighing. "I mean... sure? I guess?" Erica snickered. "That''s a pretty weak answer." Thomas leaned back, shaking his head. "You''re really enjoying this, aren''t you?" She grinned. "A little bit." He exhaled, crossing his arms. "Alright then, what about you?" Erica''s playful expression faltered for a second before she smirked again. "Me? Oh, I''m still a virgin too." That actually caught Thomas off guard. "Wait, seriously?" She scoffed. "What? You think every woman over twenty has to have done it already?" "No, that''s not what I meant," Thomas said quickly. "I just... figured you would''ve had the chance." Erica rolled her eyes. "Well, I didn''t. I told you, I was too busy. Work, life, stress¡ªit never really crossed my mind until, well..." She gestured vaguely to the ruined city outside. "You know, end of the world and all." Thomas frowned. "So is that why you asked? Just wondering what people regret before dying?" Erica shrugged. "Something like that. I mean, think about it. If you were to die tomorrow, what''s the one thing you''d want to experience before you go?" Thomas stared at her for a moment, then looked away, deep in thought. "I don''t know," he admitted. "I''ve never thought about it like that." Erica smiled slightly. "Well, maybe you should." Silence settled between them for a moment before she chuckled to herself. Thomas raised an eyebrow. "What?" She smirked. "Nothing. Just funny to think about. You, me, two virgins stuck on a rooftop in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, talking about life regrets. And the way you looked at me earlier, it''s quite obvious that you were a bit distracted." Thomas blinked, his face tensing slightly. "What do you mean?" Erica''s smirk deepened. "Oh, come on. You were totally staring when I unbuttoned my shirt earlier." He coughed, shifting uncomfortably. "I was checking your arm." "Uh-huh," she said, drawing out the words in a teasing tone. "Sure you were." Thomas let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "Do you want us to do it?" "Ehh?" Erica''s teasing smirk froze, her expression faltering for the first time since their conversation began. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Thomas watched her, waiting for some kind of response. When none came, he raised an eyebrow. "You were the one who brought it up," he said, crossing his arms. Erica blinked a few times before laughing nervously. "I mean¡ªI was just messing with you." She scratched the back of her head, suddenly looking unsure. "I didn''t think you''d actually ask that..." Thomas shrugged. "Well, we''re talking about regrets before dying, right? I figured I''d just put it out there." Erica hesitated, biting her lip. She looked away, as if processing the idea. "I¡ªuh..." She cleared her throat. "It''s not like I haven''t thought about it before... but, you know..." Thomas tilted his head. "But what?" She huffed, rubbing her arm awkwardly. "I don''t know! I wasn''t expecting to actually consider it." For the first time since they met, Erica seemed genuinely flustered. Thomas smirked. "So, what? Do you want to?" Erica shot him a glare. "Don''t say it like that, dumbass." He chuckled. "I''m just asking a question." Erica let out a slow breath, staring at the ceiling. "Look... it''s not like it''s a bad idea. It''s just..." She glanced at him, then quickly looked away again. "It''s weird, right?" Thomas leaned back, thinking for a moment. "I mean, yeah, kinda. We just met, woman." She exhaled sharply. "Exactly!" She buried her face in her hands, groaning. "Why did I even bring this up? I was just teasing you, and now I''m actually thinking about it." Thomas smirked. "So, you are considering it." She peeked through her fingers before grumbling, "Shut up." Thomas couldn''t help but laugh at how flustered she had become. It was a rare sight. Erica let out another sigh, shaking her head. "I can''t believe this is what we''re talking about while the world is ending." Thomas smirked. "Hey, you said it yourself. If we''re gonna die, we might as well think about what we''re missing out on." She groaned again, before suddenly standing up. "I need to walk this off." Thomas chuckled as he watched her pace around the small storage room, muttering to herself. Her question made him ponder if he was experiencing sex before he died and he was certain that he was going to be able to experience that in the near future as he was still young, and he has a fairly handsome face so there is that. But this is not just the time to be fooling around. He doesn''t know why she would bring that up, is she that thirsty? Not to mention, they are still not safe. He checked his kill count and it''s 635,312...and it''s steadily increasing. It''s going to take a few days before the wave is complete and he is able to access the system again. *** Meanwhile, on the air, a Northrop Grumman MQ-8 Fire Scout was flying overhead. "We have eyes on the sky, let''s find our commander shall we?" Marcus said. Chapter 64: Being Strategic The Northrop Grumman MQ-8 Fire Scout hovered silently over the ruined city, its high-resolution cameras scanning every street, every rooftop, every possible location where Eagle¡ªThomas¡ªcould have landed. Inside the command center, Marcus leaned over the console, his sharp eyes locked onto the live feed displayed on multiple monitors. The drone''s thermal imaging painted the streets below in eerie contrast, thousands of undead bodies appearing as cold, lifeless masses as they shuffled relentlessly toward MOA. "Still nothing?" Marcus muttered, rubbing his temple in frustration. A systems officer shook his head. "Negative, sir. We''ve scanned the rooftops, main roads, and collapsed structures, but there are no obvious signs of life." Marcus exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the table. He knew Thomas was alive¡ªif he wasn''t, the system would have notified them. That meant he was somewhere, possibly injured or trapped, in this godforsaken city. "We need to refine our search," Marcus said, turning to the UAV operator. "Looking for a single person in a city this big is impossible. What about irregularities? Any unusual movement patterns?" The operator adjusted the drone''s parameters, switching between infrared, radar mapping, and movement tracking. The feed displayed wave after wave of zombies marching toward MOA, their numbers seemingly endless. "Sir, we''ve got too many irregularities," the system officer reported. "There are collapsed buildings, overturned vehicles, and some structures showing signs of recent movement, but that could mean anything¡ªzombies, survivors, looters." Marcus clenched his jaw. "Damn it. We need something more specific." The drone continued its methodical sweep, passing over Makati, Binondo, Pasay, and other key districts. The skyscrapers were either completely abandoned or overtaken by the infected, and the streets were too densely packed to make out anything useful. After three hours of searching, frustration grew in the command center. "This isn''t working," the system officer muttered. "We could be wasting time looking at a hundred different places while Eagle is holed up somewhere completely off our radar." Marcus knew he was right. Searching a ruined city block-by-block was beyond inefficient. They needed a lead. He turned to Adrian. "If Eagle''s alive, he''s probably staying low. If it were you, where would you go?" Adrian considered for a moment. "Someplace high up, with visibility and an escape route. He wouldn''t be on the ground, not with that many zombies out there." Marcus nodded. "Then we focus on rooftops, specifically ones that have signs of disturbance or recent entry." The operator adjusted the Fire Scout''s parameters again, narrowing its search to high-rise buildings that showed signs of activity¡ªopen doors, missing barricades, movement other than zombies. Hours passed¡ªand then it was still nothing. "This is why we should focus first on clearing the wave first and then find him after," Adrian said, he too was being frustrated. Even though they were summoned with unwavering loyalty to their summoner, Thomas, they too have to think strategically as they were military officials. "Think about it, once we finish the wave, he''ll gain access to his system, acquire a radio¡ª" "That''s not simple. Even if Eagle acquires a radio from the system, it won''t do us any good if he doesn''t know how to use one properly." Adrian turned toward him. "He could figure it out." Marcus shook his head. "Radios aren''t just plug-and-play. If he doesn''t know the frequency we''re using, or if he doesn''t even understand how to configure it, he could be trying to reach us and failing. And if we have no way of detecting his transmission, then it''s useless." Adrian exhaled, rubbing his forehead. "So what? We keep blindly searching?" Marcus sighed, looking at the large map pinned to the strategy board. The UAV had already swept through most of their search radius, but the problem was that there were too many possible locations. Thomas could be holed up in any number of skyscrapers, small shelters, abandoned buildings, or even underground structures. "His best chance of survival isn''t waiting for us to find him," Adrian said, stepping up next to Marcus. "It''s getting back to MOA himself." Marcus turned toward him, listening. "Think about it," Adrian continued. "Even if he''s close, finding one person in the ruins of Metro Manila is an almost impossible task. Hell, we don''t even know for sure if he''s staying put or moving around. What if we check one rooftop, but by the time we send a team, he''s already left? We''d be wasting resources." Marcus clenched his jaw, knowing he had a point. "So you''re saying our best move is to let him come to us?" "It''s the most efficient move," Adrian replied. "We hold the strongest defensive position in Manila, we have aerial reconnaissance, and we control the largest operational zone in the city. If he starts heading back, we''ll have a much better chance of spotting him and guiding him in." Marcus was silent for a moment, weighing the options. Continue searching blindly and risk wasting time, or trust that Thomas will make his way back and use their assets to support his approach. It wasn''t the safest plan. But it was the most practical. "Very well, but we are still looking for our Supreme Commander," Marcus declared. "Of course we will, without him, we are going to be useless in this world," Adrian said. *** Two days later. Thomas checked the kill count. [767,321/800,000] It''s nearing completion. At this rate, his army in the MOA complex would finish the mission before midnight. However¡ª. The thunderous impact of something landing on the rooftop shook the ground. Thomas and Erica froze. A deep, guttural screech pierced the air, the familiar, horrifying sound of a Reaper. Erica''s eyes widened in fear. "Tell me that''s not what I think it is..." Thomas'' expression hardened. He already knew. "It''s a Reaper," he muttered, gripping his bat. He approached the door carefully and opened it ajar and peeked outside. His stomach tightened. The Reaper was there, its grotesque, bat-like wings folding against its monstrous frame as it sniffed the air, its hollow, predatory eyes scanning the rooftop. It knew something was here. Thomas closed the door as silently as possible, turning back to Erica. "It''s right outside." Erica''s breath hitched. "What the hell do we do?" she whispered. Thomas clenched his jaw, assessing the situation. They had two options. Option one: Stay hidden and hope the Reaper loses interest. Option two: Move¡ªbut they''d have to cross the rooftop, right in its line of sight. The moment they ran, it would chase them. And if it caught them? They wouldn''t be getting a second chance. The Reaper suddenly let out a shrill, earsplitting shriek. It was charging. Toward the storage room. Thomas reacted instantly. He grabbed Erica''s wrist. "We have to move. Now." Erica nodded rapidly, adrenaline surging through her body. "Where?" "The stairwell. We can''t stay here." "But we''ll have to run past it!" Thomas tightened his grip on his bat, gritting his teeth. "I''ll distract it. You run." Erica''s eyes widened. "That''s¡ªno! That''s insane!" "It''s our best shot," Thomas insisted, already preparing himself. "I''ll buy you time. When I say go, you run to the stairwell. No looking back." Erica hesitated. The doorframe shook violently as the Reaper rammed into it again. There''s no time to argue. Thomas locked eyes with her. "Do you trust me?" Erica swallowed hard, then nodded. CRACK! The doorframe splintered. "Go," Thomas whispered. Chapter 65: Boinking the Reaper The doorframe shattered. Splinters exploded into the air as the Reaper burst into the storage room. Its hulking form barely fit through the doorway, its blackened claws scraping against the concrete as it lunged forward. Thomas reacted instantly. He sidestepped the charge, grabbing Erica''s arm and shoving her toward the ground. "Go! Crawl under it! NOW!" Erica didn''t hesitate. As the Reaper snapped its jaws, she dropped to her stomach and rolled beneath its massive body. The creature''s razor-sharp talons swiped just inches above her back, missing her by a fraction. Her heart pounded in her chest as she scrambled forward, her hands and knees skidding against the rough rooftop surface. The moment she was clear, she sprang to her feet and sprinted toward the stairwell. Thomas, however, had no time to retreat. The Reaper turned on him instantly, its grotesque face twisting into a snarl. Its hollow, sunken eyes locked onto his movement, its clawed feet scraping against the concrete as it crouched, preparing to pounce. Thomas tightened his grip on the bat. If I run, it''ll chase. If I stand my ground, I have a chance. The Reaper lunged. Thomas twisted his body at the last second, narrowly avoiding its snapping jaws. With every ounce of strength, he swung his bat. CRACK! The aluminum bat slammed into the Reaper''s skull, the impact echoing through the rooftop. The creature stumbled backward, its wings flaring out as it let out a guttural, ear-piercing screech. Thomas pressed the attack. THWACK! The blow connected, sending the Reaper crashing onto one knee. But before Thomas could land another hit, the Reaper whipped its tail around. WHAM! The force slammed into Thomas'' side, sending him flying. His body crashed against a metal air-conditioning unit, pain exploding through his ribs. For a moment, his vision blurred, his chest burning from the impact. Get up. Move. Now. The Reaper was already recovering. It hissed, shaking off the daze, its jagged teeth dripping black saliva as it turned toward him. Thomas forced himself onto his feet, gasping for air. The bat was still in his grip. He adjusted his stance, ignoring the pain surging through his body. The Reaper charged again. This time, Thomas ducked low¡ªletting the creature''s massive claws swipe over his head. As the beast passed, Thomas twisted and swung at its exposed ribcage. CRACK! The blow connected, sending the Reaper reeling sideways. But it was relentless. The creature pivoted sharply, its wing snapping outward. The bony appendage smashed into Thomas, sending him tumbling across the rooftop. He rolled twice before skidding to a stop, the bat slipping from his fingers. Shit¡ª The Reaper saw the opening. It lunged forward, claws extended. Thomas had no time to retrieve his bat. Instead¡ªhe grabbed a loose metal pipe from the debris. As the Reaper closed in, he drove the pipe forward. SPLURCH! The jagged end of the pipe pierced straight through the creature''s shoulder. The Reaper howled in agony, flailing as black ichor sprayed onto the ground. Thomas ripped the pipe free, staggering backward. The creature snarled, its injured arm hanging limply by its side. But it was still dangerous. Thomas couldn''t take it head-on. He needed an opening. His eyes darted toward the stairwell. Erica had made it inside. The door was partially open¡ªshe was watching, waiting. Thomas gritted his teeth. Time to end this. The Reaper snarled, shaking off the pain. Its wings snapped open. It was preparing to launch into the air. Thomas couldn''t let that happen. The moment it took flight, he''d never be able to escape. Before it could lift off, Thomas charged forward. The Reaper reacted too late. Thomas grabbed onto its injured arm¡ªthe one he had already wounded. Using his weight, he wrenched the limb downward. The creature screeched in pain, its flight attempt aborted as it stumbled forward. Thomas seized the opening. He lifted the metal pipe high¡ª ¡ªAnd drove it straight into the Reaper''s chest. SPLURCH! The pipe sank deep, puncturing its black, rotted flesh. The creature thrashed violently, its shrieks turning into gargled gasps. But Thomas didn''t let go. He twisted the pipe, forcing it deeper. The Reaper''s movements became sluggish. Its talons clutched weakly at the air before its legs buckled. With one final, sickening wheeze¡ª ¡ªIt collapsed. Dead. Thomas staggered backward, his breath ragged. He watched the creature''s lifeless body, making sure it didn''t move again. Only when he was certain, he exhaled sharply. The fight was over. "Thomas!" He turned. Erica was at the stairwell entrance, her eyes wide. She had been watching the entire fight. Thomas wiped black ichor from his face, then grinned. "That was fun." Erica gaped at him. "Fun?! You just¡ªYou almost¡ª" She threw her hands in the air, clearly struggling for words. Then, without warning, she ran up to him and punched his arm. "Ow!" Thomas hissed, rubbing the sore spot. "What was that for?!" "For being a dumbass!" Erica snapped. "You could''ve died!" Thomas smirked. "But I didn''t." Erica groaned, shaking her head. "I can''t believe you..." Despite her frustration, he noticed something else in her expression. Relief. "You okay?" she asked, her voice softer this time. Thomas nodded. "Yeah. Let''s get the hell out of here." They both turned toward the stairwell, ready to leave the rooftop of death behind. But before they could take a step¡ª ¡ªA deep, distant roar echoed across the sky. Thomas and Erica froze. Slowly, they turned their heads¡ª Up above, in the dark clouds, they saw them. More Reapers. Circling. Hunting. And they weren''t alone. "We are not going to fight them so get inside," Thomas said. Thomas slammed the door shut behind them, locking out the rooftop and the nightmare above. Erica leaned against the wall, catching her breath. "You were way too calm about that," she muttered. Thomas ignored her comment. Instead, he focused on their next move. "We need to get down to the lower floors," he said. Erica tensed. "You do realize we fought our way up this building, right? What makes you think we won''t run into more zombies on the way down?" Thomas peered down the dimly lit stairwell. It was eerily quiet. "That''s the weird part," he admitted. "I expected this place to be crawling with them." He wasn''t wrong. When they were forced into this building, it had been a war zone. There were zombies everywhere. But now? Silence. It wasn''t normal. Something was off. Erica frowned. "Do you think... the Reapers scared them off?" Thomas shook his head. "It couldn''t be." It''s more possible if the zombies inside the building exited and went towards MOA. He shook off the thought. No point worrying about it now. "We''ll take the emergency exit," he said. "Fewer chances of running into something." Erica raised an eyebrow. "And if we do?" Thomas smirked. "Then we improvise." Erica sighed, shaking her head. "Of course you''d say that." The two of them moved cautiously down the stairwell. Thomas led the way, bat gripped tightly in his hand, while Erica watched their backs. Floor by floor, they descended. Still no zombies. Erica hesitated. "You sure this is safe?" Thomas nodded. "It''s safer than staying here." She exhaled. "Fine. But we move fast." As they reached the door, Thomas suddenly turned to her. "You got a car down there?" he asked. Erica blinked. "What?" "A car," he repeated. "In the parking lot. Do you have one?" Erica narrowed her eyes. "Yeah... why?" "Good, we are going to use that." Chapter 66: Leaving the Building Parking Lot ¨C Basement Level 2, Unknown Building. The air was stale and damp, filled with the lingering scent of fuel, rubber, and decay. Dim emergency lights flickered overhead, casting long, eerie shadows between the rows of abandoned vehicles. Thomas and Erica moved cautiously, scanning their surroundings. Zombies could be anywhere. "We should be careful," Erica whispered. "There might be some down here." Thomas nodded, his grip tightening around his bat. "Let''s keep our voices low. Where''s your car?" "Second level," she whispered back. "White Ford Territory. We need to take the ramp up." Thomas gestured for her to move forward. "Lead the way." They moved swiftly, their footsteps soft against the concrete floor. Several vehicles were either abandoned with doors wide open or had shattered windows, their insides stripped bare. As they passed a black SUV, something inside shifted. Thomas froze. A low gurgle came from the backseat. Before the zombie could spring forward, Thomas grabbed Erica''s bat and smashed it against the window. CRASH! The glass shattered, and the infected flailed violently, its rotting fingers clawing at them. Erica jumped back. Thomas didn''t waste time. He swung again, the bat crunching through the zombie''s skull. Its body slumped lifelessly against the seat. Erica exhaled sharply. "Damn it, I wasn''t expecting that." "Stay sharp," Thomas muttered. "We don''t know how many more are lurking." They pressed forward, navigating around cars, pausing at every corner to check for movement. Finally, they reached the ramp leading to the second level. "Almost there," Erica whispered. As they stepped onto the ramp, a pair of zombies lurched out from behind a wrecked sedan. They moved fast. Thomas reacted first. WHACK! His bat smashed into the first zombie''s skull, sending it crashing against the hood of a car. Erica grabbed her bat, swinging wildly at the second. Her hit landed on its shoulder, knocking it off balance, but it didn''t go down. It lunged at her. "Duck!" Thomas shouted. Erica dropped to the ground, just as Thomas swung over her head. CRACK! The zombie''s skull exploded in a mess of blood and brain matter. Erica quickly scrambled to her feet, breathing heavily. "Goddamn it, I hate this." Thomas grinned. "You handled it well." "Whatever, let''s just go," she muttered, wiping sweat off her forehead. They continued up the ramp. The second level was nearly deserted¡ªexcept for a few lifeless corpses scattered between the rows of vehicles. "There," Erica pointed. "My car." A white Ford Territory sat parked between a red hatchback and a damaged pickup truck. "Keys?" Thomas asked. Erica quickly rummaged through her bag, pulling out a key fob. She clicked it. BEEP! The SUV''s lights flashed. "Get in," Thomas said, scanning their surroundings. "We don''t have much time." They hurried inside, locking the doors. Thomas slipped into the driver''s seat, gripping the wheel, while Erica was in the passenger seat. "Where the hell are we going?" Thomas smirked. "MOA." Erica blinked. "Wait. WHAT?!" Thomas leaned back, cracking his knuckles. "We''re going to get me back to my people." Erica stared at him. "You mean... we fought our way up a building, just to go back down... and now we''re driving to your people? I hope that this one bit plan of yours is true this time." The Ford Territory''s engine rumbled to life, the sound echoing through the desolate parking lot. For a moment, both Thomas and Erica sat in silence, watching the darkness beyond their windshield. Erica gripped the dashboard. "Alright, Thomas. Explain to me how driving into a battlefield is part of a good plan." Thomas placed both hands on the steering wheel. "MOA is the only place that''s heavily fortified. My men are there, and if I stay out here too long, I''m risking more than just my life. If we go now, we might avoid the worst of it." Erica frowned. "And what if we run into something worse than those Reapers?" Thomas smirked, shifting the gear. "Then we improvise." Erica groaned, rubbing her temples. "You and your goddamn improvising." With a deep breath, Thomas stepped on the gas. The SUV lurched forward, rolling smoothly toward the exit ramp. The moment the vehicle broke through the garage exit, the sound of the roaring engine echoed through the empty streets. And the dead heard it. A chorus of low, guttural groans erupted from the shadows. Dozens of zombies turned toward the noise, their sunken eyes locking onto the moving vehicle. Then they ran. Erica''s breath hitched. "Oh, hell no." Thomas gritted his teeth. "Buckle up." He floored the gas pedal. The SUV surged forward, plowing over the first wave of zombies that had rushed toward them. Their bodies crunched beneath the tires, splattering the windshield with filth. More zombies poured from the alleyways, sprinting from abandoned buildings and wrecked cars. Some were faster than others. And some were smarter. The narrow streets of Manila had transformed into a maze of death. Abandoned cars clogged the roads. Dead bodies littered the asphalt. And yet, the worst part? The zombies weren''t just running. They were coordinating. A group of them suddenly rushed from both sides of the street, forcing Thomas to swerve sharply to the left. BANG! The SUV scraped against a rusted delivery truck, but he didn''t slow down. Erica''s knuckles turned white as she gripped the dashboard. "Jesus, they''re getting smarter!" Thomas barely had time to reply before something slammed against the right side of the car. A zombie. It had jumped onto the SUV, clinging onto the door, pounding its decayed fists against the window. And it wasn''t alone. Two more zombies leaped onto the roof, their bodies shifting the car''s weight as they tried to tip it over. "Shit!" Thomas swerved again, trying to shake them off. Erica grabbed the bat at her feet. "Keep it steady!" She rolled down her window just enough to wedge the bat through. CRACK! The bat smashed into the zombie''s head, sending it tumbling off the side of the SUV. But the ones on the roof weren''t letting go. The vehicle tilted slightly as they pounded their fists on the metal, trying to break through. Thomas growled, "If they don''t let go, we''re done for." Erica turned to him. "Then flip them off." "What?" She pointed ahead. A burned-out police barricade was blocking part of the street. A low-hanging metal beam stretched across the road. "Drive under it," she said. "Let them hit it." Thomas smirked. "Now you''re thinking like me." He accelerated. The zombies on the roof kept clawing, kept pounding. The beam was seconds away. And then¡ª WHAM! The zombies on top collided with the beam at full speed. Their bodies were ripped off the SUV, flung violently onto the pavement as the Ford shot through the gap. Erica turned around, watching the two infected twitching on the ground, their bones shattered. She exhaled sharply. "That worked." Thomas chuckled, steering around another wreck. "Told you. Improvise." Chapter 67: Could be Him or Not The command center inside MOA was a hive of activity as the battle raged on against the zombies heading towards them. Rows of monitors glowed against the dim interior, displaying multiple live feeds from drones, security cameras, and infrared scans of the city. Military personnel moved quickly, exchanging information, coordinating defenses, and monitoring the ongoing battle against the wave of undead. In the middle of the room, Marcus stood with his arms crossed, his face tense with frustration. Thomas¡ªEagle¡ªhad been missing. They had scoured the city using drones and satellite imaging, but their search had yielded nothing but more corpses and destruction. Now, they were running out of time. The wave was nearly defeated. The last remaining zombies were still being cut down at the defensive perimeter, and soon, Thomas'' system would reactivate. But Marcus wasn''t willing to leave his commander''s survival to chance. The silence was broken when one of the system officers suddenly sat up straight, his eyes widening. "Sir!" The officer''s fingers flew across his keyboard, zooming in on one of the live feeds. "We have movement!" Marcus immediately turned, stepping toward the workstation. "What kind of movement?" The officer pointed at the screen. "A vehicle. It''s weaving between the streets, avoiding wrecks and obstacles. And it''s being chased by zombies." Marcus leaned over the monitor, his gaze locking onto the live feed. The MQ-8 Fire Scout, their reconnaissance drone, hovered thousands of feet above the city, its thermal cameras tracking everything below. On the screen, a single vehicle tore through the ruined streets of Manila. A white SUV. Zombies sprinted behind it, some clinging onto its sides, others attempting to leap onto its roof. It maneuvered between overturned trucks, burned-out cars, and debris-cluttered roads, navigating the obstacles with military-level precision. Marcus'' heart pounded. "Zoom in!" he barked. The officer complied, the screen enhancing the image. A white Ford Territory. Marcus'' fingers curled into a fist. "That''s not just any vehicle. That could be Eagle''s." The command center erupted into motion. Officers crowded around the screen, their hushed conversations turning into hopeful murmurs. After two days of nothing¡ªthis was the first real sign that Thomas might still be alive. Adrian approached, his expression sharp. "Are you sure it''s him?" Marcus narrowed his eyes. "Who else could be driving like that in a war zone?" The Ford swerved sharply, narrowly missing a collapsed electric pole. Two zombies lunged onto its side, pounding against the windows. The driver accelerated¡ªveering right at the last second¡ªforcing the zombies to slam against a concrete barrier and tumble onto the road. Marcus smirked. "Yeah, that''s him." Adrian exhaled, shaking his head. "Of course, he''s still alive." Marcus turned to the system officer. "Can we establish communication?" The officer frowned, adjusting his headset. "Direct contact? Not easily." Marcus scowled. "Explain." The officer gestured to the drone''s signal transmission system. "We use encrypted radio frequencies to communicate with our drones," he explained. "But a civilian vehicle like that Ford? It doesn''t have a built-in military receiver. There''s no direct way to patch in." Marcus crossed his arms. "There has to be a way." The officer hesitated. "The only option would be open broadcasting. We could use the Fire Scout''s external speaker to transmit a message at a general frequency." "Would Thomas be able to hear it?" Adrian asked. The officer shrugged. "If his car has a working radio, and it''s tuned into the right frequency, he might. But that''s a big if. Civilian radios don''t always pick up military channels." Marcus exhaled sharply. Too many uncertainties. They needed a plan that guaranteed success. He turned toward the digital map of Manila. "What''s the fastest way to intercept them?" The system officer pulled up the Ford''s trajectory. "It''s heading west, toward Roxas Boulevard. If they keep this pace, they''ll reach the MOA perimeter in approximately fifteen minutes." Marcus thought for a moment. Fifteen minutes was too long. If Thomas'' vehicle got blocked¡ªif they got cornered¡ªthey might not survive. He turned to Adrian. "Get a strike team ready." Adrian''s expression darkened. "You want to send an extraction unit?" Marcus nodded. "I''m not sitting here and hoping he makes it. We''re going out there and bringing him back." "But I''m going to remind you that we are still not sure that it is Eagle," Adrian countered. His voice was firm, though not defiant. He wasn''t trying to argue¡ªhe was forcing Marcus to acknowledge the risk. Marcus exhaled sharply. "I know." Adrian studied him for a moment, his sharp gaze measuring the situation. "This could be some random survivor," Adrian continued. "We need to be prepared for that." Marcus ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. The stakes were high. If it wasn''t Thomas, they would have wasted valuable time and resources. But... Marcus looked back at the monitor. The white Ford Territory was still barreling through the streets, dodging debris, weaving through the maze of the undead with calculated precision. The way it moved wasn''t random. Whoever was behind the wheel knew how to drive under pressure. Marcus clenched his jaw. "It doesn''t matter." Adrian raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" "Even if that''s not Eagle, we have a mission to save civilians whenever possible," Marcus said. "If there''s a survivor out there who can drive like that, we bring them in. Best case scenario¡ªit''s Eagle. Worst case? We just saved someone who might contribute to his system." Adrian took a deep breath before nodding. "Alright." Marcus turned to one of the communications officers. "Patch me through to the strike team prep bay." The officer nodded and opened a direct line. "You''re live, sir." Marcus leaned toward the mic. "Phillip." A voice crackled through the speakers. "Been waiting for you to call my name, boss." Marcus didn''t waste time. "We might have Eagle in a civilian vehicle, but we''re not certain. Your job is to intercept and extract. If it''s him, you bring him home. If it''s not, you secure the survivor and bring them in anyway." There was a short silence before Phillip spoke again. "Copy that. I assume we''re working with a moving target?" Marcus nodded. "That''s right. The white Ford Territory is heading west toward Roxas Boulevard. You''ll need to move fast." "Understood, boss. I''ll get my team rolling." Marcus cut the line and turned back to the system officer. "Keep tracking that vehicle, and relay its position to the strike team." Chapter 68: On Their Way to Intercept The armored roar of five JLTV Oshkosh vehicles echoed through the war-torn streets as they accelerated out of the MOA perimeter. Dust and debris were kicked up in their wake, the reinforced tires crushing over long-dead corpses and bullet-ridden pavement. Inside the lead vehicle, Phillip gripped the roof handle with one hand, his other resting casually on the foregrip of his HK416. The vibrations of the heavy-duty military vehicle didn''t faze him¡ªhe had been through worse. Around him, his squad of eight Special Forces operators remained laser-focused, their helmets equipped with NVG mounts, comms headsets, and infrared beacons. Their weapons¡ªHK416s, M110 sniper rifles, and FN SCAR-H battle rifles¡ªwere locked and loaded, each outfitted with ACOG optics, IR lasers, and suppressors. "Radio check," Phillip called through his throat mic as he adjusted his tactical gloves. A series of confirmations crackled through the comms. "Bishop-2, loud and clear." "Bishop-3, all green." "Bishop-4, weapons hot." "Bishop-5, good to go." Phillip nodded, checking the mounted CROWS (Common Remotely Operated Weapon Station) on the JLTVs. The .50 caliber M2 Browning machine guns swiveled smoothly, tracking threats as they navigated the city. Their objective? Intercept the white Ford Territory before it was overrun. Phillip turned toward his driver who kept his eyes on the road. "ETA?" "Four minutes if we keep pushing," the driver replied, gripping the wheel tightly as he swerved past a burned-out APC. "But the roads are littered with obstacles. We might have to go off-road." Phillip nodded. "We''re not stopping. We reach that vehicle, or we die trying." As the JLTVs tore through Manila, the remnants of the zombie horde still clashed against the MOA defense line. Summoned soldiers held the barricades, unloading sustained bursts of 5.56mm and 7.62mm rounds into the approaching undead. M2 Browning machine guns fired in controlled bursts, tearing through the massive bodies of the more mutated undead. Overhead, AH-64 Apache attack helicopters swept through the air, their Hydra 70mm rockets obliterating clusters of zombies attempting to breach the outer walls. Amidst the chaos, Marcus stood inside the command center, monitoring the extraction team''s progress. "Bishop Team is en route," the system officer reported. "They''ll reach the vehicle in three minutes." Marcus exhaled, watching the live feed from the MQ-8 Fire Scout. The white Ford Territory was still speeding through the streets, its tires screeching as it narrowly avoided collapsed structures and burning wrecks. The undead were relentless. Zombies sprinted behind it, some clawing at the windows, while others jumped onto the roof¡ªdesperate to get inside. Erica and Thomas were fighting for their lives. Marcus clenched his fists. Hold on. We''re coming. Two minutes later. "Shit! They''re everywhere!" Erica shouted as she jammed her bat into the face of a zombie clinging to her window. Thomas gritted his teeth, both hands locked on the steering wheel as he swerved violently to throw off the infected clinging to the SUV. The Ford Territory tore down an abandoned four-lane road, dodging burnt-out vehicles and overturned buses. The undead weren''t just chasing them¡ªthey were trying to tip the car over. Two zombies clung to the passenger side, their rotting hands punching against the glass. Another crawled onto the hood, its yellowed eyes locking onto Thomas as it smashed its head against the windshield. CRACK! The glass spiderwebbed, but didn''t break. Erica twisted in her seat, and shoved the bat Erica twisted in her seat, shoving the bat through the cracked windshield and into the zombie''s face. WHACK! The undead''s skull caved in, its body sliding off the hood and rolling onto the pavement. Thomas swerved hard to the right, barely missing a burned-out police cruiser. The SUV''s tires screeched against the cracked asphalt as they barreled down an alley, weaving through debris and wreckage. But the zombies weren''t stopping. More were pouring in from both ends of the alley. "We''re boxed in!" Erica shouted. Thomas'' eyes darted between his rearview mirror and the road ahead. "Not yet." He floored the gas. The Ford Territory surged forward, smashing through a pile of abandoned bicycles, sending them flying. Behind them, the undead vaulted over wrecked cars and crawled along the alley walls, their feral eyes locked onto their prey. Two zombies leapt from the rooftops, crashing onto the roof of the SUV. THUD! The metal groaned under their weight as they began to pound their fists against it. Erica whirled. "Shit! We got two on the roof!" The vehicle tilted slightly as the undead shifted their weight, trying to unbalance them. Thomas cursed. "They''re trying to tip us!" A third zombie lunged at the driver''s side, slamming its rotting fist against the window. The glass spidered but didn''t break. "Hand me the bat," Thomas barked, keeping one hand on the wheel as the SUV jerked violently. Erica barely had time to react before she tossed the bat into his waiting grip. Thomas yanked his foot off the gas pedal for just a second¡ªjust enough for the sudden deceleration to throw the zombies forward. WHACK! Thomas jammed the bat upward, slamming it into the roof of the car, hearing a sickening crunch as it connected with one of the zombies clinging on top. A muffled shriek followed as the undead tumbled off the side, its rotting body slamming into the pavement. One down. But the second zombie was still hanging on, its fingers clawing desperately at the edge of the shattered sunroof. THUNK-THUNK-THUNK! The second zombie continued hammering the shattered sunroof, its decayed face pressing against the glass, hollow eyes filled with unrelenting hunger. "Get this thing off!" Erica shouted, gripping the dashboard as the Ford Territory swayed violently from side to side. Thomas barely had time to respond before another THUD rocked the vehicle¡ªanother zombie had leapt onto the hood, smashing its rotting fists against the windshield. The cracks deepened. One more hit and the glass would give out. "Shit!" Thomas gritted his teeth, knowing he had seconds before they were ripped apart. He did the only thing he could¡ª He slammed the brakes. The SUV skidded, tires screeching as the sudden deceleration flung both zombies forward. The one on the sunroof lost its grip, tumbling over the windshield¡ª WHAM! It crashed against the hood just in time for the second zombie¡ªwho had been pounding the windshield¡ªto be crushed underneath its falling companion. The weight and impact shattered the windshield completely, sending shards of glass flying into the car. Thomas and Erica shielded their faces as a flailing, snarling corpse rolled into the cabin. "FUCK!" Erica screamed. The zombie thrashed wildly in the cramped space, its jaws snapping inches from Thomas'' arm as it lunged forward. "Kick it out!" Thomas shouted, trying to keep control of the car. Erica didn''t hesitate. She planted both feet against the zombie''s chest and kicked with everything she had. The undead lurched backward, its body half-dangling out of the gaping hole in the windshield. Thomas seized the moment. He swerved left¡ª Slammed the brakes again¡ª And sent the zombie rolling onto the pavement. "Okay, it''s clear," Thomas said, panting. "Uhm...what is that in front of us? Are those moving vehicles?" When Thomas looked to where Erica was looking at, his eyes widened in familiarization. Chapter 69: Finally Some Familiar Faces The rumbling of heavy engines filled the air as five JLTV Oshkosh vehicles maneuvered into position, encircling the battered Ford Territory, cutting off all possible escape routes. Inside the SUV, Erica gripped the seat, her breathing shallow. "We''re trapped," she muttered, her eyes darting between the towering vehicles. Thomas, however, remained unnervingly calm, his expression unreadable as he watched the military convoy tighten their formation. "What the hell is this?" Erica''s voice edged toward panic. "Are these guys enemies? Are we about to get shot?" Thomas didn''t answer immediately. Instead, he studied the approaching lead JLTV as its passenger door swung open. A man clad in tactical gear, carrying a HK416, stepped out. His confident stride, relaxed posture, and easy smirk gave Thomas all the confirmation he needed. Phillip. The moment their eyes met, Phillip rapped his knuckles against the cracked driver''s-side window. "Driver''s license and registration," he quipped, the hint of a grin on his face. Thomas exhaled a tired chuckle before reaching out and bumping his fist against Phillip''s arm. "Good to see you, too," Thomas muttered. "Welcome back, boss," Phillip said, his eyes sweeping over the vehicle''s ruined state. The shattered windshield, the dents from undead bodies, and the blood smears all told a story of survival. "Looks like you had fun out here." Thomas scoffed. "Yeah, a real blast." Phillip leaned slightly, his gaze shifting to Erica in the passenger seat. "And who''s this?" He smirked. "Don''t tell me you''ve started picking up girls after being kidnapped by a Reaper." Erica blinked in disbelief. "Excuse me?!" Thomas rubbed the back of his neck. "Right, I haven''t introduced you guys." He turned to Erica. "What''s your name?" "Erica," she said hesitantly, still eyeing the armed soldiers warily. Thomas nodded. "Phillip, this is Erica. She''s the one who saved my ass while I was out here." Phillip raised an eyebrow. "Your savior, huh?" He extended a gloved hand toward Erica. "In that case, thanks for keeping him alive. We''d be kinda screwed without him." Erica hesitated for a second before shaking his hand. "Uh... sure. No problem." Phillip took a step back, surveying Thomas again. "So, boss, what do you need?" Thomas sighed, stretching his stiff arms. "A good night''s sleep, a hot bath, and some damn good food." Phillip grinned. "Then let''s get you home." "Wait¡ªwho are they? Who are you?" Erica asked with a dumbfounded expression. "My men and Thomas respectively," Thomas answered. "Come on now, we are safe, let''s hop out." Thomas exited the battered Ford Territory, stretching his stiff limbs as the cool night air brushed against his skin. Behind him, Erica remained seated, still gripping the edge of her seat, her mind struggling to process everything. Thomas''s men? Who even was he? Up until now, she had assumed he was just another survivor¡ªone who got lucky. But seeing the way these heavily armed soldiers responded to him, how they treated him with familiarity and respect, it was clear he was something more. She wasn''t just traveling with some regular survivor¡ªshe had been with someone important. Phillip folded his arms, watching as Thomas took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. Then, his nose crinkled. "Jesus Christ," Phillip muttered, taking a step back. "You smell like a goddamn corpse, boss." Thomas smirked. "Gee, thanks, Phil. You always know how to make a guy feel welcome." Phillip shook his head, waving his hand in front of his face. "No, seriously. That zombie stench is caked into you. You need a decontamination bath before you step foot anywhere near civilization." Thomas glanced down at himself, his once-dark clothes now stiff and crusted with dried blood, dirt, and God knows what else. He reeked of death and decay, and honestly, he was too damn tired to care. "Yeah, yeah," Thomas muttered. "I''ll deal with it when we get back." Phillip shot him a look. "No, you''ll deal with it before we get back. No way in hell I''m letting you sit in one of the JLTVs smelling like that." Thomas shot him a glare. Phillip raised his hand. "Of course, I''m just messing with you sir." Thomas exhaled. Thomas exhaled, but before he could reply, Erica finally stepped out of the vehicle. She hesitated for a moment, taking in the scene before her¡ªthe towering armored vehicles, the well-equipped soldiers, the disciplined way they moved. Her fingers curled into fists as she turned toward Thomas. "Okay, what the hell is going on?" she demanded. "I just risked my life to help you escape, and now suddenly you''re some kind of big shot leader with a private army?!" Thomas rubbed his temple, exhausted. He had expected this reaction. "It''s... complicated," he admitted. Phillip chuckled, leaning against his JLTV. "Yeah, you could say that." Erica glared at both of them. "You better start uncomplicating it, because I just went through hell thinking we were both regular survivors!" Thomas exhaled. "Look, I appreciate what you did back there. You didn''t have to help me, but you did. I won''t forget that." He gestured to the heavily armed convoy around them. "But the truth is¡ªI''m not just a survivor. I''m in charge of this place." Erica''s eyes narrowed. "You''re their leader?" Phillip grinned. "Not just a leader. He''s the Supreme Commander of the private army. We don''t have a name yet but it''s going to be a catchy one when our boss came up with one, right boss?" Erica''s jaw nearly dropped. "You''re kidding." "Nope," Phillip said, still smirking. "He''s the reason MOA is still standing. If it weren''t for him, we''d all be dead." Erica turned back to Thomas, stunned. "So, what, you''re some kind of military officer?" Thomas shook his head. "No. Let''s save the question and answer for later. Aren''t you tired from running from zombies and fighting them?" That answer didn''t explain much¡ªbut before Erica could press further, Phillip clapped his hands. "Alright, alright, enough questions for now. Boss needs a bath, food, and some actual sleep. Let''s move before more of those freaks show up." Phillip waved over one of the operators, who pulled a spare tarp from the back of the JLTV. "Strip," Phillip said. Thomas blinked. "What?" "You heard me," Phillip said, tossing him a canister of military-grade disinfectant spray. "Take off your clothes, spray yourself down, and wrap yourself in the tarp. No one is letting you inside smelling like that. Come on sir, we may be your summ¡ªI mean men, but we still can smell." Thomas groaned. "This is humiliating." Phillip smirked. "No, what''s humiliating is walking around smelling like a zombie''s ass. Just do it." Thomas grumbled, but at this point, he was too tired to argue. With a sigh, he peeled off his ruined, blood-stained shirt, tossing it aside. The cold night air stung his skin, but the real discomfort came when he sprayed the disinfectant over his arms, torso, and legs. The chemical burned slightly, but it was better than carrying the stench of death back to base. Erica, meanwhile, had turned away, arms crossed. "This is so weird," she muttered. Phillip grinned. "Welcome to Thomas'' world. And you will do that as well." "Excuse me?" Erica shot him a glare. "Look, our leader was no exception, you are going to do it," Phillip said, leaving no room for rebuttal. "Fine..." Erica removed her clothing except from her bra and panties and sprayed herself with disinfectant and after that, one of the soldiers handed her a tarp, which she used to cover herself. Satisfied, Phillip patted the side of his JLTV and grabbed his radio. "Alright, let''s get out of here. Command this is Bishop Actual¡ªEagle is secured, we are RTB, out here." Chapter 70: Return to Base The convoy of JLTV Oshkosh vehicles rumbled through the perimeter of MOA Complex, kicking up dust as they rolled past barricades and defensive structures. The once-bustling shopping district had been transformed into a heavily fortified military base, surrounded by layers of barbed wire, watchtowers, sandbags, and machine-gun nests. The sounds of distant gunfire and explosions echoed through the night as summoned soldiers and local forces engaged lingering zombie threats outside the perimeter. Inside the lead JLTV, Thomas sat silently, his head resting against the window, exhaustion finally creeping in. Erica, wrapped in the tarp, looked around in awe and confusion. This wasn''t the MOA she remembered¡ªit was a damn fortress. "Jesus..." she murmured under her breath, eyes scanning the surroundings. The main entrance loomed ahead, the area brightly lit with LED floodlights mounted on the surrounding structures. Soldiers patrolled the walls, and automated gun turrets tracked movement beyond the gates. A check-in station was positioned at the entrance, where soldiers verified all personnel entering the complex. As the JLTVs came to a stop, the doors swung open, and Thomas stepped out first. Erica followed closely, still feeling overwhelmed by the sheer scale and organization of the operation. Waiting for them at the entrance stood Marcus, Adrian, and Rebecca, along with several high-ranking officers. Marcus, arms crossed, was the first to step forward. "About time," he said. "Thought you were gonna take a vacation out there." Adrian let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Kidnapped by a Reaper and still walks back like it''s nothing." Rebecca, standing with her hands on her hips, sighed. "Honestly, sir, do you have any idea how much of a pain in the ass it was looking for you?" Thomas exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. He had no energy for this right now. "Yeah, yeah, spare me the lecture," he muttered. "I just got back, I''m tired as hell, and I smell like a corpse. Can we skip to the part where I sleep?" Before anyone could respond, Adrian''s eyes landed on Erica, who was standing slightly behind Thomas, her gaze darting around as if trying to process everything. "Who''s the girl?" Adrian asked. Erica stiffened, realizing all eyes were now on her. She wasn''t used to this level of attention, especially from a group of high-ranking military officials. Thomas turned slightly, gesturing toward her. "This is Erica," he said. "She saved my ass out there." Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Saved? You mean she actually fought off the infected for you?" Thomas nodded. "Yeah. More than once." Rebecca whistled, looking at Erica with new interest. "Well, that''s a first." Erica remained silent, still taking everything in. This place was nothing like the MOA she remembered¡ªthe stores were now military depots, the main halls filled with soldiers, and the entire area was a warzone. A loud explosion erupted in the distance, followed by a burst of gunfire. She flinched slightly, her fingers instinctively clenching into fists. Thomas noticed. "Don''t worry," he said, lowering his voice slightly. "It''s just cleanup duty. The area inside is secure." She nodded slowly, still not entirely at ease. Phillip, who had been quiet up until now, clapped his hands together. "Alright, boss, let''s get you cleaned up. You look like absolute shit." Thomas rolled his eyes. "Appreciate the honesty." He turned to Erica. "Come on. You''ll be staying in the Conrad Hotel for now." She blinked. "Wait, what?" "Trust me, you need some rest just as much as I do," Thomas said as he led the way inside. The inside of the Conrad Hotel was nothing like the chaos outside. The luxurious five-star lobby remained surprisingly intact, with polished floors, elegant chandeliers, and pristine furniture. The difference was that it now functioned as a secured VIP residence. Soldiers were stationed near the elevators, checking IDs, while a few civilians¡ªlikely those with valuable skills¡ªmoved around. Erica couldn''t hide her disbelief. "You live here?" she asked, incredulous. Thomas simply nodded, stepping into the elevator. "You''ll have a room next to mine," he said. "Everything''s still working¡ªelectricity, warm water, even stocked supplies." Erica folded her arms, skeptical. "This is insane. The world is literally falling apart, and you''re telling me you still have hot showers and room service?" Thomas smirked. "Something like that." The elevator doors opened at the fifth floor, revealing a quiet hallway. Thomas gestured toward two doors. "Yours is the one on the right," he said. "Get some rest. We''ll talk more after we''ve both had sleep." Erica hesitated, then finally nodded. "Fine," she muttered. "But when we wake up, you''re explaining everything." Thomas smirked slightly. "Yeah, yeah." She entered her suite, and the moment she stepped in, she nearly gasped. It was fully furnished, complete with a king-sized bed, warm lighting, a stocked minibar, and a private bathroom. She walked to the bathroom, turning the faucet¡ªhot water ran instantly. Erica let out a shaky exhale. For the first time in weeks, she was about to sleep in a real bed. And the thought nearly brought her to tears. Eight hours later¡ªwhen night had fully settled over the city¡ªThomas woke up feeling like a human again. His body was still sore, but after a long, hot shower, he felt renewed. His appetite, however, was ravenous. Dressed in fresh clothes, he stepped out of his room and knocked on Erica''s door. A moment later, she opened it, looking freshly cleaned and well-rested. "You look alive now," Thomas noted. She huffed. "I feel like a new person. Seriously, a hot bath? I thought those were extinct." He smirked. "Come on. Dinner''s ready." Erica followed him to his suite, where a large dining table was set up¡ªplates filled with steak, mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, fresh bread, and even a bottle of red wine. Erica froze, her brain struggling to process the sight. "You''re kidding," she muttered. "You guys have actual food like this?" Thomas sat down, cutting into his steak. "Welcome to civilization." Erica hesitated before finally taking a bite. Her eyes widened. The flavors¡ªthe rich, juicy steak, the creamy mashed potatoes, the crisp bread¡ªit all tasted like the world before everything collapsed. For a moment, she forgot about everything. The zombies. The chaos. The death. It felt like a piece of the past was still here. She swallowed, staring at Thomas. "You really are the leader here, huh?" she finally asked. Thomas met her gaze, setting his fork down. "Yeah," he said simply. "I am." Chapter 71: You are Playing With Fire "I can''t still believe it," Erica said as she took another bite from her steak. "I believe everyone has the same reaction," Thomas said nonchalantly as he also took another bite from his steak. "But I don''t have the time to convince them that I am the real leader, and not some figurehead." "So before you got into my building, you were fighting the zombies outside, and got caught by what you call Reapers?" Erica inquired. "That''s correct. If not for the Reaper, the two of us wouldn''t meet." "And if that didn''t happen, I guess I would die alone in my office," Erica said, realizing Thomas''s presence in her life. "Well you can thank the Reaper for putting me in that building," Thomas chuckled, and Erica followed. Then¡ªthere was silence, they enjoyed the food that was in front of them, and they savored every bite of it as they knew it would be a luxury in the near future. Not unless Thomas decided to raise cows and other domesticated animals, which is he was considering. It took them ten minutes to finish their meal, and Erica let out a sigh of satisfaction. "That was so delicious! Thank you, Thomas," Erica said with a smile. "Ahh~you have done so many good things to me. Is there a way for me to repay you?" Thomas contemplated for a moment. She doesn''t have anything that he wants from her aside from the fact that he is a boost to his balance in experience and gold coins. "No we are even, you saved my life back there, so you don''t have to do anything," Thomas said. Erica leaned back in her chair, her fingers trailing along the rim of her empty wine glass, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "You know, Thomas," she mused, her voice smooth and almost sultry, "I don''t think my conscience can rest until I properly repay you." Thomas exhaled, pushing his plate aside. "Like I said, we''re even. You don''t owe me anything." Erica tapped her lips with her finger, tilting her head slightly. "Hmm... But it doesn''t feel right. You''ve given me so much¡ªa safe place, food, a hot bath... Surely, there must be something I can do to make it up to you." Thomas took a slow sip from his glass, keeping his expression neutral, but he could already sense where this was going. Erica was playing a game. And she was good at it. He set his glass down carefully. "I don''t think I need anything from you, Erica." She hummed in thought, stretching her arms, and tilting her body slightly towards him. "Are you sure?" she purred, her tone playful yet dangerously inviting. Thomas shifted slightly in his seat. "I''m sure." Erica smirked, clearly enjoying his uneasy confidence. "You know," she mused, standing up gracefully, "there''s one thing I''m really good at." Thomas raised an eyebrow, watching as she walked around the table, her fingers lightly tracing the polished surface, her hips swaying just enough to be noticeable. "I thought you were that." She stopped just behind his chair, placing a hand on his shoulder, and then reached down. "I am that, but it doesn''t mean that I don''t have a knowledge of it," Erica whispered so softly that it''s caressing his ears. "You don''t have to act tough, I know you want me." Thomas gulped as he could feel his thing down there was getting hard¡ªand she noticed the bulge. "See..." she whispered, her breath warm against his skin, "even your body says that you want me." Thomas clenched his jaw, willing himself to stay composed, but it was getting increasingly difficult. She was good at this¡ªtoo good. "I think you''re misinterpreting things," he muttered, his voice lower than usual. Erica chuckled softly, her lips just inches from his ear. "Oh? Am I?" Her delicate fingers trailed down his arm, barely grazing over his skin. Thomas inhaled sharply. His restraint was hanging by a thread. "You''re playing a dangerous game," he warned, his tone steady, though his pulse betrayed him. Erica pulled back slightly, moving around the chair to stand in front of him. Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she rested a hip against the table, arms crossed, watching him like a predator toying with its prey. "Oh, Thomas..." she sighed dramatically, tilting her head, her hair cascading over her bare shoulders. "You act so disciplined, so controlled... but I wonder..." she trailed off, her eyes flickering downward for a split second before meeting his again. "Just how much willpower do you really have?" Thomas remained silent, his fingers curling into fists on his lap, fighting the urge to react. Erica leaned forward, too close¡ªher silky skin illuminated by the warm light, her lips teasingly parted. "Tell me," she whispered. "If I sat on your lap right now... would you push me away?" Thomas gulped. That damn smirk of hers widened. "You wouldn''t, would you?" she teased, running a finger down his chest, feeling his tense muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. Thomas'' heartbeat quickened, and he could feel his body warming. He couldn''t control himself anymore. She may be five or six years older than him but he would pounce at her. His gaze shifted, from her collarbones, to her ample bosom, and her thick thigh. She has all the qualities that would make any man fall for her charm. "Well¡ªdon''t say I didn''t warn you," Thomas suddenly rose and lifted her up before she could react, hoisting her effortlessly into his arms. Erica let out a small gasp, her mischievous expression flickering with a brief moment of surprise before it morphed into something far more sultry. "Oh?" she breathed, looping her arms around his neck. "So you do have limits." Thomas carried her toward the bed, and dropped her onto it, , hovering over her, his arms braced on either side of her. Erica bit her lip, her eyes filled with daring amusement. "Guess I pushed you too far, huh?" "You wanted to play games," Thomas said, his voice lower, rougher than before. "I just decided to stop holding back." Erica leaned in, brushing her lips dangerously close to his, but she didn''t close the distance. Instead, she smirked. "So... what now, young Commander?" Thomas'' jaw tensed. He could feel the heat radiating off her, her body pressing just slightly against his, enough to drive his senses wild. He let out a low chuckle, eyes locked onto hers. "You tell me." Erica''s fingers trailed up his chest, then to his collar, playing with the fabric. "I thought you were supposed to be the one in charge." Thomas smirked. "Then I say you''re getting way too comfortable in my territory." Erica chuckled, eyes gleaming. "I like being comfortable." Then, she pulled back just slightly, teasingly. "But I don''t think you can handle me." Thomas raised an eyebrow at that, amusement flickering in his expression. "Oh? Is that a challenge?" Erica tilted her head, grinning. "Maybe." Thomas exhaled, the restraint he had been holding onto slipping further. His eyes darkened, his pulse pounding. Then¡ªwithout another word¡ªhe grabbed her by the waist and pulled her flush against him. Erica gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders as their bodies pressed together. "You''re playing with fire, Erica," he murmured, his breath fanning against her lips. Her smirk never faded. "Then burn me." And in that moment, Thomas lost all hesitation. Chapter 72: Dont Blame me For This Thomas stripped her off her clothes, starting from her top, revealing her ample bosom, blocked by a black bra. He looked at it for a moment, he wanted to touch it, and test how it feels. His friends back then who had experienced sex told him that it was fluffy and soft, and touching felt like heaven. He couldn''t wait to test it himself, and so he grabbed one mountain and squeezed it, and it was indeed very soft, fluffy, and warm. Erica let out a moan as Thomas played with it, and finally, he removed the bra by pulling it off. And there he saw a peach-colored nipple, and it was enticing. He wanted to try sucking it, and since she was basically surrendering her whole being to him, he dug in. He sucked, slurped, and licked around the nipples. Erica arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips as Thomas''s mouth worked against her sensitive skin. Her fingers threaded through his hair, gripping tightly as waves of pleasure coursed through her body. "You''re... better at this than I expected," she breathed, her voice caught between a taunt and a confession. Thomas pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. "I have watched a lot of porn before this." His hands moved lower, tracing the curve of her waist, the softness of her stomach, until they reached the waistband of her panty. He paused there, his fingers playing with the garter. "Second thoughts?" Erica challenged, though her rapid breathing betrayed her own eagerness. Thomas smirked. "Just savoring the moment." Slowly, he slid his fingers beneath the elastic of her underwear, feeling her warmth against his fingertips. Erica inhaled sharply, her eyes locked with his, that playful defiance still dancing in them despite her quickening breath. "Don''t tease me," she whispered, a command disguised as a plea. Thomas chuckled low in his throat. "Wasn''t that exactly what you were doing to me earlier?" He pulled the last piece of fabric down her legs with deliberate slowness, watching her expression shift from anticipation to impatience. When she was finally bare beneath him, he took a moment to drink in the sight of her¡ªall smooth curves and flushed skin in the dim light of the room. "Like what you see?" she asked, her confidence unwavering even in her vulnerability. "More than you know," Thomas admitted. "Eat me," Erica commanded. "With pleasure." He moved down her body, trailing kisses along her stomach, feeling her muscles tense beneath his lips. Erica''s breathing quickened as he settled between her thighs, his hands gripping her hips firmly. She propped herself up on her elbows, watching him with half-lidded eyes, a challenge still evident in her gaze despite her obvious arousal. "I didn''t think you''d actually¡ª" Her words cut off with a sharp gasp as Thomas''s mouth found her most sensitive spot. Her head fell back, fingers clutching at the sheets as waves of pleasure coursed through her. Thomas worked with surprising skill, alternating between gentle and firm, reading her body''s responses with an intuition that belied his supposed inexperience. "Oh my..." Erica''s back arched as Thomas continued his ministrations, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as her thighs trembled on either side of his head. "Wait," she panted, tugging him upward. "Come here." Thomas complied, moving up her body until they were face to face. Erica''s eyes were dark with desire, her cheeks flushed, hair splayed wildly across the pillow. "Your turn," she whispered, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. With nimble fingers, she undid them one by one, pushing the fabric off his shoulders to reveal his toned chest. Her hands explored him, tracing the contours of his muscles, the scars from previous encounters with the undead. And his body was hot, to the point she reached down on his erected shaft and she gasped at how hard it was in her palm. "You''re quite... impressive," she whispered, a genuine note of appreciation mingling with her teasing tone. Thomas watched her face, finding unexpected satisfaction in the way her eyes widened, the almost reverent way her fingertips explored him. "Take off your pants," she commanded huskily. "I want to see all of you." Thomas obliged, shedding the last of his clothing until they were both naked, revealing his six inches shaft. Erica grabbed onto it and started pumping it up and down. "You like that?" she whispered "Yes," he admitted, the single word strained. Erica smirked, clearly enjoying the power she held over him in this moment. She continued her rhythmic movements, watching his face with undisguised pleasure as his composure began to crack. She moved her mouth closer and took him into her warmth, one inch at a time. Thomas inhaled sharply, his hand instinctively moving to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her silky hair. The sensation was overwhelming¡ªwet heat enveloping him as Erica sucked him. It lasted for two...three...four minutes, and Thomas could feel something gushing. "Wait," Thomas gasped, gently pulling her away. "I''m close¡ª" Erica released him with a deliberate slowness, a self-satisfied smile playing on her lips. "We can''t have that happening too soon, can we?" she teased, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She pushed him onto his back, straddling his hips. Her hands splayed across his chest as she positioned herself above him, her eyes never leaving his. Thomas''s hands found her waist, fingers digging into her soft flesh as she began to move. Erica set a languid pace at first, rising and falling with deliberate slowness, her head tilted back, exposing the elegant curve of her throat. "You feel..." Thomas''s words dissolved into a groan as she clenched around him. Erica smiled down at him, her hair falling like a curtain around her face. "Use your words, Commander," she teased, rotating her hips in a way that made his breath catch. Thomas responded by thrusting upward, disrupting her rhythm and drawing a surprised gasp from her lips. Her composure faltered momentarily, replaced by raw pleasure. "Better than I imagined," he finished. Moments later. Thomas felt himself approaching the edge, the pressure building with each roll of Erica''s hips. His hands gripped her tighter, guiding her movements, matching her thrust for thrust. "I''m close," he warned, his voice strained. Erica''s eyes locked with his, her pupils dilated with desire. "Inside," she breathed. "I want to feel you." He flipped her suddenly, pinning her beneath him without breaking their connection. Erica''s eyes widened in surprise before darkening with approval. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper as he established a new, more intense rhythm. "I''m coming!" And then it happened. His semen gushed forth inside of her. Seconds later, Thomas collapsed beside her, both of them breathing heavily. So this is how sex feels like. It felt so good, and to think that his first is with a beautiful woman, he couldn''t be more satisfied. It wasn''t until a minute passed when Erica spoke. "Ready for round 2?" Erica asked, looking at him with a mischievous smile. "Let me rest first," Thomas said. Chapter 73: Finally Over The soft glow of morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of Thomas''s suite, casting warm hues over the luxurious sheets. Thomas stirred, his mind groggy yet oddly clear as he slowly opened his eyes. His body ached¡ªnot from battle, not from exhaustion, but from something else entirely. The events of last night came rushing back to him in waves. His first time. With her. Thomas shifted slightly, feeling the weight of another body beside him. His gaze drifted downward, where Erica lay curled up against him, the blanket draped loosely over her bare form. Her soft, steady breathing was the only sound in the quiet room. He swallowed hard, his mind replaying every moment¡ªher teasing, her warmth, the way she moved against him, the way she cried out his name. It had been overwhelming, almost surreal. Losing his virginity wasn''t something he had ever put much thought into, especially in a world as broken as this. But last night had been... incredible. A small, satisfied smile tugged at his lips, but before he could fully process his thoughts, Erica shifted beside him. A soft groan escaped her lips as she stretched lazily before cracking one eye open. Her gaze met his, and for a moment, she just stared at him before a smirk formed on her face. "Good morning," she purred, her voice laced with amusement. Thomas cleared his throat, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and satisfaction. He was used to commanding soldiers, leading men into battle¡ªbut this? Waking up next to a woman like this? It was an entirely different battlefield. Erica rolled onto her side, propping her head up with her hand as she looked at him with mischievous eyes. "You were rough last night," she mused, running a lazy finger across his chest. "I think you broke me." Thomas tensed slightly at her words. "I¡ªuh¡ª" he started, unsure of how to respond. Erica laughed at his reaction. "Relax. I liked it." She exhaled, stretching once more before wincing slightly. "But I might not be able to walk properly for a while." Thomas ran a hand through his hair, unsure whether to feel guilty or proud. "I¡ªuh¡ªdidn''t think I was that rough." She smirked. "Oh, you were. But don''t worry, I enjoyed every second of it." Thomas exhaled, still processing everything. "Last night was... different." Erica chuckled, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin. "Different good or different bad?" He met her gaze. "Different good." She hummed in approval. "I''d hope so. Would be a shame if I wasted all my effort on a newbie." Thomas rolled his eyes. "I wasn''t that bad." "No," she admitted, her smirk softening. "You weren''t." A comfortable silence settled between them. Erica remained close, her head resting against his shoulder, her fingers trailing absentmindedly along his arm. "You thinking about something?" she asked after a moment. Thomas sighed. "Just... I didn''t expect any of this to happen." She gave a small smile. "Neither did I." They stayed like that for a while, neither of them moving, simply enjoying the warmth of each other''s presence. But eventually, reality crept back in. Erica yawned, pushing herself up slightly. "As much as I''d love to stay in bed all day, I should probably get up." Thomas raised a brow. "You just said you can''t walk." Erica smirked, challenging. "Wanna bet?" She threw off the covers and attempted to stand, but the moment her feet hit the floor, her legs wobbled, and she quickly collapsed back onto the bed with a soft curse. Thomas smirked, crossing his arms. "Told you." Erica shot him a glare before laughing. "Okay, fine. You win." Thomas shook his head, lying back against the pillows. "Take your time." She huffed. "I will. But don''t get cocky just because you wrecked me." He smirked. "No promises." She chuckled, pulling the blanket over her once more. "Guess I''m stuck here a little longer, then." "And I will have to return back to work," Thomas said. "I am sure that my officials are waiting for me at the command center." Erica groaned, flopping back against the pillows dramatically. "Ugh, already back to being the Supreme Commander?" She turned her head to look at him, her lips curled into a teasing smirk. "Can''t you just take one day off? I mean, you did work pretty hard last night." Thomas exhaled, shaking his head. "Unfortunately, running a military operation doesn''t come with vacation days." He shifted, sitting up on the edge of the bed and stretching his arms. His muscles ached, but it was a good kind of soreness¡ªdifferent from the exhaustion of battle, yet just as demanding. Erica watched him with amusement, propping herself up on one elbow. "You''re really not even gonna take a little break, huh?" Thomas glanced over his shoulder, smirking. "I just did. Eight hours of sleep, warm food, and... well, last night." Erica grinned. "Fair enough." He stood up, heading toward the bathroom. "I need a shower before I head out. You should rest more if you need it." Erica raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so now you''re suddenly concerned for my well-being?" Thomas rolled his eyes as he turned the water on, waiting for it to warm up. "You said yourself that you might not be able to walk." "I never said I was weak." She grinned, stretching her arms above her head, the sheets slipping slightly. "Besides, it''s been a while since I had this much fun." Thomas shook his head as he stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash over him. As much as he enjoyed her company, reality was creeping back in. There was still an entire city to defend, soldiers who relied on his command, and a war against the undead that wouldn''t stop just because he had a night of pleasure. Then¡ªout of nowhere, his system, the one that he had missed, prompted with an interface. [Congratulations! You have successfully completed the quest titled: Testing Your Mettle.] "Ehh?" Thomas tilted his head to the side. It was finally over? Chapter 74: Completed [User: Thomas Estaris] [Level: 47] [Experience Points: 83,321,663/84,015,992] [Skills: Combat Proficiency Level 4, Weapon''s Proficiency Level 4, Charisma Level 4, Leadership Level 4. Driving Level 4. Aviation Level 4.] [Souls: 1M+] [Blood Coins: 54,341,555] Thomas looked at his new stats, and the amount of blood coins that he received was a huge reward as with that amount, he would be able to appropriate more weapons and military hardware, increase manpower, and strengthen their base in case of another wave. Moments later, as he was still staring at it, another message prompted. [There will be new features unlocked for the system: You can assign your summon to access the system. The summon that you have granted access to can make purchases in the system. This is only limited to one summon, and you can change it anytime. Thomas read the new feature and realized the importance of it. After all this time, he was the one buying the military hardware as he was the exclusive user of the system, and despite it being an easy task, he knew that he was missing out some unique aspects in the buying process as he would often time prioritize what''s cooler than what is important. For example, buying an AC-130 and not being able to deploy it during the zombie wave due to the lack of infrastructure. The blood coins that was spent on could have been used to purchase more tanks, IFV, helicopters, and guns Thomas exhaled, thinking through the implications. Up until now, he had been the sole controller of the system, making every decision on what to buy and when. While that gave him complete control, it also meant he was prone to personal biases¡ªchoosing what was cool rather than what was necessary. His recent mistake with the AC-130 was proof of that. It was a powerful gunship, yes, but without the proper airstrips and refueling stations, it was useless during the last zombie wave. If he had allocated those Blood Coins toward tanks, IFVs, more helicopters, or better ground fortifications, the fight would have been much easier. With this new feature, he could offload some of the decision-making to someone more specialized. But who should he assign? His mind immediately went to Marcus¡ªhis Deputy Chief of Staff. He is the perfect man for the role...and he will inform him later. He grabbed a towel, running it over his damp hair before wrapping it around his waist. His muscles ached slightly¡ªnot from battle, but from last night''s other activities. He smirked at the thought. Erica had certainly been... energetic. Shaking his head, he focused on the present. He had wasted enough time, and now it was back to business. With efficient movements, he toweled himself dry and moved toward the closet in his suite. Inside was a selection of neatly arranged military and casual clothing. He grabbed a black tactical shirt, dark combat pants, and a pair of sturdy boots Once dressed, he strapped on his tactical wrist device, adjusted the holster on his belt, and ensured that his sidearm was secured properly. Even inside their fortified base, he never walked unarmed. Finally, he ran a hand through his damp hair, ruffling it into place before exhaling deeply. Time to get to work. *** At the command center, Conrad. Thomas was greeted and saluted by his officials. Thomas strode into the Command Center, his presence immediately drawing attention from his officials and officers. Conversations halted momentarily, and soldiers snapped to attention, saluting as he passed. He acknowledged them with a nod, wasting no time as he approached the central operations table, where Marcus, Adrian, Rebecca, and several other high-ranking personnel awaited him. "Commander," Marcus greeted him first, his expression sharp and focused. "Good to have you back." Thomas nodded, stepping forward as he looked at the map of the MOA complex displayed over the screen. "What''s the latest?" he asked, his tone all business. "Well, we have exterminated all the zombies near our perimeter...we have successfully defended the MOA complex from the zombie wave," Marcus reported. "How about our casualty reports? "We lost 80 men," he reported and continued. "We have another 89 wounded, though most are stable thanks to our medics." Thomas exhaled through his nose, his expression neutral, but internally, he was calculating. The losses weren''t catastrophic, but they were still losses. Every soldier that died was another trained fighter that had to be replaced, another drain on resources, and another reminder that they were still in a war of attrition. "How''s the morale?" he asked. Marcus folded his arms. "It''s holding. The fact that we won and didn''t get overwhelmed helps. The men are exhausted but relieved." He paused. "That being said, we need to start reinforcing recruitment. Some of our guys have been fighting non-stop for weeks. Even the best soldiers will burn out eventually." "Well they can rest now since we have finished the emergency quest. Oh¡ªI forgot, how about our military hardware? I''m sure some of them were destroyed due to the emergence of the mutated zombies, right?" "That is right sir, but we are still finalizing the reports. The moment we confirm it, we will relay it to you." "That would be great as I''m planning on increasing our military hardware by a lot. And there will be massive reconstruction of the MOA complex to accommodate fixed-wing aircraft." "About time sir," Marcus said, chuckling. Then Thomas addressed the whole staffers present inside the command center. "Everyone, I would like to thank you all for your unwavering efforts in defending this base and ensuring our survival. Your dedication, resilience, and sacrifice have allowed us to overcome yet another challenge. But the war isn''t over. Our next priority is fortification. We need to ensure that the next wave, whenever it comes, won''t even get close to our walls. That means stronger defenses, better weapons, and a more sustainable supply chain. Effective immediately, we''ll be focusing on restructuring MOA into a true military stronghold." He paused for a moment as he turned to Marcus. "Marcus, you will be the one handling that operation." "Me sir?" Marcus asked, pointing to himself. Thomas nodded. "Yes you are as I will grant you access to my system. Whatever this base needs, you will provide, and I prefer the base overgeared." "Yes sir! It will be an honor." Chapter 75: The Survivors Part 1 In the SMX Convention Center, MOA Complex. It has been like a week since the survivors were gathered in the convention for the reason they don''t know why. For days, the only sounds that they can hear was the sound of a huge gun firing and an explosion hear and there. Some feared the worst, convinced that the apocalypse had finally caught up to them. Others held onto hope, believing that the military forces outside were still fighting to keep them safe. But with each passing day, sleep became harder to come by. Among the survivors was a priest, a frail man in his sixties, who had taken it upon himself to lead daily prayers. Every morning and evening, a small group would gather around him, seeking comfort in his words. Some clung to his words like a lifeline. Others, hardened by loss and suffering, remained skeptical. But whether they believed or not, everyone shared the same question¡ªWhat happens next? Then, finally, after seven days of waiting, something changed. The doors to the convention center opened. A group of armed soldiers entered, their black uniforms and tactical gear unmistakable. These weren''t just regular military¡ªthey were part of Thomas Estaris''s private army, disciplined and well-equipped. Their presence immediately silenced the murmurs among the survivors. One of the soldiers stepped forward and spoke. "The Supreme Commander will be speaking with you all shortly. Please remain where you are and avoid any unnecessary movement," the soldier announced. A heavy silence followed. The survivors exchanged glances, uncertainty clear in their eyes. For the past week, they had been kept in the dark, listening to distant battles with no knowledge of their fate. And now, finally, they were about to get answers. More soldiers filed into the convention center, positioning themselves strategically along the walls and at the exits. Then, the murmuring began. "Supreme Commander?" "Who the hell is that?" "Is he with the government?" Questions rippled through the crowd, but no answers came. Minutes passed before the heavy doors at the far end of the hall swung open once more. And then he entered. Thomas Estaris. Dressed in his signature black tactical uniform, his presence alone commanded attention. He walked with measured steps, his sharp gaze scanning the room with an intensity that silenced any lingering whispers. Flanking him were Marcus, Adrian, and several high-ranking officers¡ªeach one exuding authority. Stopping at the center of the hall, Thomas let his gaze sweep over the assembled crowd. His eyes met those of men and women who had once been office workers, students, and shopkeepers. Now, they were nothing more than lost souls seeking purpose. Then, he spoke. "You''ve been waiting for answers." The hall remained dead silent. "You''ve heard the battles outside, the gunfire, the explosions. You''ve wondered whether the world was finally caving in around you." A few heads nodded unconsciously. "But fear not, my men had fought valiantly to protect this fortress and all the zombies that threatened to invade us were either vaporized or burned. I am happy to announce to you all that you will return to your respective units and continue your normal life. Though the start of the apocalypse had redefined our definition of normal, what I am saying is that the battle is over and you will now no longer be held inside of this convention." Hearing that, the tension that had gripped the survivors for days finally began to lift. A wave of relieved murmurs spread throughout the crowd before erupting into scattered cheers. The words they had been desperately waiting for¡ªthe battle is over¡ªhad finally been spoken. Some hugged each other, others sighed in deep relief, while a few simply stood there, stunned, as if struggling to process what they had just heard. The thought of stepping outside, of breathing fresh air and seeing the sky again, felt almost surreal. Thomas raised a hand, and the hall quickly fell silent again. "But before we proceed, listen carefully. You will exit in an orderly manner. No pushing, no running. Follow the instructions given to you by my men. This is not a free-for-all. If you act out of line, you will be detained." His words immediately set the tone. There would be no chaos, no disorder. He gestured to Marcus, who stepped forward and unfolded a large clipboard. "The survivors will be sorted into groups," Marcus announced. "Each of you will be assigned to an area where you will receive further instructions. We will call your names in batches. When you hear your name, step forward and follow the designated escort. Do not deviate from your assigned route." A few nervous glances were exchanged among the survivors, but most nodded in understanding. Thomas continued. "To maintain security, everyone will undergo medical screening before they are released into the complex. Any injuries or suspicious conditions will be checked and treated accordingly. If you are sick, do not try to hide it. My medics are trained to help." A soldier stepped forward, adding, "Food and water stations have been set up outside. You will each receive a ration pack and a temporary housing assignment until further notice. More details will be provided once everyone is accounted for." At the mention of food, a new energy rippled through the crowd. The past week had been filled with uncertainty and hunger. The promise of stability, even in a world as broken as this, was more than enough to keep them in line. Moments later¡ªone of the survivors raised their hand. "Yes?" Thomas asked, pointing at the survivor who seemed to be in his mid-forties, prompting him to speak. "This is about the unit assignment. Why are you changing it?" Thomas had expected the question and so he knew the answer to it. "During the operation, some buildings which some survivors are living in were damaged. Our engineering department are currently assessing it as we speak and will be repaired once they have the relevant information aiding them to the reconstruction." The survivor understood the explanation and nodded slowly. "I see... so it''s temporary, then?" Thomas shook his head. "Not all units are permanent as we could be expecting survivors arriving in the MOA complex in the future. We have to be practical with the living space so I hope you understand. Now, do any of you have any further questions?" No one raised their hands. "Very well, please proceed." Experience tales with My Virtual Library Empire Chapter 76: The Survivors Part 2 Samantha stood in line with the other survivors, her arms crossed as she watched the military personnel work with efficiency. The survivors were being processed one by one, their names called in batches before they were escorted to their designated locations. The entire system was organized¡ªtoo organized. It didn''t feel like a temporary shelter but rather the restructuring of a functioning society under military rule. She inhaled deeply, pushing the thought aside. What mattered was that the fighting was over. She wasn''t trapped in a university overrun with zombies, starving and waiting for death. She was alive. That was enough¡ªfor now. A soldier standing by a desk called out a new name. "Garcia, Samantha!" She stepped forward, meeting the eyes of the officer seated behind a digital tablet. "Name?" he asked, though he was already typing it in. "Samantha Garcia." "Age?" "Eighteen." "Former occupation?" "I am a Student, I don''t have work." "Notable skills?" Samantha hesitated. Notable skills? In the old world, she would have said something like writing or research, maybe even organizing student events. But here? What did any of that matter? The officer looked up, waiting. She scrambled for an answer. "I... I can cook a little. I know basic first aid, and I¡ªuh¡ªI was part of my university''s emergency response team." The officer nodded, his fingers moving swiftly over the screen. "Any medical conditions?" "None." A few more taps, and then the officer handed her an identification card. ID: 0371-SG Name: Samantha Garcia Civilian Status: Tier 1 Resident Work Assignment: Community Services (Medical Aid & Logistics) Housing Unit: Shore Residence Tower C, Level 4, Room 412 Samantha glanced at the card, frowning slightly. "Community Services?" The officer didn''t even look up. "That means you''ll be assisting in medical stations and ration distribution until further notice. If you perform well, you may be reassigned based on future evaluations." "Uhm¡ªwhat does Tier 1 mean? I have been wondering about it." "Tiers is the system of where we ranked the importance of a survivor. You being a Tier 1 meant that you are an important personnel, that is of course you are close friends with the Supreme Commander. We have three tiers. Tier 1 consists of essential personnel¡ªthose with skills or connections valuable to the survival and growth of the MOA Complex. That includes high-ranking officials, medical professionals, engineers, and... well, those closely associated with Commander Estaris." Samantha blinked. So that was it. She was ranked highly not because of her skills, but because she knew Thomas personally. "And the other tiers?" she asked. "Tier 2 consists of trained personnel¡ªlaborers, craftsmen, logistics workers, and others who contribute to maintaining order in the complex. They''re given stable housing and work but have limited privileges." Samantha listened carefully, taking in every word. "Then there''s Tier 3," the officer said, his tone shifting slightly. "Those are the unskilled, the ones without any real contributions yet. They do the hardest jobs¡ªcleaning, manual labor, perimeter patrols¡ªand live in the least comfortable conditions. But they can climb the ranks if they prove themselves." Samantha frowned. It was a strict but effective system. If she hadn''t known Thomas, she probably would have been assigned to Tier 2 or even Tier 3. "One last thing," the officer said, handing her a small data chip. "This contains your official identification and clearance. Don''t lose it." Samantha nodded and stepped aside, her mind still processing what she had learned. The survivors were being categorized, ranked, and assigned work like pieces in a larger machine. It was clear that Thomas wasn''t just rebuilding a safe haven¡ªhe was establishing a structured society under his control. A female soldier motioned for her to follow, leading her through the exit toward a waiting military truck. More survivors were already seated inside, each of them clutching their ID cards with varying expressions¡ªrelief, confusion, or quiet frustration. The truck rumbled forward, moving deeper into the MOA Complex. Samantha sat quietly, her fingers tapping against the edge of her ID card as she observed the others. Some looked exhausted, others wary, and a few even appeared resigned to whatever fate awaited them. No one spoke. The ride wasn''t long. Within minutes, they pulled up near the MOA Arena, where a large, well-organized food distribution center had been set up. Rows of tents and military crates formed makeshift stations, and long lines of survivors stretched across the area, each waiting for their turn. Samantha stepped off the truck along with the others, immediately falling into line as instructed. Armed guards stood watch, their presence a clear reminder that order would be maintained. There was no room for chaos here. The line moved steadily forward, each survivor receiving a metal tray with a serving of steamed rice, a small portion of canned meat, and a cup of water. It wasn''t much, but after a week of uncertainty, even a simple meal felt like a luxury. When Samantha reached the front, a soldier handed her a tray with the same ration. She accepted it silently, stepping away to find an empty seat at one of the long folding tables under a large military-grade tent. She sat down, glancing around. The atmosphere was tense¡ªmuted conversations, the occasional sigh, but no real energy. People were exhausted. Even those who were relieved to be alive knew that survival here came with conditions. Across from her, a man stirred his rice absentmindedly before sighing. "They really are running this place like a military state," he muttered, more to himself than anyone in particular. Samantha took a bite of her food before replying, "It''s better than being out there." The man scoffed. "Maybe. But we''re not free, are we?" "Do you really care about your freedom when your life is at stake? You can be free outside but die within hours, if you are lucky, days." "You are young, what Tier are you?" "Tier 1," Samantha replied. "Tier 1? You looked like a high school student. How come you are above the rest of us?" The man frowned, studying her as if trying to piece together the puzzle. Samantha hesitated. She had expected this reaction. It was obvious that she didn''t have any special skills or experience that warranted such a ranking. The only real reason was Thomas. "I knew Thomas Estaris before all this happened," she admitted, keeping her voice neutral. "We were classmates." The man scoffed, shaking his head. "Figures. Connections mean everything, even in the apocalypse." Samantha didn''t bother arguing. He wasn''t wrong. While she had been given a decent position, others who had survived just as much hardship¡ªmaybe even more¡ªwere forced into lower tiers, working harder for fewer privileges. She took another bite of her food, chewing slowly. The rice was dry, the canned meat salty, but it was edible. Across the tent, she could hear hushed conversations, people exchanging thoughts on their assignments, their housing, their futures. Most didn''t know what to expect. Neither did she. A commotion near the food distribution area caught her attention. A middle-aged man in ragged clothes was arguing with one of the soldiers. "I worked in construction for fifteen years! You''re telling me I''m just some Tier 3 grunt now? I should be in logistics or engineering, not shoveling debris!" The soldier remained unfazed, his rifle slung across his chest. "If you prove yourself, you can move up. Until then, follow your assignment." The man cursed under his breath but didn''t push further. Samantha noticed the tension in his shoulders as he grabbed his food and stomped toward the seating area. Find exclusive stories on My Virtual Library Empire It was clear¡ªThomas had built an efficient system. But not everyone was happy about it. Samantha finished her meal quickly, placing her tray in one of the designated bins before stepping out of the tent. The air outside was thick with the scent of gun oil and concrete dust, the sound of distant construction filling the space between conversations. A soldier near the exit noticed her and nodded. "Your residence is in Shore Tower C, correct?" She nodded. "Follow that road past the barricades, take a left at the security checkpoint. You''ll find your building there. Show your ID if you get stopped." "Yes sir." Chapter 77: The Survivors Part 3 Thomas sat at the head of the long conference table inside the command center, his sharp gaze locked onto the digital display in front of him. A detailed spreadsheet was projected on the main screen, listing potential acquisitions of military hardware¡ªfrom armored vehicles and missile defense systems to drones and fixed-wing aircraft. Marcus stood beside him, arms crossed, as he analyzed the data with a calculating eye. "The budget we have from the Blood Coins is more than enough," Marcus said, scrolling through the projections. "If we prioritize land and aerial defense, we can reinforce MOA into something unbreachable." Discover stories at My Virtual Library Empire Thomas nodded. "We need anti-air defenses in case an external threat presents itself. The Patriots are a good start, but I want close-range missile defense systems covering all critical points. Iron Dome or at least something akin to it." Marcus smirked. "You''re talking about full-on wartime defenses, not just holding back the dead." Thomas leaned forward. "We have to think ahead. The apocalypse isn''t just about surviving the undead anymore. Other factions, rogue militaries, or even remnants of the old world government could come knocking. And if they do, we need to be ready." He tapped a section of the display showing armored reinforcements. "We also need more IFVs and mechanized units. The last wave proved that mobility is just as important as firepower." Marcus nodded. "We can acquire more M2 Bradleys and LAV-25s. If we want heavier firepower, we could consider adding Leopard 2 tanks." Before Thomas could respond, the doors to the conference room opened, and Rebecca stepped in, her expression tight. "Sir, we have a situation with some of the survivors," she announced. Thomas raised an eyebrow. "What kind of situation?" Rebecca placed a tablet in front of him, pulling up files on a group of survivors. "Some of the recently processed civilians are causing trouble. They''re protesting against the tier system, claiming it''s unfair." Thomas glanced at the report, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. "Unfair how?" Rebecca sighed. "They don''t like being assigned to manual labor. Most of them were internet celebrities before the outbreak¡ªcontent creators, K-pop idols, influencers. People who made a living through social media. Now that they''re being relegated to cleaning duties, construction, or logistics, they''re not taking it well." Thomas exhaled, already feeling a headache coming. "So, they thought clout would save them in the apocalypse." Rebecca smirked slightly. "Essentially. Many of them were rich in the old world, living off sponsorships and ad revenue. But without the internet, that means nothing. Some of them had expected privileges because of their past fame." Marcus scoffed. "So, what? They thought they''d get penthouse suites and free food while the rest of us actually worked?" Rebecca nodded. "Pretty much. They''re upset that they''re Tier 3, being forced to do manual labor." Thomas picked up the tablet and scrolled through the names. Some were former vloggers, Twitch streamers, and TikTok personalities. Others were K-pop and P-pop idols. He recognized a few from pre-apocalypse news cycles¡ªgroups that had millions of fans, now reduced to struggling survivors. He leaned back in his chair. "Have they caused any actual disruptions?" Rebecca nodded. "Some of them have refused to report for their assignments. Others have been spreading rumors, trying to rally people against the system. We''ve contained it for now, but this could escalate." Thomas tapped his fingers on the table, considering. "Where are they now?" Rebecca checked her tablet. "We''ve separated them for now. Some are in holding, others are still in the housing zones, sulking." Thomas exhaled. "Alright, I want to meet them. Gather the key instigators and bring them here. I want to hear their grievances directly." Rebecca hesitated. "Are you sure, sir? People like them... they''re used to talking their way out of things." Thomas smirked. "Then let''s see if their words are worth more than their actions." Thomas sat behind a metal desk in a dimly lit room, his hands clasped together as he waited. The door opened, and two soldiers escorted in a group of four survivors¡ªtwo women and two men, all of them appearing out of place in their now ragged clothes. Their eyes held a mixture of defiance and nervousness. One of them, a woman with long black hair and striking features, crossed her arms as she sat down. She had the aura of someone who was used to being admired. Next to her, a man with dyed blond hair looked annoyed, while the other two¡ªa younger woman and a lean man¡ªremained silent. Thomas leaned back, studying them. "Do you know why you''re here?" he asked. The black-haired woman scoffed. "Because you''re forcing us to do grunt work like we''re some nobodies." Thomas arched an eyebrow. "And you think you''re not?" She frowned. "Before all this, I was a global idol. Millions of fans. Sold-out concerts. People worshipped me. And now I''m scrubbing floors." Thomas exhaled, shaking his head. "Let me make something clear¡ªyou were famous in a world that no longer exists. Your fans? They''re either dead or trying to survive. The internet? Gone. Your music? Irrelevant. The only thing that matters now is what you can do to help keep this place running." The blonde man scoffed. "You act like we''re useless, but we''re stars. People listen to us." "People used to listen to you," Thomas corrected. "Now, they listen to the ones keeping them alive." The younger woman spoke up. "But why assign us to manual labor? Can''t we do something else?" Thomas tilted his head. "What else do you bring to the table? Can you build? Cook? Provide medical care? Handle logistics? Fight? Because if all you can do is dance and entertain, then yes, you''re going to clean floors until you prove you can do something more valuable." Silence. The black-haired woman clenched her jaw. "You''re being unfair." Thomas leaned forward. "No, I''m being practical. This isn''t about who you used to be. It''s about what you can do now. You want to move up? Then prove you''re worth more than just a pretty face." The blonde man sneered. "And what if we refuse?" Thomas smirked. "Then you''ll enjoy the privileges of Tier 3¡ªrationed meals, minimal shelter, and the hardest jobs. And if you keep causing trouble, I can always move you lower. So stop acting like a spoiled brat before we kick you out." The black-haired woman, her defiance faltering, clenched her fists but remained silent. The blonde man scowled but said nothing more. The other two, sensing that arguing further was futile, averted their gazes. Thomas leaned back, exhaling through his nose. "I''m not here to punish you. I''m giving you a reality check. The world you knew is gone. Status, wealth, fame? None of that matters anymore. What matters is survival. And if you want to be a part of this community, you contribute." The two nodded with a defeated expression. "Thank you¡ª," They both left the room and Thomas glanced at Rebecca. "I want to talk to the P-pop and the Kpop idols that we have talked to before the zombie wave. I want to know why there are two idol groups in the MOA complex." "According to my research, they had an event in this place." "I see¡ªthat makes sense." Chapter 78: The Survivors Part 4 Thomas Estaris walked through the halls of Shore Residences, his expression neutral as he headed toward another meeting. This time, it wasn''t about military reinforcements or logistics¡ªit was about the P-pop group that had been stranded in the MOA Complex since the outbreak. Phillip walked beside him, reading from his tablet. "The group calls themselves ALAB. Seven members, all female. They were here for an event when everything collapsed. Just like RAVE, the K-pop group we dealt with before." Thomas sighed. "Another group of idols. Fantastic." Rebecca, walking on his other side, added, "Unlike RAVE, they haven''t caused problems. But that doesn''t mean they''re adjusting well. From what we gathered, some of them still haven''t fully grasped their situation." Continue reading at My Virtual Library Empire Thomas stopped in front of the door and looked at them. "Let''s see if they understand it now." The guards opened the door, and Thomas stepped inside, scanning the room. The seven members of ALAB sat together, looking tense. Across from them, RAVE sat quietly, already aware of what this meeting was about. The leader of ALAB, a woman with long black hair, stood up slowly. "You''re the Supreme Commander?" she asked. Thomas nodded. "That''s me." He crossed his arms and looked at them. "I''ll get straight to the point. You''ve been here for weeks now. You''ve seen how this place works. Everyone contributes. So tell me¡ªwhat can you do?" The members looked at each other, hesitant. Finally, one of them spoke. "We... we can sing, dance. Perform." Thomas sighed. "That''s not useful." The leader swallowed. "We can learn something else." Thomas nodded slightly. That was a better answer. "Then tell me¡ªwhat are you willing to do? Medical aid? Logistics? Food distribution? Maintenance?" Another silence. Some of them looked uneasy, but the leader finally answered, "We can do community work. Help where needed." "That''s a start," Thomas said. "You''ll be assigned to community services¡ªfood distribution, medical stations, and logistics work. You start at Tier 3 like everyone else without skills. If you prove yourselves, you''ll move up." Some of them looked relieved. The youngest of the group hesitated before speaking. "We''ll do our best." Thomas turned to RAVE, who had remained quiet. "And you? Are you adjusting?" The leader of RAVE nodded. "Yes, sir. We understand how things work now." "Good." He glanced at Rebecca. "Get their assignments sorted." Rebecca nodded. "I''ll handle it." Thomas looked back at both groups. "You were famous once. That doesn''t matter anymore. What matters is survival. If you want to stay, you contribute. If you don''t like it, you can leave. But once you step outside, you''re on your own." The room stayed silent, but no one argued. With that, Thomas turned to leave. Phillip smirked. "That went smoother than last time." Thomas exhaled. "For now." There were bigger things to worry about. The world wasn''t getting any easier. The next morning, the members of ALAB and RAVE reported to their assigned community service duties. The adjustment was rough. At the food distribution center, the idols found themselves behind long tables, handing out trays of rice and canned meat to the long lines of survivors. The work was repetitive, tedious, and exhausting. They had to stand for hours, dealing with impatient people who sometimes complained about the food portions. "This is ridiculous..." One of the ALAB members, Nina, muttered as she scooped rice onto a plate. "We used to perform on stage for thousands, and now we''re serving food?" "At least we''re not scrubbing floors," another one, Yana, sighed, her fingers stiff from handling countless plates. Meanwhile, some members were assigned to logistics, working in the storage warehouses. They moved heavy boxes, counted supplies, and recorded rations on paper logs. It was nothing like their past lives of makeup, rehearsals, and concerts. "I never imagined I''d be stacking crates instead of practicing choreography," Kai, a member of RAVE, murmured, wiping sweat from her forehead. "It''s this or starving," her teammate Minji responded flatly, adjusting the sleeves of her oversized uniform. Despite the rough start, they didn''t complain too loudly. They knew what the alternative was. As time passed, the idols began adapting. The food distribution work, while tiring, allowed them to interact with survivors. They began recognizing regular faces, some of whom treated them with kindness. An older woman smiled warmly as she received her meal. "Thank you, dear. You remind me of my granddaughter. She used to love your music before all this happened." That caught Nina off guard. The thought of fans¡ªpeople who still remembered them¡ªmade her feel a little less lost. Over at logistics, Kai and Minji got faster at handling supply records. They even figured out ways to organize inventory more efficiently. "This is easier than memorizing dance routines," Minji muttered one afternoon as she stacked ration boxes into neat rows. As much as they had resisted in the beginning, they had to admit¡ªthey were getting used to it. Some nights, after finishing their shifts, they would gather outside near the supply tents. Survivors would sit around makeshift tables, sharing stories while eating. One evening, a little girl approached them, hesitating before speaking. "Ma''am, can you sing something?" she asked softly, her big eyes looking up at them hopefully. The members exchanged glances. It had been a long time since they had performed. There was no stage, no lights, no cameras¡ªjust a group of weary survivors looking for a moment of escape. After a moment of hesitation, ALAB and RAVE sang softly, their voices blending in harmony. It wasn''t a grand performance, but for a few minutes, the world felt a little lighter. After a long day of work, the idols walked back toward Shore Residences, their temporary housing. It was late, and most survivors were already inside their designated shelters. As they turned a corner near an alley, they noticed a group of men standing nearby, whispering among themselves. The moment the idols walked past, the men stopped talking and stared. The gaze they received was not one of admiration, but something far more unsettling. A slow, eerie grin spread across one of the men''s faces. "Well, well... look at that," one of them muttered. Another chuckled. "Didn''t think we''d get this lucky." The idols felt their stomachs twist. They weren''t naive. They had spent enough time around men like this to know what those looks meant. Kai instinctively grabbed Nina''s arm. "Let''s go. Now." The group quickened their pace, hearts pounding, but the men followed behind at a casual pace, as if enjoying the fear in their steps. The safe walls of the MOA Complex didn''t mean much if danger was inside them. "We need to get to the guards," Minji whispered. "But they''re on the other side of the street¡ª" "Then we run." The group exchanged looks, steeling themselves. They weren''t superstars anymore. They weren''t famous singers or dancers. They were survivors. And survivors had to fight. Before the men could get any closer, they bolted toward the guard station. They would not become victims. Not here. Not now. Chapter 79: Not Feels Safe The members of ALAB and RAVE sprinted through the dimly lit alley, their breaths ragged as they searched desperately for any sign of a patrolling guard. Their footsteps echoed against the cracked pavement, mixing with the muffled laughter of the men following behind. "Where are the guards?" Nina gasped, scanning the area frantically. "They were here earlier," Kai panted, her hands trembling. "Where the hell did they go?" The safe zones of the MOA Complex were supposed to be heavily patrolled, but right now, the streets felt eerily abandoned. Minji risked a glance back¡ªthe men were still following them, their movements slow but deliberate. One of them, a burly man with a jagged scar on his cheek, sneered. "Why are you running, sweethearts? We''re just saying hello." Another man, wearing a torn military jacket, chuckled darkly. "You''re acting like we''re the bad guys." "Because you are," Kai muttered under her breath, fear turning into a cold knot in her stomach. They turned a corner, heading toward the checkpoint at the residential zone, but their hearts dropped¡ªthe station was empty. No guards. No soldiers. No one. The realization hit them like a brick to the chest. They were alone. A sinking feeling settled in. The MOA Complex was supposed to be safe, but safety only existed when someone was watching. And tonight, no one was. "Shit," Yana whispered. "We have to double back¡ª" But as soon as they turned, their stalkers had already blocked the path. Five of them, standing there, their leering faces illuminated by the faint glow of a broken streetlamp. The scarred man cracked his knuckles. "Now, now. Why the rush? You should be grateful we''re giving you attention." The idols instinctively backed away, pressing themselves against a cold metal door. Their hands searched desperately for a way out, but there was none. They were trapped. Minji''s breathing became erratic. Her fists clenched. They weren''t going down like this. "We don''t want trouble," she said, keeping her voice steady. "Just let us go." The man in the military jacket tilted his head. "Oh, but you see... trouble found you." A wave of dread washed over them. The men stepped forward. And no one was coming to stop them. Kai''s hands tightened into fists. "Stay back," she warned. Scarface chuckled. "Or what? Gonna sing at us?" Nina felt sick. She had read stories about situations like this, but never in her life did she think she would face it. Her entire body screamed at her to run, but there was nowhere to go. Another man, younger than the others, licked his lips. "Haven''t seen girls like you in a while. Bet you''re still soft, yeah?" Rage and fear twisted inside Minji. They had survived zombies, starvation, and losing everything they ever knew. They weren''t going to let these scumbags take one more thing. She took a deep breath, then moved. She lunged. Her fist connected with the younger man''s nose with a sickening crunch. "AH¡ª!" He staggered back, blood gushing down his face. For a moment, the other men were stunned. Then¡ªeverything exploded. Scarface grabbed Minji''s wrist and twisted it painfully, slamming her against the metal door. Kai tried to claw at him, but another man yanked her back, grabbing her by the hair. Yana screamed, trying to pull them away, but one of the attackers shoved her hard against the wall. Their hands¡ªrough, forceful¡ªgrabbed at them, pushing, restraining. Discover stories at My Virtual Library Empire "NO!" Nina kicked wildly, her foot connecting with someone''s shin, but it wasn''t enough. Minji struggled against Scarface, gasping for air as his hand clamped around her throat. "You little bitch," he snarled. "You wanna fight?" Nina thrashed, her nails raking against a man''s face, drawing blood. For a moment, they thought they had gained an opening¡ª But more hands grabbed them. Panic set in. They were losing. And no one was coming. "HELP!" Minji screamed, her voice tearing through the empty street. Her cry echoed, bouncing off the silent buildings of the MOA Complex, but no response came. No running footsteps, no shouts from patrolling soldiers¡ªjust the low, amused chuckles of the men surrounding them. "Go on, scream all you want," Scarface sneered, tightening his grip on her wrist. "Ain''t nobody gonna hear you." Kai thrashed in the grasp of the man who held her by the hair. "LET ME GO!" She twisted, nails digging into his arm, but he only grunted, his grip like iron. Yana kicked wildly, her boot connecting with a shin, making one of them curse. But another man slammed her back against the wall, knocking the breath from her lungs. The youngest of the group, Nina, tried to run, her legs trembling, but one of the men caught her from behind, his arms locking around her waist. She screamed, but his hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her cries. Minji struggled harder. "Somebody HELP US!" No answer. It was like the entire complex had vanished around them. Their supposed safe haven had turned into a trap. The realization sent a jolt of pure terror through them. "We don''t wanna hurt you," one of the men said mockingly, his fingers curling around Kai''s chin, forcing her to look at him. "Just relax. We''ll take real good care of you." Kai spat in his face. He cursed, raising his hand as if to slap her¡ª CRACK! Minji bit down¡ªHARD¡ªon Scarface''s wrist, tasting blood. "AGH!" He yanked his arm back, cursing. She kicked at his leg, shoving him off her, and in that split second of freedom, she grabbed a loose brick from the ground. "LET. US. GO!" She swung it with all her strength. The brick smashed into Scarface''s face, sending him stumbling back. Kai elbowed her attacker in the gut, making him loosen his grip. Yana jabbed her fingers into her captor''s eye, making him howl. For a moment, they were free. But it didn''t last. The men¡ªangry now, their amusement gone¡ªlunged again. Minji turned to run, but Scarface tackled her to the ground, pinning her down. "You''re DEAD, bitch," he snarled, blood running down his nose. Kai screamed as rough hands yanked her back. Yana and Nina kicked and flailed, but they were outnumbered, outmatched. Their last hope had been that someone would come. That someone would hear them. But as they screamed again, their voices breaking¡ª No one did. Chapter 80: The Guardian Angels Two soldiers patrolled the perimeter, their boots echoing against the cracked pavement. "Man, this is boring," Gideon, a young soldier with short brown hair, muttered, adjusting the rifle slung over his shoulder. Beside him, Damian, a taller and older soldier, chuckled. "Kid, boring means we ain''t getting attacked by zombies or raiders. You should be grateful." Gideon sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Still, you''d think with all these people, something exciting would happen once in a while." Damian smirked. "Careful what you wish for." They walked along the commercial district, occasionally checking the side alleys and rooftops for any signs of movement. Patrols were meant to ensure security, but most of the time, it was just a lot of walking in circles. "You think the Supreme Commander really plans to turn this place into a full city?" Gideon asked. Damian nodded. "Yeah. And I think he''s serious about it. We''ve got defenses, food supply chains, medical stations. It''s only a matter of time before we start expanding beyond the walls." Gideon whistled. "I can''t wait to see the upgrades that we are making in this complex." Damian smirked. "Words on the street said that they are going to turn this moa complex into a livable place where normal life can flourish." As they continued walking, something felt off. Damian slowed his pace, his sharp eyes scanning the area. Gideon frowned. "What is it?" "Shh." Damian raised a hand, listening. At first, there was nothing but silence. Then¡ªa noise. A muffled scream. Both men tensed. Gideon''s grip tightened on his rifle. "Did you hear that?" "Yeah." Damian''s expression darkened. "Let''s move." They took off down the street, moving fast but controlled, weapons ready. As they got closer, the sounds became clearer¡ªscuffling, struggling... and laughter. Their stomachs twisted. "Fuck," Gideon cursed. "This ain''t good." They rounded a corner into an alley¡ªand froze. Five men had four women pinned against the walls and the ground. The women¡ªmembers of ALAB and RAVE¡ªwere desperate, terrified. Their clothes were torn, their faces bruised, their bodies struggling against their captors. One of the men, a bastard with a scarred face, was on top of Minji, his hand clamped over her mouth as he forced her wrists down. Another man had Kai by the hair, yanking her back as she clawed at his arms. Yana and Nina were being held down, their captors grinning, their hands roaming. The women were fighting, kicking, biting¡ªbut they were outnumbered, overpowered. And then¡ªthe worst part. Their eyes. Wide with terror. Helpless. Gideon''s blood boiled. He raised his rifle. "GET THE FUCK OFF THEM!" The sound of a cocked weapon shattered the air. The men froze. Scarface turned, his sneer vanishing instantly. Damian and Gideon stood at the alley entrance, weapons aimed, fingers on the trigger. The atmosphere shifted in an instant. "Let them go," Damian said, his voice dangerously calm. "Now." One of the men, a younger thug, raised his hands slightly. "Hey, hey, relax, soldier boy. We were just¡ª" Gideon cut him off. "I SAID, LET THEM GO!" Scarface clenched his jaw, his grip on Minji tightening. "Tch. You wouldn''t shoot us. We''re survivors, just like you¡ª" BANG! A gunshot exploded in the alley, the bullet shattering a streetlight above them. Scarface flinched. Damian lowered his smoking barrel. "Next one goes between your eyes." For a second, no one moved. Then, slowly¡ªthe men released their grips. Minji gasped as she was let go, scrambling away. Kai shoved her attacker off, grabbing Yana''s arm. The idols staggered toward the soldiers, trembling. Damian didn''t lower his weapon. His voice was cold as ice. "Now get on your knees. Hands behind your heads." Scarface glared. "You can''t just¡ª" Gideon punched him in the face. The man crashed to the ground, blood spilling from his nose. "I SAID, ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES!" The rest of the men, realizing they had no way out, slowly complied. Damian turned to the girls. His voice softened. "Are you okay?" Minji tried to speak but couldn''t. She just nodded, her hands still shaking. Kai wiped her tears, her body trembling. "You¡ªyou got here just in time." Gideon''s jaw tightened. "Not soon enough." He turned back to the men, his hands shaking with rage. "Fucking scum." Damian placed a hand on his shoulder. "They''ll get what''s coming to them." Gideon exhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus. "We need to get them back. These bastards need to face the Supreme Commander." Damian nodded. "Yeah." He turned to the attackers. His voice was flat. Deadly. "You think this place has no laws?" He exhaled, his gun still trained on Scarface. "You''re about to find out how wrong you are." The men knelt, their hands trembling as they raised them behind their heads. The sneers and arrogance they had carried just moments ago were gone, replaced by the cold realization that their fun had come to an end. Damian stepped forward, his rifle still trained on Scarface. "Strip them of their weapons," he ordered. Gideon nodded, moving swiftly. He kicked one of the men in the ribs, forcing him to the ground as he patted them down. A rusted switchblade, a bent steel rod, and a small revolver with only two bullets were tossed aside. "These guys were armed," Gideon muttered. "They were prepared for something like this." Damian''s expression hardened. "Then they knew exactly what they were doing." Minji, Kai, Yana, and Nina remained huddled together, still shaking from the ordeal. Their breaths were uneven, and their bodies trembled from the adrenaline crash. They didn''t even realize that their nails had drawn blood from where they had clawed at their attackers. Kai lifted her head slightly, her eyes locking onto Gideon''s. "What happens now?" her voice was barely above a whisper. "We''re taking you back," Gideon assured her. "You''re safe now." Damian turned toward the men, his expression unreadable. "You lot are coming with us. Supreme Commander''s going to want to see you." Scarface gritted his teeth but didn''t argue. He knew there was no way out. The rest of the thugs kept their heads down, shoulders stiff with fear. Damian activated his radio. "This is Patrol unit 164. We''ve got a group of survivors rescued from an attempted sexual assault. Four victims, five offenders. Requesting backup and medical support." The radio crackled, and a voice responded. "Copy that, Patrol 164. Sending reinforcements to your location. ETA three minutes." Chapter 81: What The Hell?! Thomas Estaris sat behind his desk, exhaling deeply as he closed the last report of the day. His shift was ending, and for once, he was looking forward to a few hours of rest. The MOA Complex was running efficiently¡ªfood rations were stable, defenses were being reinforced, and patrol units had reported no external threats. For a moment, things seemed... steady. But peace never lasted long in this world. A sharp knock on his door broke his thoughts. "Come in," he said. The door swung open, and Rebecca Langley, Director of Civilian Affairs, stepped inside. Her usual composed expression was gone¡ªreplaced by something grim. "Supreme Commander," she began, shutting the door behind her. "We have a serious situation." Thomas frowned. "What is it?" Rebecca hesitated for just a second before she placed a tablet in front of him. "Patrol unit 164 responded to an attempted sexual assault on four civilian workers¡ªmembers of ALAB and RAVE." Silence. Thomas''s fingers hovered over the tablet, but he didn''t touch it. His brain took a second to register the words. "Say that again," he said, his voice quiet. Too quiet. Rebecca took a deep breath. "Five men cornered the victims in an alley near the food distribution center. They were rescued in time by Gideon and Damian before..." She trailed off, her expression dark. "Before it could escalate further." Thomas''s grip on the table tightened. "Where are they now?" "The victims were taken to the medical ward for evaluation. They''re physically shaken but not seriously injured. The perpetrators are in custody, awaiting judgment." Thomas stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. "I want to see them. Now." Rebecca nodded. "I already arranged for them to be brought in." Thomas grabbed his jacket, his mind racing. The MOA Complex had laws¡ªstrict ones. Everyone knew the rules. Stealing, sabotage, murder, and sexual assault were among the highest crimes. And now, someone had crossed that line. He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. This cannot go unanswered. Fifteen minutes later, Thomas stood inside an interrogation room. Seated before him were Minji, Kai, Yana, and Nina. They sat close together, their faces pale, their bodies still tense despite being safe now. Rebecca stood beside Thomas, her clipboard in hand. "Tell me what happened," Thomas said, his voice controlled but firm. Minji swallowed hard before speaking. "We were heading back from our shift when we noticed some men following us. At first, we thought we were just being paranoid... but then they cornered us." Kai clenched her fists. "They blocked the alley, and there was no one around. No guards, no patrols. It felt like a trap." Yana''s voice wavered. "We tried to run, but they grabbed us. They laughed. Said we should be ''grateful'' for their attention." Nina, the youngest of the group, wiped at her eyes. "We screamed. We fought back. But they were stronger." Thomas''s fingers curled into a fist. "And then?" Minji shuddered. "That''s when the patrol arrived. If they hadn''t..." Her voice cracked. She didn''t finish the sentence. Thomas inhaled slowly, keeping his emotions in check. "I see." He glanced at Rebecca. "That''s all for now. Get them somewhere safe." Rebecca nodded, motioning for the women to be escorted out. As the door shut, Thomas exhaled, then turned to the next room. The accused were waiting. The five men sat in metal chairs, their wrists restrained. Scarface, the apparent leader, sat in the middle, his nose still bleeding from where Gideon had struck him. Thomas entered, his expression unreadable. No one spoke. He took his time, studying each of them before finally speaking. "You broke the laws of this complex." "Technically, there are no laws in this complex," said Scarface. "The government has fallen, you guys aren''t a legitimate one. So you can''t sentence us." Thomas''s gaze hardened. He leaned forward slightly, his fingers pressing into the metal table between them. His voice remained calm, but there was an undeniable edge to it. "You think the lack of a government means there are no laws?" He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "Let me make something very clear to you. This¡ª" he gestured around the room, "is the law. I am the law. And the fact that you''re still breathing is a privilege, not a right." Scarface smirked despite the blood crusting his nose. "So what? You gonna play dictator now? Judge, jury, and executioner?" He leaned back in his chair, his confidence returning. "You need people like us. Fighters. Survivors. You''re not gonna kill us over a couple of scared little girls." Thomas''s expression didn''t change, but the air in the room dropped several degrees. The silence stretched, suffocating. Then¡ªCRACK! Thomas''s fist slammed into Scarface''s jaw, sending the man sprawling onto the floor with a grunt of pain. The other men stiffened but remained in place, restrained by their cuffs. Scarface groaned, coughing up blood as he tried to lift himself back up. Thomas shook his hand, flexing his fingers before speaking again. "Let''s get one thing straight." His voice was dangerously low. "This isn''t some lawless wasteland where you can do whatever the hell you want. We built this place so people could be safe. You violated that." Scarface coughed, glaring up at him. "You''re bluffing... you won''t kill us." Thomas didn''t answer immediately. He simply turned to Rebecca. "What''s the punishment for crimes like this?" Rebecca, who had remained composed through it all, flipped through her notes. "Banishment. Anyone guilty of sexual assault, murder, or treason is thrown out of the complex. They won''t survive for long." Scarface''s smirk faltered slightly. The realization was starting to set in. Thomas let the words hang in the air before adding, "You won''t be the first ones we''ve thrown out." The younger thug¡ªthe one who had tried to downplay the incident earlier¡ªshifted nervously in his seat. "Come on, man, we¡ªwe didn''t actually do anything! We didn''t¡ª" His voice broke off when Thomas''s cold stare landed on him. "You think that makes you innocent?" Thomas asked. "You think that because my men arrived in time, you get a pass?" He turned his head slightly. "Rebecca." "Yes, Supreme Commander?" "Would you let someone who held a knife to your throat walk free, just because they didn''t get the chance to stab you?" Rebecca''s lips pressed into a thin line. "No." Thomas nodded and looked back at them. "Exactly." Scarface gritted his teeth. "If you kill us, it makes you just as bad as¡ª" "I should execute you," Thomas cut him off sharply. "Because if I let you live, you''ll do this again. If not here, then somewhere else." His jaw clenched. "But Rebecca believes banishment is enough. Do you know why?" Scarface wiped his bloody mouth but said nothing. "Because it''s still a death sentence," Rebecca answered for him, her tone matter-of-fact. "You won''t last out there. No food, no shelter, no weapons. You''ll either starve, get torn apart by the dead, or worse¡ªrun into a real bandit group. They won''t be as merciful as we are." Thomas stared at Scarface, waiting for him to grasp the reality of his fate. And slowly, he did. The cocky expression faded. He looked at the others¡ªhis fellow attackers¡ªwho were pale, sweating. The young one looked ready to cry. "No," Scarface muttered, shaking his head. "You can''t¡ª" Thomas cut him off. "You made your choice the moment you touched them." He turned to the guards. "Strip them of everything. No weapons, no food. They leave at first light." The guards saluted and moved to haul them away. Scarface thrashed, his voice breaking into something desperate. "No, wait¡ªWAIT! You can''t do this! We''ll die out there!" Thomas didn''t flinch. "Then you should''ve thought about that before." The door slammed shut as the men were dragged away. Silence. Thomas exhaled slowly and looked at Rebecca. "This doesn''t sit right with me." Rebecca tilted her head. "Why?" He ran a hand through his hair. "If they survive? If they run into another group of women?" His voice lowered. "They''ll do it again." Rebecca sighed. "That''s speculation, Supreme Commander." "Is it?" Thomas muttered. "You and I both know what men like that do when they have power over someone weaker." He exhaled sharply. "Banishment is a gamble." Rebecca folded her arms. "Execution makes us look like tyrants." Thomas leaned back in his chair. His gut told him the right decision was to put them down before they became someone else''s nightmare. But Rebecca wasn''t wrong, either. Banishment was already a death sentence. And if, by some miracle, they did survive? Well. The world outside would deal with them. Thomas clenched his jaw, then exhaled. "Fine. But make sure everyone sees them being thrown out." Rebecca nodded. "Understood." "Also, I want to draft some laws, give this place some semblance of a working ministate," Thomas said. "I expect it in the morning so you''ll work overtime." "We will finish it." Chapter 82: Planning to make the Complex Safe The dim glow of the emergency lights filtered through the curtains, casting faint streaks of orange across the room. Thomas Estaris stirred, blinking awake as he adjusted to the quiet hum of the complex outside. His muscles were sore, his mind still weighed down by the previous night''s decisions. A soft sigh beside him caught his attention. Erica. She lay next to him, still wrapped in the sheets, her bare shoulder peeking out. Her auburn hair was tousled from sleep, her breathing steady. For a brief moment, Thomas allowed himself to admire her¡ªstrong, capable, and independent. Unlike many others in the complex, she had never begged for a position, nor had she relied on anyone to survive. His mind drifted back to how she had ended up here. Erica had been part of a survivor group they had absorbed months ago. From the beginning, she proved herself¡ªnot just as a fighter but as someone who could hold her own in any situation. She wasn''t just another refugee looking for protection. She wanted to be on the front lines. Last night, after the sentencing of the five criminals, Erica had come to his room. One thing had led to another, and now here she was, curled up next to him. As if sensing his gaze, she stirred, her eyes fluttering open. A lazy smile crossed her lips. "Morning, Supreme Commander," she murmured, her voice laced with amusement. Thomas smirked, sitting up and rubbing his face. "Don''t call me that first thing in the morning." Erica chuckled and stretched, the sheets shifting as she did. "Fine. But you are the Supreme Commander, whether you like it or not." She sat up as well, the air between them comfortable, neither awkward nor overly sentimental. They both understood what this was¡ªtwo survivors seeking solace in a world that had been stripped of normalcy. Erica leaned back on her hands. "I''ve been thinking," she said, glancing at him. "I want to join the army." Thomas raised an eyebrow. "You''re already helping out in the complex." "I don''t mean logistics or patrol duty," she clarified, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "I want to be part of your actual fighting force¡ªthe ones who go beyond these walls, who handle real threats." Thomas studied her, considering. "It''s dangerous." Erica gave him a pointed look. "So is staying here and pretending I''m safe." He had to admit, she had a point. The walls weren''t impenetrable, and there were threats beyond just zombies. Rival survivor groups, remnants of military factions, and lawless bandits¡ªthey all posed risks. "You''re a good fighter," Thomas admitted. "But combat in the field is different. You need proper training." Erica nodded. "That''s what I''m asking for. Train me. Make me into something useful." Thomas exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He had seen her in action before. She had raw talent, but with professional training, she could be deadly. "Fine," he said. "I''ll have you trained with the next batch of recruits." Erica''s lips curled into a smirk. "Good. Now I don''t have to waste my time handing out rations." Thomas chuckled, shaking his head. "You''ll regret saying that after the first week of drills." Erica stood, grabbing her clothes. "We''ll see." She dressed quickly, slipping into her combat boots and jacket. Before leaving, she shot him a final glance. "I''ll see you around, Commander." And with that, she was gone. Thomas sighed, pushing himself out of bed. There was no time to linger. He had an entire complex to run. Thomas took a quick, cold shower, letting the water wake him up. His mind was already shifting to the day ahead¡ªlaws, penalties, restructuring the governance of the MOA Complex. The events of last night still lingered in his mind. Banishment was a sentence of death, but it wasn''t guaranteed death. If those men survived, what would stop them from doing the same thing again to someone else? That thought unsettled him. By the time he was fully dressed, wearing his standard tactical attire, he was ready to confront the day. He exited his room and headed down the stairs. The command center was just below his living quarters¡ªa makeshift office repurposed from the remnants of the old shopping mall''s security hub. Rebecca was already there, waiting. A stack of documents sat neatly on the table in front of her. She looked up as he entered. "Morning, Supreme Commander." Thomas sighed as he took his seat. "You too, Rebecca." She slid a thick folder toward him. "Here it is. The proposed laws and penalties for the MOA Complex." Thomas opened the folder and skimmed the pages. It was well-organized¡ªclear, concise, structured. "Break it down for me," he said. Rebecca adjusted her glasses and began. "The core principle is simple: The MOA Complex operates under a structured rule of law, enforced by your administration. Any crimes committed within our borders will be handled accordingly. The penalties scale based on severity." She tapped the first section. "Minor offenses¡ªsuch as theft, disruption of order, and negligence¡ªwill be dealt with through labor penalties or confinement." Thomas nodded. "Makes sense. Keep people in line without wasting resources on imprisonment." Rebecca flipped to the next section. "Major crimes¡ªmurder, sabotage, and sexual assault¡ªcarry either banishment or execution, depending on your discretion." Thomas frowned slightly. "Banishment is still our default for severe crimes?" "Yes," Rebecca confirmed. "Public executions are a last resort. We need to maintain order, not fear." Thomas leaned back. "Banishment is effectively a death sentence anyway." "Exactly," Rebecca said. "And it sends a message. Criminals don''t get to stay within these walls." He drummed his fingers on the table. "And what about governance? If we''re implementing laws, that means we need a system to uphold them." Rebecca pulled out another document. "That''s covered too. You''ll act as the head of state, with your officers enforcing the laws. Civilian Affairs will oversee community disputes and minor cases. For serious crimes, sentencing falls to you." Thomas exhaled. "So I''m still judge, jury, and executioner." Rebecca smirked. "You built this place, Supreme Commander. That comes with responsibilities." He stared at the documents, letting the weight of it sink in. This wasn''t just about keeping order anymore. This was governance. "Alright," Thomas finally said, flipping the pages. "Let''s make this official." Rebecca nodded. "Then we''ll begin the announcements today." Thomas exhaled sharply. A new chapter of the MOA Complex was about to begin. And with it, a new world order. Chapter 83: First Public Judgment The MOA Complex was alive with murmurs and speculation. From every corner of the settlement, civilians were called to gather at the SMX Convention Center. No explanation had been given, only that the Supreme Commander had an announcement to make. It was rare for Thomas Estaris to address the entire community like this. People whispered among themselves, wondering what could be so important. Inside the SMX Convention Center, hundreds of survivors filled the vast hall. Workers from the food distribution units, engineers, mechanics, medical staff, and patrol guards¡ªall stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting. At the front of the room, a makeshift stage had been set. In the center of it stood five men¡ªbound, bruised, and stripped of their weapons and belongings. The criminals. The ones who had tried to take advantage of ALAB and RAVE. They stood with their heads lowered, their hands bound behind their backs. The weight of their crimes was clear in their eyes, yet Scarface, their ringleader, still had remnants of defiance in his expression. Then, the murmurs died down. The doors at the back of the room opened, and Thomas walked in. The Supreme Commander made his way toward the stage, his posture calm but authoritative. The people parted for him instinctively, their eyes filled with curiosity and anticipation. As he ascended the steps, he turned to face the crowd. Silence. Everyone was waiting. Then, Thomas spoke. "Some of you may be wondering why I''ve gathered you here," his voice echoed through the hall. "Let me be clear¡ªthis is not just a meeting. This is a lesson." He gestured toward the prisoners behind him. "These men, standing before you, are criminals," he continued, his tone unwavering. "Last night, they attacked four of our own. They cornered them, trapped them in an alley, and had every intention of violating them." Gasps rippled through the crowd. Some covered their mouths in shock, others clenched their fists in anger. "These women¡ªwho have worked alongside you, who have shared food and shelter with you¡ªwere nearly taken by force. And for what?" Thomas let his words linger. "Because these men thought they were entitled to them? Because they believed that strength alone gave them the right to take what they wanted?" His gaze swept over the crowd, eyes burning with conviction. "This is the MOA Complex. This is our home. And in this home, we have laws. We have order." His voice hardened. "Anyone who thinks they can prey on others... anyone who believes they can act without consequences... will be punished." The tension in the air was thick. Scarface sneered, shaking his head. "This is bullshit," he muttered, just loud enough for the nearest people to hear. Thomas turned to him, his gaze sharp. "What did you say?" Scarface lifted his chin, eyes flashing. "You think you can play God, kid? This place isn''t a government. It''s just a glorified camp." He looked around at the crowd. "You people really think he can protect you forever? That these rules mean anything when the rest of the world is burning?" A murmur ran through the audience, uncertainty flickering in some eyes. Thomas exhaled slowly. Then, he stepped closer to Scarface, his voice lower but filled with steel. "Rules only mean something if people enforce them." He glanced at the audience, making sure everyone could hear. "You think you''re above them? That survival means doing whatever the hell you want?" His expression darkened. "You''re wrong." He turned back to the crowd. "These men are banned from the MOA Complex. Effective immediately." His tone left no room for argument. Rebecca, standing near the side, raised a hand. At her signal, guards stepped forward. Scarface''s face finally paled. "Wait¡ª" "You said it yourself," Thomas interrupted, staring down at him. "There''s no government. No real law. That means we decide what justice looks like." The guards yanked the prisoners forward, dragging them toward the exit. Thomas watched as they struggled. Scarface twisted violently. "No, no, NO! You can''t¡ªYOU CAN''T JUST THROW US OUT THERE!" One of the younger criminals, a skinny man with sunken eyes, dropped to his knees. "Please! Don''t do this! We''ll die out there!" His voice cracked. Thomas''s expression didn''t change. "You should''ve thought about that before." With a final nod, he stepped down from the stage, following the guards as they led the prisoners to the main gate. The entire crowd followed in silence. At the perimeter gate, a cold wind blew through the air. The afternoon sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the ground. The five criminals stood just beyond the threshold, their weapons, food, and gear stripped away. They had nothing. No supplies. No protection. Beyond the complex walls, the world was unforgiving. Scarface stood frozen, his fists clenched. He still wanted to fight, still wanted to push back, but deep down, he knew there was nothing he could do. Gideon, one of the soldiers who had saved the girls, stood next to Thomas. "They won''t make it far," Gideon muttered. "They don''t deserve to," Thomas responded. The gate creaked open. Scarface turned one last time, desperation in his eyes. "You''re making a mistake." Thomas didn''t reply. Rebecca gave the final command. "Get them out of here." The guards shoved them forward. The five men stumbled outside. The gate slammed shut behind them. And just like that, they were gone. The survivors inside watched, their faces unreadable. No one spoke. Then, slowly, they began to disperse. The message had been received. Law had been established. And those who broke it would face the consequences. Scarface and his group wandered aimlessly through the ruined streets beyond the MOA Complex. The city was a graveyard¡ªabandoned cars, broken windows, and the occasional distant moan of the dead. "What the hell do we do now?" one of the men whispered. Scarface was still seething, his mind racing for a way to survive. "We find weapons. We find shelter," he growled. "Then, we¡ª" A sound. A low, guttural growl. Then¡ªanother. One by one, figures emerged from the ruins. Dozens. Their rotting eyes locked onto the fresh prey in front of them. Scarface''s face drained of color. "No," he whispered. The first zombie lurched forward. Then another. Then all of them. "RUN!" someone screamed. But it was too late. The undead swarmed them. Screams echoed through the ruined streets. And just like that¡ª The criminals were gone. Devoured. The MOA Complex had no room for monsters. Because the outside world was already full of them. The echoes of their screams lingered in the air for a moment before fading into silence. Blood splattered across the pavement as the undead tore into the men, their hunger insatiable. Scarface, the once-proud leader, was the last to fall, his desperate cries drowned out by the wet, tearing sounds of flesh being ripped apart. Inside the MOA Complex, Thomas stood at the perimeter wall, watching through a set of binoculars. He hadn''t moved since the gate had shut. Rebecca stood beside him, her arms crossed. "They didn''t last long," she muttered. Thomas exhaled, lowering the binoculars. "They never would have." The punishment had been carried out, justice served in the only way the new world allowed. The survivors who had witnessed the banishment would spread the word¡ªthere were no second chances for predators in the MOA Complex. He turned back toward the settlement, his expression unreadable. "Let''s make sure this never happens again." Rebecca nodded, understanding the weight of his words. "I''ll have patrols increased. And we''ll start reinforcing the laws with public awareness." Thomas gave a final glance toward the ruined streets beyond the walls before walking away. Order had been established. And now, he had a city to build. Chapter 84: Invited? Thomas sat in his office, staring at the wall in silence. The events of the day weighed heavily on his mind. It wasn''t the first time he had dealt with criminals, but this time was different. This time, it had happened within the walls of what was supposed to be a safe haven. The MOA Complex was meant to be a place where people could rebuild, where they didn''t have to fear the horrors of the outside world. And yet, monsters had existed right under his nose¡ªnot the undead, not the raiders, but people. He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. "Come in." The door opened, and Rebecca stepped in, followed closely by Minji, Kai, Yana, and Nina. They looked better than they had earlier, but the ordeal had clearly taken a toll on them. "Supreme Commander," Minji said softly. "We just... wanted to thank you." Thomas nodded and gestured for them to sit. "You don''t have to thank me. This never should have happened in the first place." Kai shook her head. "No. We do have to thank you. If it weren''t for you, those men might still be here. They might have hurt someone else." Thomas leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "That''s what bothers me the most. That it even happened at all." The room fell silent. "I thought we had built something better here," he continued. "A place where people wouldn''t have to constantly look over their shoulders. But today proved that we''re not there yet." Minji''s hands tightened into fists. "I was terrified," she admitted. "I thought... I thought I was going to die. Or worse." Yana nodded. "Me too. But the moment I saw the patrol arrive, I knew we were safe." Thomas sighed. "You shouldn''t have needed saving in the first place. No one should have to go through that." Nina, the youngest of the group, wiped at her eyes. "Even in the old world, things like this happened all the time. But back then, at least there was a real government. A real justice system." Thomas met her gaze. "And that''s why we need to build one here. This place isn''t just a camp anymore. It''s a city in the making. And a city needs laws." Rebecca nodded in agreement. "The banishment today sent a message. People will think twice before stepping out of line." "But it won''t erase what happened," Kai murmured. "No," Thomas agreed. "It won''t. But it''s a start." Another silence settled over them before Minji cleared her throat. "Actually... there''s another reason we came." Thomas raised an eyebrow. "We wanted to invite you to dinner," she said. Thomas blinked in surprise. "Dinner?" Kai nodded. "Yeah. Just a small thing. Nothing fancy. We''re cooking with some of the other survivors, and we thought... well, we thought you could use a break." Thomas hesitated. He had a million things to do, and taking time off felt almost irresponsible. But when he looked at them¡ªthe gratitude in their eyes, the quiet strength they carried despite what had happened¡ªhe found himself nodding. "Alright," he said. "I''ll be there." The relief on their faces was instant. "Great," Yana smiled. "We''ll see you later, then." As they left the room, Rebecca crossed her arms and smirked. "Didn''t think you were the dinner-party type." Thomas chuckled softly. "Neither did I." In the evening. The dinner was being held in one of the smaller communal kitchens, a repurposed break room that had once belonged to one of the mall''s many restaurants. Now, it was just a simple space with a few folding tables, mismatched chairs, and a single propane stove. When he arrived, Minji waved him over. "Hey, you actually came." Thomas smirked. "I said I would." The rest of the group¡ªKai, Yana, and Nina¡ªwere already seated, along with a couple of other survivors who had helped prepare the food. The meal itself was simple: packed noodles cooked in a large pot, sardines mixed with whatever seasonings they could scavenge, and a few crackers to go with it. "Not exactly fine dining," Yana said, grinning as she handed Thomas a bowl. "But it''s what we''ve got." Thomas took a seat, picking up a spoon. "Better than some of the things I''ve eaten out there." Kai snorted. "I don''t even want to know." The atmosphere was surprisingly light. Despite everything that had happened, despite the horrors of the world outside, there was laughter. People shared stories, cracked jokes, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Thomas let himself relax. Halfway through the meal, Minji leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "So, Supreme Commander." Thomas arched an eyebrow. "What?" Kai smirked. "Who''s your bias?" Thomas blinked. "My what?" "Your bias," Yana repeated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "In K-pop. You know, the one idol you liked the most." Thomas let out a short laugh. "I don''t think that''s relevant right now." "Oh, come on," Nina pouted. "You had to have at least one." The group looked at him expectantly. Thomas sighed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. If you must know... back in the day, I was more into second-gen groups." Minji gasped dramatically. "Wait¡ªyou''re a second-gen fan?" Thomas rolled his eyes. "I didn''t say that." Kai grinned. "Oh no, you did. So, who was it? SNSD? 2NE1?" He took a sip of water, stalling for time. "Taeyeon, maybe." Yana smirked. "Called it." The group erupted into playful teasing, their previous tension momentarily forgotten. Even Thomas couldn''t help but chuckle. "I am sorry, I don''t really know much about your group," Thomas admitted, setting his spoon down. "I was never really into the newer generation of idols." Kai dramatically clutched her chest. "Ouch. That hurts." Minji laughed. "It''s fine. We weren''t exactly expecting a military leader to be a hardcore fan." Yana smirked. "But now that you''ve met us, maybe you''ll start paying attention." Thomas chuckled, shaking his head. "We''ll see." "So," Nina piped up, her curiosity still burning. "If you weren''t into our group, does that mean you never even heard our songs?" Thomas thought for a moment. "I think I might have heard one or two, but I wouldn''t be able to name them." Minji pouted. "Well, that needs to change." Kai nodded in agreement. "Yeah, Supreme Commander. We''re going to have to educate you. How about you come into our units and you can have our private performance." "Eh?" Chapter 85: Things About to Get Steamy The night air was cooler than usual as Thomas made his way toward the designated unit where ALAB and RAVE had gathered. The building was one of the repurposed residential spaces within the MOA Complex, a former hotel now converted into living quarters for groups of survivors. The scent of warm food and the faint murmur of conversation carried through the corridors. When he entered, the scene was livelier than he expected. A long table was set up in the middle of the room, covered with plates of simple meals¡ªmostly rice, canned meats, and vegetables scrounged from storage. But what caught his attention were the bottles of alcohol scattered across the table¡ªsomething that had become a rarity in the new world. A small group of survivors was already laughing, chatting, and sipping from their cups. The members of ALAB and RAVE immediately noticed his presence. "Hey! The Supreme Commander actually showed up!" Kai grinned, raising her drink in greeting. Thomas smirked, shaking his head. "I said I would." Minji patted an empty chair next to her. "Well, you''re just in time. We were about to start the fun part." "Fun part?" Thomas arched an eyebrow as he took his seat. "The performance, of course," Yana said, nudging him playfully. "You guys are really going through with that, huh?" Thomas chuckled. "Of course!" Nina piped up. "You''re one of the few people here who probably never got to see us perform properly. This is our way of saying thanks." "And showing off a little," Kai added, grinning. Thomas took a sip of the drink placed in front of him¡ªit was surprisingly smooth, likely homemade. He wasn''t sure where they had managed to get alcohol, but he decided not to ask. For once, he allowed himself to let go, at least for tonight. As the chatter died down, the members of ALAB and RAVE took their positions in front of the group. One of the survivors had managed to fix up a working speaker system, and the moment the first notes played, the atmosphere shifted. The music started slow, a nostalgic melody that reminded Thomas of a time when concerts were a normal part of life. Then, the energy kicked in¡ªsynchronized dance moves, powerful vocals, the sheer presence of seasoned performers captivating the small audience. Despite himself, Thomas found himself nodding along to the beat. The others cheered and clapped, fully immersed in the moment. It was surreal¡ªwatching these idols, who had once graced massive stages, now performing in a makeshift dining hall inside a post-apocalyptic settlement. Yet, they still carried themselves with the same confidence, the same passion. "You look impressed," Rebecca commented, appearing at his side with a smirk. Thomas exhaled, shaking his head. "I won''t lie. I am." When the song ended, the room erupted into applause. The idols laughed, breathless but clearly enjoying themselves. "You really still got it," one of the other survivors said. Minji wiped some sweat from her forehead. "Well, we''re not going to let the end of the world take that away from us." Kai flopped onto a chair next to Thomas. "So, Supreme Commander, what do you think? Would you have been a fan?" Thomas smirked. "I''ll admit... that was impressive." "See? Told you we''d win you over," Yana grinned. "Alright, alright," Thomas raised his hands in surrender. "I''ll give you that one." With the performance over, the drinking picked up again. Bottles were passed around, cups refilled, and soon, the tension that had once gripped the room completely disappeared. Laughter filled the air, people shared old stories, and for the first time in a long while, it felt like they weren''t just survivors¡ªthey were people living again. Thomas wasn''t much of a drinker, but tonight, he let himself indulge. "Alright, we gotta ask," Kai slurred slightly, leaning closer. "You ever had a celebrity crush back in the day?" Thomas chuckled. "You''re really not letting this go, huh?" "Nope!" Minji grinned, nudging him. "Didn''t I told you already?" "I know¡ªbut why can''t it just be one of us? Aren''t we not fit to your standards?" Thomas raised an eyebrow at Minji''s playful challenge, swirling the drink in his cup before smirking. "You''re saying I should pick one of you?" Kai leaned forward, her grin mischievous. "Why not? We''re the last remaining pop stars in the world. It''s not like you''ve got options." Yana gasped dramatically. "Are you implying he wouldn''t pick one of us?" She turned to Thomas with mock offense. "Supreme Commander, do you not find us charming?" Thomas exhaled through his nose, amused by their antics. The alcohol was starting to hit, making the conversation even more ridiculous. "I never said that." Nina giggled. "So... if you had to choose?" Thomas shook his head. "No way I''m answering that." Minji pouted. "Coward." Rebecca, who had been quietly sipping her drink nearby, finally chimed in. "You do realize if he picks one, the rest of you will never let it go, right?" Kai snapped her fingers. "Damn, she''s right. We''d hold that over his head forever." Thomas pointed at Rebecca. "That''s exactly why I''m not answering." The group groaned in mock disappointment, but the playful energy in the room remained. The night stretched on, with more drinks, more laughter, and, at some point, another round of performances¡ªthough this time, fueled by alcohol, they were far less polished and far more hilarious. As the night stretched on, the room descended into a haze of laughter and warmth, fueled by the alcohol coursing through everyone''s system. Thomas, usually composed and guarded, found himself unusually relaxed. The stress of leading the MOA Complex, the burden of responsibility¡ªit all faded into the background, replaced by the lighthearted teasing and cheerful energy surrounding him. It was only when he stood up, intending to finally retreat for the night, that he realized his mistake. The moment he made a move, Minji latched onto his arm. "Oh no, no, no," she slurred, her grip surprisingly strong. "You''re not leaving yet." Kai, equally intoxicated, wrapped her arms around his other side, giggling. "Yeah, Supreme Commander! The night is still young!" Thomas exhaled, trying to steady himself. "I think we''ve had enough for tonight." "Oh, you''re no fun," Yana whined, pressing herself against his back, her chin resting on his shoulder. "You''re not getting out of this that easily." Before he could react, Nina, the smallest of the group, threw herself at him, hugging him from the front. " Supreme Commander is too warm! You''re like a walking heater!" she mumbled, burying her face into his chest. "Yeah...you can do this, Supreme Commander, I''ll take my leave," Rebecca said. "Don''t leave me here!" Rebecca smirked, lifting her glass in a mocking toast. "Sorry, Thomas. You''re on your own with this one." She slipped toward the door, pausing only to throw a teasing glance over her shoulder. "Try not to have too much fun, Supreme Commander." And then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her with a finality that made Thomas''s heart rate quicken. The room suddenly felt smaller, warmer, the air thick with something unspoken as twelve pairs of eyes focused on him with varying degrees of mischief and interest. "Looks like it''s just us now," Kai murmured, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his forearm. The touch sent an unexpected jolt through him. Thomas cleared his throat, acutely aware of how Nina remained pressed against his chest, how Minji''s grip on his arm had somehow tightened, how Yana breath tickled his neck. The room seemed to spin slightly¡ªwhether from the alcohol or the situation, he wasn''t sure. "I really should go," he managed, his voice coming out huskier than intended. "Should you, though?" Minji whispered, her eyes meeting his with a challenge that made his mouth go dry. "You might regret this." "What I regret," Thomas said, gently disentangling himself from their grasp, "is how much I''ve had to drink." He stepped back, creating some necessary distance between himself and the group. The room tilted slightly, confirming his suspicion about his own intoxication. "You truly are oblivious. Can''t be help then. I guess we will have to be more direct," Yana continue and then suddenly, threw herself at Thomas and then kissed him on the lips. The shock of Yana''s lips against his froze Thomas in place. For a heartbeat, the room fell completely silent, before erupting into gasps and hoots. As quickly as it had happened, Yana pulled away, her eyes dancing with mischief as she studied his stunned expression. "Supreme Commander...we want you, to make a woman of us here." So that''s what it is huh? They wanted to get laid. Given, those women in the room are beautiful and doing it with them would be absolutely an experience. Let''s be real here, if a woman is asking for it, then he should give it. It''s the only thing that is important, and even if they are intoxicated, it doesn''t mean that they don''t know what they are doing. Thomas sighed. "Very well. Let''s do it." Chapter 86: Okay, Back to Work The first thing Thomas noticed when he woke up was warmth¡ªtoo much of it. His senses were sluggish, his head heavy, his mouth dry as if he had swallowed sand. A dull ache throbbed in his skull, remnants of the excessive alcohol from the previous night. As he shifted, he felt the unfamiliar weight of multiple limbs draped over him. Then, his mind slowly started to clear. He opened his eyes. The sight that greeted him made his breath hitch. He was lying in the middle of a large bed, surrounded by the members of ALAB and RAVE, all tangled up with him in various states of undress. Their soft, steady breaths filled the quiet morning air, some still nestled against his chest, others sprawled over the bed in exhaustion. What the hell happened last night? Thomas tried to piece things together, but his memory was foggy. He remembered the dinner, the drinks, the performance... and then things got increasingly hazy. The last solid thing he could recall was Rebecca smirking at him before leaving him to fend for himself. He let out a slow breath. He was no fool¡ªhe had a good idea of what had likely transpired, given his current predicament. His body felt... different. Invigorated, even. But the specifics were completely lost to him. Glancing around, he carefully maneuvered out of the entangled limbs without waking anyone. Kai shifted slightly, murmuring something in her sleep, but she didn''t wake. Minji was curled up on his right, her hand resting lightly on his stomach. Yana had somehow managed to throw a leg over his. And Nina¡ªwho had clung to him the most last night¡ªwas completely buried under the sheets, only her messy hair peeking out. Suppressing a groan, Thomas ran a hand through his disheveled hair and sat up. His body ached in ways that weren''t just from exhaustion. His muscles felt looser, but there was an underlying soreness that confirmed his suspicions. Alright. No point dwelling on this. There''s work to do. He quickly found his clothes and dressed as quietly as possible. Before leaving, he glanced back at the sleeping idols. The peaceful expressions on their faces were a stark contrast to the horror and stress they had endured just days ago. He wasn''t about to fool himself into thinking this was just some ordinary morning-after scenario. The world had changed, and connections¡ªwhether emotional or physical¡ªhad become fleeting moments of escape. Still, he couldn''t afford distractions. The MOA Complex depended on him. Without another glance, he exited the unit, moving swiftly through the corridors. The sun had barely risen, the early morning light creeping in through the cracks of the ruined cityscape beyond the walls. His destination: Conrad. The shower was exactly what he needed. Standing under the cold water, Thomas braced himself with his hands against the tiled wall, letting the chilled stream wash away the lingering haze. His body felt renewed, and his mind slowly sharpened. Focus, Thomas. There''s too much to do. As tempting as it was to linger and reflect on last night, he shoved it aside and redirected his thoughts to their next major issue¡ªfuel. While the system provided them with resources via blood coins, they couldn''t afford to rely on it indefinitely. If the MOA Complex was to truly be independent, they needed their own means of sustaining military operations. And fuel was at the top of that list. With their military hardware¡ªincluding APCs, armored trucks, and newly acquired tanks¡ªthey needed a secure and long-term fuel source. Their current supply was dwindling, and without a plan, they would soon find themselves with useless war machines. They needed refineries, storage depots, or even the possibility of producing their own biofuel. Marcus can help with this. Stepping out of the shower, Thomas dried off and dressed quickly. A simple black tactical shirt, cargo pants, and boots¡ªhis usual attire. By the time he exited his unit, he was completely back in Supreme Commander mode. Thomas entered the command center, where the early-morning operations were already in full swing. Soldiers, logistics teams, and engineers bustled around, checking maps, reviewing supply reports, and monitoring the perimeter defense systems. At the center of it all was Marcus, his deputy Chief of Staff. The man was already hunched over a map, tracing lines across different parts of the Metro Manila region. "Marcus," Thomas called. Marcus looked up his expression shifting into something between amusement and concern. "Rough night, Supreme Commander?" "Did Rebecca tell you about something?" "She sure did," Marcus chuckled. Thomas didn''t take the bait. "What''s the status of our fuel supply?" Marcus sobered instantly, gesturing toward the map. "We''re running low. At our current rate of consumption, we have maybe two weeks'' worth before we hit critical levels." Thomas frowned. "And after that?" "We can simply purchase tonnes of fuel from the system shop but that would be impractical when we can find a major source around the country, which is what I am working on." Perfect timing, Thomas was about to brought that up. "I have an idea of a location, it''s in Bataan." Thomas''s words made Marcus pause for a moment before nodding in understanding. He tapped his finger on the map, right where the Bataan Oil Refinery was located. "Good call," Marcus said. "The refinery was one of the largest in the country before the collapse. If we can secure it, we''ll have a long-term fuel supply. But..." He exhaled, his expression tightening. "It''s a long shot. We have zero intel on what''s out there. The place could be crawling with the dead, or worse¡ªhostile survivor factions." "I don''t think there will be survivor factions in the area, it''s not like the apocalypse had been going on for years. We have to secure the oil refinery before every oil in there get stale...they stale right?" Marcus chuckled, shaking his head. "Diesel and gasoline have shelf lives, yeah. They degrade over time. But as you have said, it hasn''t been a year or months so we can definitely assure ourselves that every oil there is usable." "Very well, let''s get to work. I am going in, along with Phillip and his team. It''s going to be a recon mission first, to find out what''s out there and conduct a threat assessment. If we can take it, we will take it." "And even if you think that it can be taken by you and the special forces, we still have to expect there would be mutated zombies in there. And the only way we can help you is close air support. I have to remind you that we are still constructing the runway so we won''t be able to send an AC-130 or a Warthog." "An Apache would do," Thomas said. "Very well sir." Chapter 87: Oil Refinery The Black Hawk sat on the helipad, its rotors idle but ready to spin up at a moment''s notice. The dull hum of the engines filled the early morning air as the team made their final gear checks. Thomas stood near the chopper, watching as Phillip and five Special Forces operators finished loading their weapons. They were dressed in standard combat gear¡ªplate carriers, combat fatigues, and tactical helmets. Their weapons were a mix of MK18 carbines and M4A1 rifles, all fitted with suppressors, holographic sights, and IR lasers for night operations. Phillip approached Thomas, adjusting the strap of his rifle. "Bird''s fueled and ready. No external ordnance. We keep it clean and quiet." Thomas nodded. "This is recon first. If we can take the refinery without a fight, we will. If it''s hot, we pull back and call for air support. No unnecessary risks." The team gathered in a semicircle near the chopper, and Thomas began the briefing. "Alright, listen up. Our objective is the Bataan Oil Refinery. We have zero intel on what''s inside. Could be empty, could be crawling with the dead, could be something worse. We''re going in to assess the situation and determine if we can secure it as a permanent fuel source. "Phillip, you''re leading the ground team. I''ll be on point. We move in staggered formation. Silent entry. No gunfire unless absolutely necessary." Phillip gave a short nod. "Copy that." Thomas continued. "Marcus will have a gunship on standby. We''re taking one Black Hawk in and one Apache for close air support. The gunship won''t engage unless we call it in. Once we''re in, we''ll set up an overwatch position and scan for threats. We secure a landing zone, and if the refinery is clear, we call in reinforcements to hold the site." One of the operators, Shadow 2, adjusted his gloves. "Extraction plan?" "If things go south, we exfil the way we came in. If we get cut off, we''ll move to secondary extraction at the coastline. Marcus will have a boat ready." "Rules of engagement?" asked Shadow 3. "Keep it quiet. We don''t want to alert anything inside. If we encounter survivors, we assess if they''re hostile. If they are, we neutralize. No second chances." Thomas checked his gear one last time. "We move in five. Get set." The team dispersed, conducting final equipment checks. Magazines were loaded, radios were tested, and suppressors were secured. Phillip smirked slightly. "Sounds simple enough." Thomas checked his gear one last time. "We move in five. Get set." The team dispersed, conducting final equipment checks. Magazines were loaded, radios were tested, and suppressors were secured. Phillip approached Thomas again. "You ready for this?" Thomas glanced at the Black Hawk. "Let''s get it done." The Black Hawk''s engines roared to life, the rotor blades picking up speed. The team boarded swiftly, strapping into their seats. The side door remained open as Thomas took his position near the edge, rifle at the ready. "Lifting off in five," the pilot called out over the radio. "Overlord, this is Eagle Actual. We are on board, lifting off now," Thomas relayed over the comms. "Copy that, Eagle Actual. Overlord on Standby," Marcus replied though radio. The Black Hawk''s rotors roared as the bird lifted into the air, banking west toward Bataan. Thomas sat near the open side door, his rifle across his lap. Phillip and the operators¡ªShadow Team¡ªsat opposite him, silent and focused. They had done this before. Recon, infiltration, threat assessment. But this wasn''t just another op. This was about securing fuel¡ªsomething their entire military operation depended on. If they pulled this off, MOA Complex would have a long-term power source. If they failed, they''d burn through their blood coins. A voice crackled through the comms. "Eagle Actual, this is Overlord. You are approaching AO. ETA ten minutes." "Copy, Overlord," Thomas responded, looking at Phillip. "Final checks." Phillip nodded and turned to Shadow Team. "Alright, listen up. Silent infil. We drop, establish an LZ, then proceed on foot. Comms stay clean unless necessary. ROE is strict¡ªno unnecessary engagements." Shadow 2 ightened the strap on his vest. "Thermals picked up anything?" Marcus came in over the radio. "Negative. No heat signatures from our scans, but that doesn''t mean shit. We could be dealing with cold bodies." Cold bodies. The infected. Thomas glanced at the distant horizon. The refinery loomed in the distance, a massive industrial structure sitting near the coastline. Tall, skeletal towers stretched into the sky, some broken and rusted from lack of maintenance. From up here, it looked deserted. Didn''t mean it was. "Eagle Actual, Overlord." "Go for Eagle." "Apache is circling five klicks out. Gunship is dark until you call it in." "Copy that." Thomas switched channels to the Black Hawk pilot. "Keep her steady on approach. No unnecessary noise." "Roger, Eagle. We''re coming in low." The Black Hawk descended, skimming just above treetops as it neared the refinery. The team was already standing, hands gripping the overhead straps. Thomas checked his rifle one last time, then tapped Phillip''s shoulder. "Let''s move." The wheels touched down. "Go, go, go!" Shadow Team disembarked fast, rifles up, scanning their surroundings. The air smelled like oil and seawater, mixed with the faint metallic scent of rusted pipes. The refinery was quiet. Too quiet. Thomas and Phillip crouched near a rusted pipe, sweeping their weapons across the area. "No movement, no element in the area." Shadow 3 raised his rifle, scanning the upper walkways. "Clear up top." Phillip glanced at Thomas. "Call it in?" Thomas keyed his mic. "Overlord, this is Eagle Actual. LZ secure. Holding position." "Copy, Eagle. Keep us posted." Thomas lowered his rifle slightly but didn''t relax. He turned to Phillip. "Alright. Let''s move in." This was the easy part. The hard part was inside. Thomas signaled to Shadow Team, and they moved forward in staggered formation, keeping low as they advanced toward the refinery''s main entrance. Phillip took point, leading the team through the outer yard. Their boots crunched lightly against the gravel, the only sound aside from the distant waves crashing against the coastline. "Shadow 1, take left. Shadow 2, you''re on overwatch." Thomas whispered into his comms. "Copy." As they approached the main processing building, a faint noise echoed from inside¡ªmetal shifting, something moving. The refinery wasn''t abandoned. Chapter 88: Contact Thomas raised a fist, signaling a halt. Shadow Team immediately froze, dropping into cover behind rusted pipes and concrete barriers. The refinery''s industrial skeleton loomed over them¡ªabandoned scaffolding, towering chimneys, and sprawling catwalks stretched into the darkness. The air carried the scent of stale fuel, rusted metal, and something else... something rotten. He switched to a low whisper over comms. "Shadow 2, overwatch, get eyes inside." One of the operators, perched on a higher vantage point, pulled out a monocular and peered through the broken windows of the main processing building. "Movement inside, one floor up. Can''t confirm what, but it''s there. No heat signatures." Cold bodies. The infected. Thomas tapped Phillip''s shoulder. "We''re going in. Stack up." The team moved in formation, hugging the refinery''s steel walls as they approached the entrance. Shadow 3 and Shadow 4 covered the rear, rifles aimed at the darkness beyond. Phillip reached the heavy metal door first, testing the handle. Locked. Thomas nodded. "Breach quietly." Phillip retrieved a pry bar from his pack and wedged it into the frame. With a slow, deliberate effort, he forced the door open just enough for the team to slip inside. Darkness greeted them. The only light came from their rifle-mounted flashlights, sweeping through the cavernous space of rusting pipes and silent machinery. Dust floated in the air, disturbed by their movement. Then came the sound. A low, wet gurgling, followed by a faint shuffling deeper inside. Thomas motioned for silence. The team held their breath, listening. The sound wasn''t constant. It was sporadic¡ªshort bursts of movement, followed by silence. Not like the usual infected hordes that roamed in mindless packs. Something was different. Shadow 2 moved ahead, scanning corners with his rifle up. He paused near a catwalk''s support beam and waved Thomas over. A body. Slumped against the railing, half-eaten. Fresh. No more than a few hours old. Phillip knelt beside it, inspecting the wounds. "These aren''t normal bites. Look¡ªjagged, torn apart like it was... shredded." Thomas frowned. This wasn''t the work of standard infected. Shadow 4 checked their six. "We need to move. Feels like we''re being watched." Phillip nodded. "Keep pushing forward. Let''s find the control room, see if we can get any security feeds up." Thomas led the way, stepping carefully over broken tools and discarded oil drums. They entered a tight corridor, walls stained with something dark¡ªblood or oil, it was hard to tell. At the end of the hallway, a large, reinforced door marked CONTROL ROOM stood slightly ajar. Thomas raised a fist. "Stack up." The team got into formation, rifles aimed at the entrance. Phillip nudged the door open. It creaked, the sound too loud in the silence. They swept inside. The control room was trashed¡ªmonitors shattered, chairs overturned, papers scattered across the floor. An old terminal screen flickered weakly, its power barely holding on. But the real problem wasn''t the state of the room. It was what was standing in the far corner. A figure hunched over a torn body, gnawing. Thomas barely had time to process before it snapped its head up, revealing milky-white eyes and jagged, extended teeth. Not a normal infected. Something worse. It let out a shrill, inhuman screech. "CONTACT!" Thomas barked, leveling his rifle. The creature moved unnaturally fast, bolting toward them on all fours. Phillip fired first. His suppressed burst struck the thing center mass, but it barely staggered. It kept coming. Shadow 3 reacted next, stepping up and putting two rounds into its head. The creature dropped, its body twitching. The room was silent once more. Thomas stared down at the corpse, its grotesque features now visible under the light. No normal infected moved like that. No normal infected took body shots and kept running. Phillip exhaled. "What the fuck was that?" Thomas knelt, inspecting the creature. Its skin was peeling, its fingers elongated into something resembling claws. A mutation. Shadow 2 cursed under his breath. "It''s evolving..." Marcus''s voice crackled in through comms. "Eagle Actual, sitrep." Thomas keyed his mic. "We have a problem. Contact inside. It''s not normal infected. Mutated variant. One down, unknown how many more." A pause. Then Marcus''s voice, more serious. "Copy that. Do you need exfil?" Thomas glanced at Phillip, then at the broken security terminal. If they bailed now, they''d leave the refinery unsecured¡ªand they still didn''t know if there was usable fuel left. He made a decision. "Negative. We hold. Searching for refinery status now." Phillip nodded and moved to the console. Shadow Team took defensive positions, rifles aimed at the door. The old system took a few seconds to boot. Then, the camera feeds flickered to life. The refinery''s main storage tanks were still intact. Fuel levels were still good. But the cameras also showed something else. More of those things. Dozens. Moving toward their position. Phillip gritted his teeth. "Well, shit." Thomas exhaled, gripping his rifle. "Alright. Change of plan. We secure the fuel. Then we burn these bastards down." "Aye aye, sir!" Phillip and Shadow Team snapped into action. Thomas turned to the flickering monitors one last time, eyes locked onto the approaching horde. The refinery was about to turn into a war zone. "Shadow 2, get demo charges on the entry points. Slow them down." "On it." The operator moved fast, pulling explosives from his pack and planting them along the main access corridors. "Shadow 4, cover the catwalks. If they breach the upper level, we''re screwed." "Copy. Moving now." The operator sprinted up the metal stairs, rifle at the ready. Thomas switched to his radio. "Overlord, Eagle Actual. We need fire support ASAP. Apache ETA?" Marcus''s voice came through, calm but firm. "Three minutes out. Hold your position." Three minutes. That was an eternity in a fight like this. Phillip checked his rifle. "We hold this position until air support arrives. No unnecessary engagements. Conserving ammo is key." The refinery groaned under the weight of the incoming swarm. Shadows flickered through the broken windows. Then came the first impact. The infected slammed against the heavy steel door, rattling the entire room. Another one followed, then another, until the entire refinery vibrated under the relentless assault. Thomas raised his rifle. "Hold your fire! We wait until they breach." Seconds stretched. The groaning metal began to buckle. Then, with a deafening clang, the door gave way. "CONTACT!" Chapter 89: Clearing the Oil Refinery Shadow 3 fired first, dropping the first infected as it lunged through the opening. The creature barely hit the ground before another took its place. Thomas squeezed the trigger, sending controlled bursts into the mass of twisted bodies forcing their way inside. The mutated infected moved faster than normal zombies, their elongated limbs snapping unnaturally as they charged. "Shadow 2, light ''em up!" The operator detonated the first set of charges. Boom! The blast sent shrapnel and body parts flying, but it didn''t stop them. More came pouring in. "They don''t stop!" Shadow 4 shouted from the catwalks, firing into the horde below. Phillip cursed. "If we don''t secure that fuel now, we won''t have a way out!" Thomas turned to the control panel. "How long to pump it into the tankers?" Phillip glanced at the readouts. "Four minutes!" They didn''t have four minutes. The infected kept coming. Thomas made a call. "Shadow 1, push forward. Secure the damn tankers! We''ll hold here!" Shadow 1 and Shadow 2 sprinted toward the refinery''s central pumps. The rest of the team dug in, unloading magazine after magazine into the wave of bodies surging into the room. Phillip reloaded. "Ammo''s getting low!" Thomas checked his own supply¡ªthree mags left. They had to make this count. "Overlord, where the hell is our air support?" Marcus''s voice crackled in. "Apache is overhead. Standby for fire mission." The sound of rotor blades thundered over the refinery. Then, salvation. "Weapons hot. Lighting ''em up." The Apache''s M230 chaingun opened fire, tearing through the refinery yard with a deafening roar. A storm of 30mm rounds ripped the infected apart, sending limbs and viscera flying. The pressure inside the control room lightened as the swarm outside was cut down. Thomas keyed his mic. "Shadow 1, status?" "Fuel is in! We''re full!" That was their ticket out. Thomas turned to his team. "Fall back to the tankers! We''re leaving!" They moved fast, dodging bodies and hopping over debris. Outside, the ground was littered with corpses, the Apache still providing cover fire as they ran. Phillip jumped into the driver''s seat of the lead tanker. "Everyone in! Now!" Thomas climbed onto the side of the second tanker, gripping his rifle tight. The last of the operators piled in just as another wave of infected emerged from the refinery. Too late. "Overload this is Eagle Actual, I want you to fire on the zombies within the perimeter of the refinery, but don''t engage on the critical infrastructure, we want it maintained." "Copy that, Eagle Actual. Engaging hostiles, keeping refinery structures intact." The Apache banked slightly to the left, adjusting its trajectory. The M230 chaingun roared again, sending another wave of 30mm rounds slicing through the infected horde. The sheer force of the impact shredded the creatures apart, their twisted forms exploding into chunks of gore and bone. The refinery yard became a killing field. Thomas held onto the tanker''s frame as the convoy roared forward, the heavy vehicles crushing whatever remained of the infected under their tires. Phillip, gripping the wheel tightly, called out over comms. "We''re taking the main road out. If anything jumps in our way, I''m plowing through it." Thomas keyed his mic. "Overlord, confirm no additional hostiles in the refinery?" "Negative, Eagle Actual. You still have movement inside the structures. Could be stragglers. Advise caution on return ops." "Are they manageable?" "It is sir." "Okay, we are going to return to it now." Thomas''s voice was firm over the comms. The convoy had only just cleared the refinery''s perimeter, but they weren''t leaving¡ªnot yet. The entire reason they pulled out was to let the Apache flatten the horde without risking friendly casualties. Now, with the area mostly cleared, it was time to finish the job and ensure the refinery was fully secured. "Phillip, turn us around. We''re going back in." Phillip immediately yanked the steering wheel, sending the heavy fuel tanker into a sharp turn. The second tanker followed suit, engines roaring as both vehicles pivoted back toward the refinery gates. Thomas keyed his mic. "Overlord, confirm kill count on hostiles." Marcus''s voice came through, calm but alert. "Thermals show no major movement in the refinery yard. You still have heat signatures inside the main structures, but most of the exterior hostiles are down. You''re clear to re-enter." "Copy that. Keep the Apache on station for overwatch." "Affirmative. Gunship will hold above the AO." The convoy sped back toward the refinery, dust and debris kicked up by their wheels as they approached the still-burning remains of the infected that had been torn apart by the Apache''s chaingun. Some of the bodies were still twitching, but none were getting back up. The main refinery gates had been partially blown open, twisted metal from an earlier explosion making them look barely functional. Phillip glanced at Thomas. "We rolling in or dismounting?" "Dismount," Thomas ordered. "We''re sweeping the site on foot. If there''s anything left inside, I want it dead before we call this place secure." Both tankers came to a stop just outside the refinery''s main yard. Thomas and Shadow Team jumped out, rifles raised as they formed up into a staggered assault line, sweeping the refinery''s entrance once again. "Shadow 1, take point. Move in slow." Shadow 1 and Shadow 2 advanced first, their weapons trained on the darkened refinery hallways. The interior was a twisted maze of industrial metal, with overhead pipes hissing steam from damaged valves. Pools of blackened blood were smeared across the walls and floors, the aftermath of their earlier fight. Phillip kicked over the corpse of a mutated infected, its elongated limbs still twitching from the Apache''s barrage. "I hate these things." Thomas wasn''t focused on the bodies. He was focused on the silence. Something wasn''t right. "Hold," he whispered over comms. The team froze. Then, from deep inside the refinery¡ªmovement. A slow, wet dragging sound echoed through the corridors. "Eyes on," Shadow 3 whispered. His rifle''s laser sight tracked toward the source of the noise. From the shadows of the upper catwalk, something emerged¡ªa mutated infected, but bigger than the ones they had fought before. Its skin was stretched tight over unnatural muscle, its jaw unhinged as thick saliva dripped from its fanged mouth. Its arms were elongated, clawed fingers twitching. Thomas clenched his jaw. "We''ve got another one. Bigger this time." Phillip exhaled. "Tell me we''re not fighting a damn boss battle." The creature let out a deep, guttural growl. Then¡ªit moved. Not like a normal infected. Not even like the faster variants. It leapt from the catwalk, hitting the ground with a heavy impact, its claws scraping the concrete. Thomas didn''t hesitate. "OPEN FIRE!" Chapter 90: Oil Refinery Acquired The instant the creature landed, a sharp chime rang inside Thomas''s head. [System Notification: Unknown Threat Detected] [Analyzing...] [Analysis Complete] [You have encountered: Aberrant Titan] Thomas barely had time to register the system''s information before the Aberrant Titan lunged. "MOVE!" Thomas bellowed. The team scattered, breaking formation just as the Titan''s massive clawed hand slammed into the ground where they had been standing. The force of the impact cracked the concrete, sending a shockwave through the refinery floor. Phillip rolled to the side, raising his M4A1 and unleashing a burst of 5.56 rounds into the creature''s chest. Thud. Thud. Thud. The rounds hit¡ªbut they might as well have been pellets against steel. "It''s tanking everything!" Shadow 1 shouted, adjusting his aim and firing at the Titan''s legs. The bullets barely slowed it down. Thomas gritted his teeth. "Aim for the head!" Shadow 2 took position, firing a well-placed round at the Titan''s face. The bullet ripped through its cheek, but instead of falling, the Aberrant Titan roared, shaking the walls with its monstrous voice. Then¡ªit moved again. Faster than any infected they had faced before. The Titan rushed Shadow 3, swiping with its elongated claws. The operator tried to evade, but it was too fast. The claw caught him mid-dodge¡ªand ripped him apart. "SHIT! SHADOW 3 DOWN!" Shadow 4 shouted. His body hit the ground in two pieces, a bloody mess of torn flesh and shattered bone. Thomas gritted his teeth but had no time to process the loss. The Titan turned to its next target¡ªPhillip. Phillip barely had time to react before the creature lunged again. "GET DOWN!" Thomas yelled. He raised his MK18 and fired point-blank at its skull. Three headshots. The Titan stumbled, its movements momentarily lagging, but not stopping. Phillip, now on the ground, kicked away, trying to put distance between himself and the beast. "We need the Apache!" Shadow 1 barked. Thomas grabbed his radio, flipping to the gunship''s frequency. "Overlord, this is Eagle Actual! Requesting immediate fire mission! We have an Aberrant Titan inside the refinery! Danger close confirmed, but we need it DEAD!" Marcus''s response was instant. "Roger that, Eagle Actual. Standby." Outside, the Apache adjusted its position, the whir of its rotor blades growing louder as it prepared to engage. The Aberrant Titan had barely recovered when Thomas shouted. "EVERYONE GET BACK!" The team broke away, just as the Apache''s M230 chaingun roared to life. BRRRRTTTTT! A barrage of 30mm rounds ripped into the Titan''s body, tearing through muscle and sinew. The Titan staggered, letting out an inhuman wail as the high-caliber rounds shredded its torso. But it still wasn''t dead. Instead, it began regenerating, its wounds closing rapidly. Phillip, still breathing hard, cursed. "It''s healing!" Thomas saw it too. The Aberrant Titan''s flesh was reknitting itself, tendrils of muscle reconnecting before their eyes. "It''s regenerating..." Thomas had one option left. "Bring the hellfires!" "Confirm danger close strike?" "DO IT!" "Roger. Hellfire inbound. Five seconds." Thomas looked up¡ªsaw the Apache adjust¡ªand knew what was coming. "EVERYONE GET TO COVER!" The Titan, sensing the attack, let out a final, deafening shriek and charged. Too late. From the sky¡ª A Hellfire missile screamed downward. The impact was deafening. The explosion engulfed the Titan, turning it into a fireball of gore and flame. [You have killed the Aberrant Titan!] The refinery shook from the impact. Metal beams groaned, and smoke filled the air. When the dust cleared, nothing remained of the Aberrant Titan except for burned remnants fused to the floor. Phillip coughed. "Holy shit. That was too close." Thomas exhaled, lowering his rifle. "Yeah. But it''s dead." Marcus''s voice crackled in over comms. "Eagle Actual, Hellfire confirmed kill. No remaining threats detected." Shadow 4 knelt beside Shadow 3''s remains, silent for a moment. Another loss. Another name to remember. Thomas clenched his jaw as the dust settled. The Hellfire had done its job, but the mission wasn''t over. "Shadow Team, sound off," he said into comms. "Shadow 1, green." "Shadow 2, good." "Shadow 4, all clear." Phillip gave a quick thumbs-up. "We''re intact, minus one." Thomas''s grip tightened around his MK18. Shadow 3 was gone, and that wasn''t something they could undo. But right now, they had to finish the job. "Alright," Thomas said. "We still have stragglers inside. We clear the refinery room by room. Once that''s done, we check the gauges and confirm how much fuel is left. No point in securing a refinery if there''s nothing worth taking." Phillip nodded. "Got it. Let''s move." With their NVGs switched on, the team stacked up outside the next section of the refinery¡ªa long corridor leading deeper into the facility. Thomas took point, sweeping his rifle''s laser sight across the darkened halls. The walls were stained with dried blood, and empty bullet casings littered the ground, likely from refinery workers who had tried and failed to defend themselves when the outbreak hit. A low gurgling echoed from up ahead. "Contact," whispered Shadow 1. Thomas raised his fist, signaling caution. The team moved silently, hugging the steel walls, until they reached the main storage control room. Inside, the remaining infected were gathered¡ªabout half a dozen twisted bodies, hunched over what remained of former workers. One of them turned, its milky-white eyes locking onto Thomas. No hesitation. Thomas fired first. TSSK! TSSK! TSSK! Three rounds punched through the infected''s skull, sending it crashing onto the console. The others reacted instantly, lurching forward. Shadow 2 and 4 opened fire, their suppressed rounds cutting through the pack. One by one, the infected dropped, but not before one managed to reach Phillip, clawing at his vest. "Son of a¡ª!" Phillip struggled, shoving the creature back. Thomas stepped in, pressing his barrel against its temple and pulling the trigger. One shot. Clean. The last infected crumpled, its blood pooling beneath it. "Clear," Shadow 1 confirmed. Thomas scanned the room, heart still pounding. "That should be the last of them." The refinery fell into silence once again, save for the hum of industrial machines still running on backup power. "Alright," Thomas said, exhaling. "Let''s see what we''re working with." Phillip moved toward the refinery control panel, wiping away dust and half-dried blood from the screens. The terminal''s main interface flickered weakly, the power grid barely holding together. SYSTEM DIAGNOSTICS RUNNING... PRESSURE STABILITY: NOMINAL STORAGE CAPACITY: 74% FULL FUEL TYPE: MIXED CRUDE AND REFINED STOCK RESERVE STATUS: COMPROMISED SECTOR 4 Phillip let out a low whistle. "We''re sitting on about seventy-four percent capacity. That''s more than we expected." Thomas leaned in. "Break that down. What''s usable?" Phillip tapped through the options, narrowing the readout. "Looks like we''ve got a mix of diesel, aviation fuel, and refined gasoline in the main tanks. Some crude oil is still stored separately. If we can get a proper processing line running, we could even refine more." "Is it stable?" Thomas asked. Phillip frowned, switching screens. "Most of it, yeah. But Sector 4 is flagged as compromised." Thomas narrowed his eyes. "What''s wrong with it?" Phillip scrolled through the system logs. "Pressure issues. The pipeline running through that section probably took damage during the initial outbreak. Could be leaks, contamination, or structural failure." Thomas exhaled. Not a deal-breaker, but something they''d have to fix. "Can we move the fuel without using that sector?" Phillip nodded. "Yeah, we can reroute the flow through the remaining pipelines. Might take time, but it''s doable." Thomas turned to his team. "Then we''re in business. We hold this place and get the pumps running. Overlord, you copy?" Marcus''s voice crackled over comms. "Copy, Eagle Actual. Sounds like we''re in luck." "We are," Thomas confirmed. "Tell command the refinery is secured. I am going to build a base around here. Overlord, I want you to find another oil refinery in the region. We need to secure multiple supply points if we want long-term sustainability." Marcus responded quickly, his voice carrying the efficiency of a man already pulling up maps. "Understood, Eagle Actual. We''ll start scanning for viable locations. Stand by." Thomas turned back to his team. "Alright, we hold position here. Shadow Team, start a full perimeter sweep. No chances¡ªevery structure, every storage tank, every access tunnel. If something is still moving, I want it gone." Shadow 1 and Shadow 2 immediately moved out, their suppressed rifles at the ready as they began a sector-by-sector clearance of the refinery. Phillip stayed behind at the terminal, continuing to analyze the fuel system''s condition. Phillip looked up from the terminal. "Good news and bad news." Thomas exhaled. "Go." "Good news: The pumps are operational. I can start fuel transfer into transport tankers at any time. We can also establish a permanent pipeline to ship fuel out of here if we set up infrastructure." Thomas nodded. "And the bad news?" Phillip grimaced. "Sector 4 is worse than I thought. There''s contamination in the lower pipeline chambers¡ªlooks like some of the infected got into the system early on. Could be rotting biomass clogging the pipes, or worse, some kind of mutated organic buildup." Thomas narrowed his eyes. "Meaning?" Phillip scratched his chin. "If we start pumping without fixing it, we could get bad batches¡ªcontaminated fuel. Could wreck engines or, at worst, cause a chain reaction in the refinery itself." Thomas let out a slow breath. "So we clean it out." Phillip nodded. "Yeah, but that''s not gonna be fun. We have to go down there." Chapter 91: Saving the Refinery from Contamination Thomas turned toward Shadow 4. "Radio Shadow 1 and 2. Tell them to regroup. We''re heading down." The maintenance shaft leading into Sector 4 was coated in thick, oily residue, its once-functional lighting now reduced to dim, flickering bulbs that cast eerie shadows across the metallic walls. The smell of stale fuel and rotting organic matter grew stronger as they descended the ladder. Phillip adjusted his gas mask, his voice slightly muffled. "Smell that? That''s bio-contamination mixed with hydrocarbons. Not a great mix." Shadow 1 raised an eyebrow. "How bad?" Phillip exhaled. "If it''s bacterial growth, we might be able to flush it out. If it''s something else..." Shadow 2 gripped his rifle tighter. "You mean if it''s alive." Thomas took point, rifle raised. "Stay sharp." They moved single file, the only sound their boots clanking against the metal grating beneath them. At the bottom, a set of double maintenance doors led to the refinery''s lower pipeline control station. Phillip scanned the terminal beside the door. "Power''s flickering, but I can get it open." He input a manual override. The doors hissed as their locks released¡ªand immediately, the stench intensified. The room beyond was flooded with dark, thick sludge¡ªa mix of oil, water, and decomposed organic material. Pipes along the walls were ruptured, spilling black, viscous liquid onto the floor. And at the center of it all¡ª A mass of writhing biomass pulsated, spanning across the chamber, its roots digging into the metal like a living organism feeding off the refinery itself. Embedded within it were half-digested human corpses, their eyes lifeless, their skin half-melted into the grotesque growth. "Jesus Christ..." Shadow 1 muttered. Phillip grimaced. "That''s not just rot. That''s an infection hive." Thomas''s grip on his rifle tightened. "How do we get rid of it?" Phillip wiped sweat from his brow. "There''s only one way¡ªwe burn it. Completely." Shadow 2 kicked the nearest drum, watching it spill a flammable mixture of oil and hydrocarbons into the sludge. "Very well, let''s do it," Thomas replied. Phillip nodded and immediately started looking around for anything that could accelerate the burn. The sludge coating the floor was already a volatile mix of hydrocarbons and decomposing biomass, but they needed something to ensure it burned completely¡ªnot just light up and smolder. Shadow 1 and 2 moved quickly, searching for intact fuel drums. Shadow 4 cracked open a maintenance cabinet, pulling out an old industrial torch with a nearly empty fuel canister. Phillip examined it. "Might be enough to get things going, but we need more accelerant if we want to make sure that thing doesn''t regenerate." Shadow 2 popped the lid off a rusted barrel of refinery-grade ethanol. "How about this?" Phillip grinned. "That''ll do. Splash it around." The team worked fast, drenching the hive and the surrounding area in highly combustible fuel. The stench became unbearable, the combination of rotting flesh, oil, and alcohol creating a nauseating miasma. Thomas stepped back, rifle still trained on the biomass. The pulsating mass seemed agitated, tendrils retracting as if sensing imminent destruction. Shadow 1 held up a frag grenade. "Could use this to set it off." Phillip shook his head. "No good. We need sustained fire, not an explosion that''ll just scatter burning chunks everywhere." Thomas gestured toward the industrial pipelines overhead. "What about refinery gas? We vent it in, light it up." Phillip hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, that could work¡ªif we don''t incinerate ourselves in the process." Shadow 4 scanned the room. "There should be manual release valves nearby." Shadow 2 pointed toward a rusted control panel. "Got something here." Phillip rushed over, brushing away grime and flipping through the old analog controls. "Alright, if these still work, I can open up the propane and natural gas feed from the storage silos above. Should give us a controlled burn¡ªhot enough to wipe this thing out." Thomas nodded. "Do it." Phillip took a deep breath, then pulled the emergency bypass lever. With a loud hiss, compressed refinery gas vented from the overhead pipes, flooding the chamber with a highly flammable mix. The biomass twitched violently, tendrils curling inwards as the atmosphere turned toxic. Phillip adjusted his gas mask. "That''s our cue. Time to light it." Thomas turned to Shadow 1. "Do it." Shadow 1 nodded, pulling out a road flare from his belt. He snapped it to life, the bright red flame flickering as he took one last look at the grotesque mass. "Burn in hell." He tossed the flare into the sludge. The effect was instantaneous. WHOOSH! A fireball erupted, racing across the fuel-soaked floor. The gas-infused air ignited, creating a chain reaction that roared through the chamber. The biomass screamed¡ªa horrific, gurgling shriek¡ªbefore being completely engulfed in searing flames. The heat became unbearable, the walls glowing orange as the fire fed on the volatile mixture. "MOVE!" Thomas shouted. The team scrambled for the ladder, heat waves distorting their vision as flames licked at their heels. Phillip was the last one up, barely making it as fire erupted from the maintenance shaft below. The refinery rumbled, metal groaning under the intense heat. The moment Phillip cleared the ladder, Thomas slammed the hatch shut, sealing off the inferno below. For several tense moments, they just listened¡ªthe muffled roar of flames, the crackling of burning flesh, the sound of metal warping under the extreme temperature. Then¡ªsilence. Phillip exhaled, slumping against the wall. "Jesus... tell me that worked." Thomas keyed his mic. "Shadow 1, check the terminals. I want confirmation that whatever that was is gone." Shadow 1 hurried to a security console in the adjacent room, wiping soot from the screen. He accessed structural diagnostics, scanning for heat signatures. A tense moment passed. Then¡ªhis voice came through the radio. "No movement. No anomalies. Sector 4 is clear." "Good." Thomas exhaled, then keyed his mic again. "Overlord, be advised. Infection hive is neutralized. Refinery is secure." Phillip let out a breath of relief. "That was way too close." Thomas turned to his team. "We''re done here. Time to check fuel levels, finalize system controls, and get ready to establish a permanent outpost." Shadow 2 clapped his hands together. "Finally. A proper win." Thomas exhaled, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "For now." Chapter 92: Setting Up Basic Fortifications in the Refinery Thomas exhaled, looking around the ruined refinery. The air still carried the bitter stench of burning flesh and oil, and the heat from the inferno below made the metal catwalks uncomfortably warm underfoot. But the job was done. The infection hive was gone, Sector 4 was cleared, and the refinery was now theirs. But holding it was another matter entirely. They had secured the site, but it was still a structural liability. There were holes in the fencing, damaged infrastructure, and too few personnel to defend it if another major threat emerged. This wasn''t just about getting the fuel and leaving. If MOA Complex was going to function long-term, they needed a stable and secure refinery operation. Which meant fortifications, personnel, and automated defenses. Phillip wiped soot from his forehead and glanced at Thomas. "Alright, Supreme Commander. What''s next?" Thomas didn''t hesitate. "We''re calling in reinforcements." Phillip smirked. "About damn time." Thomas opened his System Interface, bringing up the Unit Deployment Menu. The screen was split into two sections: Military Personnel ¨C Combat specialists, engineers, and logistical officers. Non-Military Personnel ¨C Skilled workers, technicians, and refinery operators. Their total Blood Coins and Souls earned from the operation gave them a sizable budget to pull in reinforcements. The Hellfire strike, the Titan''s defeat, and the hive''s destruction had generated an immense amount of Souls, boosting their purchasing power. [Blood coins earned: 135,000 Souls earned: 1,200] [Blood Coins: 54,641,425] [Souls: 1M+] This was more than enough to staff, fortify, and defend the refinery. Thomas navigated to Non-Military Personnel first. Without trained workers, the refinery wouldn''t function properly. He selected: This was more than enough to staff, fortify, and defend the refinery. Thomas navigated to Non-Military Personnel first. Without trained workers, the refinery wouldn''t function properly. He selected: Industrial Engineers (x5) ¨C 30 Souls Responsible for assessing structural integrity and repairing the damaged pipelines. Refinery Technicians (x10) ¨C 30 Souls Needed to operate and maintain the refinery''s fuel production. Logistics Officers (x3) ¨C 45 Souls To oversee inventory and fuel transport back to MOA Complex. The refinery staff would keep things running, but without military protection, it would be an easy target for any hostile factions or another infected surge. Thomas navigated to Military Personnel next and summoned 100 infantries armed with the basic combat uniforms and U.S standard issue weapons. Thomas confirmed the deployment. [Processing... Units Summoned.] A moment later, a dark ripple spread across the refinery yard. The air shimmered as the summoned units materialized, stepping onto the refinery''s scorched ground. The 100 infantry soldiers stood at attention in perfectly disciplined rows, their standard-issue combat uniforms neatly pressed, their M4 carbines held firmly against their chests. Thomas scanned the newly assembled force and smiled with satisfaction. hese men were warriors, professionals ready to fight, defend, and die for this refinery. And they needed a leader. Thomas swiped through his System Interface, opening the Unit Assignment Menu. He opened his system again and summoned a captain that would lead the forces in this refinery for 10 souls. A confirmation prompt appeared. The air shimmered again, but this time, only one figure emerged. Unlike the other soldiers, this man radiated presence¡ªthe bearing of a veteran, a leader. The moment Captain Logan materialized, he stepped forward and gave Thomas a sharp salute. "Captain Logan, reporting for duty, Supreme Commander." Thomas studied him. Logan was older than the standard infantry, maybe in his early 40s, with sharp blue eyes that saw everything and a face lined with experience. His stance was solid, his movements precise. The kind of man who had seen war and walked away stronger for it. Thomas returned the salute. "You''ve been assigned as the commanding officer of this refinery''s defense. Your priority is to fortify this place, maintain order, and make sure it stays in our hands¡ªpermanently." Logan nodded. "Understood, sir. I''ll get the men into formation and start setting up proper defensive perimeters." Thomas crossed his arms. "We''ve already established a basic fortification. Your job is to expand on it. The infected won''t be the only threat out here. Raiders, other factions, maybe even remnants of the military might come looking for resources." Logan smirked slightly. "If they come, we''ll send them back in pieces." Thomas liked him already. "Alright," Thomas said, looking toward the assembled troops. "Let''s give this place a proper name." Phillip leaned in. "You got something in mind?" Thomas stared at the refinery¡ªthe towering metal structures, the pipelines stretching across the facility, the flaming remains of Sector 4 still smoldering in the distance. This wasn''t just a fuel depot anymore. This was a fortress, a stronghold. And it needed a name that reflected its purpose. He exhaled and spoke firmly. "From this moment forward, this place will be known as Ironhold Refinery." Phillip nodded approvingly. "Sounds fitting." Captain Hayes turned to his men. "You heard the Supreme Commander! We are now the Ironhold Garrison! Our duty is to ensure that this refinery never falls. If the enemy comes, we make them regret it." A resounding "Yes, sir!" echoed through the refinery as the soldiers slammed their boots against the ground in acknowledgment. Thomas allowed himself a small smirk. It was official. This was now Ironhold Refinery, and it was under his control. Now, they just had to keep it that way. Thomas turned away from the newly assembled troops and walked toward the designated burial site¡ªa small clearing just outside Ironhold Refinery. The ground was uneven, scattered with debris, but it was the best they could do on short notice. Shadow 3''s remains had already been retrieved and wrapped in a military poncho, his rifle placed beside him. It wasn''t much, but it was a soldier''s burial. The rest of Shadow Team stood around the shallow grave, their faces unreadable behind their helmets. Captain Logan and the newly summoned infantry formed a solemn formation behind them. Thomas stood at the foot of the grave, silent for a long moment. "He died in the line of duty," Thomas finally said. "Shadow 3 fought for this refinery, for the people who will one day rely on this fuel to survive. Without him, we wouldn''t have secured this place. His sacrifice won''t be forgotten." Shadow 1 and 2 nodded, their expressions grim. Thomas took a step back and gave a slow, deliberate salute. The rest of the soldiers followed, their arms rising in perfect unison. The only sound was the wind rustling through the ruined landscape. Phillip exhaled. "Rest easy, brother." Shadow 4 grabbed a handful of dirt and let it fall over the grave, followed by the others. The job wasn''t finished, but they would not leave their own behind. Chapter 93: Rest Day and Someone Approaches Thomas stood atop a rusted catwalk, arms crossed as he observed the refinery coming back to life. The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows over the industrial site. Smoke still lingered in the air from the earlier battle, but the refinery was no longer just a battleground¡ªit was now a functioning asset. Below him, the non-military personnel worked with efficiency. The industrial engineers were busy assessing the damage to the structural integrity of the refinery. Some climbed scaffolding to inspect rusted pipes, while others worked on reinforcing walkways that had partially collapsed from years of neglect. Nearby, refinery technicians were at the control panels, manually testing each system. Steam hissed from reactivated pressure valves, while fuel pumps groaned as they were brought back online. Each successful test was marked with a thumbs-up between the workers, their confidence growing as the facility stabilized. "Pumps are operational," one of the logistics officers reported over the radio. "Main pipelines are intact, and we have enough pressure to begin transferring fuel once we finalize containment protocols." Thomas nodded. "Good. I want detailed reports on all critical systems before we start transport operations." The officer saluted before returning to his duties. At the outer edges of the refinery, Ironhold Garrison had already begun fortifying the site. Captain Logan directed squads to secure key defensive points¡ªelevated catwalks, high-ground positions near storage tanks, and choke points along the refinery''s fence line. A makeshift command post had been established near the entrance, where the captain monitored troop positions and updated their security strategy. At the front gate, sandbags and makeshift barriers were being set up to reinforce the weak points in the perimeter. Soldiers patrolled in pairs, scanning the distance for threats. Occasionally, stray infected would wander too close, drawn by the distant noise of machinery being reactivated. "Contact, south perimeter!" One of the sentries called out, his rifle already raised. Thomas watched as two infected stumbled toward the refinery, their decayed forms moving in erratic motions. "Take them down," Logan ordered. Two sharp shots rang out. Both infected collapsed to the ground, lifeless. "Keep it up," Logan barked to his men. "We don''t let anything get close. If it moves, it drops." Thomas felt reassured. Logan had things under control. Despite the refinery being in good hands, Thomas felt the exhaustion creeping in. He hadn''t realized just how much strain the past few hours had put on him. Fighting off hordes of infected, eliminating a Titan-class monstrosity, securing an entire refinery¡ªit was all catching up to him. Phillip, standing beside him on the catwalk, nudged his shoulder. "You look like hell." Thomas exhaled. "Feels like it." "You should rest," Phillip said. "We''re holding the refinery just fine. You''ve done your part. Take a few hours to recharge." Thomas hesitated. He wasn''t used to resting¡ªnot when there was still work to be done. But Phillip wasn''t wrong. He needed at least a few hours of sleep before heading back to MOA Complex. "...Alright," Thomas finally admitted. "I''ll stay here for the night." Phillip grinned. "Good. There''s an executive office inside the main refinery building. One of the engineers found it earlier. It''s got an actual bed¡ªprobably used by one of the higher-ups before the world went to hell." Thomas raised an eyebrow. "A bed?" Phillip shrugged. "Better than sleeping on concrete." Thomas let out a tired chuckle. "Fine. Show me the way." The executive office was tucked away in one of the refinery''s main buildings. It was a small but functional room¡ªglass windows overlooking the yard, old corporate documents still scattered across a wooden desk, and a dusty leather chair positioned in front of an outdated computer terminal. Most importantly¡ªthere was a bed. It was a simple cot, but it was clean and intact. In a world where survival often meant sleeping on dirt or concrete, this was practically a luxury. Phillip leaned against the doorframe. "Figured you''d appreciate this." Thomas sat on the edge of the bed, rolling his shoulders. His body ached from the constant movement, the fights, the weight of command. "Appreciate it is an understatement," Thomas muttered. Phillip nodded, stepping back. "I''ll let you rest. I''ll be outside if anything happens." As the door shut, Thomas leaned back, staring at the ceiling. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to relax. His thoughts drifted, not to the war outside, but to the fact that¡ªfor tonight¡ªIronhold Refinery was secure. And that was enough. The sound of distant engines rumbled through the refinery. Thomas stirred awake, groggy and disoriented. His body screamed for more rest, but something felt... off. The noise was out of place¡ªtoo mechanical, too rhythmic to be infected. A knock on the door brought him fully awake. "Supreme Commander, you need to see this," Phillip''s voice came from the other side, urgent but steady. Thomas sat up, rubbing the exhaustion from his face before reaching for his rifle. He pulled the door open to see Phillip standing there, his expression serious. "What is it?" Thomas asked. Phillip motioned for him to follow. "One of our scouts spotted something. You''ll want to see for yourself." Still shaking off the stiffness from his rest, Thomas followed him through the dim corridors of the refinery until they emerged onto the outer catwalk overlooking the south perimeter. Captain Logan was already there, binoculars in hand, scanning the horizon. "What are we looking at?" Thomas asked. Logan handed him the binoculars. "Convoy. Military trucks. Headed straight for us." Thomas raised the binoculars to his eyes. In the distance, six large military trucks were kicking up dust as they rolled down the battered road leading toward Ironhold Refinery. Their formation was tight, disciplined¡ªnot a rogue faction, not scavengers. And then he saw it. A flag. The unmistakable insignia of the Philippine Armed Forces. They were coming straight toward them. "What are we going to do, Supreme Commander?" "Please don''t call me that, a sir would be just fine, and Thomas would also do," Thomas reminded. "Then¡ªsir, what are we going to do?" "Simple, we are going to find out what they are going to do here." Chapter 94: First Military Encounter Thomas lowered the binoculars and exhaled slowly. The Philippine Armed Forces. Their arrival raised more questions than answers. Were they here as allies? Rivals? Or something worse? Given the state of the world, nothing could be taken for granted. Captain Logan shifted beside him. "Orders, sir?" Thomas looked over the refinery. Ironhold had been through hell in the past twenty-four hours. The facility was operational, the garrison was in position, and the infected were cleared out. But now, a new element was being introduced to the equation, one they hadn''t planned for. He made his decision. "Stay on high alert," Thomas said. "We don''t know their intentions yet. I want defensive positions reinforced and all guards on standby. No one fires unless I give the order." Logan nodded. "Understood." Phillip crossed his arms. "You think they''re friendly?" Thomas let out a short breath. "I don''t know. But they didn''t come in guns blazing, so that''s a good sign." Phillip smirked. "Low bar, but I''ll take it." Thomas turned to Shadow 1 and 2. "You two take a squad to the watchtower and get a better look at them as they approach. If you see anything suspicious¡ªunmarked vehicles, irregular troop formations¡ªI want to know immediately." "Yes, sir," Shadow 1 said before jogging off. Thomas then addressed Captain Logan. "Position snipers on the catwalks. I don''t want them engaging unless necessary, but I want eyes on every angle." "Already on it," Logan confirmed. The entire refinery came alive as Ironhold Garrison snapped into action. Soldiers moved to their designated posts, reinforcing the sandbag barriers at the front gate. The newly deployed snipers climbed into elevated positions, their scopes trained on the approaching convoy. The engineers and refinery workers were instructed to stay inside the facility. If things turned hostile, the last thing Thomas needed was civilian casualties. The convoy was getting closer now. The first vehicle was a Humvee, its turret manned but not aimed at them. Behind it were six military trucks, large and armored, kicking up dust as they rumbled toward the refinery. Through the binoculars, Thomas could see uniformed soldiers in the truck beds, scanning their surroundings. They looked well-equipped¡ªhelmets, body armor, and service rifles. Phillip let out a low whistle. "That''s not some ragtag militia. That''s professional." Thomas frowned. "Yeah. That means they have resources." Phillip nodded. "And if they have resources, they have a base." That was the part that interested Thomas the most. Ironhold was secure for now, but it wouldn''t last forever. Fuel alone wouldn''t keep them alive¡ªtrade, supplies, and manpower would be just as important. If the Philippine military was still functional, they could either be their biggest ally... or their worst enemy. The convoy stopped just outside the main gate. The Humvee''s engine idled, and the turret gunner remained seated, his weapon pointed toward the sky¡ªa non-threatening position, but still ready. The rest of the soldiers inside the trucks didn''t move immediately. No one rushed out. No one pointed weapons. It was a waiting game now. Thomas straightened. "Open the gate, but keep guards posted. We meet them outside." Logan hesitated. "Are you sure about this?" Thomas looked at him. "They know we''re armed. If they wanted a fight, they would''ve opened fire by now. We at least hear them out." Logan nodded and relayed the command. The main gate creaked open, wide enough for Thomas, Logan, and a few selected guards to step out. The moment they did, the doors of the Humvee opened, and two men stepped out. One was a high-ranking officer, judging by the insignia on his uniform. A lieutenant colonel. His face was hardened by experience, but there was no hostility in his expression. Beside him was a younger soldier, likely a lower-ranking officer or aide. Thomas stepped forward, meeting them halfway. The lieutenant colonel studied him for a moment before speaking. "You must be the one in charge here." Thomas nodded. "Thomas." The officer''s lips curled into the faintest hint of a smirk. "Just Thomas?" "For now." The officer didn''t press the issue. Instead, he extended a hand. "Lieutenant Colonel Andres Santiago, Philippine Army." Thomas shook his hand. It was firm, but not aggressive. Santiago glanced at the refinery. "You''ve certainly made yourself at home." Thomas didn''t flinch. "Had to. Place was overrun." "I can imagine," Santiago said, surveying the fortified entrance. "And now you have an operational fuel refinery. That''s... impressive." There was a weight to his words. A test. Thomas folded his arms. "Why are you here, Colonel?" Santiago met his gaze. "We saw the airstrike. Hellfire missiles. That''s not something you see every day." Thomas remained silent. Santiago continued, "We''ve been monitoring radio chatter in this region for weeks. Most of the military has collapsed, but we''re part of what''s left. I lead a battalion stationed north of here, in a fortified outpost." Phillip raised an eyebrow. "A battalion?" Santiago nodded. "Or what''s left of it. We have around 700 men, a few armored vehicles, and enough supplies to hold out." That was valuable information. Whether the colonel had given it willingly or as a calculated move was unclear, but it meant one thing: They weren''t alone. Santiago''s tone shifted. "You''ve managed to secure one of the last working refineries in the country. That makes you important." Thomas wasn''t going to play dumb. "And I assume you want something." Santiago nodded. "Fuel. We can negotiate terms, but we''re not here to take it by force." Thomas studied him. He wasn''t sure if that was the whole truth, but so far, Santiago had given no reason to doubt his word. Still, he wasn''t about to agree to anything just yet. "I don''t make deals blindly," Thomas said. "You want fuel? Then I need to know what I''m dealing with. I want to see your outpost." Santiago smirked. "Smart. You don''t trust me." "Would you?" The colonel actually laughed. "Fair enough." He considered Thomas for a moment before finally nodding. "Alright. You want to see the outpost? I can arrange that. But you''re coming alone." Logan tensed. "That''s not happening." "For our safety, we can''t show you our outpost unless we control the circumstances," Santiago explained. "If you come alone, it assures us you''re not planning anything. If you bring an escort, it complicates things." Thomas kept his expression neutral, considering the offer. He knew the risks. Walking into an unknown military encampment unarmed, surrounded by strangers, was a gamble. But if the Philippine military was still functioning at some capacity, then this could be the start of something bigger. However¡ªthe government has collapsed and the military is no longer taking orders from the higher ups. "I''m sorry but I can''t agree with that arrangement." Chapter 95 95: It Escalated Quickly Thomas''s words hung in the air like a blade poised to drop. Lieutenant Colonel Santiago''s expression barely shifted, but something about the way his fingers flexed slightly at his sides told Thomas everything he needed to know¡ªthis man had expected a different answer. For a moment, neither side moved. From above, Thomas knew his snipers were watching. The Ironhold Garrison was poised and ready. The Philippine soldiers? They were too still. Too measured. Too disciplined. They weren''t just here to talk. A crackle of static broke the silence. "Supreme Commander." Shadow 1''s voice came through the radio in Thomas''s earpiece. "Something''s wrong. Their men in the trucks are shifting positions¡ªsubtle, but they''re spreading out." Thomas didn''t react. He kept his expression calm, but his mind raced. "Are they going for their weapons?" he asked quietly. "Not yet," Shadow 1 replied. "But they''re preparing for something." Thomas felt it now¡ªthat familiar, electric tension before a firefight. Santiago''s expression remained unreadable, but his eyes flicked toward the snipers on the refinery catwalks¡ªjust for a fraction of a second. It was a mistake. A subtle, human mistake. And it told Thomas everything. Thomas made his decision in an instant. His fingers twitched, a silent signal. Captain Logan, standing at his right, reacted first. He drew. The moment the pistol left Logan''s holster, Santiago moved. The lieutenant colonel lunged backward, shouting something in Tagalog. Gunfire erupted. A burst of automatic fire ripped through the air. A split second later, sniper rounds cracked from the refinery catwalks, answering the ambush before it could fully take shape. Thomas hit the dirt just as the world exploded around him. The Humvee turret gunner spun, his rifle raising¡ª CRACK! A sniper round took him clean through the head. The body slumped over the mounted gun, twitching. The Philippine soldiers in the truck beds opened fire, spraying lead toward the Ironhold gate. "Return fire!" Thomas barked. Logan was already on the move, his rifle barking in controlled bursts as he ducked behind a sandbag barrier. Ironhold''s garrison troops, still in their defensive positions, unleashed hell. Muzzle flashes flared from behind the refinery barricades, precision shots ripping into the soldiers outside. The Philippine convoy was caught in a kill zone. They had the numbers, but Ironhold had the advantage. Snipers rained fire from above. Shadow 2''s rifle cracked again¡ªanother headshot. A soldier slumped against a truck door, blood misting the glass. Phillip, crouched behind a reinforced crate, lobbed a frag grenade toward one of the military trucks. BOOM! The explosion ripped through the side of the vehicle, flipping two soldiers off their feet. Thomas vaulted over a metal barrier, sliding into cover beside Logan. "We need to take out those trucks before they regroup!" Logan shouted over the gunfire. Thomas grabbed his radio. "Shadow 1, RPG on that second truck! NOW!" A few heartbeats later¡ª WHOOOSH¡ª The RPG spiraled through the air, slamming into the second truck. The vehicle detonated, a massive fireball engulfing several soldiers nearby. The blast wave sent debris flying across the battlefield. But the Philippine troops kept coming. Santiago had disappeared behind the lead Humvee, barking orders into his radio. His men weren''t breaking. These were professionals. One of the Philippine soldiers broke cover, sprinting toward the refinery''s outer gate with an M203 grenade launcher. Thomas saw it too late. "GRENADE INCOMING!" THOOMP! The grenade round arced through the air, heading straight for one of Ironhold''s barricades. BOOM! The explosion sent two Ironhold soldiers flying, their bodies slamming against a rusted pipeline. "Damn it!" Logan gritted his teeth. "We can''t let them get closer!" Thomas didn''t hesitate. He raised his MK18 rifle, fired three rounds¡ª The soldier with the grenade launcher dropped, blood spurting from his chest. But more were coming. From the left flank, three Philippine soldiers had breached a weak point in the refinery fencing. One rushed in, bayonet fixed, screaming¡ª Thomas ducked. The blade missed his throat by inches as he slammed the butt of his rifle into the attacker''s gut. The soldier staggered. Thomas flipped his grip¡ªfired once¡ª The bullet tore through the man''s skull. The battlefield was shifting. The Philippine forces were losing. Half their trucks were burning, their advance stalled by relentless counter-fire. Santiago emerged from cover, blood on his uniform. He scanned the battlefield, assessing the situation. His expression hardened. He grabbed his radio, shouted something in Tagalog. Then¡ª He turned to run. Thomas saw it. No. Not today. He raised his rifle. CRACK. The bullet hit Santiago in the leg. The colonel collapsed, groaning in pain. Ironhold soldiers swarmed him immediately, rifles trained. The last shots rang out. Smoke curled from the burning convoy. The last few surviving Philippine troops dropped their weapons, hands raised. It was over. Ironhold had won. Logan exhaled. "That was close." Phillip kicked over a Philippine soldier''s discarded rifle. "Too close." Thomas approached Santiago''s fallen form, kneeling beside him. The colonel looked up, pain in his eyes¡ªbut also something else. Resignation. Thomas met his gaze. "You should''ve just negotiated." Santiago let out a strained chuckle. "That''s not how the world works anymore." Thomas stood. "You''re right." He raised his pistol. And pulled the trigger. CRACK. The last of the Philippine convoy was dead. Ironhold had survived. The refinery remained theirs. But¡ªhe knew that there would be more of them. After all, he remembered that there are some of them. "Eagle Actual to Overlord," Thomas talked through his radio. "This is Overlord, send traffic," Marcus replied. "We just engaged and eliminated a hostile convoy of Philippine Armed Forces. Their commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Santiago, is KIA," Thomas reported. Ironhold remains secure, but we expect retaliation." A long pause followed on the other end. Then, Marcus spoke. "Understood, Eagle Actual. Standby for intel." Thomas turned away from Santiago''s corpse, scanning the battlefield. Smoke still rose from the burning vehicles." "Are there any injured?" Thomas asked. Logan nodded grimly. "Two confirmed KIA from our side, five wounded. Most are minor, but one''s in bad shape." Thomas clenched his jaw. Losing men was always a possibility, but that didn''t make it any easier. "I''ll summon the medics." "Yes sir." Chapter 96 96: They Dont Know Yet The former SM Mall of Asia reclamation area, now an improvised military airfield, hummed with life even in the dead of night. Makeshift hangars housed a handful of UAVs, fuel trucks lined the periphery, and armed guards patrolled the area. In the middle of the tarmac sat an MQ-9 Reaper. Ground crews moved around it, running final checks as its engine idled in anticipation. Inside the UAV Operations Center, a small control room filled with glowing monitors and quiet urgency, Javier Cruz, the designated drone pilot, adjusted his headset. His hands hovered over the controls, eyes locked onto the live feed from the Reaper''s camera. A voice crackled through his headset¡ªMiguel Lopez, the air traffic controller overseeing the launch. "Reaper One-One, this is MOA Tower. Status check?" Cruz toggled his mic. "MOA Tower, this is Reaper One-One. Pre-flight checklist complete. Engine running at optimal levels, payload systems green." "Copy that, Reaper One-One. Flight path uploaded. You are cleared for takeoff. Maintain altitude below fifteen thousand until you clear city airspace, then proceed with climb." Cruz steadied his grip. "Roger that, Tower. Reaper One-One is rolling." On the tarmac, the MQ-9 Reaper''s Rotax 914 engine hummed louder as the drone rolled forward, gaining speed down the improvised runway. The UAV''s wings lifted as its nose tilted skyward, rising smoothly into the night sky. Inside the operations center, Cruz kept his hands steady on the HOTAS (Hands-On Throttle and Stick), eyes flicking across the displays. The screen showed a live telemetry feed: Altitude: 2,500 ft... 5,000 ft... 10,000 ft... As soon as it cleared city airspace, Lopez''s voice returned. "Reaper One-One, you are clear for full ascent. Proceed to recon zone. Callsign Eagle Actual is awaiting your feed." "Copy, Tower. Climbing to twenty-five thousand feet. Switching to mission ops." High above the dark waters of Manila Bay, the Reaper soared silently, its Lynx AN/APY-8 Synthetic Aperture Radar scanning below. The MTS-B Multi-Spectral Targeting System was already active, its infrared and electro-optical sensors painting the landscape in crisp detail. Cruz, back at the operations center, adjusted his FLIR (Forward-Looking Infrared) camera, scanning the coastline as the Reaper neared Bataan. His monitor displayed heat signatures in shades of white and black¡ªnormal civilian clusters, some isolated vehicles. Nothing stood out. Then, he toggled to infrared mode. His breath hitched. Near Orani, Bataan, a cluster of military-grade vehicles was moving in a tight formation. The way they maneuvered suggested disciplined coordination, not just a band of scavengers or rogue elements. Cruz clicked his radio. "Overlord, this is Reaper One-One. We might have something." Marcus responded instantly. "Send it." Cruz zoomed in, adjusting contrast. The heat signatures were too strong for abandoned vehicles¡ªthese were active units. He counted at least twelve armored personnel carriers, several support trucks, and possibly a mobile command unit. "We''ve got multiple armored vehicles stationed just west of Orani, possibly a staging area. No visible insignias yet, but their movements are coordinated." A pause. Then Marcus''s voice came through, sharp. "Eagle Actual, you copy this?" Thomas, standing in the command post at Ironhold, pressed his radio to his ear. "Copy, Overlord. Reaper One-One, confirm if they''re Philippine Armed Forces." Cruz exhaled, stabilizing his optics. "I''m not seeing any clear markings yet, but they have the thermal signatures of soldiers in full gear. Estimated company strength, maybe more." Thomas''s grip on his rifle tightened. A company-sized force was enough to level Ironhold if they decided to retaliate. Phillip, standing beside him, whispered, "They were waiting for Santiago''s signal." Thomas nodded grimly. "But it never came." Which meant they were probably reassessing their next move. Back on the drone feed, Cruz switched to low-light mode. The convoy was stationary, their engines running, but no further movement. Thomas keyed his radio again. "Reaper One-One, keep them under surveillance. If they move toward Ironhold, I want to know before they get halfway." Cruz acknowledged. "Roger, Eagle Actual. I''ll keep eyes on them." "Is the Reaper armed?" Thomas asked, eyes still locked onto the command post''s monitor. Cruz''s response came through instantly. "Reaper has missiles, Eagle Actual. We''re loaded with four AGM-114 Hellfires and two GBU-12 Paveway II laser-guided bombs," Cruz confirmed. Thomas exhaled. That changed things. The MQ-9 wasn''t just a recon bird this time¡ªit was a flying executioner. "Understood," Thomas replied. "But hold fire unless I give the order. We don''t know if they''re hostile yet." Cruz kept his eyes locked onto the Reaper''s live feed, zooming in as much as he could without distorting the image. The convoy remained stationary, but something was off. The longer they stayed in one place without making a move toward Ironhold or retreating, the more it became apparent that they weren''t preparing an attack. "Overlord, I''m not seeing any aggressive movements," Cruz reported. "No perimeter defense being set up, no patrols outside the vehicles. They''re just... waiting." Marcus''s voice crackled over the comms. "Waiting for what?" Cruz tapped a few keys, shifting the camera angle. "Hard to say, but they''re maintaining radio silence. If they were preparing an operation, they''d be coordinating over comms." Thomas frowned, hearing the conversation through his earpiece. He turned to Phillip. "You were right. They were expecting Santiago to check in." Phillip crossed his arms. "And when they didn''t get a response, they held their position instead of charging in. That''s not an attack force¡ªit''s a staging group waiting for orders." Thomas switched his radio. "Reaper One-One, can you intercept any radio transmissions in their vicinity?" Cruz checked his system logs. "Negative, sir. Either they''re completely silent or they''re on an encrypted channel." That was confirmation enough¡ªthis wasn''t a rogue element. They were waiting for their commander''s orders. Phillip exhaled. "They have no idea we wiped out Santiago''s team." Thomas nodded. "Which means they don''t know who''s in control of Ironhold." For now, that gave them an advantage. If they played it smart, they could dictate how this meeting unfolded. Marcus chimed in. "Eagle Actual, what''s the call?" "We wait for their moves." Chapter 97: Getting a Bit Tense Captain Enrique Villamor stood inside the dimly lit command tent, arms crossed, his eyes locked onto the silent radio receiver. Outside, the low hum of generators mixed with the distant shuffle of soldiers going about their routines, but inside the tent, the atmosphere was tense. It had been over an hour since Lieutenant Colonel Santiago and his men had been dispatched to secure the refinery, and yet¡ªnothing. No radio check-in, no updates, not even a distress signal. They should have reported back by now. Villamor glanced at Lieutenant Carlos Moreno, who was seated at the communications desk, headset pressed tightly against his ear. His expression was unreadable as he worked the frequency dial, trying to reestablish contact. "Alpha One, this is Sentinel Actual. Do you read? Over." Static. Moreno frowned, adjusting the dials before trying again. "Alpha One, Sentinel Actual. Report status." More static. Moreno slowly removed his headset and looked at Villamor. "Still no response, sir." Villamor exhaled sharply. This wasn''t normal. Santiago was not the kind of officer who would go silent during an operation, especially not on something as critical as this. If they had secured the refinery, he would have checked in. If they had run into trouble, he would have called for reinforcements. "Try again." Moreno nodded and repeated the call. Still nothing. A murmur of unease spread through the other officers inside the command tent. Finally, Sergeant Ramos spoke up. "Maybe they''re still clearing the site, sir? The refinery is a big place. Plus, we spotted a helicopter flying near it earlier." Villamor''s frown deepened. That detail hadn''t escaped his notice either. "Could be another Philippine Armed Forces unit, sir," another soldier suggested. "If there were already friendlies there, Santiago''s team might be coordinating with them." Villamor shook his head. "If that were the case, he would have checked in." And yet¡ªsilence. "They were supposed to check in thirty minutes after arrival," Villamor muttered, rubbing his chin. "Even if they ran into hostiles, they would have radioed for backup." Moreno, still at the radio station, adjusted the frequency dial one last time. "Alpha One, this is Sentinel Actual. Do you read? Over." Nothing. Moreno''s face tightened. "Sir, I''m getting no response on any frequency. It''s like they just... vanished." A heavy silence settled in the room. Villamor exhaled sharply. This wasn''t just a communication failure¡ªsomething had gone wrong. The refinery was too important to leave unchecked. Their fuel reserves were dwindling, and if something had happened to Santiago''s team, they needed to know now. "Sir," Sergeant Ramos said, stepping forward. "We need to send a team. If we lose that refinery, we''re finished." Villamor didn''t like rushing into unknown situations, but he had no choice. He turned to Moreno. "Get a recon team ready. We''re moving out." The jungle night was thick with humidity, the scent of damp earth clinging to their fatigues. Captain Enrique Villamor led a seven-man recon team through the darkness, moving swiftly but cautiously. They had left their armored vehicles behind¡ªstealth was the priority now. Villamor''s mind ran through the possibilities: Santiago''s team was still clearing the refinery. They had encountered unknown hostiles. They had been wiped out. The third possibility sent a cold chill down his spine. Beside him, Private Diaz, their designated scout, suddenly raised his fist¡ªhalt. The team froze, weapons raised. Diaz, crouched low, whispered into his radio. "Sentinel Actual, we''re at the ridgeline. We''ve got eyes on the refinery." Villamor gave the signal to hold position. The team crouched low, taking cover behind thick foliage and rocks. Villamor raised his binoculars and peered toward the refinery. And his breath caught. The refinery was lit up. Bright industrial lights, defensive sandbag positions, patrolling guards. The entire perimeter was fortified. Villamor''s stomach dropped. "What the hell?" These weren''t scavengers. The guards moved in disciplined formations¡ªpairs patrolling key choke points, snipers stationed in elevated positions. The entire perimeter was lined with defensive barriers. This wasn''t a looter gang or a bunch of desperate survivors. This was a military force. Villamor turned to Sergeant Ramos. "Do you see any of our guys?" Ramos, scanning the area through his rifle''s optic scope, shook his head. "Negative, sir. No sign of Santiago''s men." Not a single familiar uniform. Not a single Philippine Armed Forces insignia. Villamor clenched his jaw. Santiago''s team had been wiped out. Or worse. "Sir," Diaz whispered. "I count at least thirty guards patrolling outside the refinery. Heavily armed." Villamor''s mind raced. Who the hell were these people? They had military-grade weapons, fortifications, and better equipment than his own forces. And if they had taken the refinery... Then they controlled the fuel. Villamor pressed his radio. "Sentinel Actual, we have a situation." Lieutenant Carlos Moreno''s voice crackled in his earpiece. "Go ahead, Captain." "The refinery is occupied. It''s heavily fortified. No sign of Santiago''s team. These are not scavengers." A long pause. Then, Moreno''s voice came through, lower this time. "...Who the hell are we dealing with?" Villamor turned back to the refinery, scanning the military-grade fortifications. That was the million-peso question. Whoever controlled the refinery wasn''t just some local militia. They were organized. Disciplined. Armed. And the Philippine Armed Forces had no idea who they were. Villamor gritted his teeth. They had walked into something bigger than they expected. And they had no idea what came next. *** Meanwhile, minutes earlier. High above the darkened jungle, the MQ-9 Reaper glided through the night sky, its silent flight masked by the low hum of its turboprop engine. Inside the UAV Operations Center at the MOA Airfield, Javier Cruz adjusted his FLIR camera, scanning the terrain below. A cluster of heat signatures caught his attention¡ªeight figures moving carefully through the jungle, spreading out in a tactical formation. They weren''t moving like scavengers. They were trained. Disciplined. Military. Cruz toggled his comms. "Overlord, this is Reaper One-One. We have unidentified ground forces approaching the refinery from the east." Marcus''s voice crackled over the radio. "Send visual confirmation." Cruz zoomed in, switching to low-light mode. The figures were clad in full tactical gear, their weapons raised as they moved. He adjusted the contrast, and there it was¡ªPhilippine Armed Forces patches on their shoulders. "Confirmed," Cruz reported. "They''re military." Silence followed for a second before Marcus responded. "Do they look hostile?" Cruz observed their movements. No immediate signs of aggression. They weren''t aiming at the refinery¡ªyet. They were scouting. "Negative, Overlord. They''re watching, not attacking." A new voice came through¡ªThomas. "Rules of engagement remain. If they don''t present themselves as hostile, we don''t shoot." Cruz nodded to himself. For now, they would wait. Chapter 98: Trying to be Diplomatic Captain Enrique Villamor sat crouched behind thick brush, eyes fixed on the fortified refinery in the distance. From their position on the ridgeline, the site looked like a small city¡ªfloodlights humming, soldiers patrolling in tight formations, and even watchtowers rigged with long-range scopes. Whoever these people were, they were serious. And they definitely weren''t part of the Philippine Armed Forces. Behind him, his recon team kept quiet, their breaths shallow, fingers resting lightly on the triggers of their rifles. Villamor didn''t need to say it aloud¡ªthis situation had just gotten far more complicated. "Still no movement toward us," Private Diaz whispered. He kept his eye on the perimeter, watching for even the smallest shift. Villamor gave a silent nod, then tapped his radio earpiece. "Sentinel Actual, this is Villamor. We''re observing a heavily fortified position. Approximately thirty personnel outside. No visual on Alpha One. Repeat, no visual on Alpha One." On the other end, Lieutenant Moreno''s voice came through, laced with concern. "Copy. Do you assess the area as hostile?" Villamor hesitated, eyes narrowing at the distant guards moving with clear military discipline. "They''re armed, organized, and they''ve taken over the refinery. But they''re not engaging. They''re not even acting defensive¡ªlike they don''t feel threatened." Moreno''s voice dropped in volume, thoughtful. "So... they''re confident. They know someone''s watching, and they don''t care." "Exactly." Villamor lowered his binoculars, rubbed his forehead, and took a deep breath. "Sir, we can''t keep sitting here. Alpha One''s last known coordinates place them inside that refinery. There''s no radio contact, no distress signals, and no confirmation they''re still alive. We need to confirm their status. We have to make contact." Silence on the line. Then Moreno spoke. "You''re sure?" Villamor''s voice was steady. "Yes, sir. If we don''t do something, we''re just guessing. And I''m not about to leave our men behind because we were too afraid to knock on a gate." Another pause. Then, finally: "Understood. You are authorized to initiate contact. Proceed with caution. Rules of engagement are clear¡ªonly fire if fired upon." "Copy that." Villamor turned to his team, his expression hard but calm. "We''re going down." The team exchanged glances. No one objected. They began the descent. Every step through the underbrush was measured, controlled. Villamor kept his eyes on the lights ahead, watching the shifting silhouettes of armed men at the refinery''s gate. A few carried night vision gear. One or two had thermal scopes mounted to their rifles. Whoever was leading this force had spared no expense. Once they were within three hundred meters, Villamor raised his hand, signaling the team to stop. "Diaz. White flag." The scout hesitated, then reached into his pack and unfurled a folded strip of white cloth, tying it to the tip of his rifle barrel. Villamor exhaled. "Ramos. With me. Everyone else¡ªcover us from here." The two officers slowly stepped out of the brush, rifles slung, hands raised slightly, keeping the white flag in view. They made their way to the perimeter slowly, not attempting to move covertly. It was a gamble¡ªbut if these guys weren''t immediately hostile, a calm approach might be their best chance. At the refinery walls, the nearest guard raised his rifle slightly¡ªalert, but not aiming. Seconds later, more guards appeared from behind sandbags. Two of them had shoulder-mounted radios. One of them spoke quickly into his mic, eyes never leaving Villamor. A small detachment of four guards approached, their uniforms crisp, boots clean, weapons modern and well-maintained. They weren''t just holding a position¡ªthey were projecting strength. "Identify yourselves," one of them barked. Villamor kept his tone even. "Captain Enrique Villamor, Philippine Army. We''re here looking for Lieutenant Colonel Santiago and Alpha One. They were dispatched to this refinery yesterday. We''ve lost contact." The guard didn''t answer. He tapped his earpiece. "We''ve got a representative here. Claims he''s from the Philippine Army. Says he''s looking for someone named Santiago." There was a pause, then the guard nodded. "Understood." He turned back to Villamor. "You''re going to wait here." "Understood." Inside Ironhold''s command post, Thomas stood in front of a monitor displaying the live Reaper feed. He had watched Villamor''s team descend the hill. Watched the white flag. Watched the calm, measured approach. "They''re making contact," Cruz said over comms. Phillip, standing beside Thomas, glanced at the screen. "How do you want to play this? They''ll be eager to know what happened to their comrades." Thomas stared at the screen, his jaw tight, eyes following the feed in real time. Villamor''s calm approach and discipline told him one thing¡ªthis wasn''t some green unit sent out of desperation. These men were trained, and they were smart enough not to rush in guns blazing. "We play it measured," Thomas said at last. "No blindfolds. No threats. But no lies either. They came to ask what happened¡ªso we tell them." Phillip raised an eyebrow. "The truth?" "As much of it as they need to hear," Thomas said. "Escort them in. I''ll handle it." Logan gave a short nod, then stepped out of the command post. Back at the gate, the tension was thick. Villamor could feel the eyes of multiple sentries locked onto him¡ªsome behind scopes, others behind cover. The guard who had questioned him turned as a squad of four approached. At their lead was a man in full tactical gear with a hardened look, a rifle slung across his chest with casual ease¡ªCaptain Logan. He stopped a few paces from Villamor and gave him a once-over. "Captain Villamor?" "Yes." "Commander Thomas will speak with you. You''ll be escorted inside. No blindfolds. Keep your weapons slung." Villamor gave a tight nod. "Understood." He and Ramos followed the escort, moving past sandbags, armored vehicles, and steel-plated barriers. The interior of the refinery was a stark contrast to the jungle they had come from¡ªclean, secure, buzzing with activity. Workers in mechanic coveralls moved equipment, while uniformed soldiers patrolled with purpose. This was more than a camp. It was a base. They were led into a large office building at the center of the compound. Inside, power was running, lights were on, and the air was cool from portable fans. A digital map of the facility glowed softly on a wall-mounted screen. And standing in front of it was Thomas. He turned as the two officers entered, offering no salute, no smile¡ªjust a quiet nod. "Captain Villamor. You''re looking for Santiago." Villamor stepped forward. "Yes. He and Alpha One were sent to secure this refinery. We lost contact. I need to know what happened." Thomas held his gaze. "Santiago arrived without warning. No IFF, no radio coordination. He demanded control of the refinery. Then he opened fire." Hearing that, Villamor''s eyes widened in shock to the point he had reached to his pistol that was on his holster¡ª. "Don''t even think about it," Thomas warned as his soldiers promptly trained their rifles at him. Villamor froze, his hand hovering near his holster. "You are outnumbered sir, I don''t think it will be in your favor should you pull that pistol out," Thomas said with a sigh and continued. "Look, I want to understand why the Philippine army couldn''t take no for an answer and retaliate as if the world revolves around them." "I just simply don''t believe it," Villamor said with a calm voice. "There was no way they''ll engage you without reasons." "And I''m telling you the truth¡ªyou know what. I don''t care if you believe what I said. The more important thing that we should discuss is about your presence here. You were hoping to capture this refinery, am I right?" Villamor gulped a mouthful of saliva before answering. "Indeed, this is the largest source of fuel in this apocalyptic world so naturally, everybody would aim for it, if they are thinking logically." "Too bad, we got here first. Your men did approach us diplomatically but the terms of their condition aren''t just acceptable to us. Which is why we refused and ended up in a firefight with them," Thomas explained. "I hope that you would be different from Mr. Santiago." Villamor remained silent after that as he pondered about what he just heard. So the men before him were the ones who killed Santiago and his men and what''s baffling is that those men aren''t just ordinary soldiers, they were military trained. So the fact that they were crushed by these people meant that they are also military but the question is from where? Looking around, he noticed that some of them looked like foreigners. Could it be that they are mercenary? If that''s the case then what are they doing here prior to the zombie apocalypse. And also¡ªthe man speaking to him was young to be a commander of this base, and he looked Filipino. Something is not adding up, confusing him. "I will be different from the first one," Villamor replied. "Let''s discuss what needs to be discussed." Thomas smiled upon hearing that. "Very well, I''ll prepare a room for us." He looked at Logan. Logan didn''t need any words to understand what Thomas wanted him to do. He knew it the moment their eyes met. "It will be done sir," Logan said as he lowered his head respectfully. Chapter 99 99: The Discussion The meeting room Thomas had prepared wasn''t lavish¡ªit was functional. Clean metal tables, folding chairs, a simple fan humming in the corner. But the sharpness of the soldiers standing guard at each end of the room made it clear: this was not a casual conversation. Captain Enrique Villamor stepped inside with measured steps, his expression calm but alert. Ramos stayed outside per Thomas''s request¡ªthis was a one-on-one discussion. Thomas closed the door behind them and gestured to the chair across from him. "Have a seat, Captain." Villamor complied, his eyes scanning the room once more before settling on the man who, for all intents and purposes, controlled the refinery. Thomas sat across from him, resting his forearms on the table. He leaned forward slightly, his voice level. "Let''s start from the top. I''m Commander Thomas Estaris. I lead this force." Villamor raised an eyebrow. "What branch?" Thomas gave a small exhale, then chuckled dryly. "That''s the thing. We''re not with any branch you know. Technically, we''re a private military force." Villamor blinked. "A private army?" Thomas nodded. "We operate internationally. Before the world went to hell, we handled high-level private security contracts, conflict zone operations, and force recon missions on behalf of clients¡ªgovernments, corporations, whoever had the funds and the cause." He paused, glancing at the table for a second. "Actually... we''ve never had to name ourselves. But I suppose that changes today." Villamor tilted his head. "You don''t have a name?" "Didn''t need one," Thomas said with a shrug. "But if you''re going to keep asking who we are... we''re Overwatch now." "Overwatch," Villamor repeated quietly, like he was testing the weight of the word. "So you''re mercenaries." Thomas didn''t flinch. "We''re soldiers with discipline and a purpose. We don''t loot, we don''t burn, and we don''t shoot first. But we will hold what we''ve bled for." Villamor gave a slow nod, as if digesting the information. "And you?" Thomas asked. "Let''s get your details out of the way." Villamor straightened in his chair. "Captain Enrique Villamor, Philippine Army, 7th Infantry Division. Before the outbreak, I was stationed in Nueva Ecija. I was part of Task Force Sentinel¡ªour mandate shifted when the virus hit. We''ve been on the move since then, supporting evacuation points, securing supply lines. Bataan is our current fallback position." Thomas frowned. "So who''s giving you your orders now? President? Senate?" Villamor''s face tightened. He shook his head. "The President''s dead. So is most of the cabinet. Chain of command fell apart during the first week. Some officers tried to rally, others... chose to flee." Thomas leaned back slowly. "So who''s in charge?" "We follow General Angelo de Vera," Villamor said. "He was the commanding officer of the 302nd Brigade. He consolidated surviving military assets in Bataan. It''s a medium force, holding out in a fortified base. We''ve got soldiers, civilian volunteers, evacuees¡ªaround a thousand people total, give or take. Food and fuel are running low. That refinery was critical." Thomas was quiet for a moment, processing that. "And Santiago? Was he under General de Vera''s direct command?" Villamor nodded. "He was. Assigned to lead the recon and, if possible, secure this refinery for distribution." Thomas''s voice darkened. "And did that mission include opening fire on fortified positions?" Villamor narrowed his eyes. "That''s still what I don''t understand. Santiago wouldn''t start a firefight without cause. Maybe something was misread. Maybe someone in your perimeter got twitchy." Thomas''s jaw tightened. "No one in my unit fired first. Your men started firing on our position. At first, Santiago demanded I go with them to speak with your leader, supposedly your General.. When I said no, they started moving on our positions. That''s when everything went to hell." Villamor was silent for a beat, his brow furrowed. "That doesn''t sound like him," he said at last. "I agree," Thomas replied, folding his arms. "Which is why I think Santiago came here expecting to find some half-starved militia guarding the gates. He thought he could bluff us into giving it up. When we didn''t, pride kicked in." Villamor looked down at the table, nodding slowly. "If what you''re saying is true... then we miscalculated." Thomas tapped his fingers once against the table. "You did more than miscalculate. You lost men. Good men. And you''re lucky we didn''t light up your recon team from the ridgeline. A lesser force would''ve done it." "I won''t argue with that," Villamor said quietly. "Your people had every reason to shoot first. But you didn''t." "We''re not here to wipe out what''s left of civilization, Captain," Thomas said. "We''re here to rebuild. But that means we need order. Cooperation." Villamor looked up. "And what does cooperation mean to you?" "It means we find a way forward where both sides live. You don''t try to take this refinery from us. In return, we open up the possibility of fuel shipments¡ªcontrolled, rationed, but shared." Villamor leaned forward slightly. "You''re willing to negotiate?" "Of course, after all, we are in the team of humanity. We are up against zombies right? So it only makes sense to stop shooting at each other and focus on the real enemy." Villamor allowed himself a small nod, his eyes never leaving Thomas. "That''s the first sane thing I''ve heard in weeks." Thomas leaned back in his chair. "We''re not trying to hoard everything, Captain. We secured this place. We bled for it. That doesn''t mean we won''t share¡ªespecially not if it keeps more people alive." Villamor crossed his arms. "You understand, though, that I can''t promise anything. I''ll have to bring this back to General de Vera. He''ll make the call." "I expect that," Thomas replied. "But understand this: I''m not giving up this refinery. Not to you. Not to anyone. If he tries to take it by force like Santiago did... the outcome won''t be different." Villamor stared for a moment, then slowly stood. "Understood. I''ll relay the message." Thomas stood as well, extending a hand. "Let''s hope cooler heads prevail, Captain." Villamor looked at the hand for a beat, then took it with a firm grip. "For all our sakes." Chapter 100 100: Reporting to the General A day had passed since Captain Enrique Villamor met with Thomas Estaris, and now he was back on the road¡ªthis time not as a scout, but as the bearer of grave news. Three military trucks kicked up dust along the cracked asphalt road that led toward the fortified military base in Bataan. His recon team rode in silence, weighed down by exhaustion, uncertainty, and the heaviness of failure. As they neared the outer checkpoint, armed soldiers stepped forward, rifles low but ready. One of them recognized Villamor and quickly raised a hand. "Captain Villamor?" the guard called out. "Yeah. It''s us," Villamor replied from the front passenger seat. "Let us through." The guard waved them in. The gate opened with a mechanical creak, and the trucks rolled inside. The base was nestled between a ridge and the coast. Long rows of tents were pitched along the dirt lots¡ªsome for soldiers, most for evacuees. Civilians lined up near a makeshift soup kitchen, bowls clutched to their chests, eyes hollow from hunger and fatigue. Children clung to mothers, while medics tended to the sick under tarpaulin shelters. Armed soldiers moved between stations, keeping order, their faces stoic. Villamor stepped out of the truck and looked around. It wasn''t just a base anymore. It was a last refuge. "Let''s move," he said to his men. "You''re dismissed. I''ll handle the report." They nodded silently and dispersed. Villamor made his way across the camp and into the administrative building¡ªa pre-war structure retrofitted for command use. He passed through two guards at the door and climbed a short flight of stairs before arriving at the general''s office. As he opened the door, raised voices met him. "You can''t be serious, General!" a man in a barong barked. "I''m the Mayor of Limay! I deserve quarters that reflect my station. My family shouldn''t be sharing a tent with displaced farmers!" Inside, General Angelo de Vera stood tall behind his desk, arms folded, his face lined with exhaustion but steeled with resolve. Across from him, a red-faced, overweight man paced furiously. "I don''t give a damn if you were a senator before the outbreak," the general said firmly. "Out there, everyone''s equal. Inside these walls, I command, not you. You''re a civilian now. You get a tent, just like the rest." The mayor sputtered with disbelief. "This is how you treat elected officials?!" "This is how I treat people who think privilege still matters in a dying world," De Vera replied coldly. "Now if you''re done complaining, leave." The mayor huffed and stormed past Villamor, glaring at him as he shoved the door open. "Enjoy your time in the mud," he muttered on his way out. Villamor stepped in. "Sir." De Vera''s scowl didn''t lift, but his voice softened. "Villamor. You''re back." The general walked around his desk. "Well? Is the refinery secured?" Villamor didn''t answer immediately. He shut the door behind him, then turned to face De Vera. "No, sir." The room fell still. De Vera''s jaw twitched. "What do you mean no?" Villamor stood straight. "It''s already been secured, General. A private military force got there first. They''re calling themselves Overwatch. They''ve fortified the entire compound." The general''s brow furrowed. "Overwatch? Who the hell are they?" "Private army. International contractors, from what I gathered. Professionally trained, well-equipped. They''re not a militia, sir. They''re organized." De Vera''s expression darkened. "And Santiago?" Villamor hesitated. Then he said it. "KIA, sir. Along with the rest of Alpha One." The general''s eyes widened slightly. "What?" "They attempted to take the refinery by force. Santiago made demands. When they were refused, they pushed forward. The other side responded. Alpha One didn''t survive." De Vera''s fists clenched, his voice dropping to a near growl. "Those were trained soldiers. Santiago was a seasoned officer." "I know," Villamor said quietly. "But they were outmatched. Overwatch isn''t just some gang of mercs. They held the ground, suffered casualties, but survived. They didn''t shoot first, sir. That much I believe." De Vera slowly walked back behind his desk and sat down, the weight of the news sinking in. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, breathing through his nose. "So, that''s it? The refinery''s lost?" Villamor shook his head. "Not completely. Commander Thomas Estaris is willing to negotiate. He says they''ll consider sharing fuel¡ªcontrolled distribution." The general opened his eyes. "And what does he want in return?" "Peace. Order. No more firefights. He said they''re here to rebuild, not hoard. But he made it clear, sir¡ªif we try to take it by force again, the result will be the same." De Vera stared across the room, then exhaled heavily. "So we misjudged the situation." Villamor didn''t respond. The general stood, pacing behind his desk. "We''re low on food. Our supply lines are unstable. And now, the refinery¡ªour last real fuel source¡ªis controlled by a private army." He stopped, turned back to Villamor. "What do you think? Can we trust them?" Villamor thought for a moment, then answered honestly. "They didn''t kill us when they had every reason to. That counts for something." De Vera sat again, leaning back. "We''ll need to tread carefully," he muttered. "Santiago''s death... that''s going to ripple through the ranks." Villamor nodded. "I''ll talk to the men. They need to hear it from me." "Good. We''ll discuss terms later. For now, you''re dismissed." Villamor saluted. He then turned and exited the office, the door shutting behind him with a soft thud. He hoped that the leadership would make a sensible decision when it comes to this matter. Even though he hadn''t witnessed the military prowess of Overwatch, it''s better to be careful than sorry. After all, Thomas''s words resonated in him. That they aren''t enemies but an ally for humanity. They shouldn''t forget that the real enemies are the zombies. However, he also knew that in the times of apocalypse, personal or any other type of interest would prevail over unity more often than not. Well¡ªthere are other things for him to do, so he left the building and prepared for whatever it is to come. Chapter 101 101: Recon Flight High above the coastline of Bataan, the MQ-9 Reaper drone cut through the clouds like a silent predator. At 25,000 feet, it was all but invisible to those below. Its onboard FLIR and high-resolution EO/IR cameras scanned the terrain relentlessly, picking apart every detail of the sprawling base nestled between the ridgeline and the sea. Inside the UAV Operations Center at the refinery, the hum of electronics filled the room. Screens glowed with telemetry data, maps, and live feeds. Javier Cruz sat at the controls, one hand on the joystick, the other hovering near the comms panel. His eyes flicked across the monitors as he zoomed in on various sectors of the military encampment below. "Overwatch HQ, this is Reaper One-One. Eyes on target. Beginning full scan of Area Lima-Bravo. Feed live on Command Net Zero-One." Inside his office at the refinery, Commander Thomas Estaris leaned forward from behind his desk. The monitors on the wall displayed crisp, real-time footage from the drone. A large tactical map was spread out across his table, and a cup of coffee sat untouched beside it. Logan stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching the feed in silence. "Talk to me, Cruz," Thomas said sharply. "Roger that, Commander," Cruz replied, adjusting the camera focus. "Grid square Foxtrot-Seven to India-Niner, we''ve got full visual. Layout looks like standard pre-war garrison structure. Central administrative block¡ªtwo stories, reinforced concrete. East quadrant filled with modular tents¡ªdefinitely temporary shelters. Civilians, evacuees, medical personnel. Estimate... 800 to 1,000 non-combatants." Thomas exhaled through his nose, folding his arms. "Visual confirmation on vehicles?" "Affirmative," Cruz responded. "Motor pool on the western perimeter. Seeing six Humvees, three M35 trucks, two armored V-150s¡ªboth look beat to hell, might be running on spare parts. One of them''s missing the right turret panel." "Any armor?" "Negative on tanks. No APCs outside the V-150s. No tracked vehicles. Looks like they''re light on heavy support." Thomas turned to Logan. "They''re not moving much, are they?" "Nope," Logan replied. "They''re static. Which means they''re low on fuel or don''t have enough to keep rotating patrols." Cruz continued narrating from the ops room. "Main command building located at grid Golf-Eight. Guard rotation light¡ªtwo men at the entrance, no overhead watch. Saw Villamor earlier. He''s in and out of the main building. Looks like he''s debriefing." "Get me a headcount on armed personnel," Thomas said. "Copy. Sweeping south perimeter now." The camera swept over soldiers in tan fatigues standing guard around the base. Some manned sandbag checkpoints, others patrolled between tents and watchpoints. They were organized, yes, but there was fatigue in their movements¡ªan edge of weariness. "Estimation: 120 to 150 active-duty troops. Mixed uniforms, some ragged. I''m also seeing a handful of armed civilians¡ªmakeshift militia types, probably volunteers. Training level unknown." "Condition of the base?" Thomas asked. "Functional, but stretched," Cruz answered. "Food distribution near grid Echo-Six. Line''s at least a hundred people deep. People are huddled under tarps, some showing signs of malnourishment. I''d say they''re in survival mode¡ªbarely." Thomas leaned back, running a hand down his face. "So Villamor wasn''t lying." "No, sir," Logan said. "That base is holding together with duct tape and prayer." Thomas stared at the screen for a moment, watching a mother cradle her child near the food line. He didn''t say anything for a while. Then, Cruz came back in. "Command Net, be advised. Additional note: I have visual on outer defensive layout. Barbed wire in three concentric layers. Sandbagged MG nests on the southern approach. Two elevated sniper towers at the north end. Looks like they''re prepping for a worst-case scenario." "Any SAMs?" Thomas asked. "Negative, Commander. No sign of any anti-air capability. Closest thing they''ve got are two M2 Browning emplacements. Nothing''s aimed skyward." "Good," Thomas murmured. Logan turned to him. "So what''s the call, boss? We offering help or waiting until they bleed dry?" Thomas was quiet for a second. "Neither," he finally said. "We watch. We wait. If they come to the table ready to talk, we listen. But I''m not sending convoys into a camp where one bad decision could cost us people." Logan nodded. "Copy that." Thomas tapped the corner of his desk, eyes still locked on the feed. "Reaper One-One, keep your bird in orbit until fuel threshold reaches 30 percent, then RTB. Log all coordinates and send the footage to my terminal." "Wilco, Overwatch HQ. Reaper One-One out." The screen flicked to thermal view, highlighting the density of the base. The warmth of bodies crammed into shelters. The stark contrast of a few powered buildings and the cold zones beyond the base''s perimeter. Thomas turned off the screen. "Logan, prep a report for the negotiation team. I want them ready in seventy-two hours." "You think they''ll bite?" Thomas stood from his chair. "They''re running out of time. And desperation always opens doors." He walked toward the window, looking out at the distant ridgeline. "Just make sure if they try anything stupid again... we shut that door for good." Thomas left the room without another word. He stepped out onto the catwalk overlooking the main yard. Below, mechanics worked on two armored jeeps, their hands greasy under the pale light of mounted floodlamps. Further off, a group of soldiers jogged laps around the compound, rifles slung, their discipline tight. It was orderly. Alive. And in a world where everything else had collapsed, that meant something. The corridor outside was quiet, lit by flickering LEDs screwed into the concrete walls. Power was on everywhere, but here¡ªdeep inside the refinery¡ªThey kept things functional. Barebones, but steady. Reliable. He walked with his hands in his pockets, boots thudding softly on the polished floor as he passed by patrolling guards who nodded silently at his presence. Thomas took a slow breath of the sea-laced air and leaned on the rail. He didn''t trust De Vera. Not yet. But Villamor? The man had backbone. Reason. That was rare these days. The question was¡ªhow long could reason hold in a world that rewarded ruthlessness? Thomas stared out toward the jungle. War was coming. Maybe not today. But it was coming. And Overwatch would be ready. Chapter 102 102: The Decision The morning sun crept over the horizon, casting a warm golden hue across the Bataan military base. It was like any other day for the people living in the military base of the Philippine Armed Forces. For Captain Enrique Villamor however, sleep had been little more than an afterthought. He stood just outside the command building, arms crossed, watching soldiers run maintenance drills with whatever little fuel they still had. Inside the office, General Angelo de Vera sat behind his desk, silent for a long moment after reviewing a stack of handwritten reports. He tapped the back of a pen against the paper before finally speaking. "Villamor." "Sir," Villamor replied, stepping forward. "We''re moving forward with talks." Villamor raised an eyebrow slightly. He had expected this eventually, but not this soon. "With Overwatch?" he asked. De Vera nodded. "Yes. We can''t afford to delay. Supplies are dwindling. Civilians are growing restless. We have at most three days'' worth of fuel left if we keep running patrols and logistics support. If we keep pushing forward blindly, we''ll run dry before the end of the week." Villamor remained silent, waiting for the order that would inevitably follow. "I want you to head back to the refinery," De Vera said firmly. "You already have rapport with their commander. Take a delegation¡ªsmall. No more than three people. You''ll speak to Thomas Estaris directly." "And what exactly are we offering, sir?" "Alliance," De Vera replied. "Nothing fancy. Mutual respect, joint efforts on resource protection, and shared intelligence. We propose a fuel-sharing arrangement. Limited, but consistent. If they accept, we begin transferring rations or manpower in exchange." Villamor nodded slowly. "And if they don''t?" De Vera''s eyes narrowed. "Then we start preparing contingency plans. We still have enough working vehicles to mount a strike if absolutely necessary¡ªbut I''d rather avoid bleeding more men." There was an unspoken truth between them: a second firefight would tear open wounds that diplomacy might never mend. They both knew how fragile everything had become. Villamor exhaled. "Understood, sir. I''ll leave within the hour." De Vera offered a curt nod. "Take Corporal Tinio and Sergeant Delgado. You brief them on the way. Make sure they understand this isn''t a threat¡ªthis is an opening." "Yes, sir." "And Villamor?" He paused at the door. "Don''t screw this up." Villamor gave a faint smile. "No pressure." ¡ª Two hours later, the convoy of three light transport vehicles emerged from the base''s outer perimeter, kicking up dust as they rolled down the cracked asphalt road toward the south. Mounted flags fluttered from their antennas¡ªnot white, but bright orange. A signal of non-hostile intent, agreed upon during Villamor''s last meeting with Thomas. The vehicles moved steadily through the terrain, bypassing ruined checkpoints and long-abandoned farmlands. Inside the lead truck, Villamor sat quietly, briefing Tinio and Delgado on the mission''s priorities, repeating the General''s orders like a mantra. "Talk first. If they''re not receptive, we return and plan. We''re not forcing anything." ¡ª High above the earth, the MQ-9 Reaper drone banked slowly in a wide arc, its high-resolution cameras locking onto the slow-moving convoy. Inside the UAV Operations Center at the refinery, Javier Cruz adjusted the joystick with practiced precision. The feed zoomed in on the familiar form of Captain Villamor riding shotgun in the lead vehicle. "Overwatch HQ, this is Reaper One-One. Eyes on Lima-Bravo outbound convoy, heading south along Route 29. Visual confirms Philippine Army vehicles. No mounted weapons. No visible aggression. Marking with Friend-Low-Risk tag." Cruz tapped a few keys and forwarded the live footage directly to the command terminal. In the refinery''s central building, Logan stirred from his half-nap in the security room. A chime from the alert system pinged in his earpiece. He glanced at the screen, and his eyes widened slightly. "Reaper found something..." he muttered, pushing himself to his feet. He walked briskly down the corridor and opened Thomas Estaris''s office door without knocking. Thomas was sound asleep on the cot in the corner, his boots still on, rifle leaned against the side. "Boss," Logan said, louder this time. "Wake up." Thomas stirred but didn''t open his eyes. Logan took a step closer. "Thomas. We''ve got movement." That did it. Thomas sat up, groggy but instantly alert. "What kind of movement?" "Convoy. Three trucks, Philippine Army. Reaper confirms it''s Villamor. Looks like he''s coming back." Thomas rubbed his face once and grabbed his jacket from the armrest. "He bringing a battalion this time?" "Nope. Small delegation. No turrets. No support units. Looks diplomatic." Thomas stood, slinging on his jacket. "You''re sure?" Logan nodded. "Cruz tagged the convoy as Friend-Low-Risk. No signs of prep for engagement." Thomas crossed the room and stared at the monitor. He watched as the trucks moved steadily down the road, civilian flags flapping from their antennas. "Get the front gate on alert, but don''t raise weapons. Let them approach. Standard perimeter watch. I''ll meet them at the gate." "Copy that." Logan tapped his radio and began relaying orders as Thomas tightened his gloves and stepped out of the office. The refinery yard was already stirring. Guards fell into assigned positions along the sandbag walls. Drones buzzed as they rotated and focused lenses on the approaching vehicles. Thomas walked down the central path, boots crunching on gravel, eyes focused toward the ridgeline. Villamor was coming back. And this time, he wasn''t bringing rifles. He was bringing answers. Whether those answers would lead to cooperation¡ªor confrontation¡ªremained to be seen. But Thomas would hear him out. For the sake of what was left of the world. As Villamor''s convoy neared a bend along the forested ridgeline, Reaper One-One kept its silent vigil high above. The drone''s sensors swept the terrain methodically. Inside the UAV Operations Center, Cruz leaned forward, sipping lukewarm instant coffee as he monitored the feed. He toggled a camera angle to scan the western tree line¡ªa routine sweep, until something odd caught his eye. He frowned. "Overwatch HQ, this is Reaper One-One," he said, sitting up straighter. "Be advised¡ªdetecting movement west of Route 29, grid Lima-Three-Four." The camera zoomed in sharply, shifting to thermal view. Dense clusters of heat signatures¡ªuncoordinated, shambling, fast moving zombies. Cruz''s voice tightened. "We''ve got a horde. Rough estimate: two hundred to three hundred. Migrating south. If they stay on this heading, they''ll intersect Route 29 in approximately twenty-five minutes. They''ll cross right into Villamor''s path." Chapter 103: Warning Them Thomas''s jaw tightened as Cruz''s voice echoed over the intercom. "A horde?" he repeated, already moving back toward the command terminal. "Cruz, you certain?" "Affirmative, sir. Thermal confirms. Movement patterns consistent with infected. They''re migrating fast. Looks like they''re following sound¡ªmaybe caught a whiff of engine noise from Villamor''s convoy." Logan stepped up beside Thomas. "Route 29''s a bottleneck. Forest on both sides. They won''t see ''em until it''s too late." Thomas tapped the monitor twice, zooming in on the drone feed. The distant forms were unmistakable now. Hundreds of shambling heat signatures pushing through the underbrush like a dark tide. Southbound. "Can we raise Villamor on comms?" Thomas asked, voice sharp. There was a pause before another voice crackled to life on the overhead speaker. "Overwatch HQ, this is Marcus at Signals. Captain Villamor''s unit is running legacy military radios¡ªshort-range VHF. We don''t share encrypted frequency bands. Not unless they''re synced ahead of time." "Can we break in anyway?" Thomas asked. "Not directly, sir. Their radios won''t pick up our digital packets unless we''re broadcasting on their set frequency. Only way is to guess their active band or hit a universal open channel." Thomas nodded. "So, can we flood an open band?" Marcus responded immediately. "Yes, sir. I''ll rotate a broadcast through all civilian emergency bands and legacy VHF ranges. If they''re scanning or monitoring any of those, they''ll hear us. But it''s not guaranteed." "Do it," Thomas ordered. "Warn them." Marcus began typing rapidly in the background. "Broadcasting now. Message is on loop: ''This is Overwatch Command. Horde detected west of Route 29. Reverse course immediately. Repeat: reverse course immediately.'' Cycling across all known VHF bands." Thomas watched the drone feed. The convoy was still rolling forward¡ªsteadily, unaware. The horde was closing in fast, crawling over fallen trees and dry creek beds like a colony of ants. "How much time do we have?" Thomas asked, eyes locked on the screen. Cruz checked his telemetry. "At current speed, convoy hits the intersection in twenty-one minutes. Horde crosses in twenty-five." Thomas turned to Logan. "If they slow down for any reason..." "They''ll collide head-on." "Perhaps we can cull the zombies? The Reaper has hellfire missiles mounted on its wing," Thomas suggested. "It can definitely help them but that would mean them knowing that we have a Reaper drone, it''s our trump card after all." "Our base and my system are the trump card. I don''t care if they are going to see a drone flying over their heads. I want this partnership to push through." Then the radio call sounded again. "This is Overwatch Command. Horde detected west of Route 29. Reverse course immediately. Repeat: reverse course immediately." Over and over again. The drone feed showed the horde creeping closer, still unseen by the convoy. He glanced at the digital clock ticking down on the bottom of the screen. They were dangerously close to overlapping routes. "Marcus, status?" he asked. "Still cycling, sir. Broadcasting on all known open VHF bands. If they''re monitoring, they''ll catch it." Inside the lead military truck, Corporal Tinio sat in the back seat behind Villamor, fidgeting with the volume dial on the truck''s dash-mounted military radio. A sharp burst of static made him flinch. "Sir," he called out. "I think we''re picking up something." Villamor leaned back slightly. "What is it?" The radio crackled again¡ªthen a clear voice broke through: "...Overwatch Command. Horde detected west of Route 29. Reverse course immediately. Repeat: reverse course immediately." The message looped again. Delgado, driving the vehicle, turned his head. "Did that just say Overwatch?" "Confirmed," Tinio replied, turning the dial slightly to clean up the signal. "They''re warning us about a horde." Villamor''s brows furrowed. "What frequency is this?" "Not one of ours, sir. Must be open-band," Tinio answered. "They''re hitting all known channels. They must''ve gone wide." Villamor''s eyes immediately turned to the road ahead. Dense trees on both sides. Visibility was low. If a horde was moving from the west, they''d be boxed in real fast. "Tell the other trucks to stop," Villamor ordered. Delgado hit the brakes, and the truck squealed slightly as it came to a halt. Behind them, the other two vehicles followed suit. Soldiers dismounted with caution, weapons ready, scanning the treeline. Villamor grabbed the radio mic and keyed it. "This is Captain Enrique Villamor of the Philippine Army, to Overwatch Command. We read your warning. Can you confirm direction and bearing of the horde?" Back in the UAV Ops Center, Marcus looked up as the signal came through. "We''ve got him," he said into the headset. "Villamor''s transmitting. Patch him through, sir?" Thomas, now fully geared and standing over Marcus''s shoulder, nodded once. "Do it." "Captain Villamor, this is Commander Thomas Estaris of Overwatch," Thomas said into the headset. "We''re tracking a horde two to three hundred strong. Thermal confirms mass movement from grid Lima-Three-Four. They''re west of your position. Bearing east-southeast. You''ve got less than twenty minutes before they cross Route 29." "Wait¡ªhow are you knowing this?" Villamor''s eyes wandered up toward the sky, narrowing against the morning glare. "You have a bird in the air," he muttered. "Affirmative," Thomas replied. "A drone, high altitude. We''ve been monitoring your convoy since you left the base." There was a moment of stunned silence on Villamor''s end. Tinio and Delgado both turned their eyes skyward, scanning for anything¡ªbut at 25,000 feet, the drone was invisible to the naked eye. "You''ve got a drone that far up?" Villamor said, slowly. "You''ve been tracking us the whole way?" "Yes," Thomas said plainly. "And we weren''t going to reveal that unless necessary. Right now, it is. You''re walking into a meat grinder, Captain." Villamor looked down at his map, then up at the treeline again. The wind rustled faintly through the leaves. Nothing yet¡ªbut the urgency in Thomas''s voice said enough. "What''s your recommendation?" he asked. Thomas''s voice came back quick. "Reverse course immediately. If you can''t get back in time, divert east. There''s an old farm road that breaks off at grid Juliet-Two-One. It''s narrow, but it''ll buy you space." Villamor grabbed his own radio and relayed the new orders. "All units, prepare to divert. Immediate reroute to grid Juliet-Two-One. Maintain visual spacing. Weapons hot but hold fire unless we have contact." Delgado turned the wheel and began backing the truck into a turn. The other vehicles followed, tires crunching dry gravel as the convoy began to pivot. Back in the Reaper''s feed, Cruz watched the movement and confirmed. "They''re turning around. Looks like they''re taking your advice, Commander." Thomas exhaled. "Good. Keep eyes on the horde. Let me know if they change direction." "Copy that," Cruz said, zooming in again. "Zombies still pushing east. No sign they''ve noticed the shift." Villamor, meanwhile, stared through the windshield as Delgado accelerated down the path, the others close behind. The tension inside the cabin was thick. "Hell of a call," Tinio muttered. "We''d have never seen them coming." Villamor didn''t reply. His thoughts were still on the drone. On the system Thomas had built. On the fact that Overwatch wasn''t just well-armed¡ªthey were technologically two steps ahead of everything the Philippine Army had left. And for the first time, Villamor truly understood why Thomas had been so calm during their last meeting. However¡ªas they were driving towards the location¡ªsomething hit them on the side. Chapter 104: Wait, You are Sending What? The lead truck lurched violently, metal shrieking as the entire frame tilted from the impact. Captain Villamor''s head slammed against the door frame, dazing him. Delgado cursed, trying to keep the wheel straight, but the vehicle skidded sideways into the ditch. Then came the sound. A deep, inhuman growl. It wasn''t the mindless shrieking of regular infected¡ªit was guttural, deliberate. And loud. "What the hell was that?!" Tinio shouted from the back. Villamor''s hand reached for his rifle instinctively, heart pounding. He looked out the shattered window. That''s when he saw it. A massive, grotesque creature slammed its clawed hand down on the truck''s hood. Its twisted musculature looked like layers of torn flesh and sinew barely held together. The jaw was wide, with ragged teeth gleaming under the morning sun. The beast snarled, saliva dripping from its mouth like acid. Villamor froze. "What in God''s name..." he breathed. "That''s not a regular infected." Another impact. One of the following trucks was ripped apart as a second creature crashed into it from the treeline, sending a soldier flying like a ragdoll. Screams filled the air. Inside the UAV Ops Center, Cruz''s voice cracked through the speaker, alarmed. "Eagle Actual! Multiple large contacts just breached the convoy zone! Five hostiles¡ªMawbeasts. Bigger than the ones we saw during the MOA Complex wave. They''re moving fast¡ªdamn fast!" Thomas''s eyes went wide. "Five?" "Confirmed. They''re tearing through Villamor''s convoy¡ªsir, they don''t stand a chance!" Marcus chimed in. "We''ve never seen that many in one place before. And that size? Jesus." On the screen, the Reaper''s camera caught it all. One of the Mawbeasts tossed a soldier across the road like a sack of meat. Another crushed the hood of the second truck, dragging out the screaming driver and slamming him into the dirt. Blood sprayed across the asphalt. Villamor scrambled out of the door with Tinio, dragging Delgado with them. He shouted at the few remaining troops to fall back¡ª"To the treeline! Move, now!" But it was chaos. One Mawbeast lunged forward, impaling a soldier on its arm spike. Another grabbed a man by the leg and flung him into a tree with a sickening crunch. "Is there anything we can do to help them?" Thomas asked. Marcus simply shook his head. "Negative Eagle Actual, the targets are too close to friendlies. If we fire a missile, they''ll get caught by the explosion." Thomas clenched his fists, jaw locked as he watched the feed in grim silence. Onscreen, the carnage continued¡ªevery second more brutal than the last. "Goddammit..." Thomas muttered under his breath, eyes never leaving the monitors. "It''s a massacre." In the field, Villamor''s boots pounded the earth as he sprinted through the underbrush, Tinio and Delgado close behind. Gunfire erupted behind them¡ªshort bursts from panicked soldiers trying to slow the monsters down. It did nothing. The Mawbeasts were too fast, too resilient, too damn strong. "Keep moving!" Villamor shouted, glancing back over his shoulder just in time to see a third truck explode¡ªfuel tank ruptured by a massive claw. The flames lit up the jungle for a brief moment before being smothered by smoke and gore. Delgado stumbled, his leg bleeding from a gash. Villamor grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him upright. "Don''t stop!" Inside the UAV Ops Center, Cruz''s voice came again, tight with urgency. "Two survivors breaking off southeast¡ªmatching Villamor''s last known heat sig. They''re being chased." "Eagle," Logan said, stepping closer. "We can''t shoot, but we can guide." Thomas nodded. "Cruz, relay real-time nav to their position. Guide them to the gully at grid Kilo-Five-Seven. It''ll give ''em cover." Cruz''s hands flew across the keyboard. "Copy that. Sending nav markers to their portable receiver. If they still have it on..." Back on the ground, Villamor''s earpiece crackled to life with an automated tone¡ªthen Cruz''s calm voice filtered through, barely audible over the chaos. "...Captain Villamor, this is Reaper One-One. Change heading fifteen degrees east. Gully ahead. Cover." Villamor''s eyes widened. "How the hell¡ª" But there was no time to question. He pointed ahead. "That way! We''ve got eyes in the sky¡ªmove!" Behind them, a Mawbeast crashed through the trees, snapping trunks in half like matchsticks. Its roar sent birds scattering into the sky. Tinio fired back over his shoulder, rounds pinging uselessly off the creature''s hide. "It''s gaining!" "Save your ammo!" Villamor barked. "Just run!" Up above, the drone followed every movement. On-screen, the distance between the Mawbeast and the survivors shrank rapidly. "Cruz," Thomas said tightly, "if they trip, they die." "Copy. Holding lock-on. But still no clean shot." Logan''s fingers tapped against the console. "What about a distraction strike? Not on them but ahead of their position, draw some attention off?" Marcus perked up. "That could work. The hellfire''s shockwave, sound, and fire could divert at least two of ''em." Thomas didn''t hesitate. "Do it. Grid Lima-Three-Niner. Aim for noise." "Target locked," Cruz confirmed. "Firing." Seconds passed. Then, on the feed, a blinding flash filled the corner of the screen as the missile impacted. The ground erupted in a thunderous explosion¡ªflames, debris, and smoke billowing into the treetops. On the ground, the Mawbeasts snarled and turned, momentarily disoriented by the shockwave. Two of them veered toward the blast, lured by the noise and light. "It worked," Cruz muttered. "Two breaking off. Three still on Villamor''s group." "Not good enough," Thomas growled. "Keep feeding them directions. We''re buying time now." Villamor and his men finally reached the edge of the gully¡ªa steep, muddy slope choked with vines and rocks. They slid down, stumbling into the narrow ditch below. "Stay low!" Villamor ordered, pushing Delgado flat against the side. Tinio dropped beside them, chest heaving. "Status?" Thomas called out over the comms. Villamor keyed his mic, voice raw. "Two with me. Five others confirmed KIA. We''re pinned in a ditch with three of those things on our heels." "We''re working on a solution," Thomas replied, then radioed Marcus. "Prep a QRF. I want a gunship team on standby. The Reaper alone wouldn''t be able to handle their numbers as it''s flying on limited missiles to save fuel." "Wait, you are sending the AC-130?" Phillip, who was watching from behind, asked. "I am." Chapter 105: Angel of Death Part 1 Mall of Asia Complex, Pasay City Inside a large reinforced hangar near the waterfront, the AC-130 gunship loomed like a metallic beast, matte black paint gleaming under the high-powered floodlights. Ground crews buzzed around it, cables snaking across the floor, tools clanking, and engineers shouting over the low drone of generators. "Fuel levels topped up. Seals checked. Oxygen systems green," one technician called out from under the wing. At the side of the bird, Staff Sergeant Ethan Vega pulled off his gloves, wiping sweat from his brow with a patch on his uniform sleeve. "Bird''s ready, boys. First flight since we tore her from the grave." Captain Rochelle "Roach" Alano, the aircraft commander, stood with her helmet under one arm, eyes scanning the checklist tablet in her hand. Her voice was calm but clipped. "Copy. Final preflight. Loadout status?" "Guns hot and loaded," replied Master Sergeant Ibarra, the gunner. "We''ve got one 105mm howitzer, a 40mm Bofors, and the 25mm GAU-12. All rounds green-tagged and chambered. Gunners are strapped in." Roach nodded. "Nav?" Lieutenant Torres, the flight officer, raised his hand from the cockpit ladder. "Flight path uploaded. We''re locked in to grid sector Kilo-Five. Drone telemetry and forward recon all synced. Wind shear minimal, vis is ten clicks out." Roach stepped back, looking at the full silhouette of the gunship. The crew had dubbed it Spooky One. A nod to history. A promise to hell. Her radio crackled. "This is Overwatch Command," Marcus''s voice came through, grim and steady. "AC-130 support authorized. Immediate scramble. Your objective is to provide direct fire support to Villamor''s unit. They''re pinned southeast of Route 29, grid Kilo-Five-Seven. Three Mawbeasts are closing in. It''s a slaughter." "Roger that," Roach replied, climbing the ladder into the bird. "Spooky One is rolling out." Outside, the hangar doors groaned open. The AC-130 was towed out onto the main tarmac as the early afternoon sun glared off the bay. Ground teams stepped back, giving the gunship space as its four turboprop engines roared to life¡ªslow at first, then faster, harmonizing into a steady mechanical growl. In the cockpit, Roach flicked switches one by one. Lights turned green. "Tower, this is Spooky One requesting immediate takeoff on Runway 1-A." The tower responded within seconds. "Spooky One, you''re cleared hot. Good hunting." The gunship thundered down the runway. Its wheels lifted off with a shudder, and the AC-130 rose into the sky like a titan reborn. Inside the cabin, the gun crews secured their harnesses and adjusted their sights. The 105mm''s breach clanked shut with a solid metallic chunk. Ammo belts rattled in place, the tension rising with every meter of altitude gained. "This is going to be our first operation and I am excited," Ibarra said. "Don''t get too excited yet," Roach replied. "We''ve got a killbox waiting." Torres adjusted his headset. "Approaching grid. Five minutes out." Roach switched over to Command net. "Overwatch, this is Spooky One. We are airborne and en route. ETA five mikes." Meanwhile, in the refinery. Thomas still has his eyes on the screen of the tablet showing the live footage transmitted by the Reaper drone. But he knew that in order to coordinate a fire mission with the AC-130, he needed eyes from them as well. Suddenly, Marcus''s voice cut through. "Overwatch to Eagle Actual¡ªSpooky One is airborne and is OPCON to you. Confirmed lift-off from MOA Runway 1-A. En route to Kilo-Five-Seven, ETA four mikes." Thomas nodded, eyes still fixed on the chaos unfolding on the screen. "Copy, Overwatch. Put me on their net." "Establishing uplink now," Marcus replied. "Spooky One, this is Overwatch. Patch your internal feed to Eagle Actual''s station for live coordination." A second later, Thomas''s tablet vibrated. The screen lit up with a new feed¡ªlive interior visuals from the AC-130''s targeting systems and gunner cams. Multiple angles. IR overlay. Data synced with Reaper One-One in real-time. "Feed online," Marcus confirmed. "You''re synced, Commander." Thomas spoke into the command mic. "Spooky One, this is Eagle Actual. We''re seeing you loud and clear. Paint me the picture." Inside the airborne gunship, Captain Rochelle "Roach" Alano glanced at the overhead camera screen and keyed her headset. "Eagle Actual, this is Spooky One. We''re two mikes out. Visual contact with Villamor''s last GPS ping confirmed. Terrain is dense¡ªtarget zone is a jungle gully with low canopy, limited visual markers. Holding altitude at 6,000 feet for initial scan." "Copy that," Thomas replied. "Thermal feed from Reaper confirms three Mawbeasts still active and closing. Friendlies are dug in at gully bottom. Your fire arcs will be tight." Roach turned to her crew. "You heard the man. Eyes on thermals, double-check IFF tags. We''re going surgical." "Guns green and cycling," said Master Sergeant Ibarra from the gun deck. His gloved hand hovered over the firing controls. "105''s ready to rain hell." Lieutenant Torres chimed in from the nav station. "Marking target zone as Grid Lima-Niner-Echo. Coordinates sent to gunners. Reaper''s got the high eye¡ªwe follow its lead." Roach nodded. "Overwatch, patch Reaper''s live telemetry into our fire-control HUD." "Done," Marcus said over the net. "You''ll see synchronized red-box overlays in ten seconds. Reaper''s lasing your primary." Back at the refinery, Thomas watched as the screen updated. Reaper''s infrared feed highlighted the hellish chase¡ªthree Mawbeasts still clawing through the jungle, tossing debris aside as they hunted Villamor''s unit. He saw it in real-time. One of the beasts leapt, crashing through tree branches. "Jesus," Thomas muttered, then keyed the mic again. "Spooky One, adjust fire vector five degrees west. You''re cleared to engage when hot." "Roger that," Roach said. "Gunners, line it up." Inside the AC-130, targeting brackets locked over one of the thermal signatures¡ªmassive, irregular, moving with terrifying speed. "Target One locked," Ibarra said. "Firing." BOOM. From the skies above, the night howled with the thunder of the 105mm. The shell streaked into the jungle below with a whistling hiss before detonating. The feed from Reaper One-One shook slightly as the explosion consumed the western ridge of the gully in fire and smoke. [You have killed a Mawbeast] "Direct hit," Cruz called from Reaper Control. "Mawbeast One is down. Splash confirmed!" Chapter 106: Angel of Death Part 2 In the AC-130, the crew gave no cheers. "Next target," Roach ordered. "Stay on them." Torres highlighted a second thermal contact. "Tracking second bogey. It''s faster¡ªclosing on friendly signal!" "Adjust azimuth! Gun two, you''re up," Ibarra said. "25mm hot!" the secondary gunner replied. "Firing short bursts!" BRRRRRRT! A hail of 25mm shells raked the jungle, splitting apart the treetops like matchsticks. The feed picked up muzzle flashes as rounds slammed into the charging Mawbeast. "Partial damage," Cruz reported. "It''s wounded¡ªstaggered¡ªbut not down." "Switch to Bofors," Roach commanded. "I want it gone." "Firing!" Ibarra shouted. BOOM-BOOM-BOOM. Three successive shots from the 40mm Bofors cannon lit up the hillside. The Mawbeast jerked and twisted before collapsing into the underbrush. Thomas gritted his teeth, watching the final creature barrel toward the ditch. "Last contact''s moving fast. Get him before he reaches Villamor." Roach locked eyes on the fire-control display. "One shot, one kill. Gun three, all yours." KA-THOOM. The 105mm fired again. Everyone watching the feed held their breath. The feed lit up. The jungle floor vanished under a fireball. "Target three neutralized!" Cruz shouted. "All hostiles down!" Back in the ditch, Villamor''s team braced for death¡ªbut it never came. Instead, a gust of heat and a deep echo rolled over them like a thunderclap. Smoke poured through the trees above. Villamor peeked up slowly, coughing. "That... wasn''t thunder." Tinio nodded, blinking at the fading plume. "That was artillery." "No," Delgado wheezed. "That was air support." Villamor clicked his mic. "Overwatch, this is Villamor. Uhm¡ªcan you say what air asset you sent above us?" "It''s a gunship," Marcus replied. "Gunship?" Villamor''s eyes widened slightly upon hearing that. He was familiar with the AC-130¡ªdubbed the Angel of Death. The Philippine Air Force didn''t have that capability. Not even close. "The hell do you mean a gunship?" Tinio muttered as he wiped grime off his face. "We''ve got a couple of Hueys back home barely held together with duct tape." Delgado sat up, blood caked on his pant leg, blinking at the smoke cloud still rising. "You sure that was a 105mm shell?" "I know that sound," Villamor muttered. "That wasn''t just any bird. That was an AC-130." He keyed the radio again, heart still thumping. "Confirm that, Overwatch. AC-130?" "Yes." Villamor leaned back against the gully wall, silent. For the first time since the outbreak began, he felt something unusual¡ªsomething he hadn''t felt in months. Inferiority. Not in courage. Not in leadership. But in capability. In pure, unrelenting firepower. He looked at Tinio and Delgado. They were alive, but barely. Their rifles were scratched, their vests dented, their uniforms torn. A ragtag unit holding together with grit and orders. And then there was Overwatch. They had drones at 25,000 feet, precision missiles, real-time battlefield tracking, and a fully armed, functioning gunship in the goddamn sky. Villamor keyed his mic again. "Overwatch, this is Captain Villamor. I don''t know what kind of operation you''re running¡ªbut that was the cleanest fire support I''ve ever seen in my career." "Well you might want to watch more as we are not done yet. We are going to exterminate the horde of zombies that we have alerted you to just now. You might hear a loud boom but fear not, it''s just our gunship lighting them up into smithereens." Up in the sky, Spooky One banked hard to the right, its massive wings slicing through the clouds as the gunship aligned itself for another pass. The terrain below opened into a tree-choked clearing¡ªgrid Lima-Three-Four¡ªwhere hundreds of heat signatures clumped together, surging eastward. "Visual on horde," Torres announced, eyes glued to the infrared display. "Estimated three-fifty to four hundred hostiles. Clustered in a tight spread. They''re migrating, fast." "Copy," Roach said, tightening her harness. "We''re lighting ''em up." Inside the weapons bay, the gunners got to work. "Gunner two, you''re up," Ibarra barked. "Start with the 25mm. Target center mass. Sweep right to left." "25mm online," the gunner confirmed, flipping toggles. "Visual on dense cluster. Firing short bursts." BRRRRRRT! BRRRRRRT! Tracers tore through the tree canopy like angry hornets. On thermal, dozens of heat signatures vanished instantly, bodies blown apart in sprays of gore and shredded limbs. "Confirmed kills," Cruz called out from the UAV Ops Center. "You''re shredding the western flank. Still got hundreds pouring through the center." "Adjust elevation," Roach ordered. "Gunner one, Bofors. Let''s make it hurt." "40mm locked," the Bofors gunner said, breath steady. "Firing." BOOM-BOOM-BOOM. The explosions rippled through the horde like thunder. Trees collapsed, fire rolled across the underbrush, and the ground shook with the concussive force. Scores of infected were vaporized¡ªlimbs flung like rag dolls. "Command, be advised," Roach said into the mic. "Initial strike successful. Zombies are disoriented but regrouping. Request permission to deploy 105 on rear formations." "Granted," Thomas''s voice came through crisp. "Clean up the back line. We want them off the map." "Roger that. Gunner three," Roach called out. "Shell up. Rear column. Paint it." "105 hot," came the reply. "Firing for effect." KA-THOOM. A wall of fire erupted at the tail end of the horde. Smoke plumed high into the air as flesh and bone were atomized by the high-explosive shell. In the glow of thermal, dozens more contacts winked out of existence. "Killbox is working," Torres said. "Movement slowing. They''re scattering." "Keep the pressure," Ibarra snapped. "They regroup, we start over." BRRRRT! BOOM-BOOM! Rounds fell in rhythm. Gunner calls, target confirmations, and kill counts echoed through the cabin like a deadly symphony. Below, it was a slaughter. From the Reaper''s overhead view, Thomas watched the chaos unfold with grim satisfaction. The kill zone was absolute. Bodies piled, trees ignited, and earth was churned to ash. Cruz felt also the satisfaction from it and then he requested. "Reaper One-one to Eagle Actual." "This is Eagle Actual, send traffic," Thomas replied. "Requesting permission to shoot one missile on the target cluster¡ªeastern flank. Dense grouping, minimal foliage." There was a brief silence on the line as Thomas weighed the request, eyes locked on the Reaper drone''s live thermal feed on his tablet. Hundreds of heat signatures still swarmed through the jungle like insects, some scattering from the AC-130 bombardment, others regrouping around fallen trees and debris. He leaned forward, jaw tight. "Confirmed. You are weapons free. Light them up." "Roger that," Cruz replied, voice calm but focused. "Hellfire One going hot. Target locked." Up at 25,000 feet, Reaper One-One adjusted its angle slightly, the camera panning over the dense eastern flank of the horde. A solid red mass glowed on thermal¡ªeasily over a hundred zombies clustered together, unaware of the death looming overhead. "Missile away," Cruz announced. From the Reaper''s belly, the AGM-114 Hellfire streaked downward, a bright white line against the sky. On Thomas''s screen, the countdown began: impact in five... four... three... Two... One. The feed flashed white. The jungle erupted. A rolling fireball consumed the east side of the clearing. Trees splintered into shrapnel. Dirt launched skyward in thick, black columns. The horde''s eastern edge disappeared in a burst of flame and shockwave. "Splash confirmed," Cruz said. "Estimated ninety-plus hostiles eliminated." "Reaper One-One, maintain overwatch," Thomas ordered, eyes never leaving the display. "Continue scanning for breakaways. If they scatter, we chase them down." "Copy that, Eagle Actual. Holding pattern and scanning perimeter." Inside the AC-130, Roach nodded at her crew. "We''ve got them boxed in. Let''s clean house." "105 online. Two shells remaining," Ibarra called out. "Ready for double-tap on central push." "Send it." KA-THOOM. KA-THOOM. Two rapid-fire blasts from the howitzer pounded the jungle floor, overlapping the previous kill zones. The thermal feed showed dozens more signatures blink out¡ªeach one a walking corpse torn to pieces. Torres squinted at the screens. "We''re mopping up now. Movement down to stragglers." "Keep hammering until there''s nothing left," Roach said coldly.. "We don''t leave rot behind." Below, Villamor, still crouched in the muddy ditch with Tinio and Delgado, watched the sky with disbelief. Plumes of fire, smoke, and the distant rumble of explosions rolled across the horizon. The earth itself seemed to quake from the pounding. "Jesus," Tinio whispered. Villamor didn''t say a word. He just stared¡ªeyes locked on the heavens¡ªwatching Overwatch tear apart an entire horde from the sky like it was nothing. Like war was just another Tuesday. And in that moment, he understood. They weren''t just fighting to survive. Overwatch was fighting to win. And that gave him hope that humanity could still win this calamity. Chapter 107: Picking them Up "Spooky One to Overwatch Command," Roach''s voice came over the comms¡ªcalm, clipped, precise. "All ground targets eliminated. Area is clear. We are RTB. Repeat, returning to base." Inside the UAV Operations Center at the refinery, the overhead lights buzzed softly as the Reaper''s thermal feed showed nothing but smoking craters, mangled corpses, and scattered fires where the horde used to be. Cruz reached for his mic. "Copy that, Spooky One. Good work out there," Marcus said. There was a short pause, then he continued.. "Overwatch Command to Eagle Actual, do you need continued support from the gunship?" Thomas leaned forward at his desk, still watching the Reaper''s live feed on his tablet. He brought the mic closer to his mouth. "Negative. Spooky''s mission is complete. We''ll keep Reaper One-One in the sky to monitor the area. You''re free to disconnect." "Acknowledged, Command. Overwatch out." As the channel cleared, Thomas keyed a direct line to the Reaper operator. "Reaper One-One, Eagle Actual. Maintain current orbit. I want your eyes on the survivors. Anything moves out of the ordinary¡ªyou let me know immediately." "Copy, Eagle Actual," Cruz replied through the headset. "Reaper will hold pattern. Area''s quiet for now, but I''ll keep scanning." Thomas stood from his seat and turned to the glass-paneled window overlooking the main yard. The dust had finally settled, and the buzz of urgency in the command center had shifted to a slower, more measured tempo. But his mind was still ticking. He looked over his shoulder. "Phillip," he called out. From near the wall where several Overwatch personnel had been listening in, Phillip stepped forward. Rifle slung, tablet under one arm, his expression alert. "Yeah, boss?" "Get a team together," Thomas ordered. "I want Villamor and his men brought back to base. Use the JLTVs. Route''s been cleared, but we''re not taking chances. Minimal armament¡ªno heavy kit, just light carbines. Reaper''s got overwatch if anything goes sideways." Phillip nodded. "Understood. How many we extracting?" "Three survivors," Thomas replied. "Plus five confirmed KIA. Bag the bodies. Bring them all home." "You got it." Without another word, Phillip turned on his heel and strode out. Ten minutes later, the sound of diesel engines filled the refinery yard. The JLTV Oshkosh convoy¡ªthree vehicles in staggered column¡ªpulled out of the southern gate, heavy-duty suspension bouncing over broken asphalt as they moved. Phillip rode shotgun in the lead vehicle. His radio crackled as he opened the squad-wide frequency. "This is Shadow 1. Check comms." "Shadow 2, green." "Shadow 3, green." The replies continued in quick succession. "Shadow 10, green." They cleared the outer gate and hit Route 29 at a steady pace, the Reaper drone far overhead tracking their movement like a silent guardian. "Shadow 1 to Overwatch," Phillip radioed in. "Convoy en route to recovery site. ETA twelve mikes. Confirming no known hostiles?" Back at the command center, Cruz answered. "Affirmative, Shadow 1. Grid Kilo-Five-Seven remains cold. No thermal movement, no infrared signatures. All clear." "Copy that. We''ll move fast." When the JLTVs rolled up to the gully, the damage was still fresh. Charred earth, split trees, scattered wreckage. Ash floated in the air like snow. Phillip dismounted, rifle low, and approached the edge. Villamor was there, standing now, arms crossed over his dusty vest. Tinio sat on a rock, his face still pale. Delgado was half-leaning against a tree, favoring one leg. "You guys okay?" Phillip asked, his voice even. Villamor gave a short nod. "We''ve seen better days." "We brought transport," Phillip said. "Let''s get you the hell out of here." His men moved efficiently. Two JLTVs opened their rear doors, and four members of the Overwatch recovery team¡ªShadows 3 through 6¡ªmoved in to assist the wounded. Tinio and Delgado were gently helped up and loaded into the second truck, with water bottles and trauma kits already prepped. Meanwhile, Shadow 7 through 10 moved toward the fallen. The bodies of the KIA were laid out with care, zipped into military-grade black bodybags one by one. No words were exchanged. Just quiet work. Respectful, professional. Phillip moved back to Villamor as the captain stared silently at the nearest body. "You good to ride?" Villamor glanced up, eyes tired. "Yeah." He climbed into the lead JLTV beside Phillip without protest. Within minutes, the convoy was rolling again, heading north under the eye of Reaper One-One. Back at the refinery, the gates opened wide. The convoy came to a halt near the southern pad. Overwatch personnel moved toward the vehicles immediately, assisting with the offloading of injured personnel and transferring the bodybags to the onsite morgue facility. Villamor stepped down slowly, boots hitting the gravel. He took a deep breath. A moment later, Thomas Estaris appeared¡ªwearing his field jacket, sleeves rolled, tablet in one hand. "Welcome to base," Thomas said flatly. Villamor nodded. "Thanks for the lift." Thomas''s eyes lingered on the bloodied uniforms, the exhausted posture of the men beside him. "You''ll be debriefed after you''re looked at," Thomas added. "Med bay''s prepped. Then we talk." Villamor gave a faint nod. "Understood." As medical staff stepped forward to guide Tinio and Delgado away, Villamor looked back one last time toward the gate they''d entered through. The nurse stepped forward, a young woman in scrubs with a tactical vest over her uniform with a tablet in one hand, and a small trauma kit slung over the other shoulder. "Captain Villamor?" she asked. Villamor turned toward her, his body still stiff from adrenaline and fatigue. "Yeah, that''s me." "You''re coming with me to the med bay. We''ll get you checked out, run diagnostics, and clean any open wounds. No exceptions," she said, already scanning his vitals with a wrist scanner. Villamor nodded, offering no resistance. "Fine. Just make it quick." He limped slightly as he followed her toward the main building, passing other Overwatch personnel who gave him nods¡ªsome out of respect, others out of curiosity. Most of them hadn''t seen combat survivors in this rough a shape in a while. As they entered the corridor leading to the med bay, the hum of fluorescent lights and distant chatter filled the space. A sterile scent¡ªalcohol, bandages, antiseptic¡ªhung thick in the air. The nurse glanced back at him. "You took a hard hit to the head?" "Little knock during the ambush," Villamor replied. "We''ll run a scan just to be sure. Any ringing in your ears, blurred vision?" "Only ringing I hear is from those damn explosions," he muttered. "But no. I''m clear." Inside the med bay, two empty stretchers were already set up. Tinio and Delgado were further down, one receiving IV fluids, the other with a field medic stitching up a shallow gash on his shoulder. Both looked exhausted but alive. "Sit here," the nurse ordered, patting the edge of the closest cot. Villamor sat down with a groan, pulling off his helmet and resting it beside him. His uniform was crusted with dirt and dried blood¡ªsome his, some not. The nurse unzipped the front of his vest carefully. "Any sharp pain when you breathe? Bruised ribs? Fractures?" "Nothing serious. Just worn the hell out." She ran a scanner down the side of his torso and tapped a few entries into the tablet. "No internal bleeding. Mild dehydration. Moderate concussion. You''ll rest here for an hour, then we''ll reevaluate." Villamor leaned back, letting the cot take his weight. His head throbbed, but it was manageable. The AC-130, the Reaper drone, the Mawbeasts¡ªall of it circled in his mind like smoke. "You people don''t mess around," he said quietly. The nurse gave a small smirk. "We don''t have the luxury." She handed him a hydration pouch. "Drink that. I''ll be back to check on you in twenty minutes." Villamor took it and nodded. Chapter 108: The Willingness The med bay had quieted down by the time the nurse returned. Tinio was asleep, an IV drip keeping his vitals steady. Delgado was sitting up now, bandaged and sipping from a metallic water pouch. Captain Villamor, still sore and sluggish, had finished the hydration bag and leaned back against the cot, eyes shut but mind racing. "Vitals are stable," the nurse said after a quick scan. "You''re cleared for movement." Villamor opened his eyes slowly and gave a small nod. "Appreciate it." He reached for his helmet but left it hanging by his side, his energy not quite recovered. His vest was zipped up again, gear still dirty, but he no longer looked like a man on the brink. Just a soldier who''d seen too much in one day. As he stood, the door slid open with a hydraulic hiss. Phillip stood in the doorway, hands behind his back. "Captain," he said with a slight nod. "The boss is ready for you." Villamor nodded back. "Let''s not keep him waiting." The two men walked together through the corridor¡ªVillamor limping slightly, Phillip silent beside him. They passed engineering personnel, patrol units, and a few medics, all giving them brief glances. The atmosphere inside the refinery was a strange blend of professionalism and tension, like a military outpost run by civilians who knew exactly what they were doing. Eventually, they reached a reinforced metal door with a biometric pad. Phillip pressed his palm to it, and it slid open. Inside was Thomas Estaris''s office. Large, clean, efficient. One wall was a massive tactical screen with various grid overlays and drone feeds. A sturdy metal table sat in the center, with maps, documents, and a half-eaten protein bar. The only window in the room gave a wide view of the refinery yard, where diesel trucks and quadcopters moved like clockwork. Thomas stood behind the table, sleeves rolled, tablet in hand. He looked up as they entered. "Captain Villamor," he greeted, voice level. "Glad to see you in one piece." Villamor offered a tired nod. "Likewise." "Sit," Thomas gestured to a steel chair opposite his desk. Villamor took the seat and leaned back. It was surprisingly comfortable. Phillip moved to the side and placed a small tray on the table¡ªtwo sealed water bottles and a packet of compressed biscuits. Villamor blinked at it. "Refreshed and fancy," he muttered, cracking a smile. "Best we can offer," Thomas said. "Eat, drink. You''ve earned it." Villamor opened a bottle and took a long sip before resting it on the table. He opened the biscuit pack but didn''t take one yet. Thomas studied him for a moment, then said plainly, "I want to start by saying... sorry about your men. No one should''ve had to go through that." Villamor exhaled slowly. His eyes dropped to the table. "Five KIA. Some of our best. We didn''t even get to finish the damn mission before those things jumped us." "You made it back," Thomas replied. "That''s what matters now." Villamor met his eyes again. "And we owe that to your gunship. And your drone. And your crew." "You''d have done the same if it were my people out there." Villamor gave a short, almost reluctant nod. "Maybe. But we don''t have that kind of firepower." Thomas didn''t respond immediately. He just studied Villamor, then stepped around the table and leaned against the edge. "So," he said, folding his arms. "You didn''t risk your life out there just to thank us. Let''s hear it." Villamor straightened, cleared his throat, and adjusted his posture. "General de Vera has made a decision," he said. "Given our current state... dwindling supplies, limited security, and no way of dealing with special variants like the Mawbeasts¡ªwe want to open formal diplomatic relations with Overwatch." Thomas didn''t react at first. He simply looked at Villamor, waiting. Villamor continued, "The General''s hoping for a working partnership¡ªresource sharing, coordinated patrols, and defense planning. A proper alliance, if that''s what you''re after." Thomas finally nodded once. "It is." He walked back around to his seat and lowered himself slowly. "But if we''re going to do this," Thomas added, tone shifting, "there are conditions." Villamor expected that. He gave a slow nod, waiting. "Overwatch will retain command and control over all joint operations," Thomas said. "Your camp operates under our network. You''ll get access to supplies, intel, and support, but major decisions¡ªstrategic or otherwise¡ªcome through this facility." Villamor''s jaw tensed slightly, but he didn''t speak. "We''re not here to play dictator," Thomas clarified, "but I''m not putting my people at risk because someone on your side thinks they know better. That''s not negotiable." Villamor looked at the water bottle in his hand, silent for a few seconds. "You''re asking for subordination." "I''m asking for structure," Thomas corrected. "You''ve seen what we can do. We''re not perfect¡ªbut we''re effective. You want protection? You want us to keep hammering monsters like the ones you saw today? Then we need unity. Not split command." Villamor let out a breath, then nodded slowly. "I can''t say yes or no. I''m just the messenger." "Fair enough," Thomas said. "Then deliver it." "I will," Villamor replied. "They''ll want to know everything. Your chain of command, your operations model, the kind of intel you''re willing to share." "They''ll get that¡ªonce I get confirmation from your General," Thomas said. "We''ll draft the formal terms." Villamor leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling for a second. "To be honest," he said, "I don''t know how de Vera''s going to take it. But he''ll listen." "He''d be stupid not to," Thomas said plainly. Villamor smirked faintly. "You''re not much for sugarcoating, are you?" "No point," Thomas replied. "Sugar gets people killed." The room went quiet for a few moments. Then moments after¡ª, Villamor finally stood. "I''ll get you your answer." Thomas nodded once, standing as well. "We''ll be ready." Villamor turned and walked to the door. Just before stepping out, he glanced back. "And Thomas?" "Yeah?" "Thanks. For pulling us out." Thomas gave him a hard look¡ªthen a rare, subtle nod. "Get some rest, Captain. You''ll need it." Villamor left, boots echoing down the hallway. And Thomas sat back in his chair, eyes drifting to the tablet''s screen¡ªstill showing the Reaper feed over the cratered jungle. "Today''s job is done." Chapter 109: The Corpse The morgue wasn''t really a morgue¡ªnot in the pre-outbreak sense. It was a repurposed refrigeration unit near the south wing of the refinery complex. Thick insulated walls. Locking steel doors. Cold enough to slow decay but not enough to keep the stench away. The five body bags lay in a row on the tiled floor, each tagged, zipped tight, and labeled with the unit patches they had worn. Three from Echo Company. One from Recon. One driver. All dead less than three hours. Shadow 6 and Shadow 8 were the last to drag the final bag inside, their boots leaving damp prints on the polished floor. "Fuckin'' heavy," Shadow 6 grunted, letting the bag slide to the ground with a thump. "This guy was built like a rhino." Shadow 8 rolled his shoulders. "They always get heavier when they''re cold. Dead weight''s a bitch." On the far side of the room, two refinery soldiers were waiting¡ªboth junior personnel, barely out of training, clad in standard Overwatch utility gear. Garza and Reyes. Reyes had a clipboard in hand. "Name tags?" he asked, not bothering to hide the wrinkled nose. Shadow 6 reached into the front pouch of his vest, pulling out a blood-smeared ID card. "Last one. Private Amador. Shot through the sternum. No movement when we checked. Bagged him thirty out." Garza muttered under his breath as he stared at the zipped black outlines. "Why are we the ones stuck in here with these damn things?" Shadow 8 shrugged. "You want us to babysit the stiffs too?" "I just don''t get why they couldn''t burn ''em," Garza went on, wrinkling his nose. "Even sealed up, the smell''s crawling through my sinuses." Reyes gave him a tired look. "Chain of custody, genius. We hand them off to their command. Proper ceremony. Maybe even burial if they''re lucky." "Yeah, well," Garza grumbled, "we keep them here any longer, we''ll be burying the whole building in stink." The Shadows had already turned to leave. "Room''s yours now," Shadow 6 said. "We''re done here." As they exited, the heavy door thudded shut behind them. Garza and Reyes stared at the bags for a second longer. The refrigeration unit hissed faintly, the only sound in the room. "Let''s get out of here," Reyes said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Inventory''s done." Garza didn''t argue. Both men stepped out, letting the metal door close behind them. No lock. Just a standard magnetic seal. Not that anyone expected a security risk. No one stayed behind to watch the dead. Thirty minutes later, the light in the cold room flickered once. Then twice. One of the body bags twitched. Just slightly. A tremor. Almost imperceptible. Another minute passed. Then the second one shifted¡ªits outline bulging as something inside moved. Slowly. Cautiously. Inside the second bag, the body''s fingers curled tight. The nails were black. Rotten. But sharp. They pierced through the bag''s lining with little resistance¡ªripping a hole just wide enough for a hand to slither through. The body inside didn''t moan. It didn''t breathe. But it moved. Soon, four more bags began to stir. The claws of death¡ªunseen, unexpected¡ªsliced and scraped against the synthetic fabric until five infected corpses lay free, twitching and jerking, flesh sloughing in strips from their faces. The door¡ªsealed only magnetically¡ªstood in the way. The figures rose, limbs crooked, posture wrong. Inhuman. Silent, at first. Then came the sound. A dull thud. Then another. BANG. BANG. BANG. Heavy fists and clawed hands slammed against the door. No alarm triggered. No motion detector screamed. It wasn''t built for that. Outside, just down the hall, Nurse Kayla had just clocked back in. The overnight staff was rotating early due to incoming wounded, and she was triple-checking inventory in the adjacent med supply cabinet when she heard it. The banging. Rhythmic. Muted. Her brow furrowed. She looked up from her clipboard and listened. A couple more knocks echoed faintly down the hall. Tap. Tap. Bang. She stepped out of the supply closet, peering down the corridor. Nothing. Most of the lights were still dimmed¡ªstandard low-power mode. It made the edges of everything seem darker than they were. Tap. Tap. Bang. "Hello?" she called out. No answer. Cautiously, Kayla walked down the hall. Her ID badge tapped lightly against her chest with each step. As she reached the door to the refrigeration unit, the banging stopped. She froze. Frowned. Then took a step closer. The magnetic panel blinked green. Unlocked. "Probably Garza screwing around," she muttered under her breath, hand moving to the access bar. She pressed it. The door hissed open¡ª And something lunged. The first infected was on her in an instant, jaws wide, black teeth snapping straight into her throat. Her scream cut through the air, shrill and sharp¡ªechoing down the corridor. Then it gurgled. Then it stopped. The nurse hit the ground hard, her legs kicking, arms flailing¡ª Then nothing. The blood pooled fast. The others followed. One infected hunched over her, tearing at her ribcage with jagged nails. Another sniffed the air, head jerking at the slightest motion, the remnants of its military uniform still hanging off its twisted frame. And then Kayla''s body jerked. Once. Twice. Her fingers curled. The transformation had begun. Down the hall, no one heard anything. In the med bay, Delgado slept. Tinio whispered in his sleep. And no one noticed the nurse''s station going quiet. Delgado stirred on the med bay cot, his brow furrowed, body twitching slightly as the tail end of a nightmare clung to his mind. He blinked, adjusting to the dim lights overhead. Something felt... off. He pushed himself upright with a quiet groan, his injured leg stiff. Tinio mumbled something in his sleep across from him, tossing a little under the blanket. Delgado rubbed his eyes and sat still for a moment, letting the silence settle. Then he heard it. Shuffling. Not loud. Just the faint scrape of skin¡ªor maybe boots¡ªagainst tile. He frowned. Then came the sound of a door creaking open. His head snapped toward the med bay hallway. That wasn''t normal. He stood slowly, testing his balance, and hobbled toward the threshold of the room. The hallway beyond was quiet, too quiet. The usual hum of low conversation, distant clatter of trays, the squeak of rolling carts¡ªnone of it. Then he saw movement. Shadows bending around the corner. A figure staggered into view. Blood soaked its chest, head tilted unnaturally, eyes locked forward in a dead stare. Then two more behind it. Delgado''s breath caught. "Oh shit¡ª" The first one turned toward him. Then they ran. Chapter 110: Red Alert "TINIO!" he shouted, voice cracked with urgency. Tinio jolted awake, confused, blinking as he sat upright. "What the hell, man¡ª?" "We got zombies! In the hallway!" Delgado barked, already limping for the nearest supply locker. Tinio''s blood ran cold. "The hell are you talking about? That was bodybags, they¡ª" He stopped mid-sentence when he caught sight of movement beyond the med bay door. Three bloodied figures rounded the corner at a sprint. And they weren''t shambling. They were fast. "Fuck¡ªget something! Anything!" Delgado yelled, wrenching open the locker. He found a fire axe¡ªa short-handled emergency tool¡ªits blade still clean and sharp. Tinio didn''t hesitate. He grabbed a heavy IV pole and ripped off the fluid bags, gripping it like a spear. "What the fuck is going on?! How are they even in here?!" "I don''t know!" Delgado shouted. "But that''s nurse''s uniform on the one in front!" They braced themselves just as the first infected slammed into the doorway. The automatic doors didn''t even get a chance to close. Delgado swung the axe in a downward arc, catching the attacker in the collarbone. Bone cracked, blood sprayed, but the thing didn''t fall¡ªit shrieked and clawed, swiping for his face. Tinio lunged forward with the pole, slamming the tip into its ribs and shoving it back. The force knocked it into the second infected, slowing their charge. "ALARM! GET THE ALARM!" Tinio shouted. But there was no alarm. No panic sirens. Nothing. Whatever infected these things had bypassed the sensors. Or worse¡ªthey''d come from inside the secure zones. The second infected lunged. Tinio stepped back and swung again, this time catching it in the leg. It buckled, but clawed forward with a hand like a hooked blade. Delgado stomped forward with his good foot and buried the axe in its neck. The body collapsed, twitching. The third turned and bolted¡ªtoward the hallway leading to the rest of the infirmary. "SHIT! IT''S RUNNING!" Tinio yelled. Delgado limped to the wall console, fingers slamming into the emergency panel. Nothing. "No power. We''re in low-light lockdown mode. The AI didn''t flag the breach." "Then we make noise!" He grabbed a metal bedpan and hurled it down the hallway, where it clanged and echoed like a dinner bell. Shadow 3 was on patrol duty near the generator wing when he heard the echo. "Hold up," he said, raising his fist to the two other Shadows with him. "What is it?" asked Shadow 7. "That wasn''t ambient. That was intentional. Metal on tile." He clicked his comms. "Actual, this is Shadow Three. We may have a breach in the med sector. Requesting confirmation¡ªthere''s no alarm but something feels off." Inside Thomas''s room, Thomas turned from his monitor. "Shadow Three, say again?" "Unconfirmed audio anomaly. Med wing." Cruz frowned, flicking through the Reaper surveillance grid. "Nothing on the thermals outside." Thomas, who was reviewing grid files at his station, stood slowly. "Switch to internal cams." "Already trying," Cruz muttered, fingers racing. But most cams in the med bay had gone dark. Only a single feed came up¡ªone shaky angle showing flickering hallway lights and a bloody smear against the wall. Thomas stared. Then keyed the master line. "Eagle Actual to all stations, breach confirmed in the south med wing. Unspecified infected presence I authorizes Code Red. Engage and contain." Delgado and Tinio had barricaded the main door with a hospital gurney and overturned bed frames. Blood stained the floor. Two infected lay still¡ªbut they didn''t trust it enough to relax. Tinio was pacing, breathing heavy. "Where the hell is the response team?" "They''ll be coming," Delgado said, panting. "I made sure someone heard us. They always come." He heard it then¡ªboots. Fast. Heavy. Tactical. Then came the radio. "Shadow Team to med wing. Break in thirty seconds. Sitrep?" Delgado grabbed the radio and keyed it, voice hoarse. "Two down, one ran. Kayla''s one of them. They turned. I don''t know how¡ªthey were bagged. I think they came back." The channel went silent for a second. Then: "Copy. Stand clear of door. Breach incoming." BOOM. The door burst inward. Smoke and light filled the room. Then came the Shadows. Phillip entered first, rifle raised, scanning every angle with trained precision. The rest of the team followed¡ªlethal shadows moving as one. "Med bay secure," Shadow 2 called. Phillip moved straight to Delgado and Tinio. "You two good?" "We''re alive," Tinio said. "But Kayla''s gone. She opened the morgue." Phillip''s eyes narrowed. "We need to check the refrigeration unit." Delgado nodded, eyes wide. "That''s where the bodies were taken. The ones we brought back." Phillip keyed his comm. "Shadow 6, Shadow 9¡ªcontainment sweep. Morgue and corridor. Assume hostile." The corridors beyond the med bay were bathed in flickering light. Red emergency strips lined the walls, casting the tiles in a low, pulsing glow that seemed to make the bloodstains shine even darker. Phillip took point, moving through the hallway with deliberate steps. Shadow 2 and 5 flanked him tight, barrels up, scanning every shadow, every blind corner. Ahead, the morgue door loomed¡ªits magnetic seal broken, left half-open. "Movement?" Phillip asked into the comms. "Negative," came Shadow 6''s voice. "Thermals are inconsistent. Too much interference from the cold storage. Could be residual heat signatures." "Stack on me," Phillip ordered, leveling his rifle. Shadows 6 and 9 appeared from the adjacent junction, both crouched low. They joined the stack without a word. Standard Overwatch breach formation¡ªPhillip center, two rifles wide, one on rear security. "Clear right," he whispered. "Clear left." "Kick it." Shadow 5 booted the morgue door with a metallic crash, and they flowed in fast. Flashlights cut through the darkness. Phillip''s nose curled instantly. "Jesus..." The room was wrecked. Blood smeared across the white-tiled floor like some artist''s fever dream. Gurneys overturned. The refrigeration units hanging open. One of the five body bags lay half unzipped, torn from the inside. But the bodies were there. Slumped. Motionless. Or what remained of them. "Contact front¡ªdown!" Shadow 6 called, lowering his rifle. The bodies of the reanimated soldiers were mangled, shredded by blunt force and fire axes. One still twitched¡ªa faint spasm in its leg¡ªuntil Shadow 2 stepped forward and placed a suppressed round between its eyes. Silence followed. Phillip exhaled slowly. "All targets down. Repeat¡ªall hostiles neutralized in the morgue." He keyed his comms. "Shadow to Eagle Actual. Med wing secure. Morgue sweep complete. Five KIA¡ªformer KIA. Targets reanimated and attacked staff. Two friendlies in med bay, still breathing. One nurse deceased, turned, confirmed KIA. We''re secure." The comms crackled. Thomas''s voice came through, calm and clipped. "Copy that, Shadow. Good work. Maintain perimeter until cleanup arrives. Reaper confirms no new contacts. I''m initiating sector lockdown. Med wing is now red-status. Quarantine protocol alpha." "Understood," Phillip responded, already motioning for his team to hold the corridor. "We''ll hold until relieved." Chapter 111: A New Theory The med bay had been cleared. The infected neutralized. But Kayla was dead. Five soldiers who''d been zipped in sealed bags had come back to life. And no one¡ªno one¡ªhad seen it coming. Thomas stood at the head of the long table, arms folded, jaw set. His tablet was in front of him, screen dark, unused for now. He wasn''t here to read reports. He was here to ask questions¡ªand he wanted answers. "Close the door," he ordered. Phillip, standing near the entrance, did just that. Around the table sat six personnel. Shadow 6 and Shadow 8¡ªthe two who had carried the body bags. Reyes and Garza¡ªthe refinery soldiers assigned to catalog and supervise the morgue handoff. Shadow 3, who responded first. And Phillip, who pulled up internal logs and the now-failed sensor data. "All of you were part of the chain of custody," Thomas began. His voice was calm, but cold. "I want each of you to walk me through exactly what happened." No one spoke at first. Then Shadow 6 cleared his throat. "Sir, we retrieved five KIA from the field. Confirmed no signs of life¡ªchecked pulses, breath, pupil response." "You bag them?" "Yes, sir. Full seal. ID tags outside. We delivered them to the refrigeration unit, logged the time, signed them over to refinery staff." He nodded toward Reyes and Garza. Thomas turned to them next. "What did you do after the handoff?" Reyes sat rigid. "We confirmed identities. Verified the tags against the list. Made sure all five were zipped and stacked flat. Unit patch visible. I ran the log through the system. Garza helped me with the physical inventory." "You open the bags?" "No, sir." Garza piped up. "Didn''t touch the zips. Just stacked them like we were told. They stank, but they weren''t moving." Thomas nodded, processing. Then glanced to Phillip. "Sensor data?" Phillip tapped his tablet. "The med wing''s on a separate low-power subsystem. After the dead were moved in, motion sensors weren''t triggered. The magnetic seal on the door logged a single manual unlock¡ªKayla''s ID. No anomalous activity before that." "They moved without triggering sensors," Thomas said aloud, mostly to himself. "Cooled bodies. No core temp. Probably below thermal thresholds." "Exactly," Phillip said. "If they were in cold storage, they wouldn''t show on infrared. Hell, even the Reaper wouldn''t catch them unless they were warm or moving fast." Thomas looked back to the room. "They didn''t break in," he said slowly. "They woke up." Shadow 8 looked uncomfortable. "With respect, sir... that shouldn''t happen. We verified them." "And that''s the problem," Thomas said. "You did everything right. By the book." The silence stretched. Thomas stood straighter now, voice sharpening. "We''ve operated under the assumption that infected require exposure¡ªblood, bite, fluid transfer. But these five were never bitten. Never scratched. They were killed by trauma, not infection vectors." Everyone in the room sat a little stiffer now. "What are you saying, sir?" Shadow 3 asked. "I''m saying this virus¡ªor whatever this is¡ªmight not need to infect. It might already be inside us." He let that hang for a moment. "Asymptomatic carriage," Phillip muttered, horrified. "Dormant in every human. It only activates post-mortem." "That''s the working theory," Thomas said. "It explains the speed. The transformation time. The lack of external transmission. These soldiers died. Then came back." Phillip crossed his arms. "So it''s not just infection. Death itself is the trigger." "Yes," Thomas said. "And we can''t afford another incident like this again. Which means as of now, protocols are changing." He reached for his tablet and brought up a draft. "Effective immediately, all deceased personnel¡ªcivilian or military¡ªwill not be stored. They will not be handed over. They will not be transported." Everyone stared. "They will be incinerated within thirty minutes of confirmed death," Thomas said. "Autopsy or ceremony be damned. No exceptions unless pre-cleared by myself or senior command." "So what about the bodies that we have buried under the ground after we took this refinery? Perhaps we should dig it up to confirm our working theory," Phillip suggested. Thomas didn''t hesitate. "Do it," he said, voice low but absolute. "We''re not leaving anything to chance. I want that burial site unearthed. Tonight." Phillip nodded once, already reaching for his comms. "Shadow teams, prep dig detail. We''re unearthing the southern plot. Bring full containment gear and suppression tools. Assume risk level: Red." Within the hour, floodlights lit up the southern perimeter of the refinery¡ªonce a crude graveyard for fallen defenders during the early days of occupation. There were no tombstones here. Just wooden stakes, handwritten tags, and shallow earth packed over body bags in haste. The wind was cold. The soil, soft. Two teams worked with quiet urgency¡ªshovels digging, hands lifting out clumps of earth. The smell of rot returned fast. Shadow 4 was the first to stop. "Got one," he said, kneeling beside a partially exposed bag. His gloved hand cleared away the last layer of dirt from the slick, mud-caked plastic. "Body bag''s intact. Movement inside¡ª" The bag twitched. Everyone froze. Then the bulge inside shifted violently. Something slammed against the interior. A clawed hand tore through the side, lashing out. The fingers were black, jagged, flesh shredded down to muscle. The bag rocked and twisted, muffled snarling erupting from inside like a caged beast. "CONTACT!" Shadow 7 shouted, raising his weapon. "Do not fire!" Phillip snapped. "We''re confirming protocol¡ªtrap and suppress!" Two Shadows rushed forward with heavy taping gear and reinforced netting. The thing inside continued thrashing with inhuman strength, clawing at the air as if it hadn''t been buried alive for days. But they got it. They wrapped the thing down with industrial tape, four-inch thick straps across its limbs and torso, and secured its twitching head with a reinforced sack. Two more bodies were exhumed. Both moved. One of them had nearly clawed its way to the surface¡ªits bag ripped open from the inside, dirt packed into its mouth and eyes, but it still snapped blindly as they dragged it out. Another had broken bones but still writhed like it was feeling no pain. Phillip watched it all, lips pressed thin. Then keyed his comm. "Eagle Actual, this is Shadow One," he said. "Theory confirmed. The buried dead are reanimating. They''re violent, mobile, and extremely durable." "You know what to do. Put them out of their misery," Thomas said. Chapter 112: Return with the News The next morning, the sun was still low over the horizon, casting pale light across the refinery yard as diesel engines rumbled to life. The air smelled like fuel, dirt, and disinfectant. A single JLTV was parked near the eastern gate¡ªcleaned, fueled, and checked twice over. Captain Enrique Villamor adjusted the straps on his gear, his uniform still wrinkled from yesterday''s chaos. He''d been given a fresh shirt and clean pants, but the boots were still his own¡ªscuffed, worn, and dirt-caked. He stood near the vehicle''s rear bumper, checking over the rifle slung at his side. Phillip approached from the opposite end of the yard, tablet in one hand, a small data pouch in the other. "Morning, Captain," he said. Villamor looked up. "Morning." "You''re clear to go. One of our drivers is taking you halfway. You''ll split off near the water tower and head in on foot. Safer that way¡ªless noise." Villamor nodded. "Makes sense." Phillip held out the pouch. "Mission data. Details of what happened here. Timeline, statements, sensor logs. And that," he added, tapping the top of the pouch, "includes the full transcript of your meeting with Eagle Actual." Villamor took the pouch and stuffed it in the inside pocket of his vest. "You don''t strike me as the type to hand over full transcripts. "I''m not," Phillip said. "But Thomas wants your people to hear everything. No excuses. No confusion." Villamor gave a tight nod. "Good call." Nearby, a pair of Shadows loaded extra water canisters and first-aid packs into the JLTV''s side compartments. One of them handed Villamor a folded map, freshly printed and laminated. "New recon notes," Shadow 3 said. "Shows zombie density between here and your camp. You''ll need to cut through the dry creek bed by the half-sunken bus. The old trail''s not safe anymore." Villamor unfolded it briefly, nodded, and tucked it away. "Thanks." Phillip stepped back as the driver¡ªa tall, quiet man with a bandana under his helmet¡ªclosed the last compartment. "You''ll have him for the first twelve clicks," Phillip said. "After that, you''re on your own." Villamor didn''t flinch. "It''s fine. I''ve walked worse." He moved to the passenger side door and opened it, then paused. "Anything else I should know?" Phillip hesitated, then answered flatly. "No one''s buried at your camp, right?" Villamor looked at him for a moment. "Not yet." "Don''t let it happen. Not anymore." Villamor gave a small nod. "Understood." He climbed in and shut the door. The engine rumbled a bit louder as the driver revved it once and rolled them toward the gate. Phillip stood there, arms crossed, watching them disappear past the outer checkpoint. Inside the JLTV, Villamor sat in silence. The road was rough. The engine noise drowned out most ambient sound, but he didn''t need to hear anything. His mind was racing. He thought about Tinio and Delgado. About Kayla, the nurse. About the five body bags. And about what this meant. It wasn''t just Overwatch who had a problem. If the virus was truly dormant in everyone¡ªif every death risked a new outbreak¡ªthen every survivor camp was one mistake away from getting wiped out. The JLTV slowed after nearly an hour of driving. The terrain had changed. Thicker trees. Narrower roads. A few overturned vehicles, long since looted, littered the shoulder. "We''re here," the driver said simply. Villamor opened the door and stepped out. He looked around, checked his rifle, and adjusted his vest. The driver handed him a small field radio with a single programmed channel. "Short range," he said. "But if you hit trouble, call. We might not be able to pull you out fast¡ªbut we''ll try." Villamor nodded. "Appreciate it." He turned and walked off without another word, disappearing into the brush. The driver waited for a full minute before turning the JLTV around and heading back toward the refinery. The forest was quiet. Birds chirped overhead, and the wind rustled the leaves. But Villamor kept his rifle low and his boots silent. The terrain between here and the camp wasn''t guaranteed safe. Just lower risk. After half an hour, he spotted the half-sunken bus¡ªexactly where the map said it would be. Its tires were buried, windows shattered, moss growing along the side. He stayed wide, moving across the dry creek bed, watching for movement. Nothing. Just silence. Another hour passed before he reached the edge of his camp''s perimeter. A low whistle echoed from a nearby outpost¡ªsomeone had seen him. Seconds later, a voice called out. "Approaching friendly!" Three soldiers emerged from behind the barricade, rifles drawn but not aimed. "Captain!" one of them shouted. "Shit¡ªwe thought you were dead!" Villamor slowed and raised a hand. "Still breathing." They pulled him inside the gate, locking it behind him. Inside, everything looked the same¡ªbut he could feel the difference. The air wasn''t just tense. It was brittle. One wrong move, one bad decision, and this place would burn like the rest. He made his way to the command tent. General de Vera stood near a folding table, reviewing patrol notes. He looked up when Villamor stepped inside. "Captain," he said. "Report." Villamor set the pouch down on the table. "You''re going to want to see this." General de Vera looked down at the pouch, then back at Villamor. He didn''t open it immediately. The weight in Villamor''s voice had said enough already. "You made it back in one piece," the general said flatly. "Barely," Villamor replied. "But I wasn''t the only one who didn''t. We had casualties." "I know...because I don''t see them with you." "So what happened?" "The Overwatch would like to establish diplomatic relations," Villamor said firmly. "That''s the first thing." General de Vera narrowed his eyes. "Define ''diplomatic.'' Trade? Intel-sharing? Joint patrols?" Villamor shook his head. "No. More than that. Formal cooperation. But there are terms." De Vera raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Terms?" "They''re offering security support, medical aid, recon data, and direct military assistance," Villamor said, gesturing to the data pouch. "But in return, they want centralized command authority. Us under them. Our camp operating as a subsidiary¡ªunder their protocols." There was a moment of silence. Chapter 113: Welcome to Overwatch General de Vera stared at the pouch on the table. His fingers didn''t move toward it, not yet. Instead, he leaned back slightly and looked up at Villamor. "And if we say no?" he asked, voice steady. Villamor didn''t hesitate. "Then we''re on our own. With no drone coverage. No air support. No med evac. No tech infrastructure. We''ll keep patrolling with standard issue rifles and praying the next variant doesn''t tear through the walls." De Vera looked down at the floor for a long moment, then let out a slow breath through his nose. "They want us under their chain of command," he muttered. "Everything we''ve built here... handed over." "No," Villamor replied. "Integrated. Not erased. They''re not after territory, sir. They''re after structure. Control. And honestly? That''s not a bad thing anymore." De Vera raised his eyes again. "You believe that?" "I do," Villamor said quietly. "Because I saw what they can do. Because I watched a gunship eliminate an entire horde in less than five minutes. Because I watched our own dead stand up and almost kill everyone in their med wing¡ªand they contained it. Fast." De Vera was quiet again. He finally reached out and opened the pouch, flipping through the printed reports and statements, the timeline. He scanned the pages in silence, flipping past the transcript of Villamor''s sit-down with Thomas. Halfway through the stack, he stopped and rubbed his eyes. "This isn''t just about logistics anymore," he said. "This is about survival." "Exactly," Villamor replied. "And the way I see it, we don''t have the luxury of pride anymore." De Vera gave a small, humorless smile at that. "Pride," he repeated. "That''s what this whole command''s been running on since Day One." He dropped the stack of papers back into the pouch and zipped it shut. He didn''t speak for another ten seconds. Then he looked Villamor dead in the eyes. "Tell Overwatch we accept the terms," he said finally. "They''ll have command oversight. We''ll follow their protocols. But I want two things on the record." Villamor raised an eyebrow. "Which are?" "One¡ªwe retain our unit identity. They can lead us, but they don''t erase us." "Understood. And the second?" De Vera leaned forward. "If they screw us... we walk." Villamor nodded. "I''ll relay it exactly as you said." De Vera stood up and offered a hand. "Then let''s do this smart. Not proud." Villamor shook it firmly. "Yes, sir. And thank you for making that decision." Three days later, the JLTV rumbled back into the refinery yard under gray skies. The weather had shifted¡ªcooler, with a breeze that carried the scent of oil and dust. The southern gate opened slowly, flanked by Shadows on watch, their rifles angled low but eyes sharp. Captain Enrique Villamor stepped out of the JLTV''s passenger side, same boots, same gear¡ªjust cleaner, more upright. He carried a simple canvas satchel under one arm. Phillip was already waiting for him just outside the logistics tent. "Welcome back," he said, offering a nod. Villamor returned it. "Was starting to miss the smell of fuel and metal." "You bring an answer?" "I brought a commitment," Villamor replied, patting the pouch. "Signed. Stamped. And backed by the full authority of General de Vera." Phillip gave a short breath through his nose, not quite a smile, but close. "Then let''s get you inside." They crossed the yard without ceremony. The facility buzzed with activity¡ªrefinery personnel running checks, Shadows loading gear into trucks, a quadrotor drone being inspected by two Overwatch technicians the gates. Inside the command building, the lights were already on. A simple table had been placed in the center of the main briefing room, two chairs on either side. There was a printed agreement, several pages thick, neatly stacked with two pens lying beside it. Thomas Estaris stood near the end of the table, dressed in his usual black field jacket, sleeves rolled to his elbows, radio clipped to his shoulder. He turned as Villamor entered. "Captain," he said and continued. "Good to see you made it back." Villamor set the pouch down beside the agreement. "General de Vera read everything. We accept your terms. With two provisions." Thomas nodded slowly. "Let me guess. Unit identity and walkaway clause?" "You read the man well." "I figured as much," Thomas said. "They''re both reasonable. I''ve already added them as appendices." He gestured to the seat across from his. Villamor sat down, exhaled once, and picked up the pen. "Before I sign this," he said, "I want to say something." Thomas waited. "You saved my team. You stabilized this zone. But what really changed our minds wasn''t the gunship or the drone coverage. It was the protocols. The way you handled your own dead. You didn''t hesitate. You acted like it wasn''t just war¡ªit was something worse. And that kind of clarity? It''s what we need." Thomas said nothing for a second. Then he replied simply, "Clarity''s the only thing keeping us alive." Villamor nodded. And then he signed. Thomas followed, adding his own signature beneath the Overwatch seal. There was no applause, no flash of cameras. Just the quiet shuffle of paper and the sound of two pens clicking shut. "From this point forward," Thomas said, "your camp will operate as Overwatch Substation Echo. You''ll receive mission packets daily. Recon data every eight hours. Resupply priority in 72-hour cycles. And any confirmed infected casualties will be reported to my command immediately for body disposal authorization." Villamor straightened his shoulders. "Understood." "I''m assigning Phillip as your liaison," Thomas added. "He''ll help coordinate the integration." Villamor glanced at Phillip, who gave a silent nod. "I''ve worked with worse," Villamor said. "You''ll work well together," Thomas replied. "You''re both cut from the same cloth¡ªpractical, not sentimental." Villamor stood, offering his hand. Thomas took it. It was a firm, deliberate shake between two men who understood the stakes. As Villamor turned to leave, Thomas called out one last thing. "Captain." He looked back. "Welcome to Overwatch." Chapter 114: Visiting their Camp The sun was already high over the treetops by the time the humming began. A faint, rhythmic pulse that didn''t belong to the wind or the forest. Soldiers along the southern ridge of Substation Echo''s perimeter¡ªformerly just a survivor camp¡ªwere the first to notice. It started as a low vibration in the dirt, then the unmistakable sound of rotor blades cutting through the air. One. Two. Three. Black dots on the horizon, growing larger, louder. "Contact! South quadrant, air!" shouted one of the lookouts. General de Vera was already stepping out of the command tent, binoculars in hand. He focused on the approaching aircraft, frowning as he counted them. "Three helos," he muttered. "Black Hawks." But they were wrong. No insignias. No Air Force markings. No nation flags. Just matte black paint and sleek profiles. "What the hell..." his voice trailed off. "Sir!" shouted his liaison officer, Lieutenant Rosales, running up with his carbine half-raised. "We''ve got eyes on unknown helos¡ªno IFF pings, no radio hails, nothing. Do we go weapons hot?" Before de Vera could answer, the lead Black Hawk banked sharply to the right, the side gunner aiming down. Then came the screeches. Zombies. A cluster of them, twenty or more, drawn by the engine noise, stumbled and sprinted out of the treeline, racing toward the outer walls of the camp. The minigun spun up with a whir. "GUNNER ENGAGING!" someone yelled from the walls. Then came the roar¡ªsix-barrelled, belt-fed firepower chewing through the horde like paper. The second helicopter followed suit, cutting a wide arc and mowing down another wave that had crawled out from under a flipped cargo hauler. The bodies dropped one after another, sprayed with precise bursts. "Holy shit," Rosales breathed. "They''re covering us." The third helicopter hovered above the open clearing near the center of the camp, its skids just a meter off the ground. The side doors slid open. A figure jumped down first¡ªgear strapped tight, rifle across his chest. Then a second figure, lighter build, wearing a black vest over a grey undershirt. The first man stepped forward, helmet under one arm, and raised his hand. "Hold your fire!" he shouted. "Friendly!" The soldiers on the wall kept their weapons aimed, unsure. Then General de Vera recognized the man. "Stand down!" he barked. "That''s Villamor!" The gates cracked open, and a squad rushed out¡ªcautious, but not hostile. Villamor approached with the second man beside him. General de Vera met them halfway, boots crunching on gravel. "Captain," he said, voice still wary. "Mind telling me what the hell''s going on?" Villamor stood tall, then gestured to the man beside him. "This is Phillip. Callsign Shadow One. He''s Overwatch''s field operations liaison. Here under direct orders from Eagle Actual." Phillip offered a quick nod. "General." De Vera raised a brow. "You made an entrance." "Didn''t want to walk through Variant territory, sir," Villamor said, almost wryly. "This was the fastest, safest way to establish first formal contact." De Vera looked back at the helicopters¡ªrotors still spinning lazily¡ªand then to the smoking piles of dead infected outside the walls. "I''m not complaining," he said. "But next time, maybe a little radio heads-up?" "We sent one," Phillip said. "Encrypted channel. No reply. Your comms might need upgrading. That''s one of the things we''re here to assess." De Vera''s expression didn''t change. "You''re here to assess us?" "We''re here to help," Phillip clarified. "But part of integration means updating everything¡ªcommunications, logistics, security protocols. From here on, Substation Echo''s on the grid." Villamor stepped in. "They''re not here to inspect. They''re here to reinforce. And bring us up to standard." De Vera sighed, then nodded once. "Alright. You''ve got quarters in the southern barracks. We''ll hold a joint command briefing at 1400. You''ll give us the full rundown then." Phillip gave a tight nod. "Copy that, sir." De Vera glanced at the Black Hawks. "Your birds staying?" "One returns to base now," Phillip said. "The other two will remain on overwatch rotation. You''ve got a five-hour gunship cycle. Air support is now active." De Vera looked over his shoulder at the wall teams, who were still staring, slack-jawed at the new arrivals. "Jesus," he muttered. Then louder, to Rosales, "Get the boys back on post. And find somewhere for these guests to stash their gear." "Aye, sir," Rosales said, turning on his heel. As the general led them toward the command tent, Villamor leaned in and muttered to Phillip, "You always come in this hot?" Phillip gave the ghost of a smile. "Only when it matters." ? As they moved through the camp, heads turned everywhere. Soldiers stood at half-attention, unsure whether to salute or just stare. Some gave Villamor nods of recognition¡ªothers eyed Phillip warily, noting the Overwatch patch on his shoulder and the sidearm strapped low on his thigh. They passed the motor pool, where mechanics were frozen mid-task. Even the mess hall''s chatter had died down. Phillip ignored the looks. He''d seen worse reactions in worse places. Inside the command tent, the map table had already been cleared. De Vera motioned for them to sit, grabbing a notepad off the corner as he did. "Alright," he said. "Let''s make this clean. I want to know what you''re offering, what you expect, and what kind of operational leash you''re planning to keep us on." Phillip remained standing. "You''ll get the rundown at the briefing," he said evenly. "But here''s the short version: Overwatch doesn''t micromanage. We coordinate. Echo will retain tactical flexibility, but we provide mission objectives, recon updates, and enforce quarantine and threat protocols." "And if we push back?" De Vera asked. "Then we talk," Phillip replied. "But we don''t argue in front of the enemy. That''s the rule." De Vera''s jaw tightened slightly, but he nodded. "Understood." Villamor exhaled quietly, watching the two men¡ªboth hard-edged, both used to command¡ªbut there was no tension. Just professionalism. "We''ll play ball," the General said. "But I expect you to deliver." Phillip''s reply was sharp and immediate. "We don''t show up unless we can." Outside, the thump of a departing Black Hawk faded into the distance. Inside, Substation Echo''s new reality had just begun. Chapter 115: Peoples Awe The buzz of activity at Substation Echo hadn''t slowed since the Black Hawks arrived. If anything, it had only intensified. Word spread fast¡ªthree military helicopters had flown in out of nowhere, gunned down a horde of infected, and dropped off strangers who weren''t part of the military chain of command. Civilians¡ªfarmers, tradesmen, volunteers¡ªgathered cautiously near the southern fence, eyes fixed on the Black Hawks parked in the open clearing. "They''re not ours," a camp guard told one man, adjusting the sling on his rifle. "What do you mean they''re not ours?" the man asked, squinting at the matte-black helicopters. "They''ve got miniguns and military gear. That''s Army hardware." "Looks like it," the soldier replied. "But they belong to our new partners." A few of the civilians exchanged glances. "Partners?" another civilian asked. "You mean the people Villamor went to see?" "Yeah," the guard nodded. "Overwatch." An older woman crossed her arms. "They didn''t say anything on the loudspeakers. Just showed up with a goddamn airstrike." "And saved the camp," a young man added. "Still scared the hell out of everyone," someone muttered from the back. Their attention turned to one of the helicopters. Its side doors were still open, and inside they could see crates¡ªequipment, sealed black cases, and rows of seats stripped for cargo. Children peeked through the wire fence, eyes wide, pointing at the gun mounts and the barrels that had turned a zombie horde into mulch. Back near the command tent, a more serious conversation was already underway. Phillip stood in front of the map table with General de Vera, Villamor, Lieutenant Rosales, and two other senior officers. "Before we get into joint patrol schedules," Phillip said, "we need to talk about your defenses." Rosales raised an eyebrow. "We''ve held out this long." "Against biters," Phillip said, matter-of-fact. "Standard infected. Maybe one or two with minor mutations. But that''s not what I''m here to talk about." De Vera crossed his arms. "Alright, then. What are you here to talk about?" Phillip turned to the board behind him and tapped the top corner of a laminated printout. Three names, each underlined in red. "Mawbeast. Reaper. Goliath." The officers glanced at each other, then back at him. "You''ve got to be joking," Rosales said. "I wish I was," Phillip replied. "Mawbeast is a quadrupedal variant. Around six hundred pounds. Muscle structure like a pitbull crossed with a goddamn tank. Thick hide, can tear through sandbags and light vehicle armor. We lost a recon team trying to study one." General de Vera didn''t interrupt. He was listening now¡ªclosely. Phillip moved to the second name. "Reaper. Think of a bat the size of a jeep. High-altitude flyer, dives at two hundred kilometers per hour. It grabs people off rooftops or pulls lookouts off towers. It nests in high ground and can''t be tracked by thermal unless it''s moving." The officers'' expressions darkened. "Last one," Phillip said, tapping the final name. "Goliath." He didn''t elaborate right away. Instead, he pulled a tablet from his side pouch and handed it to de Vera. A video clip was queued¡ªgrainy footage from a drone camera. The general hit play. It was a shaky aerial feed. It shows a footage of a hellish landscape of EDSA where the Goliath is charging with its shield forward and obliterate everything in its path. The video zoomed in¡ªbarely able to frame the creature. It was humanoid in shape. Towering. Ten stories tall. Skin like cracked armor, muscles bulging under grayish-black flesh. Its head turned slowly toward the camera. And then the feed cut. "Holy God," one officer muttered. Phillip spoke again. "That was when we were protecting our camp from a horde of zombies and other variants." Rosales blinked. "And you think these things could head south?" "They already are," Phillip said. "Zombies don''t just migrate¡ªthey''re drawn to signals. Noise. Population density. Resource hubs. Your camp? You''ve been lighting up the airwaves, running generators, establishing order. That''s a beacon. They''re coming." De Vera sat down slowly, his fingers laced under his chin. "And you''re telling us we''re not equipped to fight them." "I''m telling you no one is," Phillip replied. "But Overwatch is adapting faster than anyone else." He reached into another pouch and tossed down a printed loadout list. "We''re sending you the following: two Reaper drones for high-altitude surveillance. One turret-mounted 30mm autocannon with tracking firmware. Fifty M4A1 rifles, 5,000 rounds. Forty sets of upgraded body armor. One mobile radar kit. And two portable cremation units. Just in case." No one said anything for a long moment. "You''re giving us this?" Rosales asked. Phillip corrected him. "We''re stationing it here. It stays under Overwatch authority, but it''s for your use. You''ll be trained to operate everything by our team. We''ll rotate instructors every three days. Except for the drone, we will be the one operating it." General de Vera looked up. "And if one of those things shows up? One of the Goliaths?" Phillip didn''t blink. "If that happens, you call it in. We evacuate civilians. Then we drop everything we have." "And if you can''t stop it?" Phillip looked him dead in the eye. "Then no one can." The tent went quiet. Outside, the civilians were still clustered near the helicopters. More were arriving from the housing rows¡ªmen and women in patched clothes, children peeking out from behind their legs. The soldiers on the walls watched them. The tension hadn''t disappeared, but it had changed. Wariness was giving way to curiosity. And maybe, beneath it all, hope. Phillip took a deep breath, then pointed to the bottom of the gear manifest. "There''s a reason we''re here, General. You signed up. That means we fight together now. No one gets left behind." De Vera finally nodded. "Then start your drills tomorrow. Full roster." Phillip extended a hand again. "Welcome to the war." De Vera took the handshake firmly, eyes steady. Around him, his officers remained silent, absorbing the weight of what they''d just seen and heard. "Get your instructors ready," the general said. "We''ve got a lot of catching up to do." Chapter 116: Finally, Returning Home Two days passed. Substation Echo was no longer just a survivor camp¡ªit was a functioning military substation. The drills had started as scheduled. Shadows rotated in and out, training soldiers how to use the new rifles, operate the cremation units, and calibrate the radar kit. The civilians were still wary, but the mood had shifted. They had structure now. Routine. A sense of something larger than survival. Phillip stood at the southern helipad, helmet in one hand, radio clipped to his shoulder. Lieutenant Rosales approached him with a tablet tucked under his arm. "Schedule''s been followed to the letter," Rosales said. "Weapon inventory matches. Body disposal drill ran twice. No issues." Phillip nodded. "Good. What about the civilians?" "Curious. Cooperative. A little spooked about the drones that were flying overhead, even though they can''t see it, but they''re adjusting." Phillip looked toward the center of the camp. One of the Reaper drones had lifted off an hour ago, circling quietly above them now like a mechanical hawk. "Any infected movement within five clicks?" Rosales shook his head. "There are but they are too far away from us." "Keep it that way." Rosales stood at attention. "Understood, sir." Then, he turned his head to Villamor who was silent ever since the conversation between the two. Phillip gave him a nod. "You''ve got command here while I''m gone. You know the protocols." "If a Goliath or any other dangerous variant that we don''t know shows up, we evacuate. If we can''t handle something, we call it in." "And you burn every corpse that drops. Every time." Villamor nodded. "Won''t forget." The Black Hawk''s rotors spun up again as Phillip climbed in. He gave one last look at the camp¡ªsoldiers running drills near the barracks, engineers working under the solar panels, a civilian handing out soup to tired guards. It was functioning. It was holding. The helicopter lifted off, leaving a spray of dust in its wake. Back at the refinery, the landing pad had already been cleared. Thomas was waiting by the edge of the tarmac when Phillip stepped down from the chopper. His jacket was half-zipped, and he looked like he hadn''t slept. "Welcome back," he said. Phillip dropped his duffel beside him. "Substation Echo is operational. Villamor has it under control. Integration''s complete." "Anything stand out?" "They''re rough, but responsive. They''ll follow orders. Civilians are adjusting to the new pace. They''ve got gear, schedule, and comms. They''re on the grid." Thomas nodded once. "Good. We need to keep expanding that line." Phillip fell in step beside him as they walked toward the command building. "Any movement while I was gone?" "Small herd passed east of the complex. Reapers picked it up. Redirected one drone to guide it toward the flooded district. No engagement." Phillip raised an eyebrow. "And the variants?" "No sightings. But we both know it''s only a matter of time." Inside, the command room was humming with quiet chatter. Analysts sat behind glowing monitors, scanning drone feeds, listening to comm chatter, and logging patrol data. A digital map of Metro Manila filled the wall¡ªpins marking supply routes, safe zones, and confirmed variant sightings. Phillip stepped forward, set a folder down on the table. "New camp drone codes. Updated burial protocols. Ammo requests, signed. They''ll need another 10,000 rounds by next month." Thomas gave a tired nod. "We''ll get it to them." Phillip paused. "They''re holding, but they won''t last against a major breach." "Which is why we are watching over them. Now, my job here is done and so are you. We will return to the MOA Complex tomorrow, Overwatch has arranged us a transport." "Finally," Phillip said with a tone of satisfaction. "I missed it there." "So am I. The quality of life is far different here." "I bet that''s not the only one you are missing sir," Phillip said with a smirk. "What are you talking about?" Thomas said, glancing at him with a side eye. "You know what I am talking about sir," Phillip teased. "What do¡ª" Thomas realized, it was the girls. He sighed. "Oh Phillip, bringing that up in circumstances like this." Phillip chuckled. "Anyways sir, another topic. I think, given that we have a surplus of survivors in the MOA Complex, I suggest some of them be integrated into our forces. You know, we have to use every manpower we can get and not be overly reliant on your system." "That''s a good suggestion," Thomas acknowledged. "I''ll think about it once we return home." Thomas gave a small nod, then turned his attention to one of the nearby terminals. The screen displayed a live feed of the MOA Complex''s outer perimeter¡ªclean, fortified, and busy. Even at this hour, personnel were patrolling the barricades, some in Overwatch gear, others still wearing salvaged uniforms from the early weeks of the outbreak. "Transport''s scheduled to pick us up at 0900," he said. "We''ll be back in the Complex before noon." The next morning, as promised, two Black Hawks arrived to ferry the command staff back to the MOA Complex. By midday, the transport touched down on the upper helipad of the Complex. Thomas and Phillip stepped out into the sunlight. The walls were tall. The flags were up. The noise of a functioning base echoed off concrete walls. "It''s good to be back!" *** December 20th, 2024. And outside the outer gates, just beyond the barriers, a group of survivors stood in silence¡ªwatching. "That''s the place." "That''s the place," one of them said quietly. The group consisted of about a dozen people¡ªmen, women, a few teenagers, and even a toddler strapped to a mother''s back. They looked worn out. Sunburned. Dusty. One man leaned on a crutch fashioned from scrap metal. Another clutched a backpack to his chest like it was the last thing he owned. They stared through the outer fence at the towering walls of the MOA Complex. They didn''t shout or wave. They just waited, eyes fixed on the fortified structure in front of them. One of the younger women finally broke the silence. "You think they''ll let us in?" Nobody answered. Chapter 117: The President Daughter The main gates of the MOA Complex remained shut. Heavy steel reinforced by concrete, guarded by Overwatch soldiers in full gear¡ªfaces obscured behind ballistic visors. They watched the small group of weary survivors standing just beyond the outer perimeter fence. No one moved. No one spoke through the loudspeakers. Just the low hum of electrical systems and the occasional bark from one of the dogs patrolling the yard. One of the Overwatch guards inside the wall finally raised his radio. "Command, we''ve got civilians at Gate Six. Group of twelve. No hostile signs. Standing by." A moment passed. "Copy. Hold position. Assessment team en route," the voice on the other end replied. Outside, the group waited. They looked exhausted. Some carried nothing but satchels and duffel bags. Others had makeshift weapons¡ªsteel pipes, sharpened sticks, a fire axe. But none of them made a move toward the gate. It was clear they weren''t a threat. The youngest of them, a teenage girl with scuffed boots and matted hair, leaned against a taller woman in her thirties¡ªher arm wrapped protectively around the toddler on her back. That woman¡ªdespite her worn clothes and dusty face¡ªcarried herself with unmistakable posture. Straight-backed. Deliberate steps. Eyes that didn''t wander. Military eyes. The man beside her whispered quietly, "You sure this is the right place?" She nodded. "This is it." Another man with a crutch shifted uneasily. "We''ve been running for weeks. If they don''t let us in¡ª" "They will," the woman cut in. "They have to." Just then, the sound of gates sliding open drew everyone''s attention. A squad of Overwatch troopers stepped out¡ªfour in total, weapons lowered but ready. Behind them, walking briskly, came a man in a clean field uniform¡ªno helmet, sidearm holstered. Phillip. He stopped a few feet from the group. His eyes scanned them briefly, sizing them up, then landed on the woman with the toddler. "You''re the one who called in on the old TacNet frequency," he said. She gave a short nod. "Yes. Five days ago. From Base Juliet-4." Phillip''s tone shifted slightly. "Juliet-4''s been dark for weeks." "It fell," she said. "We were the last out." Phillip took a step forward. "Name?" "Major Rina Torres. Philippine Army." He frowned slightly, then tapped his comm. "Control, confirm identity. Name: Torres, Rina. Formerly stationed Juliet-4." A few seconds of static passed. Then a voice came back: "Confirmed. Major Torres. Assigned to Presidential Security Group. Last known deployment¡ªMalacan?ang Palace." Phillip''s expression changed instantly. He stepped forward, eyes sharp now. "Who else is with you?" Torres stepped aside slightly, revealing the teenager¡ªnow standing on her own¡ªand the toddler. "This is Althea Cruz," she said. "Daughter of President Isabella Cruz." Phillip''s jaw tightened. Then he stepped back and raised his radio again. "Control, get Thomas on the line. Now." Inside the command building, Thomas was already halfway into briefing prep when the call came through. He heard the name and paused mid-step. "Say that again?" "Rina Torres. Presidential Security Group. She''s at the gate¡ªwith the President''s daughter." Thomas didn''t hesitate. "I''m on my way." Minutes later, he arrived at the outer gate, flanked by two Shadow operatives. Phillip stepped forward and filled him in quickly, voice low. Thomas nodded once and approached. His eyes settled on the girl¡ªAlthea. No more than sixteen, maybe younger. Dirty face, but alert. Watching everything. Smart eyes. Trained to stay quiet. And then the toddler. She was clinging to Torres''s back with a near-dead grip, but her eyes were open too. He stopped in front of them. "You''re saying these two are the daughters of the sitting President?" "Was sitting," Torres replied. "We lost the Palace. She didn''t make it out. I was assigned to protect her daughters. We got out through the Pasig sewer tunnel and ran south." Thomas processed that quickly. "You''ve been on foot since?" "Mostly. Some help from what was left of the Army down south. But no stable zones. We headed here because of the signal." "The encrypted one?" Phillip added. Torres nodded. "We heard the pattern. Military, not bandits. I knew it had to be Overwatch." Thomas took a deep breath and motioned for one of the medics. "Get the children to triage. Now." The medics stepped forward and gently took the toddler and guided Althea toward the trucks. She didn''t speak, but she never stopped looking at everything around her. Thomas turned back to Torres. "You''re cleared to enter. Full access. You''ll be debriefed in an hour." "Yes, sir," Torres replied. Then she hesitated. "One thing," she added. "If she''s the last of her line... if the Republic''s ever going to get back on its feet¡ªwe''ll need her alive." Thomas nodded firmly. "She will be." He turned to Phillip. "We''ll issue a press blackout for now. No public announcements until we''re ready. And get the upper quarters cleaned out. She''ll be staying on the second floor, under direct supervision." Phillip raised an eyebrow. "You sure about housing her inside the main building?" "She''s the President''s daughter," Thomas said. "Whether we like it or not, that means something. People are going to rally around her. We need to control that narrative before it controls us." Phillip didn''t argue. He just turned back toward the med bay and watched the children disappear through the doors. Later that night, in a quiet room in the upper levels of the MOA Complex, Althea Cruz sat on a cot. Clean clothes. Hot food. Lights that didn''t flicker. For the first time in months, she was indoors with armed guards that didn''t feel like threats. She didn''t cry. She didn''t ask for her mother. She just stared at the wall. Outside her room, Thomas stood at the window, hands behind his back. Phillip stood beside him. "We don''t tell anyone who she is yet," Thomas said. Phillip nodded. "For how long?" "Until she''s strong enough to carry it." They looked out over the Complex¡ªbusy, lit up, and alive. Below them, the gate guards resumed their watch. And far outside, beyond the roads and wreckage, other survivors still wandered. Searching. Hoping. But only a few would ever make it this far. *** Thomas didn''t sleep. The moment the corridors quieted and the lights dimmed for night cycle, he found himself pacing outside the second-floor quarters. A pair of Shadows stood watch, rifles slung, eyes alert. One of them gave him a silent nod as he approached the door. "Status?" he asked quietly. "She''s awake, sir," one replied. "Hasn''t spoken much. Just... sits there." Thomas gave a short nod and stepped closer to the door. He hesitated, then knocked lightly. There was a pause. Then a faint voice from inside: "Come in." He opened the door slowly. Inside, Althea Cruz sat on the edge of her cot, back straight, hands folded in her lap. Her eyes tracked him calmly, no surprise or fear¡ªjust focus. Thomas stepped in and closed the door behind him. "You know who I am?" he asked gently. Althea nodded once. "You''re the one in charge." Thomas pulled up a chair and sat across from her. "Yes. And you''re the daughter of a President." She didn''t react. Thomas leaned forward slightly. "I don''t know what you''ve been through, and I''m not going to ask¡ªnot yet. But I need to know something. Are you ready to carry what your name means?" Althea looked him in the eye. Steady. Then she answered softly. "If I have to." Chapter 118: Meeting the Presidents Daughter Althea Cruz sat by the window, dressed in clean Overwatch-issued fatigues that had been tailored down to fit her frame. The fabric still looked too crisp, too sterile, compared to the dust-caked days she''d survived in the field. Her brown hair, freshly washed, framed her face in soft waves that hung just past her shoulders. It still held a hint of tangling from the road, but she wore it naturally¡ªno fuss, no vanity. Her features were striking¡ªsharp cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes, a calm expression that belied her youth. At eighteen, she was beautiful, but there was a steel in her gaze that made her seem older. She looked up as Thomas stepped into the room again, this time without the usual folders or digital tablets in hand. The guards outside the door remained silent. It was just the two of them now. Thomas sat across from her, folding his hands on his lap. "Althea," he began, "you said your mother didn''t make it out of Malacan?ang." She nodded once, her expression unchanged. "She stayed behind. There were too many civilians inside the Palace. She told Major Torres to evacuate us while she coordinated the last defense." Thomas exhaled slowly. "Do you know if she made it to the bunker under the complex?" "We never heard back," she said quietly. "When we left through the Pasig tunnel, we were already under fire. There were fires everywhere. Last I saw her, she was still at the top steps, giving orders. She... she knew she wasn''t coming." Thomas studied her. There was grief there¡ªdeep, quiet¡ªbut it wasn''t breaking through yet. Not in front of strangers. "What happened after you escaped?" "We moved south. Avoided the major roads. Hooked up with a platoon retreating from Fort Bonifacio. Half of them were sick. They didn''t make it past Laguna. We stayed low after that. Never stopped for more than a night. Juliet-4 was the last place we thought was safe." She looked down. "It wasn''t." Thomas leaned back. "How many of you made it out from there?" "Just us. The rest were either dead or turned." There was a pause. Then he asked carefully, "Was there any plan? Any designated fallback site? A government continuity bunker? Something?" Althea shook her head. "There was a plan. Project SARA. Safezone for Administrative Resettlement and Authority. I overheard it in one of the security briefings weeks before the outbreak started. But it wasn''t complete. Funding was cut. Too many in Congress called it paranoia. Believing that they can contain the spread of the virus easily, turns out they were wrong." "Well good thing that we have this facility. But don''t be mistaken, this facility is under my control, not the government. You''ll be safe here." Althea nodded silently. "Now for the second question. Do you know if anyone else from the cabinet or the Senate made it out?" She shook her head. "After Malacan?ang fell, I didn''t hear anything. The National Disaster Council had some encrypted broadcasts going for a while¡ªsomewhere in Samar, I think¡ªbut those stopped too." Thomas let out a breath through his nose. "So no chain of command. No formal line of succession." "You were hoping I had a plan to restore the government?" she asked with a ghost of a smile. "I was hoping for anything that would give the people something to believe in," Thomas replied. "Right now, we''re just trying to survive. But morale matters." Althea looked out the window. "I''m not my mother." "No one is asking you to be." "But if you''re keeping me here," she said, "eventually they''ll want something from me. The people. Your soldiers. The press, if we ever have one again." "Well, the press here is not the press you were accustomed to in the normal world. The press simply makes announcements on what happens outside and what changes inside." "Is that so?" Althea chuckled. "World''s has changed a lot." "Right now, I just want to make sure you''re safe." There was a beat of silence. Then she said, "So we''re safe here?" "As safe as anywhere can be," he replied. "We got everything a human needs to survive." "Is that so? Then take you for taking us in...I thought we were going to die back there," Althea said, her voice softening. Thomas nodded slowly. "You weren''t the only one who thought that. A lot of people don''t make it this far. The fact that you did, and kept that kid alive along the way¡ªthat means something." Althea glanced at the corner of the room, where her small duffel sat folded under the cot. Her whole life now fit inside a bag. "I just kept moving," she murmured. "Didn''t think much. One foot in front of the other. Torres did the hard part. I just followed." Thomas leaned back in his chair. "That''s leadership, you know. Knowing when to follow, when to survive. A lot of people with rank and medals didn''t make it because they didn''t understand that." Althea gave a small smile, though it didn''t reach her eyes. "You sound like my mother." "She was a fighter," Thomas said. "I never met her, but I knew her name before the outbreak. Tough woman. Didn''t bend easy." "No," Althea said quietly. "She didn''t." Thomas stood and straightened his jacket. "You don''t have to decide anything now. Just eat, rest, and stay out of politics for as long as you need. We''ve got your room, food, and full security." "And what happens if someone finds out who I am?" she asked. "They won''t," Thomas said. "Not until you say so." He stepped toward the door, but paused. "Tomorrow morning, we''ll run a full medical scan. Just precaution. After that, you''ll get to meet some of the civilians here¡ªones your age. We''re building a future here, Althea. It''s slow, but it''s real." She nodded again, more firmly this time. "Alright." Thomas gave a final glance, then stepped out. Althea turned back to the window, her reflection faint in the glass. Still here. Still standing. Thomas paused just outside the door, then stepped back in briefly. "One last thing," he said. "Do you need anything? Food? Supplies? Anything to make this easier?" Althea turned her head toward him, thoughtful. "A toothbrush," she said dryly. "One that hasn''t been used as a weapon." Thomas chuckled. "We can manage that." "And maybe," she added more seriously, "a notebook. I''d like to write things down. Before I forget them." He nodded. "Consider it done." She gave him a faint smile¡ªtired, but real. Thomas stepped out for the last time, quietly pulling the door closed behind him. Down the hall, he motioned to a nearby Shadow. "Get her what she asked for. Everything." Chapter 119: Epilogue: The Life That We Shall Reclaim in the Future Two days later. ?Althea Cruz had spent weeks navigating a world that seemed to have collapsed overnight. The chaos, the constant threat of the infected, and the harrowing journey south had left her with little hope of finding a place untouched by the devastation. Yet, as she stood within the fortified walls of the MOA Complex, she couldn''t help but feel a glimmer of disbelief.? The sprawling complex, once a bustling hub of commerce and entertainment, now served as a sanctuary. The streets, which she had expected to be littered with debris and abandoned vehicles, were surprisingly orderly. Military personnel moved with purpose, their presence a reassuring reminder of structure amidst the chaos. The usual traffic congestion was absent, replaced by the occasional hum of military transports and supply trucks.? Curiosity piqued, Althea ventured further into the complex. The main entrance to the mall stood open, guarded by soldiers who nodded in acknowledgment as she passed. Inside, the scene was surreal. Shops that once catered to fashion and luxury now displayed essential goods¡ªclothing, medical supplies, and non-perishable food items. Stalls lined the corridors, manned by civilians and soldiers alike, offering services ranging from tailoring to electronics repair.? Approaching a nearby stall, Althea observed a woman meticulously organizing an array of canned goods. The woman looked up and offered a warm smile.? "First time in the marketplace?" she inquired.? Althea nodded. "I didn''t expect... this," she admitted, gesturing to the lively scene around her.? The woman chuckled. "Many don''t. After everything out there, it''s hard to believe we''ve managed to hold onto some semblance of normalcy. But we adapt. It''s the only way to survive."? Althea''s gaze fell upon a small sign that read "Credits Accepted Here." Furrowing her brow, she asked, "Credits? How does that work now?"? "It''s our way of maintaining order," the woman explained. "The old currency lost its value when the world went sideways. Here, we earn credits through work¡ªhelping with defense, farming, teaching, anything that contributes to the community. In return, those credits can be used to purchase goods and services within the complex." Althea absorbed the information, appreciating the ingenuity. "And everyone participates?"? "As much as they''re able," the woman affirmed. "It''s not just about survival; it''s about rebuilding, creating a life worth living."? Continuing her exploration, Althea noticed a crowd gathering near what used to be the central atrium of the mall. Drawn by curiosity, she approached and found a makeshift stage erected where a group was preparing for a performance. The banner above read "ALAB Live Tonight." As the performance began, the atmosphere shifted. The music was vibrant, the choreography precise. For a moment, the weight of the outside world lifted, replaced by the simple joy of entertainment. Soldiers and civilians alike clapped and cheered, united by the shared experience.? After the show, Althea approached one of the performers, a young woman with an infectious smile.? "You were amazing," Althea praised.? "Thank you," the performer replied, slightly breathless. "We do what we can to keep spirits up. It''s essential, especially now."? Althea nodded, understanding the sentiment. "It''s incredible how you''ve managed to preserve this... humanity."? "It''s not just about surviving," the performer said earnestly. "It''s about living. Remembering who we are, what we love. That''s what keeps us going."? As days turned into weeks, Althea found herself integrating into the community. She took on tasks, earning credits and forming connections. The marketplace became a familiar place, the faces recognizable. She even attended more performances, each one a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.? Yet, amidst this newfound normalcy, Althea couldn''t shake the memories of what lay beyond the walls. The friends lost, the family she might never see again. But within the MOA Complex, she found a beacon of hope¡ªa reminder that even in the darkest times, humanity could find a way to shine.? One evening, as she sat by a window overlooking the complex, Major Rina Torres joined her. The two shared a comfortable silence before Torres spoke.? "You''ve settled in well," she observed.? Althea offered a small smile. "It''s not what I expected. It''s... more." Torres nodded. "Even I can''t believe that we have a functioning city here in the middle of the zombie apocalypse. It''s a safe haven for all of humanity. Making me want to partake in their defense once I am cleared by Overwatch." "Me too," Althea said. "And I''m sure it''s not going to be me being a soldier because I am not fit for it. Say...do you want to watch the performance over there?" Torres raised an eyebrow at Althea''s sudden offer, but smiled. "You sure? Didn''t peg you for the type to get into dance numbers and loud pop songs." Althea let out a soft laugh. "I''m not. But I figure if we''re going to be here for a while, we might as well enjoy what we can. I could use the distraction." "Fair enough," Torres said as she stood. "Let''s go." The two made their way down from the residential quarters, weaving through hallways dimly lit by overhead LEDs. Outside, the complex was buzzing. Civilians chatted by food stalls, children played under the watchful eyes of soldiers, and the faint beat of music pulsed from the atrium once again. The night air was cooler than usual, with a breeze blowing in from the bay. It smelled faintly of salt, metal, and grilled meat. People gathered around makeshift food carts where chefs¡ªsome clearly former restaurant staff¡ªwere frying noodles, grilling skewers, and serving hot soup. There were even signs: "CREDITS ONLY," handwritten but neatly displayed. When they reached the performance area, it was already crowded. Torres nodded to a couple of Overwatch troopers standing nearby, who let them pass and led them to a spot near the front. The crowd''s attention was fixed on the stage, where a new set of performers were getting ready. This time, it wasn''t ALAB but a small acoustic trio¡ªtwo girls and a guy with a beat-up guitar. They played soft, old OPM songs. Simple, heartfelt. Not flashy, but the audience loved it. Althea stood quietly, hands in her pockets, watching the group on stage. Torres, arms crossed beside her, looked around the crowd. It was diverse¡ªmilitary, civilian, young, old. All of them, in one place, focused on something that wasn''t survival. After a few songs, the crowd clapped warmly. A few whistles echoed out. One of the girls on stage bowed and spoke into the mic. "Thank you, everyone. We''re just volunteers, but music helps us breathe again, right?" The crowd cheered, some with raised hands, others with simple smiles. Althea looked over at Torres. "It''s strange." "What is?" "How normal this feels. Just... people laughing. Music. Even smells like a festival." Torres nodded slowly. "It is strange. But not wrong. This¡ª" she gestured around¡ª "this is what we''re fighting for." The two of them found a place to sit along the side, near a stall selling hot sweet corn and dumplings. Althea took out a few of her hard-earned credits and bought two paper bowls of dumplings. She handed one to Torres. "You''ve got to eat something other than MREs sometime," Althea teased. Torres raised an eyebrow. "Are you bribing your security detail with food now?" "Wouldn''t be the worst strategy." They ate in silence for a moment, the music still playing in the background. Althea''s eyes wandered around the crowd. She spotted the same girl from ALAB sitting with her fellow performers on a break, laughing with a soldier. A small child ran up to the stage area, clapping along off-beat, causing a ripple of laughter. It felt unreal. After the performance ended, the night carried on with light chatter. Some people began to head home, others stayed behind, enjoying the cooler air and company. Althea and Torres walked the perimeter of the atrium, taking in the rest of the market. There were booths with hand-sewn clothes, others selling soap, toothpaste, and even makeshift cosmetics. A tiny stall offered haircuts¡ªtwo chairs, one electric clipper, and a woman with precise hands. A sign read: "Buzzcut ¨C 1 Credit. Trim ¨C 2 Credits. Clean shave ¨C 1 Credit." "What do you think?" Torres asked, nodding at the stall. Althea smirked. "I''ll stick with my toothbrush request for now, thanks." "You sure? Could rock the soldier cut." "Not yet." They looped back toward the residential block, passing by one of the watch posts where two Shadows stood, rifles slung, eyes scanning the distant skyline. "Torres?" Althea asked as they walked. "Yeah?" "Do you think it''ll last? All of this?" Torres didn''t answer right away. They walked a few more steps before she finally spoke. "I think it''ll last as long as people believe in it. The moment they give up on it¡ªor start treating it like just another camp¡ªthen it falls apart." Althea nodded slowly. Back in her room, she sat on her bed and stared at the notebook Thomas had given her. She hadn''t opened it yet. The pen sat untouched beside it. But tonight felt different. She picked it up and flipped to the first page. For a moment, her hand hovered. Then she wrote, slowly: MOA Complex. Day 1. Still feels like a dream. She stared at the words for a while, then turned the page and began to write more. Memories. People they''d lost. Things she didn''t want to forget. Moments that defined the road here. And for the first time in weeks, she didn''t feel like she was just surviving. She was living. Chapter 120 120: Prologue: A Reason to Live December 24th, 2024. [User: Thomas Estaris] [Level: 48] [Experience Points: 88,531,163/97,114,886] [Skills: Combat Proficiency Level 4, Weapon''s Proficiency Level 4, Charisma Level 4, Leadership Level 4. Driving Level 4. Aviation Level 4.] [Souls: 1M+] [Blood Coins: 154,541,155] [Summoned Forces: Infantry: 3125 Vehicles: (Military Hardware such as Tanks, Transport, IFV...) 350 Aircraft: 80 Navy: 0 ] Thomas looked at his system and stared at the numbers. It had grown to a significant point since he had gotten it mysteriously from the rooftop of his university. He didn''t expect his life would turn out to such a degree where he would be able to fight off against zombies that are evolving by the day. He was standing on the rooftop of the South Carpak Building where he could see a portion of the complex with a great view. And to think that there would be a day that comes where the MOA Complex is zombie-free and is like a different world compared to the outsides of the gates. Truly¡ªit was magnificent. Since the day he reclaimed this territory, he had made it safe for everyone, and kept it for the last eight months and seeing civilians and soldiers mingling with one another in a normal sense brought him satisfaction. He turned around and walked to the other ends of the building where it gave him the view of the gates of the MOA Complex. What does it look like? Well to give you an idea, there is a wall along the highway as high as those depicted in the World War Z apocalypse movie in Israel. There are guards patrolling the gates from above it, shooting down zombies that dared come. And it was also quiet, suggesting that the zombies near the area had dwindled down due to the repeated operations that cleaned them up. After all, Thomas wanted not to reclaim the MOA Complex, but beyond, and much possible the whole country. But it''s going to be difficult. Not factoring the mutated zombies, there are over a hundred million zombies in the Philippines, two-thirds of which are in Luzon. He''ll have to kill all of them to make the island zombie-free. This is going to be exhilarating. As he was looking at the gates, Phillip approached him. "Sir, I have a report from Doctor Delgado," Phillip informed. Thomas didn''t look at him, instead he kept looking at the gates. "What did he find?" "Well, he said that he''ll only report it to you personally," Phillip answered. "I see...I''ll come down to the lab," Thomas said with a sigh and continued. "How''s the atmosphere around?" "Not much...people are preparing for Christmas eve." Thomas gave a slight nod, eyes still trained on the horizon. "It''s good that they''re still celebrating," he said. "Means they haven''t forgotten how to be human." Phillip stepped beside him, arms crossed, glancing toward the distant crowd gathering near the main atrium below. "I''ve been meaning to ask you, sir... what''s the purpose of all this?" he said. "The credit system. The concerts. The barbershops and dumpling stalls. It''s like... you''re trying to recreate the old world." Thomas turned to him now, expression calm but firm. "Because that''s exactly what I''m doing," he replied. "You want to know what happens when people stop believing they can live a normal life?" Phillip stayed quiet. "They turn into animals," Thomas continued. "I''ve seen it happen. Panic. Looting. Infighting. The worst of humanity comes out the moment they think everything is gone forever. That''s what killed more people in the first few weeks than the infected did¡ªpeople turning on each other." Phillip looked down at the complex below. Soldiers walking in pairs. Civilians manning stalls. Performers warming up in the distance. All of it happening in sync. "So the credit system?" Phillip asked. "It''s structure," Thomas answered. "Currency gives value to labor. Even if it''s just printed paper or digital numbers¡ªit gives people a reason to work. A reason to behave. A goal." "I thought you hated bureaucracy," Phillip muttered. "I do. But order isn''t bureaucracy," Thomas clarified. "This isn''t about politicians pushing paper. It''s about giving people something to wake up for. A sense of fairness. If someone works, they earn. If someone doesn''t, they don''t. It''s simple. But it''s what stops the camp from turning into a dictatorship or anarchy." Phillip leaned on the edge of the railing, processing it. "And the social events? The concerts, the shows?" "That''s even more important," Thomas said, gesturing to the area below. "People need to feel like they belong to something. That they''re not just surviving, but living. Without that, you end up with angry, restless, depressed civilians. And depressed people are dangerous. They stop caring. They don''t report problems. They lash out. Some even sabotage. Suicides go up. Productivity drops. Trust disappears." He paused. "You ever wonder why during wars, soldiers still celebrated Christmas? Still sang songs, passed around whatever food or drink they had? Because that''s what kept them human." Phillip was quiet for a moment, then finally nodded. "I get it now," he said. "It''s not just about rebuilding infrastructure. You''re rebuilding people." "That''s the only way we''ll survive this," Thomas replied. "The guns and drones? They buy us time. But if we lose our culture, our sense of society¡ªthen it won''t matter how many weapons we have. We''ll become no different than the infected." The two of them stood there for a few more seconds, letting the breeze sweep over the rooftop. "Alright," Thomas said finally. "Let''s see what Doctor Delgado has to say. If he''s being this secretive, it''s either really bad... or really interesting." Phillip nodded, falling in step beside him as they made their way to the elevator shaft. The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and the two stepped in. As it descended, Thomas glanced at the digital floor indicator, his mind already shifting toward whatever awaited them below. "Whatever it is," Phillip said, breaking the silence, "you think it''ll change anything?" Thomas looked straight ahead. "Everything changes something, Phillip. The question is¡ªare we ready for it?" The elevator came to a halt. Ding. The doors slid open to the corridor of the research wing. Thomas stepped out first, eyes sharp. "Let''s find out." Chapter 121 121: The Laboratory ?Thomas and Phillip exited the elevator into the sterile corridor of the research wing, their footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors. The Platinum Tower, once a symbol of corporate prestige, had been repurposed into a bastion of scientific endeavor amidst the chaos. Now, its halls housed laboratories dedicated to unraveling the mysteries of the virus that had upended civilization.? As they approached the main laboratory, the reinforced glass doors slid open with a hiss, revealing a spacious room illuminated by the cold glow of overhead fluorescents. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptics and the faint hum of machinery. Along the walls, containment units held restrained infected subjects¡ªonce-human figures now reduced to snarling, mindless creatures. Their presence served as a grim reminder of the stakes at hand.? At the center of this controlled chaos stood Doctor Delgado, a man in his late fifties with graying hair and a demeanor that exuded both authority and exhaustion. Clad in a lab coat marked with signs of wear, he was hunched over a microscope, meticulously examining slides. As Thomas and Phillip entered, he straightened, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.? "Commander Estaris," Delgado greeted, his voice carrying a slight rasp. "Thank you for coming. There''s much to discuss."? Thomas nodded, stepping closer. "Phillip mentioned you had findings that required immediate attention."? "Indeed," Delgado replied, gesturing toward a series of monitors displaying complex data sets and microscopic images. "We''ve been delving into the physiological and psychological transformations induced by the pathogen. Our observations have yielded both expected and... alarming results."? He tapped a few keys, bringing up detailed images of neural tissue samples. "The virus exhibits a unique affinity for the central nervous system. Upon infection, it rapidly infiltrates neural pathways, effectively hijacking the host''s motor functions and suppressing higher cognitive abilities. This aligns with the observed loss of reasoning and the aggressive, primal behaviors displayed by the infected." Thomas studied the images, noting the dark tendrils weaving through brain tissue. "So, it turns them into mindless predators."? "Precisely," Delgado affirmed. "But what''s truly concerning is the virus''s adaptability. We''ve documented cases where the pathogen induces physiological changes beyond neural manipulation."? He switched the display to a series of time-lapse videos showing infected subjects over several weeks. In the footage, the creatures'' muscle mass visibly increased, their movements becoming more coordinated and formidable. "The virus appears to stimulate hyperplasia in muscle tissues, resulting in enhanced strength and endurance. Additionally, some subjects have developed heightened sensory capabilities, making them more adept hunters."? Phillip frowned, arms crossed. "You''re saying they''re getting stronger? Evolving?"? "Yes," Delgado confirmed, a note of gravity in his tone. "The pathogen''s mutation rate is unprecedented. With each new host, it refines its efficacy, potentially leading to variants that could be significantly more resilient and dangerous."? Thomas''s jaw tightened. "How long before we see these evolved variants become the norm?"? Delgado sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Given the current rate of mutation and transmission, I estimate that within a year, the majority of infected may exhibit these enhanced traits. This progression poses a severe threat to our defensive strategies and the safety of our enclaves."? Thomas exchanged a glance with Phillip, the weight of the revelation settling heavily between them. "Is there any progress on a cure? A way to reverse the infection?"? Delgado''s expression grew somber. "We''ve explored numerous avenues¡ªantiviral compounds, gene editing techniques, immunotherapies. Unfortunately, the virus''s complexity and rapid mutation render traditional approaches ineffective. Moreover, the extensive neural damage inflicted during the infection process suggests that even if we neutralize the pathogen, the host''s cognitive functions may be irreparably compromised."? Phillip''s shoulders slumped slightly. "So, there''s no hope for the infected."? Delgado hesitated before responding. "At this juncture, our focus must shift toward containment and prevention. Understanding the virus''s mechanisms is crucial to developing more effective countermeasures."? He gestured toward a restrained infected subject¡ªa once-young man, now a husk of his former self, eyes clouded and movements jerky. "We''ve identified that the virus induces a state akin to necrotizing fasciitis, causing rapid tissue decay. However, the neural structures governing basic motor functions remain active, driven by the pathogen''s manipulation." Thomas observed the creature, noting the grotesque amalgamation of decay and unnatural vitality. "And their psychological state? Is there any semblance of the person they once were?"? Delgado shook his head. "Our assessments indicate a total suppression of former personality and memories. The infected operate solely on primal instincts¡ªprimarily aggression and the drive to spread the virus. It''s as if the pathogen reduces them to a state of pure id, devoid of conscience or restraint."? Phillip exhaled slowly. "So, we''re facing an enemy that grows stronger, spreads rapidly, and can''t be reasoned with."? "Correct," Delgado affirmed. "Furthermore, our studies suggest that as the virus evolves, it may begin to exhibit group behaviors¡ªcoordinated movement, shared targets, almost like rudimentary hive intelligence." Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Hive intelligence?" "We''ve observed small clusters of infected moving in tight formations, responding to external stimuli almost simultaneously. Not quite the same as human coordination, but enough to suggest a basic form of communication¡ªpheromonal, perhaps, or something transmitted via sound or electromagnetic pulses." "That''s going to be a problem," Phillip muttered. "It''s already hard enough taking down a swarm. If they start working together..." "They''ll become harder to kill," Delgado said, nodding grimly. "And not just because of their numbers. Physiologically, their bodies are adapting. The newer infected we''ve analyzed have denser muscle fiber, calcified skin in some regions¡ªespecially the forearms and upper back¡ªand faster healing at the cellular level. Blunt trauma doesn''t stop them like it used to." Thomas folded his arms. "So what does kill them?" Delgado didn''t hesitate. "A direct shot to the brain. That''s still the only guaranteed way. Sever the brainstem, and motor control collapses. But I don''t know how long that will remain true. If the virus continues to evolve the way we''re seeing, even that could change." "Any signs of immune resistance?" Thomas asked. "Anyone who''s been bitten and didn''t turn?" "Very rare," Delgado replied. "One case, early on, a child. Bitten, but never turned. We ran every test we could. Genetic anomaly, perhaps. Still inconclusive. But even if there are immune individuals out there, they''re the exception. Not something we can count on." Thomas fell silent, taking a slow breath as he processed the flood of information. "So to sum up," he said. "They''re getting stronger, faster, smarter¡ªand more organized. And there''s no cure." Delgado nodded. "That''s the reality we''re facing. Whatever''s coming next... we need to be ready." Thomas glanced at Phillip, who looked just as troubled. Then he turned back to Delgado. "Keep the research going. I want updates weekly. If there''s a breakthrough¡ªany weakness, any slow in the mutation rate¡ªI want to hear about it immediately." "You''ll have it," Delgado said. Without another word, Thomas turned and made his way out of the lab, Phillip trailing behind. The hall outside was quiet, but the weight of what they''d learned lingered in the air. The enemy was evolving. And the clock was ticking. Chapter 122 122: The Crimson Dawn The sun had long since vanished beneath the horizon, and the town of Santa Candelaria sat in eerie silence. The streets were cracked and broken, lined with blackened husks of once-standing homes. Rooftops sagged under rot and water damage. Stray birds no longer perched on power lines ¡ª they had learned to stay away. In the heart of the ruined town stood the Crimson Cathedral¡ª once a Spanish-built church, now a monument to madness. Its stained-glass windows were shattered, replaced by iron bars and blood-stained banners. In place of the cross stood a crude metal sun, jagged and sharp, its rays dripping red like fresh wounds. Fires burned from iron drums scattered across the courtyard, casting orange light against the worn stone walls. Tonight was a sacred night. Inside the cathedral, rows of men and women stood shoulder to shoulder, heads bowed, faces hidden behind red cloth masks. Each one wore tattered robes dyed in shades of maroon and brown, soaked in time, dirt, and something else darker. The air smelled of incense and decay ¡ª a cloying mixture that clung to their skin and clothes. From the back of the cathedral, a slow, rhythmic chant began. "The flesh is clay. Let it be remade..." Dozens of voices joined in unison, low and droning. "The world was sick. The flame has come." A line of Red Choir acolytes entered from the side aisles, barefoot and swaying. They rang small brass bells tied to their wrists and ankles, moving in perfect rhythm as they encircled the congregation. Their faces were veiled, their arms outstretched. Some were children. Their voices didn''t waver. "The dead are not cursed. They are chosen." The chants grew louder, almost deafening, bouncing off the high stone walls and swirling in the rafters like a storm. Then, the doors at the altar opened. All chanting stopped. A figure stepped through the threshold, backlit by flickering flame. He wore a long red robe stitched from the uniforms of soldiers, civilians, and priests. A rusted crucifix ¡ª sharpened into a spear at its base ¡ª rested in his hand. His face was covered in a crimson mask with sunburst patterns. Only his eyes were visible, dark and hollow. High Father Elias Montano raised his staff and walked forward in silence. The congregation knelt as one. He ascended the steps and stood at the altar, where the statue of the Virgin Mary had been replaced by a decaying zombie bound in chains. It twitched and gurgled, eyes rolled back, teeth grinding. A fresh flower crown sat on its head. Blood pooled beneath it. "Brothers and sisters," Elias spoke, his voice rough like stone. "Nine moons have passed since the old world burned. Nine moons since the liars and false shepherds left us to die in the streets. Yet... here we are." He slowly turned to the crowd, eyes scanning each bowed head. "Here we remain. Not because we clung to science. Not because we begged for help. But because we listened. We understood the message." The bells jingled faintly as the Red Choir knelt behind him, still swaying. "The virus," Elias said, "is not a curse. It is a correction. The flame that purifies clay. The hand of the Lord, sweeping away the corruption of the old. The world as it was ¡ª with its machines, its greed, its unbelievers ¡ª is no more." He raised the staff into the air. "And we... are what comes after!" A cheer broke out from the Wakers standing near the altar steps. They struck the ground with their spears in approval. The congregation followed, slapping palms to the stone floor, the sound echoing like war drums. Elias lowered the staff and pointed at the chained undead behind him. "Look upon her ¡ª Sister Teresa," he said, voice softening. "A mother of four. Abandoned by soldiers. Left to die in a hospital hallway. And yet, she did not die. She transcended. Her body, now a vessel. Her soul, free from the chains of fear." He turned back to the crowd. "Would you not follow her example?" The crowd roared again. "Would you not embrace the fire?" Another roar. From a side hallway, two prisoners were dragged in by the Tithers¡ª both tied in makeshift manacles, stripped to their underclothes, bruised and shaking. A man and a teenage boy, likely father and son. Elias nodded. "Bring them." The prisoners were thrown to the center of the altar, between Elias and the zombie. The boy cried out, but the man tried to shield him. "These two were found scavenging inside the holy perimeter," the Waker announced. "They took canned goods from a marked sanctuary. Stole from the tithe box. One even struck a brother to escape." The crowd hissed in unison. Elias looked down at the pair with what seemed like sorrow in his eyes. "You came into our home and took without giving. You feared death. But tell me¡ª" he knelt in front of the boy¡ª "what is there to fear, child? The world you knew is gone. That fear you cling to... it is a lie." The boy stammered, "P-please... we didn''t know... we didn''t mean¡ª" Elias raised a finger. "You do not need to mean. You only need to accept." He stood again, staff tapping the stone floor. "I offer you mercy. The same mercy the flame gave Sister Teresa." He turned to the crowd and raised his voice. "These two shall be cleansed not by blade... but by ascension." The congregation erupted in cheers and chanting. The Red Choir began circling the altar, their bells ringing louder now, almost manic. From the shadows at the back of the cathedral, the iron gates groaned open. Chained zombies ¡ª four of them ¡ª were released from their cages. All women, dressed in robes like the faithful, their skin pale and torn. Their mouths were covered with metal clamps, which were now being unlatched by a pair of Tithers. The prisoners thrashed against their bindings, screaming now. "No! Please¡ªno! Not like this!" the man shouted. The boy was hyperventilating. His knees buckled. The crowd watched in silence as the undead stumbled forward, dragged by thick chains held by handlers. They were hungry. Their groans echoed like low thunder in the stone hall. Elias raised his staff once more. "Feed the flame. Let clay be reshaped." The Tithers forced the prisoners to stand, shoving them toward the undead. The boy screamed, "Don''t let them! Don''t¡ª" but a handler pushed him to the floor, cutting his bindings. One of the zombies lunged ¡ª the boy screamed again, and the creature bit into his shoulder. Blood sprayed. The crowd didn''t look away. Some cried. Others whispered prayers. The father screamed and tried to lunge forward, but a spear held him back. The boy''s cries turned into gargles. His body spasmed. Then went still. Elias watched with an almost peaceful expression. "We do not mourn. We do not run from the flame." The handlers backed away as the other zombies tore into the boy''s corpse. Flesh ripped, bones cracked. Blood pooled beneath him. Then they turned to the father. His bindings were cut, and he tried to run ¡ª only to be tripped, kicked, and dragged across the stone toward the feeding circle. He shouted curses. Screamed that he''d kill every last one of them. He called them animals. Elias didn''t respond. He simply walked up behind the man as the zombies neared. "You will not die a coward," Elias said gently. "You will rise... a brother." The man screamed again ¡ª and then the undead were on him. The Red Choir began to sing as the feeding finished. The crowd stood in reverent silence, watching the altar floor soak in red. After several long minutes, the zombies were pulled back. The bodies of the man and the boy were left lying in a heap ¡ª torn, chewed, and twitching. A Tither stepped forward and injected something into both corpses ¡ª a black serum. "The seed is planted," he said. Elias nodded. "Now we wait." The crowd began to chant again, slower this time. "Let them rise... let them rise..." And then, as if on cue ¡ª the boy''s hand twitched. A gasp rippled through the congregation. His head turned slowly. His eyes, now clouded and pale, locked onto Elias. The boy ¡ª now reborn ¡ª groaned and pulled himself forward. The man followed soon after. His body twitched, then sat up with a sharp inhale. They were no longer father and son. They were brothers of the flame. The congregation began clapping, singing, some even weeping. The ritual was complete. Elias stepped forward and placed a hand on the boy''s head. "Welcome to the Dawn." Chapter 123: The Crimson Dawn Raid The boy¡ªwhat was once a boy¡ªlet out a low groan. His eyes were pale and lifeless, his jaw twitching as he crawled forward on broken limbs. The father beside him followed, blood still dripping from his face. Neither of them screamed anymore. They didn''t need to. The faithful stepped back and made room, bowing their heads as the newly risen were led away by the Wakers. No tears. No hesitation. This was not death to them. It was deliverance. High Father Elias turned to face his people once more. "Tonight, the flame burns bright," he declared. "But tomorrow... it shall spread." He raised his rusted staff and pointed toward the far end of the cathedral, where a map had been nailed to the wall. A circle had been drawn in red¡ªmarking a small survivor settlement roughly fifteen kilometers east. Barangay Luntian. A farming village that had somehow kept its walls standing. Rumor had it they had access to fresh water and solar panels. No one knew if it was true. But to Elias, it didn''t matter. They had not submitted to the Dawn. And that made them enemies of the flame. The next day. Morning never truly came anymore. The skies stayed grey. Ash hung in the air like dust. And the sun rarely broke through the clouds. Six trucks rumbled down the cracked highway leading to Barangay Luntian. They were old military transports¡ªrepainted with Crimson Dawn markings. Red flags flapped violently from the antennas. Most of the windows were removed, replaced with rusted steel plates and small firing ports. Inside, dozens of fanatics waited in silence. Men and women clutched weapons¡ªbolts, axes, machetes. Some held scavenged rifles with no scopes, no slings, just raw tools of death. All wore crimson robes. Some had bones stitched to their sleeves. Others carried jars of infected blood. In the lead vehicle, Waker Ramon, a bald, scar-covered man with a missing eye, stood beside a caged Scourged¡ªan infected cultist who swayed back and forth, snarling. "Release the flame when I give the word," he said to the handler next to him. "Not before." "Yes, Waker," the handler replied. The trucks came to a stop at a small hill overlooking the barangay. Luntian looked quiet, peaceful even. Small wooden huts, an improvised water tower, a few guards with hunting rifles pacing along makeshift barricades. They hadn''t seen the convoy yet. Waker Ramon raised his fist. "Strike teams to the left and right," he ordered. "We surround them. We burn them from the inside." One of the Tithers grinned. "Any survivors?" "Bring them back for cleansing." The Crimson Dawn split into three columns and began their approach through the foliage and ruins. Inside Luntian, a young woman named Mira was washing vegetables in a metal basin when she heard something. Engines. She looked up, frowning. She stood and shaded her eyes. Nothing at first. Then movement. Shadows in the treeline. Red fabric. Metal glinting. Her blood ran cold. "Raiders! RAIDE¡ª!" Her scream was cut off by a gunshot. A bullet tore through her chest, and she collapsed next to the basin. The water turned red. Crimson Dawn poured through the trees like a flood. Screaming. Chanting. Bells ringing. "The fire is here!" "The flame is truth!" "Burn the wicked!" One of the guards tried to return fire but was hit by three crossbow bolts. He fell from the platform, landing hard on a pile of scrap wood. People ran in all directions. Mothers clutching children. Elderly men yelling warnings. A man tried to close a metal gate¡ªbut a Scourged leaped over it, slammed him into the ground, and tore into his face with yellowed teeth. The infected were not fast¡ªbut they were relentless. And more were coming. At the rear of the village, a group of Dawn cultists lit a bottle of gasoline and hurled it through a hut window. Flames erupted. Screams followed. Waker Ramon marched calmly through the chaos, swinging a spiked flail in one hand. A young man rushed him with a crowbar¡ªonly to be struck down in one blow. Skull shattered. Blood sprayed. "No fear," Ramon muttered. "Only flame." Children were dragged from hiding spots. The elderly were pushed to their knees. Fires spread fast¡ªwooden homes catching quickly. Chickens screeched. Dogs barked until they were silenced. A woman ran with a baby clutched in her arms. She made it to the edge of the woods¡ªonly for a cultist to tackle her. The baby flew from her grip, landing in the grass. The cultist raised a knife. Then¡ª "Enough." The cultist froze. High Father Elias had arrived. He stood in the center of the village, flanked by Wakers and Red Choir singers who had begun to chant again. Elias stepped forward and looked down at the screaming woman. "You fear death," he said softly. The woman sobbed. He turned to his people. "They still fear the flame. Still cling to their flesh." He pointed to the survivors who had been rounded up¡ªaround fifteen of them. "Bring them forward. Prepare the Ash Pit." At the far side of the village, a Tither kicked open a large trench that had been dug weeks ago by the villagers for trash and animal waste. It was now a pit of fire and rot. The prisoners were forced to their knees in front of it. Elias gestured, and four Scourged were unchained. Their handlers held them back as they growled and snapped. "This is not a massacre," Elias declared. "This is salvation." He raised his staff. "Let the fire decide who shall rise again." The Scourged were released. They pounced, tearing into the kneeling villagers. Screams filled the air. Some tried to crawl away. Others simply wept, refusing to run. One man jumped into the fire pit to avoid the infection. The Crimson Dawn watched in silence. One child¡ªbarely ten¡ªwas pulled away by a Waker before the infected reached her. "She''s small. Good lungs. She''ll sing," the Waker said, dragging her toward the Red Choir''s cart. Once the pit fell quiet, Elias turned back to his followers. "Take what''s useful. Burn what''s not." He walked toward a wooden post, where someone had hung a small rosary. He took it, looked at it, then tossed it into the flames. Two hours later, Barangay Luntian was gone. Only ashes and red banners remained. Smoke rose into the grey sky. The Crimson Dawn loaded their trucks again¡ªthis time with food, tools, and three unconscious survivors. The rest had been fed to the flame. As the convoy drove off, one of the children in the Red Choir began to hum a melody¡ªsoft, eerie. "The fire walks, the fire sings... The dead don''t die... They just grow wings." Chapter 124 124: Smoke on the Horizon The first thing he saw was the smoke. Alvin Delos Santos froze at the edge of a dried creek bed, crouched low, one hand gripping his old bolt-action rifle. Smoke, thick and black, rose above the treetops like a signal flare. It twisted in the wind, drifting eastward. He felt it in his gut before he confirmed it with his eyes. "Luntian," he muttered. His pace quickened. For the past two weeks, Alvin had been tracking a small deer herd through the hills, camping in the wilderness while avoiding the main roads. He''d survived the early days of the outbreak by trusting his instincts¡ªand by not getting involved. Now, something told him he should''ve come back sooner. He reached the treeline overlooking Barangay Luntian about an hour before sunset. What he found made his stomach twist. The village was gone. Charred huts still smoked. The crops had been trampled flat. The livestock pen was empty, the wooden posts torn down. Blood stained the ground in dark patches. Alvin didn''t see any bodies¡ªjust scattered clothing, shoes, and crude red markings drawn on the dirt with what could only be blood. And then there were the banners. Crimson flags were planted in the middle of the village square. One was tied to a spear, its tip jabbed through a metal cooking pot. The flag was torn at the ends but unmistakable¡ªa red sunburst, dripping with painted blood. Alvin''s eyes narrowed. He''d heard rumors of cultists before. People worshipping the infected. Feeding them. But he''d never believed it. He thought it was just fear talking. Apocalypse gossip. Now he wasn''t so sure. He moved slowly, rifle raised, watching every corner, every hut. The wind blew ashes across the path like snow. The smell of cooked flesh hit him hard. He followed it. There, at the far end of the barangay, was the pit. A large open trench ¡ª blackened, still smoldering. Bits of bone stuck out from the coals. Flies hovered in thick clouds. Alvin covered his nose with his shirt and forced himself closer. There were no graves. No bodies to mourn. Just this pit of fire and ash. He saw something glint in the dirt nearby. Bending down, he picked up a small pink sandal¡ªchild-sized. The strap was broken. Blood dried along the edge. His jaw tightened. He stood, scanning the ruins again. A small movement caught his eye¡ªone of the huts in the back, half-burned, still standing. Alvin approached quietly, rifle still raised. He nudged the door open with the barrel. Inside, someone gasped. "Don''t shoot!" A teenage girl scrambled back into the corner, clutching a bloodied curtain over her shoulders. Her face was covered in soot, her knees scraped raw. She couldn''t have been older than fifteen. Alvin didn''t lower his weapon yet. "You from here?" he asked. She nodded, eyes wide. "What happened?" "They... they came in trucks," she whispered. "Red clothes. Bells. Singing. They killed everyone." "Everyone?" The girl started crying. "They fed them to... to monsters. The people with them¡ªinfected but still alive. They just let them rip into people. Called it cleansing. I¡ªI hid in the stove." Alvin stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He finally lowered the rifle. "What''s your name?" "Ana," she said, voice trembling. "Anyone else survive?" She shook her head. "I saw them take three people in a truck. A girl from the farm. Mang Elmo. And someone else I didn''t recognize. They dragged them away with sacks over their heads." Alvin clenched his jaw. "Why this village? You had something they wanted?" Ana sniffled. "We had clean water. A working pump and solar power. It wasn''t much, but it worked. We tried to stay quiet, out of the way." "You think that''s why they came?" "No." She looked up. "I think they came because we weren''t like them." Alvin paced slowly across the small hut, trying to process what he was hearing. He''d seen his share of raiders. Looters. Desperate people. But this wasn''t desperation. This was ritual. "How long ago?" "Yesterday. Morning. They left before sunset." Alvin exhaled sharply through his nose. He rubbed his forehead, trying to think. This wasn''t something he could just walk away from. These weren''t just survivors gone feral¡ªthis was organized. And worse¡ªthey were spreading. He stepped outside and looked at the fading sun. Ana followed behind, still wrapped in the curtain. "Where are you staying?" she asked. "Nowhere," Alvin said. "Not anymore." He scanned the tree line again, double-checking for movement. The wind had changed direction. The smoke was thinning. But the scent of death still hung in the air. "We can''t stay here," he added. "They''ll come back. These types always come back to mark their territory." Ana looked down. "I don''t have anyone left." Alvin glanced at her. "You do now," he said. She didn''t answer right away, but she nodded. Quietly. Slowly. Alvin moved back through the ruins, searching for supplies. He found two cans of food that hadn''t been scorched. A half-full water jug. One clean blanket and an old map with pen marks showing local scavenging zones. It wasn''t much, but it''d do. As they walked toward the edge of the village, Ana paused and pointed. "Wait. There." A patch of dirt behind the schoolhouse was uneven, freshly turned. They moved closer. Alvin crouched and pushed aside some dry leaves. He found a body buried shallow¡ªwrapped in a dirty bedsheet. A boy. Maybe twelve. Bite marks across his arms. No blood trail. Ana whispered, "They buried him before he turned." Smart, Alvin thought. Whoever did this still had their head on straight. But that raised another question. "Someone else might''ve survived," he said. "Someone strong enough to dig." "Then we have to find them." Alvin nodded. "We will." They buried the body deeper this time, covering it with rocks and scraping a small sun symbol next to it¡ªnot the cult''s, but a simple drawing of hope. It was all they could do. As night approached, they moved west, away from the village, staying off the roads. Alvin knew the world was getting darker. But now, he also knew why. Not just the virus. Not just the dead. Something worse was rising behind it all. Something that believed this nightmare was holy. And if no one stopped them, the whole country would burn. Chapter 125 125: A Prophet in Ashes The fire crackled beside him. Elias Montano sat alone on the high balcony of the Crimson Cathedral, watching smoke drift lazily across the night sky. The air was still, heavy with the stench of old blood and burnt wood. Below, the courtyard was quiet. The faithful had long since gone to sleep. Even the Red Choir''s bells had stopped their endless ringing. This was his favorite time. Not because it was peaceful¡ªbut because it reminded him of the world before. Before the flames. Before the screams. Before the lie of salvation was finally stripped away. Elias leaned forward in his chair, staring down at his hands. Scarred knuckles. Calloused palms. Lines of age and dirt that never quite washed away. He didn''t look like a prophet. He didn''t feel like one either. But they believed in him. And that was enough. He was still Father Elias back then. Not the "High Father." Not the Prophet. Just a weary priest stationed at a run-down parish in Ilocos Norte, barely keeping the roof from collapsing. Sunday attendance had dropped to ten, maybe eleven if the old woman who walked with a cane made it on time. Most of his flock had either moved to the city, lost their faith, or simply stopped caring. And then the sickness came. It started with the radio. A warning. Then TV stations went dark. Sirens. Curfews. Panic. The military arrived in trucks, set up checkpoints and tents, said they would "protect the civilians." For a while, they did. Then the infected got in. He remembered the sound of it all¡ªgunfire, screams, the roar of helicopters above. But most of all, he remembered the silence afterward. It lasted two days. He hid inside the church, boarded the doors with pews, and waited for someone to come back. Anyone. They never did. "I should''ve died there," Elias whispered to himself, the flames flickering in his tired eyes. But he didn''t. What came instead were the survivors. Half a dozen at first¡ªpeople who had escaped the camp on foot, broken, bleeding, terrified. A mother carrying a child who had stopped breathing. A wounded man missing three fingers. A teenager who hadn''t spoken a word since the night of the massacre. They gathered at the church. Because it was the only place left standing. Because it was the only place that still had walls. And for a time, Elias tried to care for them. Feed them. Bandage wounds. Say prayers. But faith couldn''t stop infection. The child turned first. And Elias made the mistake of hesitating. By the time he acted, the wounded man was dead. The mother was screaming. The blood had already soaked into the stone floor of the chapel. That was the night something in him broke. Elias rose from his chair now and walked slowly across the balcony. He looked out across the sleeping ruins of Santa Candelaria, his new congregation resting below. Fires burned in neat circles. Scourged chained near the walls howled into the night air. He felt nothing. Not guilt. Not sadness. Only clarity. It had come to him during the second week, when the food ran out and only three survivors remained. He''d wandered into the forest, thinking of ending it all. A quiet death. Just lie down and let it happen. But then he saw it. A young infected girl, no more than seven, standing in the middle of the trail. Her eyes were pale. Her mouth bloody. But she didn''t attack. She stared at him. And he stared back. For what felt like forever. Then she turned and walked away into the trees. She spared him. That was the moment Elias stopped seeing the undead as monsters. He started seeing them as messengers. He preached his first sermon to five people. Not from scripture. Not from the Bible. But from pain. He told them that the old world had failed because it was arrogant. Because it put its faith in technology and money and government. Because it saw sickness as a problem to be solved¡ªnot a message to be heard. He told them that the dead were not cursed. They were chosen. That God had not forsaken them¡ªhe was testing them. Burning the world clean so something better could be born from the ashes. The survivors listened. One man cried. Another asked for forgiveness for everything he''d done before. They knelt. And that was when the Crimson Dawn was born. "You see," Elias whispered, gripping the railing, "they didn''t want a leader." "They wanted a reason." And he gave it to them. Over the months, their numbers grew. Survivors wandered in from the wilderness. Some came by accident. Some came because they''d heard the stories¡ªa priest who wasn''t afraid of the infected. A village where people didn''t hide behind walls, but walked among the dead without fear. Elias welcomed them. But not all were believers. Some resisted. Some tried to flee. Some refused to accept the truth. Those became the first cleansings. And when the rest watched the infected tear into their doubting kin¡ªand then saw those same bodies rise again¡ªthey began to understand. The virus wasn''t a punishment. It was a baptism. Elias had never been a violent man. But in this new world, mercy had no place. People needed purpose. They needed order. And in a world stripped of all logic and law, there was only one thing that made sense: faith in transformation. He turned back from the balcony and stepped into the cathedral. The altar was dark now, the candles burned low. Sister Teresa¡ªthe first Ascended One¡ªremained chained near the altar, gently rocking. She''d been a nurse once. Tried to save a wounded man who was already turning. When she got bit, she begged Elias not to kill her. Said she wanted to "see what comes next." So he let her. Now she was a symbol. A warning. A promise. Elias knelt beside her and touched her cold forehead. "They fear you, Sister," he murmured. "But they will learn." He stood, walked slowly to the center of the chapel, and looked up at the half-shattered cross above. "Soon," he whispered. "Soon the fire will spread beyond these walls." He had no intention of simply surviving. No plan to hole up in the ruins and wait for the world to fix itself. Because the world was already fixed. It just didn''t know it yet. Chapter 126 126: Located the Base The doors to the Crimson Cathedral creaked open just past midnight. Waker Ramon entered, his crimson robe soaked with rain and sweat. He dropped to one knee as soon as he reached the center aisle, fists clenched at his sides, head bowed. Behind him, two scouts stood silently ¡ª lean men with hollow eyes, their faces marked with black ash in the pattern of the sun. High Father Elias Montano turned slowly from the altar. His hands were clasped behind his back. He had been standing before the chained husk of Sister Teresa for hours, whispering prayers only he understood. Now, his gaze fell on the kneeling Waker. "Speak, brother," Elias said. Ramon raised his head. "We have found them." Elias tilted his head. "In Bataan," Ramon continued, "a military compound. Reinforced. Armed. Solar power. Vehicles. We counted over a hundred. Possibly more." A murmur spread through the shadows of the cathedral. Several Red Choir members who had been lingering in the pews turned their heads. "They''ve built walls," one of the scouts said. "Real ones. Concrete. Sandbags. Barbed wire. They''re organized." "They call it a safe zone," the other added, his voice laced with disdain. "They think they''re rebuilding." Elias stepped down from the altar, his robes trailing along the blood-streaked floor. "They would build towers of steel while the world burns?" He circled slowly around the kneeling men. "They would hoard food and power while the flame offers rebirth freely?" "They reject the Dawn," Ramon said. "And they gather others." Elias stopped. "The virus was their judgment," he said softly. "The dead are their warning." He turned to the congregation now gathering in the cathedral. Wakers, Tithers, Red Choir¡ªall drawn by the scent of prophecy. Dozens knelt in reverence as Elias stepped back up to the altar, raising both hands. "And still," Elias said, voice rising, "they resist the fire." "Still, they cling to their bullets and their machines, pretending this world can be sewn back together with wires and concrete." "But we know the truth, don''t we?" "This world is not meant to be saved. It is meant to be remade." A chorus of "Amen" echoed across the cathedral. "They fear us," Elias continued. "They mock us. Call us cultists. Call us mad." "But let me ask you¡ªif we are mad, then what do they call men who hide behind guns and pretend the dead will go away if they wait long enough?" He walked to the center of the altar, gripping his staff. "They call themselves survivors. Soldiers. Saviors." "I call them Rejects." He pointed toward the heavens. "The flame offered them a chance at transformation, and they spat on it." "Now they build their fortress atop stolen ground, stuffing it with sinners and cowards." He paced across the altar, eyes lit by the flickering fire behind him. "But the flame does not wait forever." "The Crimson Dawn will rise over Bataan." "And their fortress will burn like all the others." "And when their walls fall, when their bullets run dry, and the dead knock at their gates, they will beg to join us." The crowd was rapt. Breathless. Devoted. One of the Red Choir girls, no older than nine, whispered the chant under her breath: "The fire walks, the fire sings... the chosen don''t die, they grow wings..." Elias turned to Ramon. "You said they are many. Armed. Disciplined." Ramon nodded. "Yes, Father." "Then we will not march to the gates like lambs. Not yet." He raised one finger. "We will enter as they do¡ªquietly." The Wakers exchanged glances. One spoke. "You want us to infiltrate the camp?" Elias smiled faintly behind his mask. "No. Not you." He turned and gestured toward the back of the cathedral. A side door opened, and a group of five stepped forward ¡ª the Penitents. They were dressed in civilian clothing, torn and dirtied. No red robes. No symbols. Each wore a collar made of bone, and their eyes were sunken, pupils wide. They moved slowly, deliberately, like actors rehearsing their roles. One of them had a scar across his face where his eye used to be. Another was missing a hand, replaced with a rusted hook. "These," Elias said, "are the Flame''s shadows." He gestured for them to kneel. "They will go to the fortress. They will weep. They will beg. They will lie." "And they will be welcomed." The Red Choir began to hum, a low rhythmic chant. Elias walked behind the Penitents and placed a hand on each of their heads. "Once you infiltrate their base," he said slowly, voice heavy with conviction, "you will let the gates open." The Penitents remained still, heads bowed. Not one flinched. "You will smile. You will nod. You will eat from their tables and sleep in their quarters," Elias continued. "And when they begin to trust you... when they believe you are broken and grateful..." He leaned closer, his voice a whisper now, laced with venom. "You will kill their guards... quietly." Gasps echoed from the congregation. A low, reverent murmur spread like wildfire through the cathedral. "And when the gates are unchained and the flood begins," Elias said, his voice rising, "you will let the flames walk in." He slammed the butt of his staff against the stone floor, sending a sharp echo through the cathedral. The flames from the iron braziers flared as if awakened by his words. "They will watch their walls fall not to bombs, but to belief. They will die not from bullets, but from truth. And when the chosen ones tear through their streets, they will finally understand that mercy has passed them by." The Penitents remained motionless, ready to walk into the lion''s den with fire in their hearts and knives at their belts. Elias stepped down from the altar and looked upon the crowd ¡ª his followers, his instruments of purification. "Three nights from now, we strike," he declared. "The Penitents will open the gates. The chosen will enter first. And behind them... the Dawn." He raised his hands as the Red Choir''s chanting grew louder. "Let their stronghold be a tomb. Let their soldiers become servants of the flame. Let the fortress of Bataan fall into ashes and screams." The faithful roared in response, their voices a storm of praise. Judgment was coming. And it would arrive wearing a smile. Chapter 127 127: Infiltration The armored gates of the Bataan compound groaned as they slid open. Rust scraped against rust, and the sentries above held their breath, rifles steady, eyes fixed on the five figures standing just outside the outer checkpoint. The rain hadn''t stopped all day, and now it fell in sheets, soaking the dirt road and the people standing on it. They looked pitiful. The man in front had a wooden stump for a hand, wrapped in bandages long since stained with mud and blood. The one behind him limped on a hand-carved crutch. A woman with hollow cheeks clutched a soaked blanket around her shoulders, carrying a child too old to be asleep and too silent to be calm. The last man had a crooked nose and black rings under his eyes. They didn''t speak. They just stood there, shivering and wet, heads low. A flashlight beamed down on them from the guard tower. One of the sentries cursed under his breath. "Jesus... look at them." "They carrying anything?" "Nothing but a ragged pack." A short burst of radio chatter came from the tower. Then a voice crackled from the gate''s intercom. "Step forward slowly. Hands where we can see them." The man with the wooden stump nodded weakly. Matias, the lead Penitent, took a careful step forward. His voice cracked with exhaustion and cold. "We''re not sick," he called up. "We''re just hungry. Please. We heard this was a safe zone." He spoke with the trembling cadence of a man who hadn''t slept in days ¡ª a cadence he had perfected during months of rehearsed suffering. One of the guards climbed down and opened the small personnel gate. He was young, early twenties, wearing a loose-fitting Army uniform. His eyes flicked between them cautiously. "Turn around. Let me see your necks." The Penitents obeyed without protest. No bite marks. No signs of infection. Just bruises, old wounds, and desperation carved into every line of their bodies. The young guard''s expression softened. He waved to his comrade. "Clear." The main gates opened wider. Four soldiers moved forward with rifles raised but lowered them slightly as the Penitents passed through. Matias stumbled and nearly fell. One of the guards caught his arm and steadied him. "You''re safe now, sir," the soldier said, voice gentler than expected. "You''re with us." Matias looked up with glassy eyes. "Thank you." He meant it. Not for the safety ¡ª but for the trust. They were taken to a quarantine tent first. Standard protocol. An old nurse with a face like sun-baked leather checked their vitals. She moved with practiced efficiency, not unkind, but distant. They had herded in too many strangers by now. Most stayed. Some didn''t last a week. Matias feigned a low fever, barely enough to raise suspicion, just enough to explain his weakness. The nurse noted it and handed him a blanket. The others answered names they''d been assigned weeks ago: Rosalyn ¨C a quiet woman with a convincing twitch, claimed to have escaped from a raided farming village. Benito ¨C the limping one, said he''d been a driver before everything went to hell. Child ¨C no real name, just "Baby Boy" on the ledger. Said to be her nephew. Sandro ¨C the man with the crooked nose, said he used to fix radios. Each lie had been tailored. Each story backed with rehearsed details and shared memories. By nightfall, a military officer stepped into the tent ¡ª not in uniform, but clearly someone in charge. Holster on his hip. Narrow eyes. A clipboard in hand. "General De Vera wants full background on new entries," he said without preamble. "Standard interview." He pulled over a plastic chair and sat down across from Matias. "Name?" "Matias Villanueva." "Age?" "Forty-six." "Before the outbreak?" "Construction. Heavy equipment." "Any military service?" "ROTC. College days." The officer wrote without looking up. "Where were you last month?" "Hiding in what''s left of Balanga." "How did you find this camp?" "Ran into a scavenger. Said this was the only safe place left." "Anyone sick with you?" "No, sir." "Ever been scratched?" Matias hesitated. Just long enough to be believable. "...I saw a cousin get bit. I ran." The officer tapped his pen against the clipboard. "You know how many people say that exact thing?" "I believe it," Matias said with a slight smile. "Some lies are easier to carry than the truth." The officer looked up for the first time. Just a glance. Then he stood and walked out. Ten minutes later, a soldier returned. "You''re in." They were given cots in Sector 3, the refugee quarter inside the base. Dozens of makeshift tents lined up under military tarp canopies. People moved like ghosts ¡ª worn faces, hollow eyes, hands always busy. Washing clothes. Cooking rice. Fixing gear. Watching the fences. The Penitents played their roles perfectly. Rosalyn helped in the field kitchen without complaint. Benito offered to assist in the motor pool, dragging his limp foot behind him like it had always been there. Sandro fiddled with a broken handheld radio and got it working by evening, earning mild praise. Matias wandered the perimeter. Not obviously. Never enough to draw suspicion. He helped carry crates, fetched water, and spoke softly when asked. But his eyes moved constantly, noting everything: The outer fence was made of chain link reinforced with barbed wire ¡ª eight feet high. Guard towers every 40 meters. The main gates were manually operated, with hydraulic backup. Roving patrols rotated every three hours, less frequent at night. The infirmary was heavily guarded. Armory locked tight. Most importantly: the gates were opened from the inside. Only a few men had access ¡ª all wore green armbands. He memorized their faces. He whispered every detail to Rosalyn that night in their tent. She nodded. "Three days," she murmured. "Maybe two," Matias replied. They said nothing else. Across the camp, guards joked about the new arrivals. Called them lucky. Said it was nice to see good people still walking around. Even the officer who''d interviewed them told another soldier, "These ones seem alright." And as they all went about their routines, trusting the quiet man with the stump and the limping worker with kind eyes¡ª None of them knew they had let wolves through the gates. And behind them, far beyond the hills, the Chosen waited. Starving. Chapter 128 128: Sabotage The sky over Bataan was gray by morning. Not stormy¡ªjust overcast, like the heavens were holding their breath. Inside the military compound, life carried on like it always did. People moved in tired rhythms. Routines meant survival. Patrol shifts rotated. Meals were rationed and served. Tools were borrowed, returned, and borrowed again. Nobody noticed the small changes. Not at first. In the motor pool, Benito leaned over the open hood of a truck, his limp almost entirely forgotten as he adjusted a loose belt. One of the mechanics, a short man named Cruz, stood beside him, arms crossed. "That belt''s been slipping since last week," Cruz muttered. Benito nodded. "You''ll want to swap that. Could snap while you''re mobile." "I''ll put it on the list," Cruz said, scribbling something on a clipboard. "Fuel lines too?" "Checked ''em. All good." Benito smiled, wiping his hands on a rag. He left a small, unnoticeable nick in the coolant line just below the radiator¡ªjust enough to leak slowly. Not enough to draw attention for a day or two. The vehicle would overheat on its next long run. Maybe it would stall during a patrol. Maybe it wouldn''t start at all when they needed it. Benito limped off without a word. On the far end of the camp, Sandro sat in the corner of the comms tent, pretending to tinker with a broken portable radio. He wasn''t the only one there. Several real comms officers bustled about, managing relays and signal checks. He''d already tested the system the day before¡ªwatching which wires were used for inbound signals and which for outbound. Today, he quietly untwisted the shielding on one of the outbound lines and inserted a slim, pre-modified relay tap, hidden inside the shell of a salvaged battery. No one saw. No alarms tripped. From that moment forward, anything broadcast from that tower could be intercepted if the right equipment was nearby¡ªsay, for example, a Crimson Dawn scout hidden in the hills. Sandro stood up, wiped his hands, and brought the broken radio to the tech on duty. "Still nothing," he said. "Think the board''s fried." The officer shrugged and tossed it into the junk pile. In the kitchen tent, Rosalyn stirred a pot of rice while the head cook barked orders around her. "Don''t burn the bottom this time. You scrape that mess and I''ll have your hands." "Yes, ma''am," Rosalyn said sweetly. Her hands moved with purpose, but her mind was elsewhere. Last night, Matias had whispered the details. Three targets. Patrol rotation gaps. Gate manual override. Guardhouse at the southeast fence. Rosalyn''s job was smaller¡ªbut no less important. She was in charge of making sure the Red Dust reached the right mouths. It wasn''t poison¡ªnothing so dramatic. It was a ground-up blend of rotting herbs and soil laced with a diluted compound brewed by the Wakers. Ingested over time, it weakened the immune system, brought on coughing fits, fatigue, and disorientation. She stirred it into the bottom portion of the rice pot set aside for the night shift guards¡ªthe ones who would be on duty during the third night. She worked calmly. Nobody questioned her. She was polite. Quiet. Grateful. Harmless. And then there was Matias. He spent his time walking. Not aimlessly, but deliberately. Carrying crates. Hauling waste. Sweeping alleys between tents. Always helping. Always silent. Always listening. He learned who carried the gate keys, who handled weapons check-ins, and which soldiers drank too much on their breaks. He memorized the patrol schedules. Noted the overlapping zones where no guards crossed paths for five minutes or more. He spent two hours watching the gatehouse. The two soldiers stationed there were young. One leaned against the wall reading a magazine. The other paced with a bored look, weapon slung across his chest like an accessory. They were real soldiers¡ªbut complacent. Too much time in one place made people soft. He knew it all too well. By the end of the second day, the Penitents had already laid the groundwork. Sabotage wasn''t just about breaking things. It was about timing. Matias sat in the mess hall that night with a plastic tray of boiled vegetables and rice, flanked by Sandro and Benito. They didn''t speak aloud, but their body language said enough. Heads low. Chewing slow. In front of them, on the far side of the hall, Rosalyn fed the boy quietly. He was their anchor¡ªa fake child, sure, but a tool that bought them pity and distance. No one bothered a grieving aunt. Matias leaned back in his seat. One more day. The third morning, General De Vera himself walked through the camp, flanked by his aides. He didn''t speak to the Penitents directly, but Matias watched him from a distance. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Carried himself like a man still clinging to the old world. Matias respected that. He also pitied it. De Vera didn''t know it yet, but his fortress was already hollow. That afternoon, one of the officers came by with a clipboard and called Matias by his assigned name. "You''ve been here a few days now. Thinking of assigning you to logistics or perimeter work. You good on your feet?" Matias lifted his stump-hand with a shrug. "I do what I can." The officer grinned. "Even better. Makes you less threatening." "Glad to help." "Head to the north side at 1500. They''ll show you the ropes." At 1500, Matias stood on the north side gate platform, watching one of the guards demonstrate how to manually override the hydraulic lock system. "In case power cuts out," the soldier said. "Pull this lever, crank here, hold this open. Then the gate can be moved manually." Matias nodded along. He looked like he was paying attention. But in truth, he was counting seconds. Timing the entire process. Measuring how much effort it took to get the gate open without power. The soldier clapped him on the shoulder. "You''ll get it. You''re better than half the guys who started here." Matias smiled. "Thanks." That night, the Penitents gathered in their tent. No lights. No words. Just eyes meeting eyes. Tomorrow. It would begin tomorrow. The guards they''d fed Red Dust to were already coughing. The fuel lines in two vehicles were compromised. The relay tap was active. The gatehouse patrol had been switched¡ªtwo new kids, barely trained, assigned to the worst shift. Everything was set. Matias sat in silence as he listened to the camp''s nightly murmur. Laughter. Metal clanking. Radios humming. This place felt alive. It felt hopeful. It made him sick. He closed his eyes and prayed¡ªnot for forgiveness, not for guidance¡ªbut for the fire to come swiftly. The fortress would fall. Not with explosions. Not with armies. But with whispers in the dark and quiet knives. And when the gates opened, and the Chosen flooded through... The screams would begin. Chapter 129 129: The Start The sun never rose on the fourth morning. Thick clouds sat heavy over Bataan, casting the entire camp in a dull, gray gloom. Mist rolled through the cracks in the walls, crawling over tents and guard towers. The soldiers blamed humidity, the weather, the nearby forests. No one gave it real thought. But for the five Penitents, it was the sign. The air felt still. Expectant. Inside Tent 3-C, Matias sat on the edge of his cot, watching the canvas flap sway in the breeze. His stump-hand was wrapped in fresh gauze. His real hand gripped the small bone dagger he''d hidden inside a boot sole the night before. Across from him, Benito lay with one leg stretched out and the other tucked under a blanket. His limp would return tonight, just for show. Sandro was still "sleeping," but his eyes were open, waiting. Rosalyn gently tied the boy''s shoes, humming softly, rocking back and forth. It was time. No words were exchanged. None were needed. They rose together, slow and natural, moving like ordinary people. A woman caring for her nephew. A man heading out for work duty. Another limping to the latrines. Nothing out of place. That was the point. 2000 hours. General De Vera was in the command post, reviewing supply reports. A convoy was scheduled to leave in forty-eight hours for Balanga. Fuel levels were down. Ammo stocks were holding. Morale was stable. He didn''t know that the hydraulic locks on the north gate had already been disconnected. He didn''t know that three of his trucks wouldn''t start in the morning, that Red Dust had seeped into the night shift''s soup, or that the radio relay line had been compromised for days. He didn''t know he was about to lose everything. Private Carlos Lim yawned in the gatehouse. It was his first week on rotation. The other guard, Private Alon, sat on an overturned crate, holding a coffee mug like it was the last warm thing on Earth. Neither of them noticed the figures walking slowly up the service corridor behind them. One guard looked over his shoulder just in time to see Matias. "Hey¡ª" Matias drove the bone knife up under the man''s chin. The body twitched once, then crumpled. Alon stood up too late. Benito grabbed him from behind, pulled his head back, and dragged a sharpened file across his throat. The bodies were dragged behind the crates. Blood soaked into the concrete. Sandro moved to the override lever. With practiced motion, he disengaged the safety clamps. Matias cranked the mechanism. The north gate slid open. Just two feet. Enough. They stepped aside. And the Chosen walked in. They came not in hordes¡ªbut in packs. Silent. Twitching. Starving. The Scourged were in front¡ªhalf-infected fanatics foaming at the mouth, clothed in bloodied rags and barbed wire. Behind them came the true dead, fresh corpses that had been locked in cages for days. Their skin peeled in places. Some were missing jaws. Others had no eyes. But they moved with purpose. They had been led here. And now... the gates were open. The first victim was a cook on smoke break. He heard a sound, turned, and saw a woman with no eyes tearing toward him at full speed. Her scream never came. The Scourged tackled him, tore out his throat, and kept running. Then another. Then three more. Then ten. 2050 hours. Screams. Gunfire cracked in the southern sector. Rosalyn grabbed the boy and ran toward the fuel depot¡ªjust as planned. She knocked over a lantern on her way. The flame spread fast. Too fast. Within minutes, the depot was on fire. Smoke towered upward like a signal to the heavens. "Contact! CONTACT!" A soldier screamed into a radio on the west tower. "We have a breach! North side! Infected! Inside the walls¡ª" Static. Then silence. In the command post, alarms blared. General De Vera stormed out of the briefing room. "Get those gates locked¡ªNOW! All sectors report!" A lieutenant yelled from behind a console. "We''ve lost camera feeds in the north sector!" "Mobilize Sector 4 and 5! Contain the breach!" He didn''t know that Sector 5''s patrol team was half-poisoned, coughing, stumbling, barely standing. Matias sprinted toward the armory, using chaos as his cover. One guard tried to stop him. "Where the hell are you going?!" "Gun lockers!" Matias shouted. "Need to grab weapons!" The soldier nodded and followed. Big mistake. Matias led him behind the storage crates. Crack. The soldier went down, skull shattered with a steel pipe. Matias moved on. The Red Choir was already inside the camp. Dozens of them had been waiting just outside the fence, dressed in rags, faces veiled. They walked now through the open gate like phantoms. Singing. "The fire walks, the fire sings... the chosen don''t die, they grow wings..." The sound chilled every bone in the base. Soldiers stopped firing for a second. That was enough. A Scourged broke through a barracks window and tore into the men inside. Rosalyn made it to the courtyard and set down the boy. He turned to look up at her, face blank. "You''re free now," she whispered. He nodded once. Then walked into the smoke. Rosalyn didn''t follow. Instead, she ran to the mess hall. People were hiding there¡ªdozens of civilians and support staff. They waved her in. She locked the door behind her. Then she poured kerosene across the floor. No one realized what she was doing until it was too late. 2105 hours. General De Vera watched as his camp fell apart. "Shut the gates!" he yelled into the radio. "We can''t! They''ve been sabotaged!" "How many are in?!" "We don''t know! Half the guards are down! They¡ªGod¡ªthere''s more inside! They were already inside!" De Vera stared at the burning fuel depot. Then the mess hall went up in flames. Then he heard it. That chant. "The fire walks... the fire sings..." 2110 hours. The Crimson Dawn didn''t arrive in a wave. They rotted the camp from the inside out. No battle lines. No speeches. Just whispers. Quiet blades. Open gates. And fire. As the base burned and the dead tore through the last of the outer perimeter, Matias climbed the nearest tower and lit a red flare. The signal. High in the hills beyond the forest, Waker Ramon saw it. And smiled. Back at the command¡ªDe Vera watched the CCTV cameras displaying all parts of the base, fast moving zombies flooding in and his men couldn''t cull them as quickly as they entered. "I think it''s time that we inform Overwatch." "You are right, let''s inform them that we are under attack." Chapter 130 130: Hearing the News Meanwhile, at the MOA Complex, Conrad Hotel. Thomas was in the command center, sitting at the head of the table as he was playing with a rubik''s cube that he had gotten from the toy shop at the MOA shopping center. As he was immersed in playing it, he was interrupted by the young officer working in it. "Sir," a young operator said, removing his headset and turning toward the center of the room. "We just received an encrypted distress transmission... It''s from Bataan." That single word changed everything. Across the room, Thomas Estaris, dressed in his usual black tactical uniform with Overwatch insignia over his chest, slowly turned his head. He had been leaning over a steel table, but now he stood fully upright. "Put it on screen. Now," he said. The operator didn''t hesitate. Fingers flew across the keyboard. The wall-mounted screen lit up. Reaper One-One''s live feed came into view¡ªhovering in thermal mode over General De Vera''s military compound. Everyone in the room froze. The screen displayed a nightmare. The base was burning¡ªcolumns of black smoke pouring into the sky from multiple fires. The fuel depot had been reduced to a crater of flame. Barracks collapsed, gunfire flashed from rooftops, and shapes¡ªdozens, maybe hundreds of them¡ªmoved erratically through the smoke. Infected. Aerial markers confirmed it, zombies pouring through breaches in the north and west sectors. There were even visuals of unarmed civilians running in all directions, some being torn down near the mess hall. Another camera switched¡ªthermal imaging revealed groups of soldiers trying to hold their ground near the armory. Their movements were disjointed. Formation was lost. Thomas stepped closer, face hardening. His voice dropped into command tone. "Operator. Patch me through to Bataan command. Priority override. General De Vera, now." "Yes, sir." The operator worked quickly, fingers racing. "We''re attempting handshake with their encrypted relay... establishing drone signal bounce... verifying Overwatch protocol key..." Thomas stood still as a statue. Behind him, Phillip approached quietly, eyes also locked on the burning camp. "This wasn''t a breach," Phillip muttered. "This was a goddamn execution." Thomas slowly turned his head toward Phillip, his eyes still fixed on the live drone feed. "Why do you think so?" Phillip''s jaw was tight. His voice was low, deliberate. "Because I personally inspected their security measures. They''re all solid. De Vera''s perimeter is textbook¡ªlayered fences, reinforced gate systems, staggered patrols, infrared tripwires. A breach that size? That fast?" He shook his head. "It doesn''t add up." Thomas stared at the screen. He watched as two soldiers were dragged down behind a collapsed vehicle. One tried to fight, swinging wildly with a rifle stock. The other never even screamed. The overhead thermal feed from Reaper One-One showed movement everywhere¡ªheat signatures writhing through hallways, slamming into barricades. More than a hundred infected inside the perimeter. Possibly more. Phillip stepped forward. "It''s not just a breach. It''s a full collapse from within. No alarms until the chaos started. That only happens two ways: total systems failure... or someone opened the gates." Thomas gave a slow nod. "And De Vera''s not the kind of man to sleep through a systems failure." "No, sir." "Then someone let them in." The command room went quiet. No one dared speak. Only the hum of the air-conditioning and the soft static of Reaper''s feed filled the room. Thomas turned his eyes back to the operator. "How long since we lost contact with their perimeter towers?" "First external signal disruption logged... twenty-three minutes ago. Gate 3 and Gate 5 went dark simultaneously. North camera feed cut next, followed by the entire Sector 2 grid. Their relay tower''s offline. Only reason we still have visuals is because of Reaper''s uplink." Phillip stepped to Thomas''s side. "It wasn''t just sabotage. This was coordinated." Thomas stared at the fire blooming near the fuel depot. "What''s the response status from inside?" The operator shook his head. "Minimal resistance left. Thermal shows some concentration near the command block, but they''re boxed in. Western corridors are gone. Civilians overrun. Scattered holdouts near the garage and infirmary." Another official in the room, Marcus, cursed under his breath. "They''re finished." Thomas didn''t flinch. "Not yet they''re not." He turned sharply toward the table and tapped the surface twice. The screen switched to command controls. Thomas leaned in and pressed a code into the panel. "Get me De Vera. Right now. Give me direct voice uplink through drone relay. I don''t care if you have to reroute through ten satellites." "Yes, sir!" Thomas folded his arms and waited as the operator worked. Behind him, Phillip remained stone-faced, watching the flames eat through the base. He noticed something odd¡ªshapes moving that didn''t act like the infected they''d studied. They weren''t shambling. They weren''t even running. Some of them were... coordinated. But Phillip said nothing¡ªyet. The screen finally flickered. "Connection stabilized. Audio only." A loud crack of gunfire broke through the speakers, followed by static. Then came a voice. "¡ªMOA Complex, this is General De Vera¡ªcopy?" Thomas stepped forward. "General. This is Thomas Estaris. We''re reading you through Reaper One-One." "Jesus... Thomas. We''re getting chewed up." "What''s your status?" "Command block still holding. I''ve got twenty men and one APC with limited rounds. Every other sector is gone. The mess hall exploded. Barracks flooded. Gates were breached¡ªmaybe tampered with. I don''t know who''s alive anymore." "Do you have wounded?" "All over. Some are barricaded in the med wing. They''ve stopped responding." "Confirmed infection?" "Yes." Thomas exhaled slowly. "General De Vera, I have a Reaper drone flying overhead right now. We can use it to thin down the numbers of the zombies in your camp, but that would mean...decommissioning your base and all of the survivors in this attack be transported to our complex." There was a long pause on the line. On the screen, the thermal feed showed more infected flooding in. One soldier sprinted across a walkway only to be dragged down by two figures moving with unnatural precision¡ªtoo fast, too focused. One had barbed wire wrapped around its arms. General De Vera''s voice returned¡ªstrained, breathing heavy. "...Say again, Actual." "If I authorize Reaper One-One to thin the horde, we''ll be forced to treat your base as a contaminated hot zone. That means fire missions, drone strikes¡ªscorched earth protocols." "I have wounded here," De Vera said sharply. "Civilians. Families." "You have twenty men, General. One APC. Limited rounds. You''re not pushing them out. Best-case scenario, you hold until sunrise. Worst case..." "We''re the last ones they eat," De Vera finished grimly. "Yes." More silence. Phillip stood nearby, watching the data feeds with narrowed eyes. He had pulled up heat maps¡ªsomething was off. The infected weren''t behaving like the usual swarm. They were moving in small groups, coordinated, as if being guided. But for now, he said nothing. De Vera''s voice came back, flat and iron. "I want my people out. Those still breathing. You can bring your birds in. Whatever you''ve got. But I want evac priority for my wounded." Thomas nodded once, knowing De Vera couldn''t see it. "You have it." "Copy. I''ll prep my people. You better not keep us waiting." The line cut. Thomas turned to the operator. "Patch targeting uplink to Reaper One-One. Authorize selective strikes. No warheads inside the command block. Limit area effect to corridors near the motor pool, medical wing, and exterior fences." "Affirmative, sir." Phillip, you and your Shadow Team will be launching in ten. I want eyes on that base and boots down within the hour." "Yes, sir." Thomas continued. "Your job is insertion and extraction. Once you are inside, secure the command block and get De Vera''s people out. But I want answers, too. Whoever did this¡ªwhoever walked those things through the gates¡ªfind them." Phillip nodded. "You think they''re still inside?" Thomas looked back at the screen. It showed a courtyard strewn with bodies¡ªboth soldiers and civilians. In the middle, something was written on the concrete in blood, barely legible from Reaper''s height. But it was there. A symbol. A circle. And at its center... a sun. Chapter 131: Striking Airspace above Bataan 2104 hours. Reaper One-One loitered at 22,000 feet. Unseen, unheard. Its dark silhouette blended with the sky, gliding silently above the chaos unfolding below. In the onboard systems suite, the MQ-9B drone''s AI-driven targeting algorithm was running calculations in real time¡ªprocessing thermal scans, adjusting for wind drift, humidity, movement patterns. In Overwatch''s command center back at the MOA Complex, the operator designated as Reaper One-One sat behind a curved bank of monitors, fingers moving across the HOTAS joystick and touchscreen interface. "Eagle Actual, this is. Reaper One-One has confirmed thermal lock on twenty-five targets clustered near the northern perimeter," the operator reported. "Classification¡ªinfected. Confirming zero friendly IFF signatures in the immediate zone." Thomas Estaris stood just behind him, arms crossed. His eyes never left the primary feed. "Weapons free. Begin thinning the swarm." "Roger that. Engaging with AGM-114R2 Hellfires. Laser-guided. Area saturation pattern¡ª3-5-3 grid." The first drone strike came fast and precise. The Hellfire missile detached from the Reaper''s right wing pylon, its guidance fins unfolding midair. It dropped silently for a moment¡ªthen ignited with a sharp hiss. BOOM. A clean, direct hit¡ªmidpack. A dozen infected were vaporized instantly. Limbs thrown in every direction. The heat signature vanished in the infrared display. Down on the ground, the Crimson Dawn did not react immediately. They were in the middle of another cleansing¡ªdragging a half-alive soldier to the chapel ruins where an Ascension ritual was about to begin. The Penitents were chanting. The Red Choir was humming. Then came the second strike. BOOM. A second cluster of Chosen was obliterated near the burned-out medical wing. The concussion wave collapsed what remained of the structure''s northern wall. Scourged members were flung across the corridor like ragdolls, their bodies crumpling in unnatural positions. Inside the cathedral-turned-hall, Waker Ramon stumbled as the shockwave rumbled through the concrete. "What in the flame was that?!" A younger choir member ran in, her voice panicked. "Fire from the sky! The Chosen¡ªtwo packs gone! Gone in an instant!" Ramon ran outside into the firelit haze of the northern sector, his robe whipping in the wind. Above them, the Reaper circled¡ªhigh, invisible. He could see nothing in the night sky. But the sky was watching. "Confirmed kills. First wave¡ªthirty-two infected neutralized. Minimal collateral." Phillip returned to the console, suiting up beside Thomas. His vest was clipped. Rifle mag-locked to his plate carrier. He tapped the screen, examining the strike spread. "The zombies are scattering, possibly confused by the sudden explosion made by the missile." "They weren''t expecting a bird in the sky," Thomas said. "They''ve gotten used to fighting human targets. Now they''re being dissected." "Still, the way the zombies move seems to me that someone is guiding them." Phillip said. Thomas nodded once. "That is why we need to find out if this is a sabotage and an inside job." Back on the screen, Reaper One-one guided the drone toward the east corridor. "Next strike package: GBU-39/B SDB¡ªsmall diameter bomb. Precision blast radius. Marking group around the vehicle depot." "Do it," Thomas ordered. Ramon watched as another explosion rocked the depot. The fire lit the sky for a second¡ªlong enough to silhouette the figures emerging from the east motor pool. The Chosen¡ªones he''d known by face and name¡ªwere shredded, burned, crushed. "Where is it coming from?!" one of the Penitents screamed. "They have machines!" another shouted. "A god from the sky!" "No," Ramon growled. "Not a god. This is them." "The outsiders. The ones the survivors whispered about. The black-clad ones." He remembered the rumors¡ªsnippets from those they had interrogated. The camp had survived for months only because of an external ally. A separate force. One that had arrived in helicopters. One with command of the air. Reaper One-One ¡ª Strike Log Target Group Alpha ¨C 15 infected neutralized. Confirmed dismemberment. Target Group Bravo ¨C 18 infected. GBU impact at 3m offset. No collateral. Target Group Charlie ¨C 9 moving figures, human silhouette pattern, but nonstandard movement speed. Engaged with caution. Result: 7 destroyed, 2 unconfirmed. "Sir, something''s odd," Reaper One-one reported. "We''ve tagged several heat signatures with... elevated internal temperatures. Above standard infected. Too high for normal metabolism." Phillip turned. "You think they''re modified?" Thomas didn''t answer. He watched as the next explosion tore through the vehicle corridor¡ªand the remaining figures in that area didn''t scatter. They moved through fire. They didn''t scream. They simply walked forward, skin burning, arms twitching, bone protruding from raw flesh. Reaper One-one voice cracked. "They''re still standing..." *** Panic had broken out. The Red Choir present in General De Vera''s base was no longer chanting¡ªthey were fleeing. Waker Ramon knelt beside a dying Scourged member, trying to press the torn neck closed with shaking hands. "I don''t understand. They were chosen... they were blessed..." A deep, guttural voice spoke from behind him. "No blessing withstands fire from the gods." Matias, now revealed as one of the last Penitent operatives still alive, approached slowly. "They warned us... the survivors. The ones we used. They told stories." "What stories?" Ramon hissed. "That the complex in Manila had machines in the sky. Machines that watched. That struck. They called it... Overwatch." Ramon stared upward, eyes wild. "We were told they were weak... living behind glass and concrete. No believers. Just cowards in armor." Matias shook his head. "No. They don''t hide. They hunt." And far above them, Reaper One-One banked for another pass. Command Center ¨C MOA Complex. Fifteen minutes after the Reaper Drone fired its missile. "Final pass before fuel return. Targeting last cluster behind command garage. Two Hellfires remaining. Confirm release?" Thomas stared at the screen. "No. Hold those last two." "Sir?" "Shadow Team is inbound and twenty minutes out. I want Reaper to loiter for overwatch." "Copy." Thomas turned his gaze to the screen where it flicked to black and white¡ªshowing the face of Phillip and his men inside the helicopter and adjacent to their display is the map where it showed the blips of them heading towards Bataan. "You''re up." Phillip nodded, pulling his helmet on. "We''ll bring them home, sir." "Remember the mission, we need to find out who did this." "Let''s hope that they were not caught by the explosion made by the Reaper," Phillip chuckled. Chapter 132: Extracting Highest Officials 2130 hours Airspace over Bataan Shadow Team, Blackhawk 02 Phillip sat with his back straight against the side wall of the UH-60 Blackhawk. His gloved hands calmly checked over his rifle for the third time¡ªround chambered, suppressor locked, optics clean. Across from him, Shadow 3 and 4 were locked in a quiet rhythm¡ªchecking gear, confirming ammo, syncing HUDs. No talking. Just precision. The Blackhawk thumped through the night, rotors slicing the humid air above what used to be a fortified command base. Now, it looked like a scene pulled straight out of hell. Flames painted the horizon. Smoke trailed up like black banners. And in the distant dark, shapes moved¡ªerratic, fast, and relentless. Phillip tapped the comms embedded in his helmet. "This is Shadow One. Confirming approach vector¡ªGrid Juliet 7. LZ Alpha is hot. How copy?" "Shadow One, this is Reaper One-One. We''ve got thermal confirmation. Target building surrounded by roughly fifty hostiles. No friendlies on the rooftop, but IR strobes active inside the west side of the command block. Target is marked. You are green to proceed." Phillip keyed the command net. "Roger that. Blackhawk 02, slow to hover. Maintain minimum safe altitude. We''ll insert after Reaper clears the grid." "Copy that. Holding pattern in thirty seconds. Reaper One-One, you are clear for immediate fire mission. Danger close." The MQ-9B adjusted pitch ever so slightly, its targeting software locking in on the outer ring of infected surrounding the command building. "Target designation confirmed," Reaper One-one reported from MOA. "AGM-114R2. Impact spread¡ªradius ten meters. All friendlies accounted for. Firing." A second later, the drone spat another Hellfire missile into the darkness. It streaked downward like judgment incarnate. BOOM. The ground trembled. The western side of the courtyard exploded in a blinding flash. Dozens of infected were turned to dust, body parts flung across the pavement. The shockwave cracked windows on the upper level of the command block. Blackhawk 02 ¨C Shadow Team "Fire mission confirmed. Grid is clear. You are green for drop," came the voice over comms. The side doors of the Blackhawk slammed open as the minigun operator¡ªcallsign Vulture Gunner¡ªlocked in his arm brace and racked the belt feed into the spinning barrel. "Engaging on drop!" he shouted. Phillip didn''t wait. "Go!" Shadow Team leapt from the hovering Blackhawk, rappelling down fast ropes in full tactical descent. Boots slammed into cracked pavement, rifles raised instantly in a 360-degree sweep. The rotors roared above them like thunder. The sound was deafening. But it brought everything. Every infected in the area turned their heads. Then they ran. Command Block ¨C Interior General De Vera stood at the second-floor window, clutching his sidearm. His officers were barricading doors, dragging desks, cabinets, whatever they could find. "CONTACT!" someone screamed from the stairwell. But before panic could set in, De Vera saw them¡ªsilhouettes in matte black, dropping like angels through the smoke. One of them raised a fist, then pointed toward the building. De Vera''s radio crackled. "This is Shadow One. Command block, do you read?" He snatched the radio. "Shadow One, this is De Vera! We''re holed up second floor. Multiple wounded, minimal ammo." "Copy that. Stay put. We''re coming in." Ground Level ¨C Outside Command Block The infected came in waves. A dozen broke through the eastern alley¡ªskin peeling, some crawling on all fours like beasts. Shadow 2 dropped to one knee. "Contact front!" Crack-crack-crack. Controlled bursts from suppressed M4A1 rifles. Headshots. Each round punched clean through skulls and necks. Shadow 3 threw a flashbang into the approaching mob''s path. POP. The light blinded them. Confused screams erupted. Shadow 4 advanced under the cover of smoke, planting charges on the front barricade of the command block''s main entrance. "Door rigged!" "BREACH, BREACH!" BOOM. The charges blew the entry open. Dust flew out, followed by a gust of hot, foul air. "MOVE!" Phillip entered first, sweeping the stairwell. Upstairs, General De Vera had his pistol aimed low¡ªbut the second he saw them, he dropped it and waved. "Up here! Let''s move!" Phillip and Shadow 2 moved to De Vera, helping the wounded down the stairs. One soldier had a tourniquet wrapped above the knee. Another clung to a side wound. Shadow 3 covered the stairwell, picking off an infected that tried crawling up after them. De Vera limped alongside Phillip. "Good to see someone in black armor for once." Phillip gave a short nod. "We''ve got your ride warming up. Let''s go. Where is Captain Villamor?" De Vera grimaced as they moved down the smoke-choked hallway, stepping over broken glass and blood-slick floors. "I¡ªI don''t know. Last I saw Villamor, he was heading to the east wing with a fire team. That was over an hour ago. Comms went dead ten minutes later. We assumed he was..." He didn''t finish. Phillip didn''t slow down. "Understood. We''ll sweep the sector once you''re clear." As they exited the command block, the Blackhawk was already hovering low near the extraction zone, side minigun rattling off short, disciplined bursts into the approaching infected. "Load them up!" Phillip barked. Shadow 2 and 3 helped the wounded aboard, one by one. Medics already inside pulled them in fast. De Vera turned as he stepped up to the ramp. "You''re not coming with us?" "No, sir. Extraction was just part of the mission. We''re here to find out what did this. What caused this." De Vera frowned. "You''re going back in?" Phillip locked eyes with him. "We''re Overwatch, General. This is what we do." Then he turned away and waved his team forward, fading back into the smoke as the Blackhawk lifted off. "Now we are going to have a field day with this," Phillip said, cracking his knuckles. Phillip turned as the last of the rotor wash blew past him, the Blackhawk shrinking into the haze above. Shadow 4 moved to his flank, sweeping the darkness with his rifle. "Command block secured. Wounded evac successful. What''s next, boss?" Shadow 3 asked. Phillip scanned the ruined base, the fires still raging in distant structures, the faint outline of bloodied symbols barely visible through the dust. "We find the ones responsible," he said. "If they''re dead, we tag the bodies. If they''re alive...well we are going to ask them why they did that, as simple as that." Chapter 133: They Are Going to What Now? 2139 hours Inside the Compound ¨C Bataan Phillip moved like a blade through smoke. His rifle swept left, then right¡ªeach pull of the trigger dropping another infected. Suppressed shots cracked through the night, followed by the dull thumps of bodies hitting tile, pavement, and earth. The Shadow Team had spread into a textbook triangle formation, securing corridors and clearing room by room with ruthless efficiency. "Shadow 2, status?" Phillip asked through comms. "North corridor clear. One survivor found hiding under a collapsed wall¡ªadministrative staff. Escorting her to LZ now." "Shadow 3?" "West sector. Found two lieutenants in the garage office. One''s wounded, the other''s mobile. Dispatching infected nearby, but we''ve got hostiles trying to flank around the wreckage." "Do not let them overrun the garage. It''s the only exit route we have left if the main gate collapses." "Copy." Phillip raised his rifle and squeezed the trigger. A ghoul that had once been a quartermaster dropped with a hole straight through its eye socket. He didn''t even pause to watch it fall. Another turned the corner. It didn''t make it two steps before its kneecaps were taken out and a round followed through the chin. They weren''t here to play hero. They were here to cut the rot out of the wound and get whoever still had stripes on their shoulder out alive. Shadow 4 moved up beside him, breathing steady despite the chaos. "We''ve got movement inside the west comms room. Door''s sealed. Could be more command staff." "Stack up. Flash it." Shadow 4 readied the flashbang, pulled the pin. "Breaching." He kicked the door in. POP. The scream that followed wasn''t infected. It was human¡ªraw and desperate. "Don''t shoot! Don''t shoot!" Phillip rushed in, rifle still raised, scanning the corners. Four uniformed personnel crouched behind overturned desks. One of them¡ªMajor Ignacio¡ªwore a bloodied rank patch. Phillip stepped forward. "Stand up!" The man nodded frantically, hand still raised. "Yes! Yes! I''m standing up! I''m not a zombie, I am a major. Major Ignacio!" Shadow 4 moved to help one of the wounded officers. "Don''t be scared, we''re Overwatch. You''re being extracted." Ignacio looked stunned. "Overwatch? From Manila?" "Yeah," Phillip said flatly. "You can thank De Vera for making the call. Now let''s move. But first, we need to confirm if you are not bitten." "I am not bitten." "I can''t confirm that," Phillip narrowed his eyes behind the visor, stepping closer. The light from his underbarrel flashlight glinted off Ignacio''s sweat-slicked face. "Shirt off. Sleeves up. Same for the others." The officers hesitated for a second¡ªthen, without protest, they complied. Phillip and Shadow 4 inspected each one quickly, rifles still in hand. Arms, legs, torsos¡ªno visible bite marks. A few bruises, cuts, one burn on a female officer''s forearm¡ªbut nothing that suggested infection. Phillip gave a curt nod. "You''re clear. Let''s move." Ignacio let out a shaky breath as he pulled his bloodstained shirt back over his head. "Most of us never thought we''d actually see Overwatch." "Let''s make sure you live long enough to tell someone about it," Phillip muttered, already moving toward the hallway. He tapped his comms. "Shadow One to team. Four more survivors¡ªcommand staff. Uninfected. Escorted toward fallback LZ." "Copy, Shadow One," came Shadow 2''s voice. "North corridor swept. No further contacts. Two civilians extracted." "Shadow 3. Garage sector secured. Contained a breach in the loading dock. Still mopping up stragglers." Phillip and Shadow 4 took point, rifles up, guiding the officers through a wrecked hallway that used to be the base''s central operations corridor. Dried blood smeared the walls. A severed arm hung from a shattered light fixture. Papers and ration packs littered the floor. The fluorescent lights above flickered weakly. Halfway through, the officers paused when they heard distant gunfire. "Keep moving," Phillip ordered. "Ignore the noise." But one of the younger officers turned back. "What about the others still trapped in Sector 6?" Phillip stopped. He glanced at Shadow 4. "We haven''t cleared that zone yet." "I have people in there," the officer insisted. "Medical. Comms. They''re not soldiers, they won''t make it on their own." Phillip considered it. "We''ll sweep Sector 6 after this extraction. You''re not helping them by dying in this hallway." The officer clenched his jaw but said nothing more. They emerged into the open, fractured remains of the courtyard. The extraction corridor had been marked by smoke grenades earlier, and the faint shimmer of infrared strobes bounced off the Reaper drone''s HUD relay above. Another Blackhawk circled low in the distance, waiting for a green light. "Blackhawk 03, this is Shadow One. Package secure. Marking LZ for secondary lift. You are cleared inbound. Be advised¡ªoccasional contacts moving through the eastern quadrant." "Affirmative, Shadow One. We''re on approach. Weapons hot." Behind them, one of the rescued officers let out a cry as an infected sprinted from the debris pile¡ªarms flailing, mouth torn wide open. Phillip dropped it with a clean double tap. The body crumpled two feet from the group. "They''re getting more active," Shadow 4 muttered. "They are always active," Phillip replied coldly. *** Elsewhere in the camp. Waker Ramon crouched in the ruins of what used to be the officers'' barracks. His face was streaked with soot, his robes hidden beneath a salvaged jacket. Around him, six of the Crimson Dawn infiltrators remained¡ªsurvivors of the chaos, of the drone strikes, of the burning rage that had fallen from the sky. "Their leader," whispered Matias, who crouched next to him, "the one with the rifle¡ªhe moves like the wind. Shoots without hesitation." "I saw him too," Ramon said. "He leads like a knife cuts. Precise. Cold." They had watched from the shadows as Phillip''s Shadow Team cut down every Chosen in sight. Even the Scourged¡ªonce considered impossible to stop by any means short of a flamethrower¡ªwere executed without emotion. It had been an embarrassment. A divine insult. The Flame had not protected them. And that... terrified Ramon. He turned toward the youngest of the infiltrators. "Where is the Red Choir?" "Scattered. Some are hiding in the rec building. Others fled during the last explosion from the sky." "Get them. All of them. No more chanting. No more symbols. Strip their collars. Burn the red robes. I want them disguised as panicked civilians." "But Waker¡ª" "No!" Ramon snarled. "You saw what I saw. This enemy does not hesitate. They hunt. We cannot fight them now." Matias frowned. "So we run?" "No, we are going to infiltrate their base." Chapter 134 134: The Base is now Cleared 2157 hours Inside the Compound ¨C Bataan Phillip stood on the top level of the garage, the muzzle of his rifle smoking from the last shot. The wind howled across the skeletal remains of what used to be a fortified military hub. Fires still burned along the outer walls. The smell of diesel, charred flesh, and blood hung heavy. Below, Shadow 3 signaled from the barricade line they had erected out of broken sandbags and flipped Humvees. "Sector 6 corridor clear. Final sweep complete." Phillip keyed his comms. "Copy. Shadow 2, status?" "Holding northern perimeter. Sporadic contacts. Nothing we can''t handle." Phillip was about to respond when another voice crackled through the command net. "Reaper One-One to Shadow Actual. We have eyes on a new contact. Thermal scan detects approximately 60+ hostiles. Clustered. Moving fast. Vector indicates approach from the west forest line. ETA: seven minutes." Phillip tensed. "Reaper One-One, confirm classification. Infected or unknowns?" "Confirmed infected. Moving in pack formation. No deviation. They''re headed straight for your location." Phillip glanced west. Beyond the charred rooftops and half-collapsed fences, a thick cloud of ash masked the tree line. Movement was difficult to see with the naked eye, but the drone''s thermal never lied. He keyed up to Reaper again. "How many birds left in your nest?" "Two Hellfires remaining, Shadow Actual. AGM-114R2s. Area saturation warheads. Limited collateral radius, optimized for cluster kill." Phillip didn''t hesitate. "Burn them. Fire mission priority one. Designate and engage. Danger close." "Copy that. Acquiring target. Paint locked. Wind shear negligible. Firing in three... two... one." Phillip looked up just in time to see the glowing streaks arc through the clouds. BOOM. The first missile hit dead center of the treeline. A rising tower of flame erupted, followed by limbs and bodies scattering like ash. Screams¡ªinhuman and distorted¡ªechoed across the compound. Then the second came. BOOM. It hit just meters from the first, engulfing the rest of the horde in a curtain of shrapnel and fire. Shadow 4, crouched beside Phillip, grinned behind his balaclava. "That''s a whole damn lot of barbecue." Phillip kept scanning through his ACOG. "Reaper, confirm target destruction." "Thermals show zero movement. Splash effective. Horde neutralized." Phillip exhaled. "Good effect on target. Return to overwatch pattern. Maintain loiter at 22,000." "Roger. Holding pattern reestablished. You''re clear to resume ground operations." The last of the infected had been culled. Two hours of nonstop combat, room-to-room clearance, and back-to-back extraction routes had taken their toll on the Shadows. Their ammo count was down to final reserves. Everyone had at least one blood splatter on their armor. Phillip stood at the edge of the inner courtyard, now used as a makeshift evac staging zone. Civilians, wounded personnel, and command survivors were huddled in groups, quietly waiting for the next Blackhawk rotation. Shadow 2 approached, dragging a duffel bag full of confiscated radios. "Most of these are fried. But I found a working one in the ops center. Might still have logs." "Bag it. We''ll send it back to MOA for decryption." Shadow 3 walked over, removing his helmet. His hair was matted to his scalp. "No more infected in the tunnels. No signs of hostiles either. But there are weird symbols down there. Same as the ones marked on the garage walls." Phillip turned his head. "Show me." Shadow 3 passed him a tactical tablet. The image displayed a sun carved into the concrete, smeared in blood, circled with jagged lines. "They look ritualistic," Shadow 3 added. "Not random. Some of them were fresh. Still wet." Phillip didn''t speak. He stared at the symbol. "This wasn''t just a random collapse," he finally said. "This was orchestrated. Someone opened the gates. Someone burned this base from within." "Should we address the survivors, ask them about the symbols?" Phillip shook his head. "No, that would antagonize the group and we don''t know how many or if the one who perpetrated this are part of the officials. We have to play it safe. For now, we gather all the survivors in one place for processing, then screen them quietly." Shadow 4 nodded. "We still have one more hangar to search. Could be holding civilians." "Sweep it. Bring out anyone breathing. We''re locking this base down until further notice. No one leaves unless we say so." Phillip looked out over the ruined compound, the night air heavy with smoke and silence. The enemy had been here. But they were not gone. Not yet. Phillip raised his fist and tapped the comms again. "Shadow Team, this is Shadow One. Begin full lockdown protocol. All entry points sealed." "Yes sir!" Phillip turned toward the command post, where a small cluster of survivors huddled under dim lights. He could see their fear¡ªsome shaking, others staring blankly at the ground. A few whispered among themselves. "Start the screening," he said to Shadow 4. "I want names, ranks, departments. Anyone acting strange, we separate them. Quietly." "Understood," Shadow 4 replied, already moving toward the medics with a portable scanner in hand. Phillip stood still for a moment longer, his eyes drifting back toward the symbol burned into his mind. The sun. The blood. The circles. This wasn''t just sabotage. This was a message. He didn''t know who they were yet, or how deep they''d burrowed into Bataan''s ranks¡ªbut he knew one thing for sure. They''d be back. And next time, they wouldn''t come quietly. Phillip keyed the long-range radio. "Shadow Actual to Overwatch. Compound secured. Survivors stable. Commencing Phase Two." He paused before adding, "But tell Eagle... we''ve got something bigger here." Phillip lowered the radio and stepped into the light of a shattered lamp post. "Four more civilians found hiding under crates. All unarmed. Scared. One of them''s an engineer¡ªclaims she saw people in military uniform sabotaging the gate controls before the breach." Phillip''s jaw tightened. "Good. She''ll talk. When this is over, we''ll know exactly who lit the match." He turned back toward the ruins of the base. It was once a peaceful base before...but now, it was in a sorry state. Phase Two had begun. Chapter 135 135: Phase Two Three more UH-60s thundered into the Bataan skyline, black shapes against the moonlight, formation tight and precise. Their rotors kicked up clouds of ash and debris as they descended onto pre-designated landing zones cleared by Shadow Team. The moment skids hit earth, Overwatch reinforcements poured out in disciplined waves¡ªtactical boots striking the ground in unison. They came with mobile command kits, biometric scanners, portable containment tents, sealed crates of rations, medical supplies, and clean uniforms. None spoke beyond what was necessary. There were no wasted movements. This was Phase Two. And Overwatch never half-measured a lockdown. Phillip met the first team at the courtyard¡ªAlpha-5 Unit, twelve men and women with black visors and gray armbands marked INTEL & INTERROGATION. Their lead, a woman in sleek ceramic armor with a reinforced tablet strapped to her chest, saluted crisply. "Vera Andrade, Internal Affairs. Phase Two lockdown now in effect across all sectors. We''re establishing quarantine boundaries and command screening posts. Civilians first. Officers second. We''ll be deploying neural index scans and med-checks as per Article 9-B of the Biohazard Containment Protocol." Phillip nodded. "You''ve got clearance to run this your way. Shadow Team will provide security during processing. Anyone flags red, I want to know before they so much as breathe wrong." "Copy that." She turned, gesturing to her team. "Begin setup! Secure the perimeter! All survivors to the west hangar¡ªprocess them by groups of five!" Shadow 2 and 3 started herding the shaken survivors into lines. Medics followed behind, tagging arms with numbered bands and logging names into encrypted Overwatch systems. Drones hovered silently overhead, relaying thermal and movement data back to MOA HQ in real time. ** Meanwhile¡ª MOA Complex, Containment Block D2 The mood was different here. Tighter. Colder. Inside a sealed facility beneath the K Line Maritime Academy Philippines, every survivor who had been airlifted out of Bataan earlier now sat under bright surgical lights in a repurposed screening center. The walls were white. The tables metallic. The cameras tracked every blink and twitch. No windows. No escape. De Vera sat on a steel chair, arms crossed, still wearing a sling from a shrapnel graze. Across from him, a man in a black coat with no visible rank pored over a report silently. On the wall, a screen played drone footage from the earlier Reaper strikes¡ªloops of explosions, heat signatures disintegrating in flame. "This isn''t standard debriefing," De Vera said quietly. The man didn''t respond right away. Then he looked up. "You lost 70% of your base personnel in under four hours. Your gates were opened from the inside. The infected were already within the walls before the breach was reported. Ritual symbols. Dead radio channels. Coordinated movement patterns. And your own personnel confirm strange behavior from multiple survivors prior to the attack." De Vera held his ground. "I ran my post by the book." "I''m sure you did," the man replied. "But books don''t survive fires. We''re not here to prosecute. We''re here to isolate threats before they make it to Manila." The lights above flickered once. Another camera pivoted. Then a voice came over the intercom. "Containment Zone Delta¡ªinitiate neural scan sweep. No one leaves unless cleared by central authority." One floor below, survivors huddled in rows of chairs while Overwatch medics in hazmat suits ran bio-scanners along their skulls and necks. Portable blood centrifuges spun in sealed canisters. Some were pulled aside for secondary questioning. Others cried. A few simply stared ahead, silent and vacant. A young Overwatch tech reviewed a data slate and blinked. "Sir... we''ve got anomalies." The commanding officer stepped over. "Show me." "Three of the survivors from Bataan¡ªfaint neurological distortion in the anterior cortex. Not enough for classification, but way outside normal stress markers." "Tag them. Isolation cell. Interview priority." "Yes, sir." Back in Bataan. Shadow 4 escorted a small group of technicians to a mobile field tent where Andrade stood typing into her encrypted pad. "We''ve completed the first 47 names," she said. "Cross-referencing personnel records with pre-breach behavior reports. One anomaly¡ªan engineer listed as ''absent from duty'' during the night of the breach showed up unharmed at the evacuation point. No wounds. No alibi." Phillip walked up as she spoke. "Name?" "Rico Nolasco. Civilian contractor. Assigned to north perimeter maintenance." Phillip nodded to Shadow 4. "Bring him to the tent." Ten minutes later, Nolasco was sitting under an LED floodlight, fidgeting with his shirt hem. "I¡ªI don''t know anything, sir. I was hiding. I got scared and¡ª" Phillip leaned in. "You were assigned to Gate 5. The first point to go dark. You were off-duty but left no check-in logs. Your biometric tracker was offline for three hours. Why?" Nolasco swallowed hard. "My watch... broke in the blast. I swear." "Before or after the breach?" No answer. Phillip stared. "We''re going to find out if you were part of this, Rico. You can talk now... or we''ll find out through your blood, your memories, and the things we pull out of your old comms." The engineer''s legs trembled. Phillip stepped back. "Separate him. Shadow 2, escort him to Isolation Zone B." "On it." "I don''t think that''s him," Andrade said. "Me too. Still, can''t be too careful in this days," Phillip nodded. Phillip stood over a digital map of the compound projected on a folding table. Red blips marked cleared sectors. Yellow marked pending sweeps. Blue signaled confirmed survivors under surveillance. The hangars were full. The base was in full lockdown. But beneath it all... something still felt wrong. He tapped his comms. "Shadow Actual to Overwatch. Phase Two in full effect. Civilian processing underway. At least ten flagged for enhanced interrogation." "Copy that, Shadow Actual," came the reply. "Stand by for Phase Three authorization pending decryption of recovered data logs." Phillip nodded. Then, quietly to himself: "Let''s see who really lit the match." *** Meanwhile¡ªthe infiltrators of the Crimson Dawn were being held by the Overwatch team and are in the holding area for enhanced interrogation, they were flagged as they were new members of the camp just days before the sabotage. "Are we going to get find out?" "Remember what the Waker said to us, we blend in." Chapter 136 136: Discovered Something The rain pattered against the canvas roof like fingertips tapping glass. Outside, the forward camp was a mess of light and motion¡ªmedics processing the wounded, drones overhead humming like silent ghosts. But inside the tent, it was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that waits. Phillip stood at the entrance, arms crossed, watching the man seated calmly beneath the interrogation floodlight. Matias Reyes. He looked clean¡ªtoo clean for someone pulled from the remains of a destroyed base. Uniform scrubbed, boots laced tight, no visible wounds. On paper, he was a civilian contractor. Logistics support. Checked into the Bataan base just six days ago. No prior military record. No government ties. No digital footprint before the outbreak. Which made him dangerous. Phillip stepped inside. Behind him, Shadow 4 and an Overwatch analyst followed in silence. A scanner hummed softly in the corner, logging neural activity, body heat, pulse. Matias didn''t react. He sat with his hands on the table, palms open. Smiling faintly. "You look comfortable," Phillip said. "Isn''t that the point?" Matias replied, his voice calm, serene. "This is where things get interesting, right?" Phillip didn''t bite. "Your logs show you near the north gate twenty minutes before it was compromised." "Coincidence." "Power substation. Fifteen minutes later." "I was... exploring." "Motor pool?" "I like trucks." Phillip stepped closer, eyes narrowed. "Three compromised zones. Three confirmed sightings. All before the alarms went off. You want to keep playing cute, or do we skip straight to containment?" Matias tilted his head. His grin widened. "Contain me if you want," he said, almost laughing. "But that won''t stop the sun from rising." Phillip paused. "The sun?" Matias leaned forward, elbows on the table now. His voice dropped to a whisper, low and reverent. "Have you ever stared at the sun so long it bled into your eyes? Left a mark? A halo that never fades?" Phillip didn''t respond. He let the silence stretch. Matias smiled again. Not friendly¡ªfanatic. "That''s what we are," he said. "The ones who stared too long. The ones who saw. And now the sun rises... whether you''re ready or not." Phillip glanced at the analyst. The neural scanner was showing minor spikes¡ªparietal lobe activity off baseline. Nothing clinically dangerous. But unstable. Phillip returned his gaze to Matias. "Who are you working with?" "I told you. Logistics." "You''re lying." Matias chuckled. "I''m praying. There''s a difference." Phillip exhaled slowly. "You belong to something. We''ve seen the symbols¡ªcarved in walls, drawn in blood. The sun. The flames. That wasn''t panic graffiti. That was doctrine." Matias''s eyes burned now. "Doctrine? No. That''s revelation." "You and others sabotaged that base," Phillip pressed. "Opened the gates. Led the infected inside." Matias didn''t deny it. He just started humming. Low. Rhythmic. A tune without lyrics, but haunting in its repetition. Phillip slammed a hand on the table. "Who else was involved?" The humming stopped. Matias leaned back, smile gone now. Replaced by something colder. Almost pity. "You think it''s about names? Faces? Arrest a few and burn the rest?" He laughed, genuinely amused. "They''re already inside," he whispered. "Walking your halls. Wearing your uniforms. They''ll hold your hands, share your food, and when the time comes¡ªthey''ll open the doors from within." Shadow 4 shifted uncomfortably. The analyst tapped something into the slate, running a deeper scan. Phillip''s voice hardened. "So there are more of you?" Matias''s grin returned. "We are everywhere. Every camp, every convoy, every ''safe zone.'' We''re the whisper before the scream. The spark before the blaze. The smoke before the fire." "And what do you call yourselves?" Phillip asked. Matias lifted his chin. "The Crimson Dawn." There it was. The confirmation Phillip needed. Matias spread his hands like a priest at the altar. "We are the ones who do not fear the fire. We are the fire." "You sound insane." "No," Matias said. "I sound free." Phillip took a step back, expression unreadable. "Then prove it. If you''re so devout, so proud of what you are¡ªgive me names. Tell me where your boss is hiding. Tell me how many you''ve planted." Matias laughed again, shaking his head. "You think this is a confession. It''s not." He stared into the camera mounted above, addressing whoever was watching. "This is a sermon." He thumped his chest once. "I am the voice in the ash. I am the hand on the gate. And we''re not done." Phillip turned to the analyst. "Anything?" The analyst looked unsettled. "Unusual neural patterns. No signs of coercion. No drug influence. He believes everything he''s saying." Phillip nodded. "Then we treat him like we would any other believer with a bomb in his vest." He leaned in, eye to eye with Matias. "You''re not a prophet. You''re not a voice. You''re a loose end." Matias smiled. "Then tie me up. Burn me. Bleed me. It won''t matter." He tapped the table twice with his index finger, almost like a beat. "Because even now, one of mine is watching you from inside your ranks. Maybe he''s cleaning your guns. Maybe she''s watching the drone feeds. You''ll never know¡ªuntil the smoke comes." Phillip stared at him. Matias stared right back. Of course he knew that was fake as all of Overwatch officials are summoned individuals and they are only loyal to their summoner, who is Thomas. But¨Che''ll play with him to extract more information. "Secure him." Phillip''s voice was low, flat. The order cut through the tent like a scalpel. Two Shadow operatives moved in from the flanks. Matias didn''t flinch. He raised his hands slowly, almost reverently, as though presenting himself for ritual rather than detainment. "You think the cage changes anything?" he murmured. "No," Phillip replied. "But it slows the rot." Shadow 4 stepped behind Matias and pulled his wrists behind the chair, locking them with reinforced zip cuffs. The other operative produced a flex-visor hood, the kind used to prevent line-of-sight communication¡ªno talking, no glancing cues. As the hood slipped over Matias''s head, he chuckled softly. "You''re late, you know. He already walks among you." Phillip didn''t answer. He turned his back on the prisoner and stepped out into the storm. The rain had thickened into a steady curtain, beating down on the makeshift camp and washing the bloodstains from concrete and boots alike. Spotlights flickered over the staging area, casting long, twitching shadows. Even now, drones floated silently above, scanning for movement, thermal shifts, and the impossible. Phillip ducked beneath the canvas awning leading to the ops hub. His boots squelched in the mud as he passed lines of survivors, all seated with plastic ponchos pulled over their heads like makeshift coffins. The med teams worked without pause, running IVs, checking pupils, logging biometric scans. He could see the ripple of tension building across the camp. Too many people. Not enough answers. The fear was shifting from external threats to internal unknowns. Anyone could be one of them. A member of Crimson Dawn. A cult. Phillip entered the ops hub without knocking. Vera Andrade was still at the central table, hunched over a holographic display with two of her analysts. The map of the Bataan base flickered between infrared overlays and surveillance logs. "We need a full psychological isolation on Subject Matias Reyes," Phillip said without preamble. "Flag his bio-signature and secure him in a black cell under double rotation. No comms. No windows. No exposure to other detainees." Andrade straightened, eyebrows lifting. "You found something?" "He named them. Crimson Dawn." The room went still. One of the analysts muttered, "The ones who carved the sun." "Exactly." Phillip crossed to the map. "He didn''t give names, but he didn''t need to. He confirmed what we already suspected¡ªthis wasn''t a panic breach. It was engineered. Multiple agents, embedded long before we ever got involved." Andrade''s face tightened. "How many?" Phillip exhaled. "Unknown. He hinted they''re everywhere. In uniform. In the ranks. Maybe even here. But he''s a fanatic. Delusional, maybe. What matters is that we take the possibility seriously." "We are going to contain all the survivors in this camp then." Chapter 137: We Are Going to do this in American Way "What do we tell MOA?" Andrade continued. Phillip didn''t hesitate. "We don''t message. I''ll brief Eagle in person." Andrade gave a short nod. "Then you better move. We''ve got storms rolling in by midnight. It''ll be a rough flight." Phillip tapped his comms. "Shadow Actual to Helipad Control. Prep a bird. I''m wheels up in ten." "Copy, Shadow Actual. Blackhawk 05 is ready. Fuel topped. Pilot on standby." Phillip turned and stepped back into the rain. *** The Blackhawk''s rotors were already spinning when Phillip arrived. The sound was deafening¡ªrain thrashed against the fuselage, whipped sideways by the rotor wash. The tarmac was slick, reflecting flashes of red and blue from perimeter lights and the occasional streak of lightning overhead. Shadow 2 handed him a sealed file pouch and shouted over the roar. "Survivor logs, bio scans, anomaly tags. Everything you need to brief the top." Phillip took it, slinging it over his chest. "Watch Reyes. If he so much as smiles wrong, sedate him." Shadow 2 gave a sharp nod and stepped back. Phillip ducked low and climbed into the cabin. The side doors slammed shut. Inside, the noise faded to a low thrum. The cabin was dark, only dim red cabin lights illuminating the interior. He settled into his seat and keyed his mic. "Shadow Actual to MOA Tower. This is Overwatch Blackhawk 05 requesting direct approach clearance. Priority package en route." "MOA Tower to Blackhawk 05. Clearance granted. Corridor Charlie-6. ETA: twenty-six minutes. Godspeed." The bird lifted off, rising steadily above the ruined camp. As the rotors carried them higher, the full view of the devastation came into focus. Bataan''s perimeter was fractured¡ªgates twisted, walls collapsed, entire sectors scorched black from the Reaper strikes. Tiny movement signatures still danced at the outer edge, but the compound was holding. For now. Phillip looked down at it through the window. All of it had burned. And it had only taken one true believer. The storm was easing by the time the city came into view¡ªManila''s coastline dotted with half-lit towers and the faint, flickering security grid of the MOA Complex glowing like a beacon in the dark. The shape of the reclaimed Mall of Asia was unmistakable: fortified walls, repurposed buildings, drone towers, and the helipad cluster lit up on the south end like a landing strip from a different world. Phillip adjusted his harness and double-checked the file pouch. He didn''t expect applause. But he needed Thomas to know what was brewing. Not just infection. Ideology. Fanaticism that thrived in collapse. Crimson Dawn wasn''t some scattered death cult clinging to scraps in the wilderness. They had strategy. Structure. Timing. And worse¡ªthey had believers willing to die for the fire. The Blackhawk circled once, then descended into the MOA''s primary pad. Rain hissed against the pavement. Ground crews sprinted in with ponchos flapping, guiding the aircraft with glow wands. The moment the wheels touched down, Phillip unbuckled and stepped into the wash. The wind tore at his coat, but he didn''t flinch. He moved with purpose across the tarmac, boots slapping hard against wet steel as he approached the elevator that would take him to the command level. By the time the doors hissed open and he stepped into the command briefing hall, Thomas Estaris was already there¡ªwaiting by the central holo-table, arms folded, eyes locked on the live drone uplink of Bataan. Phillip stopped three feet from him and dropped the file on the table. "We have a name." Thomas looked up, one brow raised. "Crimson Dawn," Phillip said. "And it wasn''t just sabotage. It was a purge. A ritual." Thomas didn''t speak for several seconds. "A cult, huh?" Thomas Estaris didn''t flinch when he said it. His voice was low, but not surprised. If anything, he sounded like a man who''d been waiting for this shoe to drop. The central holo-table glowed softly between them, displaying a pulsing top-down drone feed of Bataan¡ªthermal smears of Reaper strikes still fresh, the base half in ruins, half under occupation. Phillip stood across from him, drenched, jaw tight. The sealed pouch of reports lay unopened on the glass, but the word had already done its work. Crimson Dawn. Thomas reached out, tapped the side of the table once, and the projection zoomed in on a blood-smeared courtyard. The sun symbol was barely visible through the ash and wreckage. He exhaled through his nose and leaned forward slightly. "I had a feeling something like this would show up eventually," he muttered. Phillip raised an eyebrow. "You expected this?" "Not this exact group," Thomas clarified. "But zealots? People trying to make sense of all this with fire and prophecy?" He nodded once. "Yeah. I did." Thomas said, "A weeks after the apocalypse started and when I got the system, I watched movies and series and read books about the zombie apocalypse. There I learned about disaster sociology, cult theory, and panic behavior under mass trauma conditions. All those zombie movies people used to laugh at¡ªthey got a lot wrong. But not everything." Phillip crossed his arms. "You think these Crimson Dawn fanatics are drawing from pop culture?" "No," Thomas said, glancing at him. "I think they''re drawing from despair. But the shape of what they''ve become... it''s familiar." He inserted the drive into a port on the console. The room dimmed as data populated the table: psychological analysis reports, case studies from the 20th and 21st centuries. Koresh. Aum Shinrikyo. Heaven''s Gate. Patterns began to overlap. Language. Ritual. Self-destruction. Control. "Cults emerge in collapse," Thomas continued. "When institutions fall and people are afraid, they reach for anything¡ªespecially someone who promises purpose. Safety. Salvation." "He said they''ve already infiltrated other camps. That they''re embedded." "Of course they are," Thomas said. "If they weren''t, they wouldn''t be dangerous." "So how do we deal with the cults?" Phillip asked. "Well the answer to that is very simple, Phillip. We are going to find where they are hiding and we are going to do this the American way." "American way you mean..." "We are going to blow those motherfuckers because they can''t be part of the society any longer," Thomas replied with conviction. Chapter 138: Learning of the Crimson Dawn Four days after the battle in Bataan. The sound of the rain outside was muffled behind reinforced concrete and steel. Inside the briefing room, the lights hummed low and steady. Thomas Estaris stood by the holographic table, arms folded, expression unreadable as Phillip keyed in a command. A digital layout flickered to life, casting pale blue light over the room. Phillip tapped through the files, bringing up a series of dossiers pulled from interrogations and compiled intelligence. "Alright," Phillip began, his tone clipped, efficient. "We''ve confirmed the structure of the group responsible for the sabotage at Bataan. They call themselves¡ªCrimson Dawn." Thomas didn''t speak. He nodded once, prompting him to continue. Phillip pointed at the center node of the projected network. "At the top is a figure known as Elias Montano. They refer to him as the Crimson Prophet. No confirmed sightings. No known images. The man''s practically a myth. But every captive we''ve pulled names him as the spiritual leader¡ªabsolute authority. His word is doctrine. No one''s questioned him." He swiped left, bringing up five interconnected red icons. "Next tier¡ªThe Wakers. Think of them as the inner circle. Only five of them. Each one commands their own operational cell. But they don''t just lead¡ªthese are the cult''s enforcers and... propagators." "Propagators?" Thomas asked. Phillip nodded. "They use a diluted strain of the virus. We believe it''s chemically altered¡ªweaponized in small doses. Their goal is to induce what they call awakening. In reality, it causes hallucinations, fever spikes, sometimes seizures. A third of their test subjects die. The rest either go mad... or start preaching." Thomas narrowed his eyes. "So they''re turning the virus into a recruitment tool?" "Exactly," Phillip confirmed. "They inject potential converts, wait to see who survives, then indoctrinate the rest. It''s controlled exposure. Not unlike a bioweapon trial program¡ªbut run by religious fanatics." He tapped again, bringing up another set of nodes labeled Tithers. "Then we''ve got the Tithers. These are your tactical units. Mobile, fast, brutal. Eight to ten personnel per cell. Think scavengers with an executioner''s mindset. They hit survivor enclaves, military convoys, outposts¡ªtarget soft infrastructure and leave messages behind." "Messages?" Thomas asked. Phillip pulled up photos¡ªscenes from Bataan, a highway checkpoint, and a ruined village. Infected bodies strung up in ritualistic patterns. Walls painted in blood. Symbols burned into wood and concrete. "They leave infected corpses posed like saints, sun symbols drawn in blood, and in some cases¡ªcaptives sewn into the walls. It''s part terror campaign, part religious ritual." Thomas''s jaw flexed, but he said nothing. Phillip moved on. "Then we get to the most disturbing element¡ªThe Red Choir." He displayed footage taken from a drone sweep at Bataan: robed civilians, veils over their faces, hands clasped together as they walked through fire, humming in unison. "These are brainwashed civilians¡ªmostly women and children. Non-combatants by traditional metrics, but they''re used as psychological weapons. They chant during raids, recite sermons, and walk ahead of the attack lines. It creates confusion and hesitation among defenders. Soldiers freeze. People panic." "They''re cannon fodder," Thomas said grimly. Phillip nodded. "Weaponized innocence. And the worst part? Many of them go willingly. The Choir believe their sacrifice will earn them a place in what they call The Ascension." Thomas clenched his fists. "Sick bastards." Phillip didn''t argue. He tapped again. The last category appeared. "Final layer¡ªthe Scourged." The hologram shifted. Red-and-black thermal scans, autopsy images, and enhanced motion captures appeared. Grotesque humanoids in various states of decay, with barbed wire wrapped around limbs, bones showing, skin burned. "These are not your typical infected. They''re not turned in the wild. They''re engineered¡ªby the Wakers." "Engineered how?" Thomas asked, stepping closer. "They''re injected with viral cocktails¡ªcocktails we believe are a blend of live virus, neurostimulants, and suppressants. It renders them immune to pain, partially preserves motor function, and completely obliterates rational thought. The result is... this." Phillip zoomed in on a freeze frame from the battle¡ªone of the Scourged dragging itself across the concrete, its jaw hanging loose, eyes clouded, but arms still moving, still fighting. "They act as berserkers. Chain-bound until release. Deployed only when shock value is needed. They can''t be reasoned with. They can''t be broken. The only way to stop them is full dismemberment or headshot." Thomas didn''t say anything for a long while. He stared at the network map¡ªat the layers of madness, structure, belief. Finally, he stepped back and said, "This level of organization... all within the first year of collapse?" Phillip exhaled. "That''s what scares me." "Montano must''ve started this before the outbreak," Thomas muttered. "Maybe," Phillip said. "Or maybe it started the moment order fell. Some people look for food. Others look for meaning." Thomas looked over at him. "And these lunatics think meaning is found in blood, infection, and burning the world down." "They don''t just think it," Phillip said. "They believe it. They live it." He gestured at the wall where, beyond the blast doors, Waker Ramon was being held under maximum sedation. "And they''ll die for it too." Thomas stared at the map once more, jaw tight, eyes narrowed. "Not before we bleed them first." Phillip nodded. "Then we start by bleeding the Waker. He holds the answer to where their base of operations is." "Very well, let''s do that," Thomas agreed. Thomas Estaris entered first, shadowed closely by Phillip. The room was cold, sterile, built for isolation and observation. Thick walls, a single chair bolted to the floor, and reinforced two-way glass. Cameras tracked movement from every angle. And in the center of it all¡ªchained at the wrists and ankles, head bowed under a buzz of sedation¡ªsat Waker Ramon. He was awake now. Dried blood caked the sides of his mouth, and his eyes, though sunken, burned with something unnatural. Phillip stepped forward, a data slate tucked under one arm. He didn''t speak right away. Instead, he activated the projection unit embedded in the wall. A red-hued wireframe diagram spun into view. A digital structure of interconnected nodes¡ªnames, roles, patterns. Thomas folded his arms. "Tell him what we know." Phillip didn''t even glance at Ramon. He faced the projection and spoke like reading from a field manual. "Crimson Dawn. Structured cult. Five tiers." He tapped the center. "Elias Montano. Crimson Prophet. Supreme religious authority. Every member reports to him. His word is gospel¡ªunchallenged." He shifted to the next ring. "Five Wakers. Ramon here is one of them. Inner circle. Each Waker oversees indoctrination and deployment. They command cells, act as spiritual gatekeepers, and are responsible for ''awakening'' new followers." Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Define awakening." Phillip turned to face Ramon, who grinned faintly at the mention. "They inject a diluted strain of the virus," Phillip said. "It doesn''t always kill. Doesn''t always turn. But it always changes people. Induces hallucinations. Cognitive disassociation. Converts survivors into fanatics. The virus becomes a religious rite." Ramon chuckled, hoarse. "A rite of clarity. Of purpose. You should try it." Thomas''s expression didn''t move. "We already have clarity. You''re the one in chains." Unbothered, Ramon leaned back, the chains rattling against steel. Phillip continued. "Third tier: The Tithers. Assault cells. Eight to ten per group. Tasked with raids, abductions, resource theft. Known for leaving behind signs¡ªblood markings, infected crucified or mutilated, sometimes accompanied by chants recorded and played over speakers. Terror tactics wrapped in scripture." Ramon closed his eyes, mouthing something silently. Phillip ignored him. "Fourth tier: Red Choir. Civilian converts. Women. Children. The broken. Used in raids as living distractions. They walk in front of strike teams, veiled, chanting. They''re slow, deliberate, and psychologically devastating. Combatants hesitate. Civilians panic. It works." Thomas looked to Ramon. "You''re proud of using kids as cover?" Ramon opened one eye. "They''re not cover. They''re vessels. Singing the Flame into your ears." Thomas looked disgusted. Phillip pointed to the last node. "Final layer: The Scourged. Engineered infected. Injected with cocktails of virus, stimulants, and blood-thickening agents. Still partially functional. Immune to pain. Mindless, but directed. Unleashed like beasts. They don''t fear fire. They don''t stop." He brought up footage¡ªBataan''s motor pool. One Scourged dragging itself through fire. Screaming, burning, but moving. "They''re used for overwhelming fortified positions. Designed for chaos. And based on the medical data we pulled from recent engagements... every Scourged variant originated from your Wakers." Thomas finally stepped forward. He looked at Ramon. "You built all of this. Organized it. Deployed it. For what?" Ramon smiled. "To prepare the way. To cleanse. To let the fire walk among the ashes." Phillip interjected coldly. "We ran your bloodwork, Waker. There''s viral presence. You should be dead. Or one of them." Thomas''s eyes narrowed. "But you''re not." Ramon''s grin widened. "Because I have seen the Flame. And it has accepted me." "No," Phillip corrected, tapping on his slate. "Because you were dosed. Controlled exposure. Similar to what you give your initiates¡ªbut more refined. Your body fights the infection without succumbing. For now." He turned to Thomas. "This is the first case we''ve seen of active viral presence without full conversion or death. His immune response is unique. It''s possible they''ve stumbled onto a crude form of immunization... or at least viral suppression." Thomas tilted his head slightly. "So he''s useful." Phillip nodded. "If we study his blood, we might be able to reverse-engineer something. A suppressor. Maybe even a pathway toward full resistance." "And the cost?" Thomas asked. Phillip hesitated. "Subjects exposed to the Waker formula suffer extreme neurological degradation. Paranoia. Delusion. Fanaticism. They become functionally insane¡ªregardless of infection status." Thomas let out a breath and stared at Ramon again. "You think your god saved you," he said quietly. Ramon''s expression lit up. "The Flame doesn''t save. It purges. Only those who surrender fully are made whole." Thomas leaned in, voice low. "You''re not whole. You''re a lab rat that happened to survive the first dose. And now? You''re going to be the first step in ending this nightmare. You''re not special. You''re data." That wiped the grin from Ramon''s face for a moment. He spat at Thomas''s boots. "You mock what you don''t understand. But the Prophet is coming. And when he does... even your skies will burn." Thomas stepped back, flicked the saliva off his boot with a wipe. And then¡ªthe system notification chimed in. [New Mission Available! Tap to see the details of the mission." "Oh..." Thomas mused. "What could it be." Chapter 139: New Mission The interface shimmered to life in Thomas''s peripheral vision¡ªsilent, unobtrusive, and as mysterious as ever. No sound accompanied the system''s alert, but the rectangular prompt pulsed in a faint red hue only he could see. [New Mission Available! Tap to see the details of the mission.] Thomas blinked once. Phillip didn''t notice a thing; he was busy flipping through biometric logs on his slate, refining threat assessments. Waker Ramon, still chained to the steel chair, stared with glassy eyes and a faint smirk. Thomas tapped the floating interface with an invisible gesture. The prompt expanded. [SYSTEM MISSION INTERFACE] Primary Mission: EXTERMINATE THE CRIMSON DAWN Objective: ¡ª Locate and eliminate all known Crimson Dawn enclaves. ¡ª Capture or kill Elias Montano, codename: "The Crimson Prophet." ¡ª Destroy cult operations within the region. Constraints: ¡ª Complete within 14 days to receive full rewards. ¡ª Collateral damage to Overwatch or civilian survivors must be minimized. Reward: ¡ª [Blood Coin Capsule] ¡Á1 ¡ª [Experience Capsule ] ¡Á1 Thomas stared at the mission text, his expression unreadable. Blood Coin. Experience Capsule. He knew what this means, they are a force multiplier like the ones he had gotten in the early days of the apocalypse. And they are the best item he could have received ever from the system. He closed the window with a blink. The projection vanished from his sight. Phillip glanced up. "Everything alright?" "Perfect," Thomas replied calmly, stepping closer to Ramon again. The cultist was still grinning. His bloodshot eyes sparkled in the cold light of the interrogation cell, but that arrogance hadn''t dulled. Not even after being chained, bloodied, or sedated. "I''m done asking politely," Thomas said, voice low and sharp. Waker Ramon raised an eyebrow, like he was being invited to a joke he already knew the punchline to. "Tell me where your Prophet is hiding," Thomas said. "Tell me where your base is." Ramon leaned forward, chains scraping. "If I tell you, what would you do?" "Burn it." Ramon laughed. "That''s what he wants." Thomas didn''t hesitate. He pulled his M9 Beretta from the holster and shot Ramon in the left shoulder. The sound cracked through the room like a whip. Ramon''s head snapped back. Blood misted across the rear wall. Phillip flinched slightly. "Sir¡ª" But Ramon only laughed harder, gasping through the pain, teeth red. "Do it again," Ramon hissed, giddy. "Every time you hurt me, the Flame grows brighter in my blood." Thomas re-aimed. This time at his right thigh. "Do it!" Ramon screamed. But Thomas lowered the weapon, eyes narrowing. "No," he muttered. Ramon''s breathing slowed, the grin still twitching on his face. "What''s the matter, unbeliever? You afraid to finish what you started?" "No," Thomas said, turning away. "I realized something." He turned back to Phillip, who raised an eyebrow. "They''re too new," Thomas said. "Their doctrine, their tactics, the engineered infected¡ªit''s all too organized for something that''s been around for only a few months." "You said yourself they have structure," Phillip replied. "Exactly. And structure requires time to spread," Thomas said. "But in this environment? The Philippines? With most of the highways blocked by debris, infected hordes, and abandoned vehicles¡ªthere''s no way they''ve spread nationwide. No long-distance travel. No safe convoy routes. Even the military had to rely on airlifts." Phillip followed the logic quickly. "You think they''re local." "They have to be," Thomas said. "Somewhere near Bataan. That''s where the choir came from. Where the Scourged were released. Where Waker Ramon embedded himself." "They didn''t infiltrate from the outside," Phillip muttered. "They grew nearby. Embedded themselves while the region fell." "Exactly," Thomas nodded. "Which means their home base¡ªwhatever temple or bunker they''re crawling in¡ªis within walking or at least short-driving distance. Hidden. Maybe even in the jungle." He turned fully to Phillip. "We''re deploying Reaper drones. Three of them. Tactical sweep. Ten-kilometer radius around Bataan." Phillip nodded instantly. "We can launch it. They''ll cover the western highlands, the jungle to the north, and the coastal shantytowns east. We''ll configure thermal sweeps and electromagnetic scans for underground bunkers or heat signatures." Thomas looked back one last time at Ramon. The Waker sat slumped, blood trickling down his arm, lips still moving in some fevered prayer to a god of flame and death. "You''re done," Thomas muttered to him. But Ramon''s eyes sparked open. "No," he whispered. "You are." Thomas didn''t respond. He motioned to the guard posted behind the glass. "Put him under again. Heavy sedation. Keep him alive, but barely. I want him conscious enough to bleed. We''ll need more samples." Phillip keyed his slate and activated the drone relay. "I''ll have Reaper One-One, One-Three, and One-Six airborne in thirty minutes," he said. "I''ll have them sweep every square inch of terrain that can shelter fifty or more people." Thomas exhaled through his nose and began walking toward the exit. "Good. Because I want this cult ended before it even learns how to breathe." "Understood," Phillip said. "We''ll trace their steps. No sermon goes unanswered." *** Outside the MOA Complex, specifically at the reclamated land that was converted into an airstrip. Three MQ-9 Reaper drones stood prepped on their launch skids, their slender fuselages gleaming with moisture under white arc lamps. Maintenance crews in gray exo-rigs moved with clinical precision, sealing hatches and running last-minute diagnostics. Each drone bore the Overwatch emblem¡ªa crimson eye etched beneath the cockpit housing¡ªand a designation stenciled across the tail: R-11, R-13, R-16. Their wings buzzed as internal systems hummed online. "Fuel status?" came the voice of the operations chief over comms. "Full tanks. Battery modules green. Optics clear." The command tower lit a green signal. "Authorization granted. Launch protocol confirmed." Hydraulic lifts raised the drones into launch position. One by one, their engines roared to life¡ªlow, whirring growls that grew into fierce howls as each bird accelerated down the catapult rails. Then, one after another, they were airborne¡ªsleek silhouettes climbing into the rain-drenched night, their infrared sensors already sweeping the jungle and ruin below. "Reapers are in the air! I repeat, Reapers are in the air!" The hunt had begun. Chapter 140 140: Hunter Over Bataan Province, Luzon Altitude: 8,000 feet AGL The night sky above the province of Bataan was thick with low clouds and cold mist, but high above them, three Reaper drones cut silently through the upper atmosphere, their cameras panning. Inside the MOA Complex control tower, the Tactical Aerial Reconnaissance Bay was alive with quiet voices and flickering monitors. Techs moved between consoles, adjusting parameters and marking heat signatures. The entire room smelled of plastic, sweat, and focus. "Reaper One-One, this is Control. Begin Phase One of the sweep," said a voice over comms. A synthetic voice replied, male, calm, and flat. "Reaper One-One copy. Engaging west sector grid alpha. IR sweep commencing." Far below, blackened jungle sprawled endlessly, interrupted only by roads lost to time and rusted shells of trucks choked in vines. Reaper One-One banked slightly and began a slow descent to improve thermal accuracy. "Reaper One-Two, divert east by 15 degrees. Shantytown cluster incoming. Elevation drop advised," Control directed. "Copy that. Adjusting heading. Scanning sector Charlie-3," One-Two responded, this one with a clipped female tone, synthetic but distinctly sharp. The third drone, Reaper One-Three, lagged slightly behind but held altitude. "This is One-Three, sweeping northern highlands. Getting weird cross-signals. Probably interference from old transmission towers. Recalibrating now." Control patched into all three feeds at once, each displayed across segmented monitors in the operations bay. What the drones saw was relayed in real-time: flickers of body heat in ruined homes, clusters of animal signatures in tree cover, and flickering white traces buried within old stone foundations. "Thermals clear so far," One-One said. "But I''ve got an anomaly." "Go ahead." "Grid 9-Bravo. Thermal bloom underneath collapsed chapel roof. No movement aboveground, but something''s warm in the basement level." Control leaned in. "Get us visuals." One-One obeyed. The camera feed zoomed in until the shattered remains of a Spanish-era church filled the screen. The stonework was fractured, the roof half caved in. From above, it looked abandoned¡ªtypical of so many ruins left behind in the wake of the collapse. But beneath it... the temperature was rising. "Confirming abnormal heat signature," One-One said. "Basement or substructure. Holding steady at human body temperature range. Consistent. Sustained. Not wildlife." Control marked it on the master map. A red dot blinked just outside the southern jungleline. "One-Two, shift focus. Move to cover the approach vector. We want to box it in." "Copy," came the reply. One-Two''s camera panned southeast. Through its infrared lens, the coastal shantytowns glowed faintly¡ªstill inhabited, barely surviving. Fires in barrels, figures moving like ghosts across rooftops. But nothing stood out. No heavy congregation. No bunkered heat. "Negative activity here," One-Two reported. "Mostly civilians. Malnourished. Doesn''t match Crimson profile." One-Three chimed in. "Highlands scan complete. No bunker activity. But I''ve got something else¡ªEM spike. Directional antenna, buried deep. It''s active." "Can you triangulate?" "Working on it. Signal strength rising. It''s pinging intermittently. Possible encrypted uplink." Control cut into the private channel to Thomas. "Eagle, we might have something. Two hits¡ªone heat, one electronic." In the MOA briefing room, Thomas stood before a feed relay, arms crossed. Phillip was next to him, watching the grid populate. "Overlay the church and the EM source," Thomas said. The tech complied. Two red dots glowed. The EM spike came from roughly a kilometer northwest of the chapel. Phillip frowned. "Too close for coincidence." Thomas nodded. "That''s not a chapel anymore. That''s a mask." "Permission to go active?" Control asked. "Denied," Thomas said instantly. "No missiles. No loud calls. Not yet." Phillip raised an eyebrow. "We need confirmation first," Thomas said. "Visual. I want to know who''s inside that ruin before we make noise." Reaper One-One adjusted its angle. The drone hovered in place, zooming in closer now. Its high-resolution night optics cut through the dark like a blade. Inside the ruined nave, near the altar, movement. "Contact. Confirmed visual," One-One announced. "Multiple figures. Huddled. Praying." Thomas leaned closer. "How many?" "One-One counting... twelve. All veiled. Children included. Singing." Phillip muttered, "Red Choir." "Still think they''re not local?" Thomas said. "Not anymore." One-Two chimed back in. "I''ve got vehicle tracks leading into the chapel compound from the north. Tire marks are fresh¡ªdirt kicked up in the last twelve hours." "Origin point?" Phillip asked. "Following the trail now... leading toward the hills." Reaper One-Two''s camera followed the faint grooves through the overgrowth until it panned across a stone ridge. Behind it¡ªhalf-buried in the jungle¡ªwas a metallic structure. "Hold," Thomas said. The camera focused. A heavy steel hatch, surrounded by camouflage netting. Vines hung naturally over it. At first glance, it was just another part of the forest. Then the thermal came through. "Heat bloom confirmed. Multiple levels. Internal lighting systems active. That''s a bunker." Thomas''s jaw tightened. "Found them." "Reaper One-Three?" Phillip asked. "I''m watching the perimeter. No signs of guards, but something is under the foliage. Getting faint EM leaks. Might be generators or internal comms." Thomas stared at the screen, then gave the order. "Mark all positions. Transmit full recon packet to command." Phillip nodded, already tapping the slate. "Shall I prep the combat teams?" "Yeah, we are going in," Thomas said, rising to his feet. "And I am coming." "I have no objections with that," Phillip replied, locking eyes with him. "But if you''re coming, we''re going in heavy. No half-measures." Thomas nodded. "Exactly. We hit them hard, fast, and without mercy. I want to level that bunker before they even realize we''re above them." Across the room, the operations tech confirmed, "Full recon packet transmitted. Mission parameters locked." Thomas turned to the live feeds again. Onscreen, Reaper One-One hovered silently in the clouds above the chapel ruin, its gaze fixed on the veiled silhouettes of the Red Choir below¡ªchildren, teenagers, a few women swaying gently in prayer, completely unaware that the eye of death was watching. Reaper One-Two was still scanning the ridge, now focused on the camouflaged hatch tucked into the jungle. Its thermal scan showed movement inside. Not many. But enough. Then Reaper One-Three''s camera panned right¡ªcapturing a flicker of something deeper in the forest. A shimmer of light from a slit in the ground. Another entrance? Or a ventilation shaft? "Reaper One-Three to Control," the voice crackled. "I''ve got a secondary anomaly. Possible auxiliary tunnel entrance. Coordinates uploading." Phillip''s eyes narrowed. "They''ve got an escape route." "Not for long," Thomas muttered, pulling on his tactical vest. The hunt was over. The strike was coming. Chapter 141 141: The Hunt Begins MOA Complex ¨C Pre-Deployment Hangar 0400 Hours, Local Time Eight Overwatch special forces operatives stood in a line, already geared up in dark-gray tactical suits reinforced with lightweight ceramic plating. Their helmets bore infrared visors and voice-dampening masks. Each soldier carried a suppressed carbine, sidearm, breaching tools, and compact hydration packs. A few had drone uplinks on their backs, others carried explosive charges. At the front of the line stood Phillip, running his final checks on a data-slate secured to his forearm. Beside him, Thomas Estaris strapped on a matte-black combat vest. He wore a reinforced load-bearing rig with dual pistol holsters, a suppressed DMR on his back, and an Overwatch officer''s insignia across his left chestplate. "You sure you want to come?" Phillip asked, adjusting his rifle sling. "I''m not sitting this one out," Thomas replied, snapping a magazine into place. "This cult made it personal the moment they turned children into weapons." Phillip didn''t argue. He tapped his slate and turned to the team. "Alright. Listen up." The squad immediately shifted their attention, all eyes on the commander. "We drop two clicks south of the chapel. No vehicles past the LZ. We move in on foot, single file. Low profile. No noise." "Rules of engagement?" asked the lead breacher, callsign Ghost. "We confirm identification first," Phillip said. "Crimson Dawn operatives only. No indiscriminate fire. That chapel has Red Choir inside¡ªcivilians, brainwashed or not. We clear the field the hard way." Thomas stepped forward. "We''re not here to raze the whole jungle. We''re here to carve out the rot. I want that compound under our control by dawn. Bunker, uplink station, ventilation shaft¡ªall of it secured. The Prophet dies if he''s there. Any Wakers we capture alive go straight to containment." Ghost nodded. "Understood." The final gear checks came quickly. Ammo counted. Radios synced. Comm silence tested. Each operator gave a thumbs up as they filed into the hangar''s deployment bay where a UH-60 Blackhawk waited, blades slowly turning in the pre-dawn mist. The rain had slowed to a light drizzle, barely a whisper on the bird''s armored shell. Visibility was low, which worked in their favor. Thomas climbed aboard first, sitting by the open door, eyes scanning the horizon. Phillip was last in, tapping the pilot''s shoulder. "Take us up." "Roger that. Lifting in ten." The rotors roared louder, then stabilized as the Blackhawk rose into the sky and banked northward toward Bataan. Below them, the terrain was a patchwork of shadow and decay. Abandoned roads overgrown with moss. Ghost towns. Forests choked in fog. The wreckage of the old world. The flight lasted less than ten minutes. "Approaching LZ," came the pilot''s voice in their earpieces. "Set us down two clicks out. Just past the ridge," Phillip ordered. "Copy. Touching down in thirty." The helicopter dropped into a narrow clearing flanked by tall grass and jungle trees. As soon as the skids touched down, the team poured out, moving fast and low. Boots hit the mud. Suppressed rifles snapped into place. The squad moved without a word, their formation tight as the Blackhawk lifted off again and vanished into the gray sky. Thomas crouched by the map Phillip displayed on his slate. They were just over two kilometers from the chapel. The jungle between them and the target was dense but manageable. "We move fast. No chatter unless it''s urgent," Phillip whispered. "Shadow-2, you''re on point. Shadow-3, flank left. Reaper One-One''s feed puts the chapel dead ahead. Let''s go." The jungle swallowed them quickly¡ªmassive ferns, twisting vines, and gnarled roots underfoot. Every step was deliberate. The team moved like phantoms. They stopped twice to scan heat signatures with portable monitors. Both times, it was animals¡ªsmall, wild things that scattered at the scent of movement. At 0500 hours, they crested a rise and saw the target. The ruined chapel stood quiet under the canopy. From their vantage point, it looked like nothing more than a relic of the past¡ªits roof collapsed, altar exposed to the sky. But they knew better. Phillip raised a fist. The squad dropped low behind the underbrush. Reaper One-One''s live feed displayed in Thomas''s monocle overlay. The thermal image confirmed at least twelve bodies inside the structure¡ªnone of them armed, all kneeling in rows. Red Choir. Children. Thomas exhaled slowly. "They are so fucked up," Thomas muttered under his breath, eyes hard beneath the visor. Phillip nodded, adjusting the magnification on his monocle. "They''re not fighters. At least not in the conventional sense. But they''re part of it. Part of the machine." "Do they know what they''re doing?" Shadow-3 whispered quietly over the comms. "No," Phillip answered. "And that''s the problem. They believe they''re doing something holy." Thomas looked across the line, his voice firm through the channel. "No one opens fire unless I give the order. I don''t care what you see. Confirmed identification only." "Yes, sir," came the hushed reply from the squad. They watched from cover for a full minute. The Red Choir inside the chapel continued its gentle swaying. The humming was barely audible through the audio tap on Reaper One-One, but it made Thomas''s skin crawl. The cadence was like a lullaby stitched to a funeral dirge. Phillip checked his slate. "Hatch is 300 meters north from the chapel. We split. Team Alpha hits the chapel. Bravo hits the hatch." Thomas nodded. "I''ll go with Alpha." Phillip tapped his slate. "Bravo with me. Shadow-3, you''re with Thomas. Let''s make this clean." Shadow-3 gave a subtle nod, already sliding into position beside Thomas. The team began fanning out, each member vanishing into the undergrowth like ghosts. Leaves barely rustled. Not a word was spoken. Thomas checked his DMR one last time, then moved down the slope with calculated steps, eyes sweeping for movement. The closer they got, the louder the humming became¡ªlow, rhythmic, full of devotion and madness. Fifty meters to target. The chapel loomed beyond the trees, its crumbling stone walls half-swallowed by vines. Phillip''s voice came through the comms, low and calm. "Team Bravo in position. Hatch in sight." Thomas clicked his mic once in response. No words. Just readiness. This was it. Chapter 142: We Are Going In Boys Thomas moved first. Shadow-3 flanked him, silent and close, their carbine at the low ready. Behind them, Ghost and another operator from Alpha Team crept forward, spacing themselves evenly along the treeline. The ruined chapel stood still in the clearing¡ªjust as it had from the drone feed. Cracked arches. Crumbled pews. An altar made of stone and fire-blackened wood. But it wasn''t empty. Twelve veiled figures swayed in rhythm, kneeling in uneven rows near the altar. Thin robes clung to skin soaked by the jungle humidity. The children didn''t move like children. They didn''t look around, didn''t speak, didn''t fidget. They hummed¡ªlow, reverent, hypnotic. Thomas''s fingers tightened around his DMR. He and his team fanned out in a wide crescent formation around the building''s left perimeter. The eastern wall had a collapsed section¡ªjust wide enough for silent entry. Shadow-3 held up two fingers. Two guards, partially hidden behind support columns. Both male. Both armed¡ªbarely. Rusted bolt-action rifles slung lazily over their backs. Thomas didn''t hesitate. He slipped forward, one step at a time, boots kissing the wet stone floor with almost no sound. He reached the edge of the archway, crouched low, and waited. The guard turned¡ªjust slightly. A clearing of his throat. A shift in posture. Thomas struck. A suppressed shot cracked like a muffled cough. The round entered just beneath the chin. The cultist collapsed without a sound, blood pooling beneath him like dark ink on an altar floor. Shadow-3 moved a heartbeat later, crossing the gap in a crouch, blade in hand. The second guard had just begun to glance left when the blade kissed his throat. A clean draw. No scream. Only a twitch, a gurgle, and silence again. The squad pressed forward. Thomas stepped into the nave first, and immediately, the air shifted. It was warm. Too warm. A fire burned in a makeshift brazier beside the altar, fed with wax, bone, and fabric. The stench was unmistakable¡ªcharred hair, sweat, and something metallic. Blood. Old and new. The Red Choir didn''t react. They continued their chant. Veiled heads bowed. Lips moved in slow, rhythmic whispers. Every child bore cuts on their arms¡ªfresh, deliberate. Some had black symbols painted across their foreheads. Sunrays. Circles. Spirals of ash. Thomas''s jaw clenched. One of the operators, Shadow-5, whispered over comms. "What the fuck is this..." "Hold position," Thomas said, voice sharp. "We identify first." He moved slowly along the pews, scanning faces, postures, hands. And then he saw her. A teenage girl, maybe sixteen. Her veil was torn. One eye swollen shut. But around her neck¡ªwoven into her necklace¡ªwas a looped patch of crimson thread and teeth. Not human. Thomas turned slightly. "Confirmed. She''s one of them." The girl suddenly smiled. "Praise the Flame," she whispered. She lunged. Too fast. A blade flashed from beneath her robe. Thomas ducked and drove the butt of his rifle into her sternum. She collapsed with a shriek¡ªnot of pain, but joy. "NOW!" he barked. Alpha Team surged forward. Two Red Choir members screamed and ran¡ªstraight into waiting blades. One reached for a hidden pistol¡ªThomas dropped her with a double-tap to the chest. Shadow-3 tackled a boy no older than ten. The child bit down on a capsule in his cheek. Foam spilled from his mouth. He died smiling. One by one, the veils fell¡ªand the illusions with them. Half the Choir were converts. The other half were suicide pawns. One tried to light a molotov. It shattered in her hand. She went up in flames, screaming scripture until her lungs cooked inside her ribs. Ghost reported in. "Chapel is clear. Six confirmed Crimson. Six unarmed converts. All down." Thomas stood amid the bodies, breathing heavily, eyes wide behind the visor. He looked toward the altar. There was a book. Bound in leather. Pages soaked in what he could only guess was blood. Symbols etched with knives. Chant lines. Ritual procedures. Waker commands. Phillip''s voice came over the radio. "Bravo Team secured the hatch. Entry delayed¡ªbooby-trapped. We''re cutting through the side." Thomas didn''t reply. He knelt by the book and flipped through its pages. Drawings of the Scourged. Injection procedures. Maps of "the cleanse." A prayer for each organ when removed from a body. Thomas closed it and handed it to Phillip. "Bag this. It goes straight to intel. We are going deeper." Ghost took the blood-soaked tome and sealed it in a black containment bag, tagging it with a glowing blue chip before slinging it across his back. Thomas stood, brushing grime from his gloves. The bodies still twitched slightly¡ªreflexes. Nerve endings misfiring. Smoke from the brazier stung his eyes. Shadow-3 looked up from one of the bodies. "Sir, she wasn''t carrying a weapon." Thomas didn''t flinch. "She reached for a blade. That''s all that matters." Behind them, the rest of Alpha Team swept through the chapel''s side rooms¡ªbare stone closets with rotted cots, dried blood on the floor, and markings scorched into the walls. More symbols. Some familiar. Some new. Some disturbing enough that even hardened operators didn''t want to say their names out loud. Thomas checked his slate. The live feed from Reaper One-One still showed the jungle around the chapel clear. The drone hovered at high altitude, vigilant and silent. He tapped his earpiece. "Bravo, status?" Phillip answered with a low grunt of exertion. "Charges placed. Cutting through the western foundation wall. Booby trap''s nested just inside the hatch. Motion sensor and chemical trip. Looks like nerve agent¡ªjury-rigged. Not amateur." Thomas turned to his team. "Alpha, we''re moving. Regroup with Bravo and prepare for breach." The team filed out, quiet as shadows, stepping over the broken bodies of the Red Choir. At the edge of the clearing, Thomas paused. He looked back once. The chapel stood still. Silent now. Just stone and ash. But the smell lingered. The memory clung. They hadn''t just killed cultists in there. They had killed what was left of the children who couldn''t be saved. Thomas adjusted the strap on his rifle and stepped into the jungle without a word. Ahead, Bravo waited at the hatch. Below that? The pit. The nerve center. The nest. And Thomas planned to gut it. Chapter 143: Spotted You The bunker door gave way with a muffled crack, the detonation of the precision charge barely louder than a dropped helmet. Smoke curled from the breach as Phillip stepped forward, rifle up, visor shimmering with IR overlays. "Gas trace?" "Negative," Shadow-6 confirmed, sweeping the opening with a handheld sensor. "Trap was a dud or rigged incomplete. Nerve agent would have blown with more pressure. They meant it as a scare tactic." "Scare or not, they knew we were coming. And I am kind of liking their ingenuinety here." Thomas muttered. The hatch yawned open before them, revealing a steep staircase descending into blackness. No lights. No sound. Just the damp stink of mold and rust¡ªand beneath that, the unmistakable reek of rot. "Stack up," Phillip ordered. The team moved quickly, single file, rifles up, masks sealed. Thomas took second position, behind Ghost. He could feel the heat radiating from the narrow stairwell, unnatural and stale. They descended. ** Fifteen steps. Thirty. Then the walls changed. The raw concrete gave way to something older. Brick, maybe. Limestone, damp and cracked. Candles lined the hallway, unlit but melted down to stubs. Finger-sized scratch marks etched the mortar. "Movement ahead," whispered Shadow-4. "Faint. Breathing." Phillip nodded once. The line paused. Ahead, the hallway opened into a circular room. Cells lined the perimeter¡ªbars rusted, some doors hanging open. Inside the cages were bodies. Too thin. Too small. Some slumped in corners. Some sprawled flat. One child pressed her forehead to the bars, eyes wide, mouth stitched shut. Thomas froze. "...Jesus Christ." Ghost moved forward. "No heat signatures. All cold. They''re dead." Phillip scanned the room. One of the cells was still warm¡ªfresh blood on the floor, a trail leading into another tunnel. "They''re moving victims deeper," he said. "Keep going." They followed the blood trail into a descending corridor. The humming returned¡ªfaint at first, but growing louder. Chanting. "The Flame devours... the flesh dissolves... the soul ascends..." The passage opened again, this time into a chamber lit with fire. A circle of veiled figures stood around a stone altar. Shackles lined the floor. A body lay across the slab. Woman. Alive. Gagged. Eyes wild. "Move!" Thomas ordered. Flashbangs were tossed. The room erupted in chaos. Gunfire. Screams. Veils fell. Men with syringes lunged toward the operators. One jabbed at Shadow-2. Missed. Got shot point blank in the face. Another flung herself into the fire, laughing. The woman on the altar shrieked, kicking. Thomas sprinted forward. Cut the binds. Dragged her clear. Behind him, Ghost crushed a cultist against the wall with his boot, muzzle pressing into his neck. "Where is Montano?" "He is here!" the man grinned. "He sees you." A shot rang out. Ghost stepped back. "We don''t need riddles." The woman was sobbing now, clutching Thomas. Phillip stepped up. "We need to go deeper." "There''s more?" "Yeah," Phillip said. "There''s a set of reinforced doors on the far side. EM signal leads through there. That has to be the nerve center." Thomas turned to the rescued woman. "Did you see him? The one they call the Prophet?" She nodded, eyes shaking. "He wears white. Not robes. Not like the others. A coat. Red inside." Thomas rose slowly, chambering a round. "Let''s go find him." And end this. Once and for all. The reinforced doors groaned as they swung inward, hinges grinding like bones in a tomb. The room beyond was colder, darker¡ªsterile in some places, blood-soaked in others. Long metal tables. Surgical tools. Syringes neatly arranged next to chains and saws. Thomas stepped through first, his boots clicking on the black tile. The temperature dropped. Phillip followed with the rest of the team, sweeping left and right. The walls were lined with glass cases¡ªsome shattered, others fogged from the inside. Inside them, humanoid figures floated, suspended in amber liquid, their flesh twisted and warped beyond recognition. Some were eyeless. Others had metal fused into their arms or spines. Shadow-4 whispered, "What the hell were they building down here..." "Not building," Thomas said. "Sacrificing." At the center of the chamber was a large metal hatch sealed by a biometric lock. Next to it, a console flickered with strange code¡ªnumbers and symbols scrolling endlessly, looping in rhythmic pulses. Phillip moved to the panel and plugged in a bypass probe from his slate. "It''s encrypted," he muttered. "Some sort of homebrewed firmware. But I''ve seen worse." Behind them, the rest of the team fanned out, checking the corners, covering the doors. The rescued woman from earlier sat trembling beside a pillar. She couldn''t stop whispering to herself. "Red inside... red inside... red inside..." The hatch opened with a hiss. Lights flickered on. And a voice echoed through unseen speakers. "I see you." It wasn''t loud. But it echoed through the bones. Thomas lifted his rifle. "Visuals," he snapped. Reaper One-One''s signal kicked in through the uplink in his monocle. The drone had repositioned above them, using its heat map to track through the sublevels. "Movement. Single target. Down the main corridor, thirty meters. Standing still." They advanced. The hall stretched long, lined with murals painted in dried blood. Scenes of fire. Screaming figures. Sun symbols etched into every surface. And at the end of the hall, bathed in the pale light of a dozen candles, stood the Prophet. Seemingly the leader. He was tall. Taller than he looked in the last glimpse. His white coat flowed like robes now, flaring red as it brushed the floor. His face was calm, composed¡ªalmost handsome, if not for the fever in his eyes. He stood with arms folded behind his back. "I''ve waited so long for this," he said, voice smooth, pleasant. Thomas didn''t reply. Montano tilted his head. "You''ve seen what we''ve built. You''ve seen the ash and the flame. And yet you still do not understand. We aren''t trying to survive this world." He spread his arms. "We are ending it. Perfecting it." Phillip raised his rifle. "You''re done talking." Montano didn''t flinch. "I''ve already succeeded," he said, smiling. Then the lights cut out. And something growled behind them. Chapter 144 144: The Prophet In an instant, visors switched to night mode¡ªflickering from green to red as thermal overlays came alive. The room, once lit by pale fire and desecrated candles, now glowed with the heat of moving bodies... and one enormous heat bloom, rising in the corner. Phillip pivoted first, flashlight mounted to his rifle snapping on in a tight beam. The wall¡ªno, the back wall¡ªwas moving. "Contact rear!" shouted Ghost. The figure that emerged from the shadows was not human. At least, not anymore. It had once been a man¡ªtwice the size of anyone in the room, muscle straining against the bones of something broken and reforged. Flesh melted with rot. Thick cords of pulsing muscle were strung together with surgical staples. Its face was stretched, mouth sewn into a bloody grin, eyes milky and twitching in all directions. The Scourged. But this one... was different. It wore a chain of bones across its chest. Injectors still jammed into its back, feeding black fluid through tubes that ran straight into its neck. "This one''s a different!" Phillip yelled. "Contain it!" The creature roared. It charged. Thomas moved fast¡ªshoving the rescued woman back behind cover as the beast lunged, crushing pews and altars like cardboard. Shadow-3 opened fire first, rounds striking center mass. Nothing. Not a flinch. "Flank it!" Thomas barked, rolling left as the monster''s arm swept through the air, narrowly missing Ghost''s head. The backhand slammed into a stone column, cracking it in half. "Too thick for small arms!" Phillip called out. "Target the injectors!" The beast turned, hissing, the tubes on its back pulsing like serpents. Thomas raised his DMR, toggled to thermal. The injectors glowed hot. "Hit the tanks!" he shouted, squeezing the trigger. The first shot struck a metal casing on the monster''s shoulder. The injector hissed, leaking steam. The beast screamed¡ªnot in pain, but in rage. It charged again, this time faster. Shadow-5 tossed a flashbang. It went off with a sharp crack, but the monster didn''t stop. It grabbed Shadow-6 mid-dodge and hurled him across the room like a ragdoll. He slammed into the wall and crumpled, motionless. "Dammit¡ªSix is down!" Ghost reported. Thomas ducked low, sliding between rubble, came up behind the creature''s flank. He emptied a full mag into the exposed spinal column where another injector jutted out. Metal sparked. The beast howled, twisting violently. It spun around, slamming Thomas back with the flat of its forearm. His HUD cracked. Alarms blared in his ear. Phillip jumped onto a collapsed altar, flanking high, spraying burst fire into the upper neck. "Keep pressure on it! We drop this bastard now!" Shadow-3 crawled into position beneath the creature''s legs, planted a satchel charge on its ankle, and rolled out. "On your mark!" "NOW!" Phillip triggered it. The explosion took the lower leg off at the joint. The monster toppled, bellowing, but even as it fell, it swung wildly, clipping Shadow-3 and opening a deep gash across her thigh. Thomas staggered to his feet, bleeding, eyes locked on the creature dragging itself forward¡ªarms digging like claws, mouth tearing at the ground. He lifted his DMR. "I''ve had enough of you." He shot one last injector¡ªdead center on the spine. It detonated. The chemical reaction ignited the bloodstream, the creature spasming violently before collapsing in a heap of blood, bile, and black smoke. Silence. Only the sound of gasping breaths, groaning metal, and leaking injectors remained. Shadow-3 groaned. "Fuck... I''m good. I''m good." Phillip moved to Shadow-6. Checked for a pulse. "Alive. Unconscious. We''ll evac him later." Thomas stepped forward, rifle slack in his hands, staring at the monster''s ruined body. Its mouth hung open now, sewn lips split wide by death. The "ascension" Montano had promised. Just more rot. Just more lies. A slow clap echoed through the chamber. From the doorway on the far side, backlit by firelight and shadow, Elias Montano stepped forward. He was calm. Composed. His coat¡ªwhite on the outside, red satin inside¡ªhung perfectly over his lean frame. His hair was slicked back. His hands were folded behind him like a teacher watching students fail a test. "You killed him," he said, tone almost admiring. "He was my finest creation." Thomas raised his rifle. Montano didn''t flinch. "Don''t," the Prophet said. "You''ve already seen what we can do. And you''ve only tasted the surface." Phillip aimed as well, stepping closer. "Surrender." Montano tilted his head. "To what? You burned my chapel. Shot my children. Killed my shepherd." He took one step forward. Thomas didn''t lower the rifle. And yet... Elias smiled. "That... is why I chose this country. Because even the righteous have blood on their hands. Even order must taste chaos to survive." Thomas stared him down. "No speeches." Montano''s smile faltered. "You were supposed to fall." "Then you should''ve built better monsters." Thomas squeezed the trigger. But Montano was already moving¡ªsliding behind the archway, deeper into the firelit corridor. "AFTER HIM!" Phillip shouted. The squad surged forward again. This time, into the Prophet''s den. And Thomas wasn''t leaving without his head. Boots thundered over cracked stone. Flashlights cut through the smoke and strobe-lit embers. Thomas sprinted hard, rifle tight in his grip, his blood still hot from the fight with the Scourged. "Left tunnel!" Ghost shouted, spotting Montano''s white coat vanish into the darkness. Phillip flicked his laser sight forward. "He''s funneling us into a choke. Watch for traps!" They rounded the bend¡ªonly to be met with a shower of sparks. A makeshift trip flare ignited behind them, casting long shadows up the walls. No one slowed. Thomas was already vaulting over fallen debris, closing distance. Up ahead, Montano ran with surprising speed, his coat flaring behind him like a banner of defiance. He reached for something at his belt¡ªa flare, maybe. Or a detonator. Thomas raised his DMR, breath steady. One shot. The round tore through Montano''s calf. He screamed, stumbled, and pitched forward¡ªlanding hard on the stone floor with a sickening crunch. Phillip covered the flank. "Got him!" Montano rolled onto his back, gasping, blood soaking through his slacks. He opened his mouth, lips twitching to form a final monologue. Thomas didn''t wait. He stepped forward and put a round straight through his skull. No words. Just silence. Cold, final, and absolute. The Prophet was dead. Chapter 145 145: Mission Complete The silence after Montano''s death lingered like smoke. No sermon. No prophecy. Just the stillness of a dead man in a red-lined coat. Thomas stood over the corpse, his weapon lowered. Around him, the tunnel still flickered with the last remnants of firelight from the broken lanterns. Ghost moved first, stepping past Thomas to sweep the corridor. Phillip came up next, rifle scanning the corners. "Clear," he said. But the war wasn''t over. Behind them, the rest of the team regrouped¡ªShadow-3 limping, blood still seeping through a makeshift tourniquet. Shadow-6, carried on a stretcher, groaned softly but lived. Two down, but not dead. "Secure this hall," Phillip ordered. "And check that room Montano came out of. If he had a throne, I want it flipped." Thomas nodded, then turned down the adjacent tunnel¡ªthe one they hadn''t checked yet. Something still pulsed behind the walls. A presence that didn''t fade with the Prophet''s fall. The new corridor smelled different¡ªless of ritual fire and chemicals, more of piss, bile, and despair. He rounded the bend and saw them. Cages. Dozens of them. Stacked. Lined against the walls. Iron bars bent inward from where hands had clawed for escape. Inside, survivors¡ªbarely. Emaciated, shivering, some naked. Some curled into fetal positions. Others pressed to the bars at the sound of boots, unsure if their salvation had arrived... or if it was just another execution. "Jesus..." Ghost whispered, stepping in behind him. "There must be forty of them." "More," Phillip said as he caught up. "Some of them are kids." Thomas moved forward, stopping at the first cage. A woman reached through the bars with trembling fingers, her lips cracked and bleeding. She didn''t speak¡ªjust stared. He took her hand gently. "You''re safe. We''re getting you out." From the radio, Overwatch''s voice crackled through. "This is Overwatch. Medevac en route. ETA twelve minutes." Phillip tapped his earpiece. "Tell them to bring everything. We need medical triage, sedatives, clean water, food. Oxygen too." Some survivors were quiet. Others sobbed. But one man in the back began screaming¡ªa high, choked wail of panic. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands twitching. "He''s infected," Shadow-5 warned, checking the scanner. "Not turned. But close. High neural spike. Could be a Scourged prototype." "We sedate him?" Ghost asked. "No," Thomas said quietly, looking at the man. "He''s too far gone." The team hesitated. Then Phillip nodded. One clean shot. The screaming stopped. They moved methodically after that. Unlocking cages. Lifting limp bodies. Carrying those who could not walk. Tagging those beyond saving. A boy clung to Shadow-3''s vest, sobbing into her armored shoulder. "He said... he said we would be saved if we sang." "We''re saving you now," she whispered, her voice ragged but kind. By the time the medevac team arrived, the chamber had been transformed. Field medics flooded in, accompanied by drones hauling crates of emergency gear. IVs were deployed. Masks were strapped on. Bodies wrapped. Some of the survivors died during treatment¡ªshock, malnutrition, internal bleeding. Others lived. Thomas stood off to the side, covered in blood¡ªnone of it his, not anymore. He looked down at Montano''s bloodied coat, still draped over the Prophet''s corpse. "Burn it," he said. Phillip obliged. One of the field techs doused it in fuel. A spark. A flame. The red satin curled and shriveled like skin. Soon, the Prophet was ash. "You think that''s the end of them?" Ghost asked, watching the smoke rise. "No," Thomas said, eyes narrowed. "There are always more." "But it''s the beginning of their end," Phillip added, his voice harder now. Thomas nodded once. Then walked out of the underground compound¡ªleaving the darkness behind. For now. The morning light was still just a gray promise when the first Blackhawk thundered overhead. The jungle clearing around the ruined chapel was thick with mist and smoke. The rot of burning bodies mingled with the sour bite of scorched wood. One Reaper drone still loitered above, scanning for anything that might move¡ªor crawl¡ªout of the ground. The helicopters broke the silence like gods descending. The first bird landed clean, rotors flattening the grass and snapping the tips of jungle ferns. A second followed behind, this one bearing the Overwatch medical insignia. Medics leapt out before the skids even kissed the mud, rushing forward with stretchers and trauma kits. Shadow-6 was loaded up first, limp but breathing. Then came the survivors. Phillip coordinated the extraction, voice clipped and calm through the command channel. "Medics prioritize children and high-risk survivors. Get them hydrated, stabilized, then up. Fast. No delays." Thomas stood near the chapel, eyes locked on its crumbling facade. The sun was starting to rise behind it, casting eerie orange light through the shattered archways. Inside, the blood was still fresh. The braziers had burned down to coals. He didn''t want that place to stand a second longer. "Phillip," he said over comms. "Prep thermite. I want this place erased." "Already done," came the reply. Overwatch''s engineers moved fast. Thermite charges were placed on load-bearing corners of the structure, in the altar pit, in the catacombs beneath. Thomas stepped back with the others as the chapel was wired. Then he lifted the detonator. No ceremony. Just the press of a button. A deep whoomph rolled through the air, followed by the crackling roar of intense heat. The chapel ignited from the inside out¡ªstone splitting, iron warping. Flame consumed the altar, the pews, the blood-soaked relics of Crimson Dawn. It was like watching the soul of something evil scream its last breath into the morning sky. Some of the survivors watched, too weak to speak. Some cried. Others just stared, silent and empty. One girl¡ªbarely ten¡ªreached up from her stretcher, hand trembling. Thomas took it. "You''re not going back there," he told her quietly. "Never again." Above them, the sun finally broke through the mist. It cast long shadows across the wreckage, golden and warm. Smoke curled upward, vanishing into blue sky. As the last bird lifted off¡ªits skids heavy with wounded, rescued, and battle-worn warriors¡ªThomas looked down one final time at the smoldering ruin. Elias Montano was gone. The chapel was ash. And whatever came next... Overwatch would be ready. [Mission Complete!] Chapter 146: Relieving some Stress The system interface prompted before Thomas''s eyes and read the notification that told him that the mission was complete. He tapped the "Confirm" tab and then immediately after, the rewards for the mission, the capsules for blood coins and the experience points are now in his inventory, with their icon borders gleaming as if stating it was newly acquired. This was an easy mission for Thomas as he only dealt with fanatics who are still humans, though they have evolutionize themselves through bioengineering. He wondered how they did that, maybe if they could bring their corpses to the lab they would be able to study it. After all, they might contain a key to unlock a cure for the apocalypse. Not that it''s going to be easy anyways. The helicopter flew towards MOA Complex and Thomas could already see the silhouette of the city. Everything outside the perimeter of MOA Complex are in darkness due to having no electric power while the MOA Complex is filled with varying lights. It will be good to be back, and the survivors that he had rescued added a significant portion in his blood coins balance, even though it was already a significant amount. The Blackhawk''s wheels touched down with a soft thunk, skids biting into the metal platform of MOA''s primary helipad. The wind from the rotors kicked up dust and tarp edges, buffeting the medical tents already lined up near the platform. Ground crews in orange vests and Overwatch medics in white-trimmed field armor rushed forward. The ramp dropped. Thomas stepped out first, flanked by Phillip and Ghost. Behind them, the stretcher bearers emerged, hauling the injured, the barely-conscious, and the dead in body bags. The rescued survivors followed, wide-eyed and hollow, guided gently by Shadow-3 and the rest of Alpha Team. Above, drones hovered¡ªtwo Reapers and a medevac quadrotor keeping aerial coverage tight. The gates leading into the compound buzzed with activity. Civilians watched from balconies, Overwatch personnel hurried across platforms, and the sun finally peeked through the overcast haze. Thomas didn''t say anything. He didn''t need to. This wasn''t the victory lap. It was clean-up. Phillip spoke briefly with the field officers coordinating the triage lines. Medics took charge of the survivors. Those with fevers or erratic neural scans were moved to isolation, while others were sent straight into the intake tents. Thomas made his way past them, stepping down into the heart of the complex. Each step echoed off metal walkways. He passed a few nods of recognition from Overwatch troops. Most didn''t speak. They didn''t need to either. Everyone had seen the drone footage by now. The Prophet was dead. And hell had been gutted. Conrad Building Command Center. Thomas sat at the second-floor deck overlooking the main plaza of the complex. A stall labeled "Texas Roadhouse ¨C Authorized Overwatch Vendor" glowed bright in neon. A miracle of surviving branding, salvaged ingredients, and reclaimed restaurant gear. He didn''t care if the steak was freeze-dried and the mashed potatoes were made from powder. It was hot. The tray in front of him held a full breakfast platter¡ªsteak, eggs, synthetic hashbrowns, and a cup of coffee that was only half-burned. He took the first bite, silent. The protein hit his system like a reset button. He leaned back, finally exhaling. "Hey." The voice came from his left. He turned. Erika. She wore standard Overwatch light-duty armor¡ªnavy gray underplate, rifle slung lazily across her back, and a cap tucked under her arm. She looked cleaner than the last time he saw her¡ªno blood, no dirt¡ªjust tired eyes and a faint, familiar smile. "Thought I''d find you here," she said. Thomas chewed once, then nodded. "It''s the only place in this sector that doesn''t taste like MRE cardboard." Erika sat across from him, helmet on the table. "You look like shit," she said, without malice. "I''ve had worse days." "Same," she replied, then paused. "How''d it go?" Thomas didn''t answer at first. He picked up the coffee, sipped it once. Then he looked her in the eye. "We dropped into a jungle chapel. Kids chanting like they were born for it. Suicide triggers in their teeth. Wakers. Scourged prototypes. Montano had a custom brute stitched together with injectors for blood. Nearly killed half my team. Then he ran." Erika blinked. "And?" "I shot him through the leg," Thomas said. "Then the face." She laughed quietly, leaning forward on her elbows. "Jesus. That''s... that''s intense." "It was clean," he said. "But not clean enough. We pulled fifty people out of cages. Some didn''t make it. Some were too far gone." Erika''s smile faded slightly. Her eyes softened. "You did good, though. You ended it." "No," he said, shaking his head. "We ended a chapter. That book''s still got pages." A long pause passed between them. Erika looked at the people moving down in the plaza¡ªthe survivors being guided to medical tents, the smell of cooking oil and coffee from nearby food stalls wafting in the air. "We never really talked after that day," she said suddenly. "Back at the building. When the Reaper dropped you through the roof and I thought you were just some hallucination." Thomas chuckled. "And you were the only one there, and you were a badass one who saved my life." She smiled, faintly. "Well helping people in need is a priority of mine, especially when the world has gone to shit." They sat in silence for a moment, watching the sun rise higher above the compound. Erika glanced at him again. "You gonna rest at all?" she asked. Thomas looked at his half-finished tray. Then at the distant helipads where the medevacs were still landing. "I''ll get to it." She nodded, pushing herself up, stretching slightly. Then, more softly, she added, "If you want... we could head to your room." He looked at her. Just the thought of him going to her room made his junior down in his groin grew big. He knew what they are going to do in that room, and yes, he needed to relieve some of his stress and pressure inside of her. "Let me finish my meal." Chapter 147: Not Giving Thomas a Rest The Next Morning The ceiling above Thomas was still. No flickering lights. No red emergency glow. Just clean, diffused daylight streaming through the metal-slat windows of his room. If he were to ask about one thing, he loved waking up with the sight of the ceiling of his room and the steady hum of a functioning ventilation system. He shifted slightly. Something warm stirred beside him. Erika''s breathing was soft, her head resting lightly against his shoulder, one arm draped across his chest like she had claimed that spot and refused to let go. She was still wearing part of her undersuit¡ªthe Overwatch gray base layer clinging to her frame¡ªbut her vest and boots had long since ended up in a pile by the door. Thomas stared at the ceiling a moment longer, unsure what to feel. The night before wasn''t something he had planned. But he definitely loved every second of it. They''d left the Texas Roadhouse stall in silence. No declarations. No false comfort. Just a glance. A nod. And the understanding that after everything¡ªafter the jungle, the chanting, the Prophet, and the screaming¡ªmaybe they deserved a night to stop pretending they didn''t feel something human. He''d barely locked the door behind them before Erika''s hands had found his collar. Her kiss was hesitant at first, like she was waiting for him to pull back. He didn''t. He couldn''t. It wasn''t rushed. It wasn''t slow. It just was. Neither of them spoke as they enjoyed that moments. And when her kiss grew passionate, he reciprocated her efforts and threw her in the bed and railed her for thirty minutes until he poured all of his hard work inside of her. Now, as the morning light spilled across the room, Erika shifted beside him again¡ªmurmuring something incomprehensible under her breath before burrowing deeper into the crook of his arm. Her hair smelled faintly of sweat and recycled shampoo, her body warm beneath the shared blanket. He could''ve stayed like that longer. Maybe he wanted to. But his job as the Supreme Commander of Overwatch didn''t go to sleep. After all, he has a briefing with his senior staff at the command room at nine o''clock in the morning. Thomas exhaled quietly. His right hand brushed against Erika''s wrist, still draped across his chest. She didn''t stir. He allowed himself one last minute of stillness. Then, slowly, carefully, he slipped out from under her arm. The floor was cold as he stepped on it and walked towards the bathroom. He entered and caught his reflection for a moment¡ªeyes shadowed, stubble thick across his jaw, and a faint red line along his collarbone from where Erika had clung to him last night. He washed his face slowly. The cold water shocked him back into focus. This wasn''t civilian life. This wasn''t downtime. This was the morning after eliminating a death cult. And Overwatch needed him awake. After toweling off, he returned to the main room, pulling on his standard field undersuit¡ªblack and snug, layered for both protection and mobility. His armor was stacked neatly on the bench by the wall, cleaned and repaired sometime overnight by the quartermasters. His rifle rested in its rack beside the sealed locker. All in order. Erika was still sleeping, one leg tangled in the sheets, her hair splayed across the pillow. She looked at peace in a way that felt foreign to this world. For a brief moment, Thomas envied her. He stepped closer and picked up his vest. As he slid into it, Erika stirred. Her eyes opened slightly, bleary and unfocused. "...Already?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Thomas glanced at the clock. 08:17. "I have to be at the command center, there is a job to do," he said. Erika blinked, exhaled through her nose, and shifted onto her side. "You always move like the world''s about to collapse." He smirked faintly. "Because it is." She didn''t argue. Instead, she reached out and tugged the blanket tighter around herself. "You''ll be back?" Thomas clipped his radio to his belt, then glanced over his shoulder. "I will." That was all she needed. By the time he stepped out of the room and locked the door behind him, the hallway outside the Conrad Building was already awake. Troops jogged in formation across the upper walkways. Logistics officers reviewed inventory tablets, while maintenance crew passed by doing checks on every room and cleaning them. Moments later, he arrived at the command center. The doors slid open with a mechanical hiss. Inside, the command center, the military staffers present inside all rose and gave him a salute. Thomas put them at ease and they immediately returned to their work. A large holo-map projected a rotating 3D image of Luzon, with crimson markers spread across it, indicating a lot of things based on the legends. Phillip stood near the center of the chamber, arms folded, eyes locked on the display. "Morning," Thomas greeted as he stepped in. Phillip turned slightly. "You''re early. Coffee?" Thomas shook his head. "Already had breakfast." "Right," Phillip said, suppressing a smirk. "You looked... well-rested." Thomas didn''t bite. Instead, he walked to the briefing table, tapping his ID key against the scanner. The interface lit up. Files opened. The Crimson Dawn After Action Report populated with casualty logs, survivor breakdowns, chemical weapon assessments, and drone-captured footage from the ruined chapel and bunker. "Give me the status," Thomas said, settling into his chair. Phillip leaned over, tapping several sections of the map. "We''ve secured the compound site. Engineering teams are going in today to either salvage or bury it. We''ve flagged three potential Crimson splinter cells based on coded messages recovered from Montano''s terminal. All of them are in Central Luzon¡ªno further south." Thomas reviewed the markers. "Meaning?" "They weren''t meant to spread. Crimson Dawn wasn''t expansionist. They were a local doctrine. Rooted and isolated." Thomas stared at the map for a moment. "And now they''re uprooted." Phillip nodded. "But not gone. But there is another thing we saw and it will be reported by your Chief of Staff." "What do you mean you saw something?" Thomas tilted his head to the side. "Let''s just say it''s more bad news than the cult," Phillip replied. "What the hell is it? Don''t tell me, after we just dealt with the cult, we are dealing with another?"; Thomas said. Phillip simply nodded. "Shit," Thomas cursed under his breath. Chapter 148 148: The New Threat V2 The screen flickered for a second before stabilizing. The holo-display near the corner of the command room lit up as Marcus, Thomas''s Deputy Chief of Staff, stepped into the chamber, tablet in hand and a grim expression carved across his face. "Sir," Marcus said with a sharp nod. "We''ve completed aerial recon over the Mandaluyong¨CPasig corridor, Sector Delta-4." Thomas looked up from the tactical display. "And?" Marcus didn''t answer immediately. Instead, he tapped his tablet, and the image cast onto the secondary screen shifted¡ªlive Reaper drone footage from 0800 hours this morning. The room fell silent. The feed zoomed in slowly on what was once a bustling metro zone. Now? The streets were lined with twisted, pulsating growths. Entire buildings were cocooned in an orange-red biomass, tendrils stretching like muscle fiber across broken windows and traffic poles. It looked like the city had been eaten and regurgitated by something that wasn''t remotely human. "My God..." muttered one of the junior tacticians. It wasn''t just growth. It was structural corruption. Massive spheres of organic matter¡ªvein-covered and bloated¡ªclung to the sides of high-rises. Vines as thick as a man''s torso wrapped around entire vehicles. From one bloated sack near the street level, the footage caught something even worse. It popped. And when it did¡ªthings crawled out. Twisted silhouettes. Half-human, half-something else. Larger than the common infected, with hardened flesh and elongated limbs. One of them ran toward the drone''s microphone array, letting out a high-pitched screech that caused the audio feed to spike with static. "Play it again," Thomas ordered. Marcus complied. The playback restarted, slower this time. The pod ballooned slightly¡ªswelled from within¡ªand then burst, sending out a cloud of spores followed by two figures. One looked humanoid, its skin like hardened bark. The other walked on four limbs, ribcage cracked open like a flower and pulsing with something alive inside. "We''re calling them Bloom Nests for now," Marcus said. "We count at least four growing throughout Metro Manila. Each one has at least one of these bio-nodes attached. The largest is in Ortigas, center of Pasig." "And what''s inside?" Thomas asked, voice tight. "We don''t know yet. But we ran thermal overlays. Whatever''s in there, it''s alive. Breathing. Expanding. Releasing these new variants when the pods rupture." Phillip squinted at the screen. "Where the hell did this come from? This isn''t Crimson Dawn tech. And it''s not viral drift from the original strain. This is... something else." "Exactly," Marcus nodded. "And that''s what concerns us." Thomas stepped forward, arms crossed. "Do we have any recovered corpses?" "Only partials," Marcus said. "Most of them break down too fast. Acidic blood, degenerative tissue. A few of our scout drones got close before going dark¡ªlikely due to EM interference or spore corrosion." The holo-display transitioned to an aerial shot¡ªorange tendrils wrapped tightly around a radio tower, the blinking red light still glowing at the top, though barely visible under the infestation. "This is spreading," Marcus continued. "Slow for now, but deliberate. Almost like it''s... growing toward something." Phillip looked at Thomas. "This doesn''t match anything we''ve encountered. Not even during the wave. This looks... engineered." "By who?" someone asked quietly. Nobody answered. Thomas let the silence stretch for a moment, eyes locked on the largest mass pulsing near the center of the screen. "Send all this data to Research and Medical. I want full analysis¡ªbiochemical, electromagnetic, environmental. Everything." "Already done," Marcus said. "Dr. Delgado is standing by." Thomas exhaled sharply through his nose. "Good." Another still frame loaded onto the display¡ªa soldier''s helmet cam showing the moment one of the creatures lunged from a half-formed bloom on the side of a building. It moved fast. Almost intelligently. It wasn''t a drone. It wasn''t shambling. This thing was hunting. "We''ll designate this new variant as Bloomspawn until further notice," Thomas said. "I don''t want our perimeter getting close until we know what we''re dealing with." "And the nests?" Phillip asked. Thomas looked at him. "You''re going to find out." Phillip blinked. "Me?" "I need eyes on the ground. Not just drones. Real boots. You''re taking Shadow Team. Reaper drones will give you overwatch. I want a sweep of the area around the Ortigas nest. No direct contact. Just recon. Confirm spread rate, pod activity, and what''s living inside those hives." Phillip nodded slowly. "Alright. We''ll prep immediately." Marcus tapped the final image on his slate¡ªan overview of the infected zone with timestamps. "We estimate the first bloom emerged less than five days ago," he said. "And it''s already covered six blocks." Thomas didn''t like those numbers. He looked back at the team, voice calm but firm. "If this is natural, we study it. If it''s man-made, we find who made it. And if it spreads..." His gaze hardened. "...we burn it to the ground." *** Five minutes later, Philip and his men were now in the armory, preparing their gadgets for the upcoming mission. He turned to the equipment list on the slate beside him and ran through it one last time: Biohazard Containment Canisters ¨C four vacuum-sealed, anti-corrosive containers for spore and tissue samples. Spectral Particle Scanner (SPS-9) ¨C a handheld device capable of detecting airborne particulate anomalies up to 100 meters. Quantum Pulse Radar (QPR-11) ¨C short-range scanner designed to map sub-surface structures and potential hive interiors. Adaptive Visor Filters (AVF Mk II) ¨C upgraded helmet lenses with spore filtration overlays and thermal mapping. Cryo-Vials with Stabilizing Gel ¨C to preserve any intact biological samples from Bloomspawn. Miniaturized EM Field Reader ¨C used to detect and measure EM spikes near nests and pods. Portable Incineration Torch ¨C just in case. "Everything''s in place," the quartermaster confirmed, slapping a magnetic seal on the final containment case. Phillip nodded, securing the sling on his sidearm before moving to the comms station in the prep room. Shadow Team''s icons were already tagged on the local network, syncing their vitals and feeds to the mission channel. He activated his radio. "Shadow Team, this is Shadow 0-1. Loadout complete. We deploy in twenty. Meet at Hanger Six. Bring anti-corrosives and AV filters." "Copy that," Ghost replied. "We''ve reviewed the bloom footage. Not looking forward to sniffing that up close." "Don''t breathe it in and we''ll be fine," Phillip said, dry. He tapped his slate again, pulling up the latest orbital imagery of Ortigas. The bloom had grown overnight. Another intersection was already crawling with vines. He stared at the image a second longer, jaw tightening. Then he shut the screen and turned toward the exit. Time to move. Chapter 149 149: Analysis The Black Hawk thundered low over the skeletal skyline of Ortigas. From above, the city no longer looked like a city. It looked like something a god had bled on. The once-familiar geometry of towers and intersections was now a writhing sculpture of orange and crimson veins. Biomass stretched from rooftop to rooftop like parasitic webs. The largest Bloom Nest, visible even from five kilometers out, loomed like a tumor in the heart of the business district. Inside the bird, Phillip adjusted his AVF Mk II visor, toggling through filters until thermal and biochemical overlays came online. The other members of Shadow Team sat silent and focused. Ghost was seated beside him, arms crossed over his carbine, visor already locked in. "Five minutes out," the pilot called over comms. Phillip keyed his mic. "Copy. Drop us on the rooftop of Robinsons Summit Tower. It''s the highest vantage with minimal vine coverage." Ghost checked his gear again. "You think these things are aware of us?" Phillip didn''t answer right away. He stared out the side window. "Let''s hope they''re asleep." The Black Hawk slowed to a hover. The blades chopped the air hard, kicking spores and debris off the rooftop. Vines clung to the helipad surface like blood vessels, twitching slightly in the wind. "Touchdown." "Go," Phillip ordered. The team dropped fast and smooth, weapons raised, sensors activated. The moment their boots hit the ground, the external filters kicked in, a faint hum signaling that the air was laced with particles not meant for lungs. "Biohazard containment active," Shadow-4 said, clipping a canister to his belt. Phillip moved forward, visor scanning the rooftop perimeter. No movement. No heat. Yet everything felt alive. He tapped his slate and activated the Quantum Pulse Radar. A wave of energy rolled outward, mapping the nearby buildings in ghostly outlines. Within thirty seconds, a 3D scan of the nearest Bloom Nest came into view. "Reading a central structure¡ªforty-two meters high. Base looks hollow. Tendrils are feeding something below." Ghost knelt beside a vent, pulling out the Spectral Particle Scanner. "Air''s thick. Spore count''s rising. Ten times baseline." "Mark it and keep moving," Phillip said. They advanced to the building''s edge. Below them, the Bloom Nest writhed. It was fused into the remains of the Shangri-La Plaza. Every window had been burst outward by vein clusters. The bloom sphere itself was embedded into the mall''s upper floors, pulsing in rhythm with some unseen heartbeat. "Jesus..." Shadow-2 muttered. "It''s growing through the concrete." Phillip raised his scope. The bloated sack at the center flexed once. Then again. Ghost stepped beside him. "It''s breathing." "Which means it''s alive," Phillip said. He keyed in a Reaper drone overhead. "Reaper One-One, this is Shadow 0-1. Paint the center of the mass. Begin full thermal sweep." The drone''s feed streamed into their visors. The pod was hot¡ªfar hotter than anything else around it. Heat signatures inside. Multiple. "Bloomspawn?" Ghost asked. Phillip nodded. "Dormant. But in there." Shadow-6 set down one of the Cryo-Vials and walked to the edge of a vein-covered ledge, reaching out with a sample blade. He sliced a bit of biomass¡ªthick like jelly, slick like oil. The moment it was cut, the vein twitched violently. "Shit¡ª" A spurt of dark fluid hissed out, but nothing else happened. Shadow-6 sealed the sample fast. "Got it. It''s acidic. Burned through the knife edge." Phillip frowned. He turned to Shadow-5. "Any electromagnetic interference?" "Yeah. EM Field Reader''s jumping. It''s like something''s pulsing from inside the pod. Intermittent signal." "Could be communication. Or a growth trigger." "Or a heartbeat," Ghost added grimly. They continued moving along the rooftop, scanning and logging each section of vine-strangled infrastructure. The vines had cracked windows, devoured cars, and even twisted around a toppled crane that once towered over the boulevard. Then Shadow-3 froze. "Movement." Phillip spun. But there was nothing. "Where?" "North building. Second floor. Brief silhouette." "Human?" "No way to tell. It ducked back fast." "Mark it," Phillip said. Ghost raised his rifle. "You want to go look?" Phillip hesitated. "No. Not the mission. Eyes only. We''re not triggering whatever this thing defends." He crouched, pulled up the data they''d gathered so far. Spores, EM pulses, organic structure, acidic blood, active life signatures inside the core¡ªand now movement nearby. This wasn''t just an infection. It was an ecosystem. "Prep extraction," Phillip ordered. "We''ve got enough data." "Copy. Pinging the bird," Shadow-4 said. They moved to the western edge of the roof, setting down containment crates, each one loaded with samples. One by one, they clipped in sealed vials, EM readings, and atmospheric logs. The Black Hawk circled in from the south, lowering a winch line. "Extraction platform coming down. Let''s move," Ghost said. Phillip glanced back one last time. The Bloom Nest pulsed again. And this time... something on the surface twitched. A finger? No. Just a vein. But still. He didn''t say anything. He just turned away. One by one, they clipped in and ascended to the bird. Phillip was the last. As the chopper banked hard west and the city began to shrink beneath them, he tapped his mic. "Command, this is Shadow 0-1. Package secured. Full recon sweep complete. Bloom is active. Living. Possibly sentient." Static filled the line a second before Thomas''s voice broke through. "Copy that, Shadow. Debrief when you''re back. We''ll have Research standing by." Phillip looked out the open door as the Bloom Nest faded behind the horizon. He had a feeling this was only the beginning of something larger. The Black Hawk touched down on the MOA Complex helipad with a muted hiss of hydraulics and swirling dust. As the ramp lowered, Phillip stepped out first, his boots hitting metal with a solid thunk. The rest of Shadow Team followed, visors lifted, their gear stained with spores, acidic grime, and the weight of what they''d just seen. Medtechs were already moving in, unloading the containment crates and bio-sample canisters with practiced urgency. The crates hissed as they were sealed into portable coolers, every item tagged and logged for Research. Phillip removed his helmet as he walked toward the command lift. He didn''t look back. He didn''t need to. The nest was still out there¡ªbreathing, growing, waiting. And whatever was inside it... had seen them too. Chapter 150: Deep Research on the Possible New Threat Part 1 The corridor leading to the MOA Complex''s subterranean laboratory was brightly lit, sterile, and cold in contrast to the infected world above. Phillip stepped through the final checkpoint, his boots echoing against the reinforced floor tiles as two internal security guards opened the blast doors without a word. Beyond them, the lab was already alive with motion. Inside, technicians moved in silent urgency¡ªbiosuit-clad figures shifting between containment hoods, cryogenic freezers, and digital analysis banks. The air buzzed faintly from the oscillating hum of filtration systems. On the left wall, a half-dozen high-resolution displays played thermal footage of the Bloom Nest. On another, a constant feed of bio-data scrolled vertically in rapid green script. Thomas was already there. He stood near the observation window, arms crossed, visor helmet clipped to his belt. Dr. Delgado, Overwatch''s lead biochemist, was finishing a briefing with his assistants when he noticed Phillip enter. "You''re just in time," hhe said, voice muffled slightly through his respirator. "We''ve started primary analysis." Thomas turned, nodding once. "What did you bring us?" Phillip stepped forward and placed a hard-sealed canister on the central table. "Biomass, atmospheric samples, a cross-section from the pod''s external membrane. All secured from the upper root cluster. Shadow-6''s knife corroded on contact. We suspect the acidity is active, not inert." Delgado motioned to a nearby bench. "Let''s see what this thing is made of." He keyed in a command, and one of the robotic arms within a sealed class-IV isolation chamber began to manipulate the interior tools. The canister hissed open inside, exposing the opaque sample jar nested within. The robotic arm retrieved it delicately, placing it on a dissection tray. Thomas stepped closer to the glass. The sample itself looked inert¡ªreddish-orange with a fibrous jelly consistency. But even through the protective chamber, they could see it twitch faintly. "It''s still alive," Phillip noted. "More accurately," Delgado said, tapping on his tablet, "it''s metabolically active. We ran a bioelectricity pass earlier¡ªthis thing''s producing voltage, which means it''s powering something internally. Possibly a pseudo-organ network. Similar to a fungal mycelium, but far more complex." "Is it a parasite?" Thomas asked. "Not in the traditional sense," Delgado said. "It doesn''t hijack host biology. It seems to recreate its own systems independently. That puts it somewhere between a fungal growth and an engineered biomass colony." He activated the spectrometer next, feeding a sliver of tissue into the chamber. The machine hissed and clicked before a readout displayed a cocktail of unknown protein chains, hybrid DNA sequences, and volatile enzyme markers. Phillip leaned in. "Any of that human?" Delgado frowned. "Fragments. Yes. But... distorted. Almost spliced with viral RNA. It''s like someone reverse-engineered cellular evolution and hard-coded mutation pathways into the genes." "You''re saying it''s artificial," Thomas said. "I''m saying it didn''t come from nature," he clarified. "Someone¡ªor something¡ªdesigned this. And not just for infection. Look here." He flicked a data overlay onto the screen. A heatmap of internal reactions glowed red around the periphery of the biomass. "This section here? It''s photosensitive. The pod is absorbing ambient UV and converting it into energy. It''s not just feeding off corpses or decay. It''s solar-reactive." Phillip straightened. "That explains the rooftop growth." Thomas narrowed his gaze. "How dangerous is it?" "Extremely," Delgado replied. "The spore particles we extracted are highly mutagenic. When we exposed a rodent sample to it, the cellular structure began breaking down and reforming within minutes. We couldn''t even identify the resulting tissue." "Is it contagious?" Phillip asked. "Not through brief exposure," Delgado said. "But prolonged inhalation or fluid contact? Definitely. It doesn''t just infect. It rewrites." Thomas turned to the second containment hood where a bloodied sample of the pod''s surface fluid was now being tested under magnetic resonance imaging. The 3D model displayed twisting, fractal-like vein patterns that seemed to adapt even as the software tried to lock in a morphology. "It''s responding to our instruments," Delgado murmured. "That shouldn''t be possible." "Intelligent?" Thomas asked flatly. "More like reactive," he said. "But it learns. Or mimics." Phillip crossed his arms. "The EM pulses?" Delgado tapped another screen, displaying a wave graph. "They''re cyclical. A pulsed frequency every thirty-eight seconds. Low band, below most wireless detection. But strong enough to interfere with drone signals." "Could it be communicating?" Thomas asked. "Possibly," he replied. "Or syncing across multiple nests." That made the room quiet. Phillip finally stepped away from the monitors, dragging a hand across his jaw. "This is more than a bloom site. It''s an evolving network." "And it''s learning," Delgado added. Thomas exhaled through his nose. "We need to act before this thing spreads further. Let''s run some tests. See if we can destroy it through conventional means." Delgado looked up from the console, his expression tense but focused. "You want to destroy part of it? We can simulate a micro-response with the tissue we have. But if it behaves like a hive mind, even isolated reactions might trigger broader responses." "That''s exactly what I want to know," Thomas said. "How it reacts under stress. Fire, acid, directed EMP, even cryogenic shock. If we can find a weakness, we use it before this thing goes city-wide." "I''ll need clearance for controlled tests," Delgado warned. "We''re talking volatile biologicals, and we have limited containment redundancy in the lab''s lower wing." Thomas turned to Marcus over comms. "Redirect power to Lab Subsection C. Authorize test chamber isolation. I want priority shielded containment online within ten." "On it," Marcus replied. Delgado gestured toward the robotic arms still suspended over the pod sample. "We''ll start with incendiary. If that fails, we step up to enzymatic acid. If that doesn''t do it, we bring out the cryo." he turned to a pair of technicians. "Prep the injection array and prime the flame rig." Phillip stood back, watching as the team sealed the test chamber and locked in the first sequence. The bloom sample twitched slightly, unaware of what was coming. Or maybe not. Because just before the flame arm ignited... the biomass pulsed. Once. Twice. As if it knew. Thomas''s jaw tightened. "Begin," he ordered. The tests were about to start. Chapter 151: Deep Research on the Possible New Threat Part 2 A soft mechanical hiss signaled the test chamber''s seal locking into place. Red lights flickered above the heavy glass enclosure, bathing the control room in a subtle warning glow. Everyone stood still, breath held, as if the air itself understood the weight of what was about to happen. Delgado stood closest to the touchscreen interface, gloved fingers tapping a final sequence. "Incendiary unit primed. Targeting pod tissue sample Zeta-Three." Inside the isolated chamber, the sample sat like a coiled knot of nerves. It didn''t resemble any known lifeform¡ªreddish-orange, semi-translucent, with vascular fibers twitching intermittently like something waiting for breath. Even though it had been separated from the main Bloom Nest, it still moved. Still pulsed. Still... listened. "On your command," Delgado said, eyes locked on Thomas. Thomas nodded once. "Do it." With a single confirmation tap, the test began. A mechanical nozzle extended from the ceiling rig and pointed itself toward the pod''s quivering mass. With a dull hiss, a jet of focused flame surged forward, bathing the biomass in fire. At first, nothing happened. Then the bloom writhed. The tissue recoiled, flinching away as blisters formed across its membrane. Fibers curled and blackened under the heat. A shrill, high-frequency squeal echoed faintly within the chamber, forcing one of the younger technicians to flinch. "Sound spike," someone called from the monitor. "Ultrasonic range. It''s reacting." Delgado leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "It''s not just reacting. It''s screaming." The fire continued for twenty seconds. Thirty. Then, suddenly, the bloom twitched violently¡ªand burst. A wave of red vapor hissed from the ruptured tissue like smoke from dry ice, but denser. Heavier. The cloud pressed against the inner chamber glass, swirling in thick spirals. Within seconds, it painted the walls in a crimson hue, pulsing with bioluminescence like it was... alive. "Pressure spike," another voice reported. "The vapor has mass. It''s expanding." "Seal integrity holding," Delgado said quickly. "Sample burned. But... not neutralized." Phillip stepped closer to the glass. "What the hell is that?" Delgado didn''t answer right away. He was already pulling up atmospheric readings. "Vapor compound contains trace proteins. Same structure as the original biomass. It didn''t die." Thomas stared at the screen. "It transformed." The chamber fell quiet again, the red mist lingering like blood smeared across a lens. Delgado signaled to one of the side benches. "Bring in the secondary test unit." A robotic platform slid forward, carrying a metal cage. Inside was a white lab rat, awake and calm. It sniffed at the air, pink nose twitching. "Open gate four. Let the vapor in." There was a pause. Then a faint click. A compartment on the chamber wall opened, and the red mist began to flow¡ªslow and purposeful¡ªtoward the cage. Within moments, it surrounded the rat. The animal twitched once, confused. Then again. Then it screamed. Not squealed¡ªscreamed. Its body spasmed, front paws clawing at the metal grating beneath it. Muscles expanded grotesquely. Fur fell away in clumps. Within thirty seconds, its skin cracked like burned paper, revealing dark sinew beneath. One eye burst. The other glazed over with a milky film. The rat collapsed. Then, impossibly¡ªit stood again. No longer a rat. Not really. Its spine had elongated. Its limbs bent in unnatural angles. Blood dripped from its mouth, and it hissed through newly grown fangs. "Test chamber integrity still stable," a technician whispered, as if speaking too loud might provoke it. Delgado took a step back from the console. "It''s¡ªit''s not just a mutagen. It''s a resurrection agent. It rewrites dead or dying tissue and brings it back in a new format." Phillip''s eyes didn''t leave the creature. "That thing is a rat?" "It was," Delgado said grimly. "Jesus Christ," Thomas muttered. Delgado''s hands trembled as he typed in a command. "Purging chamber. Fire and cryo together." The test room flooded with flame and frost simultaneously. Steam poured out the chamber seams. When the vapor cleared, the creature was gone. What remained was a melted smear on the floor. No one spoke for a moment. Then Thomas exhaled slowly and turned to Delgado. "So it can''t just survive destruction. It evolves through it." Delgado nodded. "I''ve never seen anything like it. If these nests start pushing out red spores like this... every corpse it touches could come back as one of those things." Phillip tapped his slate, syncing the footage to Thomas''s private server. "We need to test if the full nest reacts the same way. Controlled site. Total saturation. Burn it from orbit if we have to." Thomas nodded. "Prep it. Choose the smallest nest. I want Reaper coverage, fire support, and cryo payloads." "I''ll get Shadow Team ready," Phillip added. Delgado swallowed hard. "Make sure you can get out fast. If this thing screams back at its parent, the whole metro might hear it." Thomas looked at them both. "Then we''d better hope it dies quietly." He turned and left the lab without another word. Outside, the lights of the MOA Complex still shone bright. But they all knew¡ª The war just changed. And the next shot would be louder than any they''d fired before. Phillip stood in the dim lab corridor for a long moment after Thomas left, the cooling systems humming faintly in the background. Behind the glass, the scorched remnants of the mutated rat were already being swept into containment by automated arms, but the sight lingered in his mind. He''d fought through hordes of infected. Watched Crimson Dawn burn themselves alive in blind faith. But this¡ªthis was different. This was evolution weaponized. Delgado tapped a command on his console and spoke without turning. "We''ll need an uplink. If the next test goes wrong, we''ll need to vaporize the entire grid." Phillip nodded slowly. "And if it goes right?" Delgado looked up, tired eyes meeting his. "Then maybe, just maybe, we''ve found its limit." Outside the sealed chamber, the red vapor still stained the glass. The Bloom had screamed when it died. And tomorrow, they would see if its hive screamed back. Phillip turned away, his thoughts already on the next mission¡ªon Shadow Team, on the payloads being loaded, and the towering Bloom Nest pulsing quietly in the heart of the metro. They would strike first. And hope it didn''t strike back harder. Chapter 152: Rest Part 1 After everything they had been through¡ªthe Bloom Nests, the screaming pods, the resurrected rat¡ªThomas Estaris needed a break. Not the kind that came with reports or briefings, not even a moment alone in his office. He needed something normal. Something that reminded him that the world hadn''t entirely fallen apart. So when Phillip pinged him over comms with a simple message¡ª"You in?"¡ªThomas didn''t even ask what it was about. He just showed up. The MOA Complex''s Arena Level had been converted months ago into more than just a fortified stronghold. A section of the Arena had been reclaimed, repurposed into a slice of what the old world used to be. It was one of the rare parts of the complex that didn''t smell like bleach, oil, or scorched flesh. Here, it smelled like popcorn. And grilled hotdogs. Thomas walked the polished hallway with his hands in his pockets, breathing in that warm, greasy scent. The lights were soft. The shops were quiet. The signs flickered with actual neon. Someone even rigged one of the old mall speakers to loop relaxing lo-fi music. It felt surreal. Phillip was waiting near the movie theater, holding two tickets and a plastic bag of overpriced snacks. "Hope you still like sci-fi garbage," he said. Thomas snorted. "The world is sci-fi garbage now." "Exactly. It''s called Terraformers. Got drones, betrayal, weird alien fungus. Thought it''d feel familiar." They stepped into the cinema together. No crowds, just a handful of civilians quietly spaced out across the room, munching on snacks and enjoying the cold air-conditioning. The room dimmed, the screen lit up, and for the next two hours, they let themselves forget. There were explosions. Sentient spores. A mech with a flamethrower arm. And a final shot where the hero flew into the sun just to kill the alien hive. Thomas leaned back with a grin. "Ten out of ten. No notes." "Plot made zero sense," Phillip replied, but he was smiling too. They left the theater laughing, something Thomas hadn''t done in weeks. Outside, the arcade lights glowed warm and colorful. Machines blinked to life as kids and teenagers played rhythm games and air hockey. A claw machine in the corner had teddy bears and old Overwatch patches in it. Phillip made a beeline to the Time Crisis machine. "Come on. You owe me a rematch. Last time we played, you died at the chopper scene." "You cheated," Thomas said, picking up the plastic gun anyway. "Says the guy who kicked the machine when he lost." They played for twenty solid minutes. Laughing. Shooting. Swearing at each other in hushed tones when they missed a shot or accidentally let a civilian get killed. Thomas beat him by one level. Phillip was salty about it. "Rigged," he muttered as they stepped out into the main atrium. And then they heard it. Music. Real music. The main stage, normally used for ration announcements or public safety updates, had been set up for something else today. Colorful lights. A decent sound system. People¡ªteenagers, young adults, even families¡ªgathered around the open area near the fountain. On the stage, a group of young men were dancing with synchronized precision, matching every beat of the pop anthem blasting through the speakers. The crowd clapped along, cheering. "Alab," Thomas said, recognizing them from the files. "They were a rising P-pop group before the outbreak. I didn''t know they were still here." "They''re here alright," Phillip said. "Kept training in secret. Their manager''s a hardass. Even got approval to keep doing public performances, morale boosters." They stood near the edge of the crowd, watching as Alab finished their final pose. The music faded, replaced by applause and a few excited whistles from the younger fans. Then the emcee called out the next performers. "MAVE!" the announcer beamed. A girl group came up next. Four members. All in light tactical uniforms modified to look like stylized performance gear. They had the energy of professionals and the charisma of people who had survived hell and were still smiling. Their song was catchy. Thomas had never heard it before, probably their new song that was never released because of the circumstances. Something about hope. Something about standing back up. He found himself smiling again. The crowd was clapping in rhythm. A few kids danced along in the open space. And for a moment, it didn''t feel like the end of the world. Phillip handed him a bottle of juice from a nearby vending stall. "You know, back when I first got summoned as one of the force, Overwatch, I thought the best part of this job would be just serving you and killing everything that you want me to kill." "And now?" Thomas asked. "Now I think it''s this. The life, it''s more precious." Thomas nodded. "I can'' They stood there in silence, just two soldiers watching a makeshift concert in a post-apocalyptic mall. A few kids passed by, waving at Phillip. One of them pointed at Thomas. "That''s the supreme commander! The one who saved us!" Thomas gave a small wave, awkward but genuine. Phillip chuckled. "You''re famous now." "It''s inevitable, haha," Thomas laughed. "You won''t mind the fame?" "I won''t," Thomas simply replied. As MAVE wrapped up their set, the emcee stepped forward again. "Let''s give them one more round of applause! And don''t forget, there will be a drill later, it will start at five by the North Wing hall, and we''ve got open mic night tomorrow at the rooftop!" People cheered. The lights dimmed. The performers bowed and exited the stage. Thomas turned to leave, but not before one of the MAVE members gave him a subtle nod as she passed by. There was a lack of better term but they were his FUBUs. He nodded back. "Come on," Phillip said. "I heard there''s a new vendor near the bookstore that sells real brewed coffee." Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Brewed? Not powder?" "Beans. Grinder. Filter and everything. Real coffee." "That... almost sounds illegal." They made their way down the atrium hall, past reopened shops, old logos, and walls covered in murals painted by kids. Outside, the world was full of monsters. Inside, they still had songs. They still had coffee. They still had each other. And for tonight, that was enough. Chapter 153: Rest Part 2 The morning air outside the MOA Complex was crisp, the salt in the wind carried in from the bay. Thomas stepped out onto the upper-level catwalk, boots tapping against the steel grating as he looked over the reclaimed airfield. It was hard still hard to believe this used to be parking lots, malls, and roads. Now, it was something else entirely¡ªrunways carved into the concrete sea, reinforced hangars repurposed from sports centers, and landing pads drawn with military precision. This wasn''t just a fortified civilian zone anymore. It was a warbase. Phillip joined him a second later, sipping from a thermos of that "illegal" brewed coffee they''d found last night. "Didn''t think we''d ever pull this off," Phillip muttered, nodding toward the long stretch of tarmac where the aircraft were lined like sleeping predators. Thomas said nothing at first. He just stared. Four Black Hawks sat at the far end, matte black with Overwatch insignias stenciled onto the doors. Beside them were two Apaches¡ªugly, brutal machines armed with rocket pods and chain guns. Further out were the big beasts¡ªan A-10 Warthog, its paint scorched and chipped, but its twin cannons gleaming in the light. And farther back, dominating the far end of the strip, was the AC-130 gunship, Spooky One. "Give me a walk," Thomas said. Phillip nodded and waved to the hangar officer nearby¡ªa woman in gray battle utility fatigues and tinted goggles. She gave a short nod and gestured forward. No salutes. No ranks. Just quiet understanding. Everyone here knew who he was. They started with the Black Hawks. Two crews were running maintenance¡ªone working under the hood, the other running checks on the rotor assemblies. A small drone buzzed above the team, scanning thermal stress on the engine compartments. "Flight-ready?" Thomas asked. "Three out of four," the hangar officer replied, walking beside him. "Fourth needs a new stabilizer as the ones that had been summoned were broken. We''re keeping all pilots current¡ªnight vision drills, dust landings, evac extractions." "Wait...so you were saying that some of the summons may be damaged upon summons?" The officer simply nodded. "So that''s a possibility huh? This is the first time I know about it. I thought when you buy from the system, you will get it fresh like straight out of the factory. But lemon units still happen huh? Do I need to buy parts from the system?" "No need sir, we have materials and we will fabricate it. It''s cheaper compared to buying parts directly from the system shop," he replied. "I see...keep up the good work." Thomas gave a short nod, then looked toward the Apaches. "These ones fly like devils," the officer said with a faint grin. "But they''re temperamental. One faulty targeting system and the whole damn bird refuses to launch." "You work with what you have," Phillip added. They walked past a group of trainees in crash gear running rotor-down drills beside the Warthog. The A-10''s GAU-8 cannon looked like a shark''s grin frozen in steel. One mechanic was inside the belly, reloading depleted uranium rounds by hand. Thomas stopped. "Gun cycles?" "Tested every morning," the tech said, stepping back from the open panel. "Triple feed. Minimal jam rates. We keep her hungry and she stays happy." It was strange, Thomas thought, to hear affection in the voice of someone talking about a death machine. They reached the AC-130 next. Spooky One. Its frame was larger than most buildings in the city now. The paint was patched, engines slightly offset from years of modification, but its side-mounted weapons were pristine¡ªhowitzers, miniguns, and a rail-mounted cannon mounted under the wing. "How''s Spooky holding up?" "She flies," the officer said, looking proud. "Burns fuel like a bastard, but she flies. Runs recon at night. If we need an area cleared, we send her up. Nothing survives below when she speaks." Thomas nodded. "Crew status?" "Eight full-timers. Two backups. They sleep under her wing." He paused there, staring up at the dark underbelly of the gunship. A few flight crew members were repainting the nose art¡ªan old-school ghost holding a scythe. "You ever flown in her, boss?" the officer asked. Thomas shook his head. "Not yet." "You will," she said. After the airfield inspection, they moved to the vehicle depot across the northern barricade. Rows of armored units sat in neat formation¡ªM2 Bradleys with rail-cannons retrofitted to support Overwatch''s experimental plasma lances. Next to them, six M1 Abrams tanks stood idle, their engines humming faintly as ground crews ran diagnostics. Two crewmen were yelling over each other near one of the Abrams, but when they saw Thomas approaching, they both straightened up. "Sir." "No ''sir,''" Thomas reminded them. "Report." "Tank 3''s thermal system is buggy. Keeps flickering during simulated fire runs. But the shells are tracking fine. Navcom was recalibrated this morning." Phillip tapped the side of the tank with the back of his knuckle. "You get a chance to run live fire drills yet?" "Scheduled tomorrow," one of them answered. "Eastern range. We''re testing armor-piercing loads on concrete." Thomas nodded again and walked on. Nearby, a group of soldiers, mainly composed of civilian recruits were in a huddle formation around a JLTV, one of the new models fitted with a mounted grenade launcher turret. Their instructor was barking commands. "React under fire! Don''t huddle like goddamn lemmings!" The recruits scrambled. Thomas watched quietly, arms crossed. "They''re getting better," Phillip noted. "First week they showed up, half of them didn''t even know how to reload a mag without fumbling." "We''ll make soldiers out of them," Thomas said. Or something close to it. They passed through the refueling yard next¡ªdiesel drums, electric charging rigs for drones, and racks of ammo being stockpiled. Civilians who were tasked of labor were moving crates. Thomas stopped as his tablet chimed, he tapped onto it and the screen displayed the footage, showing live field drone. A new Bloom tendril had been spotted stretching into the flooded ruins of Pandacan. "We''ll deal with it later," he said to Phillip. "But for now, we get our house in order." "I think we''re almost there." "Almost," Thomas repeated. They stood there for a while longer, watching the field operations cycle through their routines. Everyone moving like gears in a well-oiled machine. No fanfare. Just work. This wasn''t the government. This wasn''t an army. This was Overwatch. And this was the fortress they''d built. "Let''s check the west fence next," Thomas said. Phillip raised an eyebrow. "You planning to inspect every bolt in the complex today?" Thomas smirked faintly. "I''ve seen what''s out there. I want to make damn sure we''re ready for it." With that, they continued toward the armored barricades. The war wasn''t over. The nests were still out there. But inside these walls, they had the will, the weapons, and the people. That was enough¡ªfor now. Chapter 154: The Test Flight Part 1 He stood near the edge of the MOA Complex airstrip, eyes scanning the parked aircraft under the rising sun. A row of Black Hawk helicopters gleamed under the maintenance lights, their rotors still, their engines silent. Beyond them, the ground crews moved with quiet focus, checking fuel lines, tightening bolts, logging preflight diagnostics. Phillip approached from behind, sipping coffee from a steel thermos. "You''re up early." Thomas gave a small nod. "Felt like flying." Phillip blinked. "Wait, what?" "I have flying skills," Thomas said, turning to face him. "I really wanted to try out my skills even though I don''t have any experience." Phillip raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You want to fly a Black Hawk?" "Just one round. Sightseeing." "We''re not exactly in a tourist zone." Thomas offered a slight smirk. "Call it high-altitude recon." Phillip sipped his coffee again, then tilted his head toward Hangar Three. "We''ve got Hawk-17 fueled and prepped. Coop''s the on-duty pilot. He can ride co-pilot and babysit you." Thomas already started walking. "Perfect." Inside the hangar, the Black Hawk loomed like a metal beast ready to leap. Two ground crew were checking final systems as Thomas climbed into the cockpit. Coop, a young pilot with short-cropped hair and a laid-back attitude, slid into the left seat and handed Thomas a headset. "You ever actually flown one of these, sir?" Coop asked, strapping in. "Nope, but I do have skills." "Alright. I''ll handle the radios and callouts. You keep us level and upright." "I can manage that." The rotors spun to life with a low whine that quickly built to a deep, chopping roar. The entire airframe trembled as systems lit up in sequence. Coop gave the final thumbs up to ground control, and a controller in the tower waved them off with a glowing panel. Thomas eased the stick forward, slowly pulling the collective. The Black Hawk lifted from the tarmac like a predator stretching its wings. They banked north, climbing toward a steady 300-meter cruising altitude. Below them, the MOA Complex shrank into a nest of walls and barricades. The reclaimed structures, food warehouses, and solar towers looked tiny from up here¡ªtiny but alive. Then the outer world came into view. Thomas''s hands tightened slightly on the controls. "Jesus," he muttered. Manila was dying. The Bloom was everywhere. From this height, it was impossible to miss the long, winding tendrils that choked the landscape. Major roads¡ªEDSA, Taft, even parts of Roxas Boulevard¡ªwere half-swallowed in a slow-moving blanket of vine and pod. Several buildings along the Pasay and Makati border had been completely consumed. The skeletal remains of high-rises were fused into bulbous growths, like tumors stretching toward the sky. Coop was quiet for a moment. Then he pointed through the windscreen. "See that cluster by the Guadalupe Bridge?" Thomas banked slightly to the left, angling the chopper toward the Pasig River. A large Bloom Nest had formed along both sides of the waterway, linking through tendrils that had wrapped around the bridge''s supports. Thick red mist rose from its center like chimney smoke. "That one''s new," Coop said. "Didn''t exist two days ago." They flew further north, past Mandaluyong. The Ortigas business district was a mess of glass and spore. Thomas recognized the building they''d landed on days before¡ªRobinsons Summit Tower. It was nearly unrecognizable now. Vines had overtaken its crown, and the pod they''d scanned was bigger, pulsing faintly in the morning sun. "Shadow Team pulled out in time," Thomas said quietly. "Yeah. But for how long?" Thomas didn''t answer. They banked again and cut west toward Quezon City. Even from here, they could see patches of Bloom Nests dotting scattered zones near East Avenue and around the old Memorial Circle. "I thought Quezon was stable," Thomas said. "It was," Coop replied. "But now? Growth''s erratic. It''s not a clean spread¡ªit''s jumping zones. Skipping like it''s choosing targets." "Like it''s learning," Thomas muttered. They flew over University Avenue, the wide green spaces now lined with strange orange stalks that swayed slightly, even though there was no wind. One of the radio antennas had collapsed, buried in biomass. Thomas turned south again. As they passed over the banks of the Pasig River, he noticed something strange. A single skyscraper¡ªrelatively untouched¡ªstood amidst a sea of vines. But the Bloom growth had formed a circle around it, like it was being intentionally avoided. He made a note of the coordinates. "Take us lower," he said. Coop didn''t question it. They dipped to 150 meters, skimming the tops of decaying buildings. From this close, Thomas could see movement in the biomass. Not just twitching¡ªbut actual coordination. Like muscle contractions moving fluid through a body. "Is it just me," Coop said, "or is this thing breathing?" "It is," Thomas confirmed. They continued west, passing over Ermita and Intramuros. The old Spanish walls were partially collapsed, stone eaten through by long red tendrils. Bloom pods had cracked open in several places, and from inside, half-formed figures twitched¡ªlifeless or not, it was hard to tell. They turned back toward the coast. In the far distance, across the bay, a new bloom tower had begun to rise in Cavite. It stretched higher than any they''d seen so far¡ªlike a spire, forming from abandoned construction scaffolding now repurposed by the infection. Thomas stared at it in silence. "That''s not spreading anymore," he said. "No," Coop agreed. "That''s building." A pause hung between them. Then Thomas took a deep breath. "Let''s head back." Coop nodded, toggling the comms. "MOA Tower, this is Black Hawk 17 inbound. Recon complete." They approached the MOA Complex airfield from the east, the defensive walls looking even more fragile after what they''d seen. Thomas brought the helicopter down smoothly, rotors kicking up another storm of dust as the skids touched down. As they powered down, Coop removed his headset. "You did good, sir. Not bad for a Supreme Commander." Thomas gave a tight smile. "Thanks for letting me take the stick." He stepped out of the chopper and looked back at the skyline one last time. It was spreading. And they were running out of time. Inside, the war machine of Overwatch was still moving¡ªtraining, loading, planning. But now Thomas had seen it for himself. This was no longer just a defensive campaign. It was a countdown. And the end was already writing itself across the city in red. Chapter 155: The Test Flight Part 2 The afternoon wind swept across the MOA Complex airstrip, kicking up loose dust along the tarmac. Thomas Estaris stood near Hangar Four, his arms crossed, watching as the Apache AH-64''s maintenance crews finished their final checks. It was a brutal-looking machine¡ªsleek, angular, armored to the teeth with its 30mm M230 chain gun hanging beneath its nose like a clenched fist. Rocket pods were loaded and locked. The twin rotor blades were motionless for now, but even standing still, the aircraft exuded a raw, mechanical aggression. He took a breath. The Black Hawk flight earlier that week had been a recon mission, a way to see the world from above and process just how far the infection had spread. But this time, he wasn''t just sightseeing. "Really going up in that thing?" a voice asked from behind. Thomas turned to see Coop walking toward him, helmet tucked under his arm, sunglasses on, and his flight suit half-zipped. He looked as casual as ever, even with the apocalypse unfolding outside the walls. "I want to see what this thing can do," Thomas said, adjusting the sleeves of his Overwatch field jacket. "A lot of our plans depend on close air support working when the ground fails." Coop gave a short nod. "Then you''re in the right bird. But flying it is a whole different beast from the Black Hawk." "I''m not green," Thomas said. "Just inexperienced." "You know how to shoot?" "I should know it instinctively since I do have the skills for it." "Then let''s hope that you do since you will be the one firing," Coop said with a grin, tossing Thomas a spare helmet. They walked toward the Apache together. The ground crew stepped back, giving them space. One of the technicians saluted them informally and held up a checklist. "Full fuel. Chain gun loaded. Rocket pods locked. All diagnostics green," the tech said. Thomas climbed into the pilot seat, front cockpit. Coop took the gunner/co-pilot seat behind him. The Apache came alive with the flick of a few switches. Instruments blinked into green, and the engine''s growl built to a fierce vibration beneath their feet. The rotor blades spun to life, chopping the air with growing intensity. "Welcome to the hornet''s nest," Coop said over the intercom. Thomas exhaled slowly, hands gripping the cyclic and collective. "Let''s go hunting," he said. The Apache lifted off the tarmac like a demon given wings. Its tail dipped briefly, then rose as they banked east over the reclaimed waters of Manila Bay. The city stretched out before them, broken and burning in places, consumed in others. Their route took them over the old Cultural Center complex and onward toward the edge of the Greenbelt district¡ªan area previously patrolled by Overwatch scouts but now largely inaccessible due to spore spread and biomass expansion. "You got eyes on the intersection?" Coop asked, tagging a point on the digital HUD. "That''s where Command reported a cluster of reanimated infected moving through yesterday. They''re likely dragging corpses back to the nearest Bloom." Thomas narrowed his eyes through the visor and toggled thermal overlay. The heat signatures flared instantly¡ªdozens of them, moving slowly but with purpose. Some crawled. Others limped. A few sprinted and collapsed again. "This is it," Thomas muttered. "Let''s wake them up." He angled the bird slightly and selected the Hydra 70 rocket pod. "Rockets hot," Coop confirmed. "On your mark." Thomas didn''t wait. He fired. The pods erupted in a rapid hiss of smoke and flame, streaking down like thunderbolts into the streets below. Concrete exploded. A fireball erupted from a crushed sedan, flinging infected in all directions. Several creatures tried to scatter, only for the M230 chain gun to whir to life. BRRRRT. The 30mm rounds ripped through asphalt and biomass alike, carving a line of destruction through the infected cluster. Limbs flew. A tall figure¡ªbloated and pulsing with red mist¡ªburst like a balloon under the impact. "That one was a pod carrier," Coop said. "Nice shot." They looped south, continuing the run. Several Bloom tendrils were visibly moving now, reacting to the heat and vibrations. "We''re being watched," Thomas said. "I''d be shocked if we weren''t." Another run. More rockets. The sound of death and fire echoed over the ruins of Makati. They passed over a burned-out overpass and spotted another Bloom cluster forming near a partially collapsed condominium. Thomas tapped the targeting control and aligned the crosshairs. "One more sweep," he said. "Give them hell." This time, he fired the chain gun in a controlled burst¡ªcutting through half-formed creatures emerging from the biomass. The flesh peeled off them as they collapsed mid-crawl. A particularly large creature¡ªtwisted, gorilla-like, but with no face¡ªroared and charged toward the base of the building. Thomas fired again. This time, the whole ledge collapsed, taking the thing with it. "That''s it!" Coop whooped. "You''re getting the hang of it." Thomas didn''t answer right away. His face was unreadable, locked in that distant focus soldiers wore when they were thinking beyond the battlefield. They turned back toward the west, flying lower now. Below them, zombies stirred. Some looked up and screeched. Others pointed. A few tried to follow, only to be burned down by a final strafing run. They didn''t stop flying until the ammo count blinked low. "Heading back," Coop said. "We''ll do rearm at Hangar Four." "Yeah," Thomas replied. "Let''s bring it in." As they returned to MOA Complex, the wind carried the acrid scent of burning Bloom and scorched asphalt through the cockpit. They touched down gently. The ground crew rushed forward, hosing down the Apache with foam spray to neutralize any residue, while mechanics began prepping for reloading. Thomas climbed out of the cockpit and pulled off his helmet. He looked toward the skyline again. The Bloom was still there. Still growing. But for the first time in a long while, it wasn''t the only thing dominating the horizon. He''d brought fire to the sky. And he wasn''t done yet. Phillip was waiting at the edge of the hangar, arms crossed. "How was the ride?" Thomas tossed him a smirk. "Like riding a storm." Phillip nodded. "Good. Because the next time we fly, we might be flying into one." Chapter 156: The Bloomnest Exploded It began with a ripple. Not a roar, not an explosion¡ªjust a low tremor that shook loose some dust from a crumbling wall near a narrow alleyway in what was once the Ortigas commercial district. Scout Team Echo-7 was on patrol, one of several reconnaissance groups sent out daily from the MOA Complex to monitor Bloom Nest spread and scavenge for supplies. They weren''t elite commandos. They weren''t heavily armed. Just well-trained Overwatch recon in patched gear and reinforced vests. Light loadouts. Fast in, fast out. Erika was one of them, and this was her first field mission. "Echo-7 actual, reporting in. Southeast quadrant is clear. Minimal vine movement. No spores airborne. Proceeding to checkpoint Lima." Her voice came through clear, if a little winded. "Copy that, Echo-7. Maintain comms interval at ten. MOA Control out." She lowered her radio and looked back at the rest of her team¡ªfive scouts in total, moving quietly through the ruins of an old grocery store. Their boots crunched lightly on broken tiles and loose paper. Through the shattered windows, the skyline was a jagged silhouette of broken towers. "I hate this part of the city," muttered Vance, her second. "Yeah? You hated BGC too." "Because the zombies there run." A faint chuckle moved through the group, but it didn''t last. Because that''s when they heard it. A sound like air escaping a massive balloon. Then a pulse¡ªlow, like a bass drop rolling through the bones of the buildings. Erika stopped mid-step. "Everyone down. Now." They crouched behind overturned shelves and rusted debris. Out the window, toward the northeast, the sky was changing. It wasn''t smoke. It was red mist. A thick, violent burst of vapor erupted in the distance, the epicenter marked by a tower of biomass suddenly expanding, writhing, and then exploding in a bloom of red. "What the hell¡ª" Vance whispered. "Bloom Nest just blew," Erika said. "I''m calling it in¡ª" Then they saw the first figure. Down the road, crawling over the side of an old overpass, was a humanoid figure¡ªbut long. Its limbs were stretched unnaturally, the knees bent backward. It moved in bursts, almost glitching forward. Its skin was blackened and split open along the arms, where sharp, bone-like claws jutted out. It wasn''t like any infected they had seen before. "Echo-7 to MOA Control," Erika said, trying to keep her voice calm. "We have visual on unknown hostiles. Repeat, we are observing infected¡ªfast movers, elongated limbs, claws. Variant is new. Requesting immediate drone recon and potential extract." No reply. Only static. Then came the scream. The creature turned its head toward their building and let out a noise like tearing metal and shrieking wind¡ªinhuman, piercing. A second later, two more of its kind leapt down beside it, skittering like spiders on all fours. They ran. "MOVE!" Erika shouted. The group bolted out the back of the store and into an alley, but the creatures were faster. Echo-7 was trained for retreat, for speed. But this was something else. First down was Riley. One of the creatures leapt from a second-story ledge and drove claws straight into his back. There wasn''t even time to scream. They didn''t stop. "Keep going!" Erika shouted. They crossed a narrow skybridge into the shell of an old clothing mall. Inside, Vance and another scout¡ªHughes¡ªheld the door as long as they could before one of the infected smashed through the glass. Blood sprayed. Erika didn''t look back. She ran until her lungs burned and her legs nearly gave out. She ducked through a broken shutter and found herself in an old cafe? stall. Then silence. Heavy, unnatural silence. She slipped behind the counter and dropped flat, breathing through her teeth to muffle the sound. The red mist was already creeping through the mall entrance. It stuck to the floor and ceiling like fog made of blood. A minute passed. Then another. She heard footsteps¡ªno, claws. Something dragged itself across linoleum. Closer. Closer. And then... it passed. She didn''t dare move. She keyed her radio again, whispering this time. "Echo-7 to MOA Control. Squad is down. I repeat, squad is down. I am the last survivor. Hostiles are Bloomspawn variants¡ªfast, intelligent, organized. Awaiting exfil or guidance." Nothing. She slumped back against the wall of the stall, her fingers tight around her knife. She didn''t trust her rifle to stay quiet. If they came again, she''d make them bleed first. Far away, a Reaper drone finally passed overhead. She prayed someone was watching. Back at MOA Complex, the control center flickered with life. Thomas stood in the center as the screen lit up with red alerts. "Echo-7 lost comms?" he asked sharply. "Yes, sir," Marcus responded. "We just re-established drone visuals over the quadrant. Something hit them hard. Real-time feed coming up now." The footage played. Red mist. Screaming. Blurs of black and bone tearing through alleyways. And the squad¡ªhis scouts¡ªdying one by one. Erika''s last signal blinked weakly on the map. "She''s still alive," Thomas said. "Barely," Marcus replied. "But sir... look at them." The screen showed a paused frame of the creatures¡ªelongated, sharp, drooling dark fluid. Unlike anything they had seen. Not Crimson Dawn. Not even the wave infecteds. This was new. And now it was moving west. "Alert all scout teams," Thomas ordered. "No more patrols until we understand this. Order them to retreat." "How about her?" Marcus asked, referring to Erika. Thomas faced a hard decision. He doesn''t want to send a full force of his military to rescue a single individual, and since they are facing a new variant, they have to be prepared for whatever might happen, specifically when those new variants start charging towards the MOA Complex. "Sending a squad to get her out is dangerous, we will advise her to stay hidden until things have calmed down," Thomas replied. "Understood sir. I thought we are going to abandon her. Well in this line of duty, one would have to face a hard decision on leaving a man behind for the sake of something greater." "I don''t think I am ready to make that decision Marcus," Thomas said, looking at Marcus. Chapter 157: Thinking it was Personal The red mist hadn''t moved for a while. Erika sat with her back to the cold tile wall of the ruined cafe?, knees pulled up to her chest, rifle propped against the counter beside her. The place reeked of spoiled milk and burnt plastic, but she had stopped noticing. Her mind was focused on the radio. And the silence it carried. She adjusted the dial one more time, switching frequencies, fingers shaking from more than just fatigue. "Echo-7 to MOA Control. Anyone reading this? Please respond." Nothing. Only static. And then¡ªcrackling. A faint voice pushed through the noise. "Echo-7... this is MOA... acknowledge..." She gripped the receiver tighter. "Control! I read you! I''m alive! Repeat, I''m still alive!" The voice came clearer now, Marcus''s tone steady but clinical. "Erika... we have you on drone visuals. Maintain current position. No exfil at this time. Standby for further instruction." She blinked. Her stomach turned. "What?" she said, though she already knew what it meant. "We''ve suspended all recon operations. You are to stay hidden and avoid engagement until threat level decreases." "You''re... leaving me here?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. A long pause. Then Marcus''s voice again: "Orders from the Supreme Commander. We''ll keep you on drone watch. Stay alive, Erika. That''s all you have to do." The line went dead. She didn''t move for a while. The rifle in her lap felt heavier than before. Her chest tightened. Her mind raced¡ªnot with panic, not yet¡ªbut with something colder. She wasn''t important enough. Even after what happened... after that night in his room, when she had dropped her guard, her armor, and everything else. She thought she mattered. To him. But Thomas Estaris had made his decision. And it wasn''t her. "...bastard," she whispered. She stood, not bothering to hide the bitterness on her face. Her legs ached from the crouched position, and her shoulders felt bruised from the earlier run. But she wasn''t going to die in a fucking coffee stall. She wasn''t going to be forgotten. Not like this. She peeked out from behind the counter and slowly moved toward the shattered display window. The red mist was still there, but thinner now. It drifted toward the other side of the mall, drawn by some unknown pulse deeper in the structure. She adjusted the visor of her helmet and tapped her wrist scanner. Minimal movement nearby. She couldn''t trust it completely¡ªthose Bloomspawn things were erratic, faster than anything she''d encountered before. But it was either move now or wait for them to come back. And she wasn''t waiting. She checked her magazine¡ªtwenty-one rounds left. One grenade. A single flare. Not enough to fight. Just enough to scare or escape. She pushed through the cracked door frame and stepped back into the corridor. Every sound made her flinch¡ªthe creak of broken tiles, the flutter of paper, the occasional drip from a cracked ceiling pipe. But nothing lunged at her. Not yet. She moved fast and quiet, hugging the walls, staying in the shadows. Her objective wasn''t clear. There was no evac. No rally point. So her mission was simple now: survive. Survive until Thomas changed his mind. Survive until the Bloom pulled back. Survive until someone decided she was worth rescuing again. She reached a dead-end stairwell with a collapsed ceiling and backtracked, cutting through what used to be a small bookstore. Half the shelves were burned. The other half were bloated with mold. She grabbed a half-empty bottle of water from behind the counter and stuffed it into her pouch. Then she heard it. A wet dragging noise. Not far. Coming from the hallway she just left. Her heart pounded. She ducked behind the cashier''s table and crouched low, rifle aimed toward the broken glass entry. A shadow passed. Too fast. She held her breath. The thing didn''t enter¡ªbut it lingered. A claw scraped across the floor. A bone-white hand gripped the corner of the frame. Then it sniffed. And then... ...it moved on. Only when the sound of its limbs scraping tile finally faded did Erika breathe again. She didn''t wait. She moved. Up an escalator now covered in vines. She sidestepped the growth, careful not to touch any of it. She had seen what happened when it reacted¡ªhow it flinched like skin when wounded. It was alive. And it listened. She reached the upper floor. A cracked skylight offered a view of the crimson-streaked skyline. Ortigas was unrecognizable. The buildings were still there¡ªtechnically. But vines ran between them like arteries. One tower had burst open from the middle, a massive pod splitting its structure like a growing seed. Something pulsed inside it, visible even from this distance. She spotted movement. Far below¡ªhundreds of meters down¡ªa patrol of Bloomspawn creatures moved across the road. They moved in formation. Not like zombies. Like soldiers. She crouched near the edge of the shattered glass and pulled her radio again. "Echo-7... Erika... reporting continued movement of new infected. They''re... organized. I repeat, they''re patrolling. This isn''t random." Static. Then a voice. Thomas. "...Erika. I''m here." Her breath caught. She didn''t say anything. "I''m sorry," his voice said. "We had to make a choice. It wasn''t personal." She still didn''t speak. "Why are you moving? We told you to stay put." "...Why are you moving? We told you to stay put." Erika didn''t answer. She clicked the radio off without a word. Her lips were pressed in a hard, thin line as she crouched behind the cracked skylight. Her breath fogged the inside of her visor for a second before clearing again. That voice¡ªThomas''s voice¡ªmeant nothing to her now. Not after what he said. Not after what he didn''t do. She had given him a piece of herself. Trusted him with it. And he''d left her here. Told her to "stay put" like some disposable pawn on a game board he could afford to lose. Screw that. She pushed away from the window and slipped back into the shadows of the hallway, ignoring the faint crackle of the radio still clipped to her chest. If he called again, she wouldn''t answer. Not unless he showed up in person. She passed by a broken vending machine and didn''t even glance at it. This wasn''t about surviving for someone anymore. This was survival on her terms. If she made it out, it would be because she earned it¡ªnot because anyone came for her. And if she didn''t... well, at least she wouldn''t die waiting. Chapter 158: Warthog in Killing Spree Erika moved through the skeletal remains of Ortigas, her boots crunching softly on debris-strewn floors. The red mist had thinned, but the air remained heavy with decay and tension. She kept her rifle at the ready, eyes scanning every shadow, every corner. The city was no longer hers; it belonged to the Bloom now.? Back at the MOA Complex, Thomas Estaris stood before a bank of monitors, each displaying live feeds from surveillance drones. One screen tracked Erika''s movements, her figure a solitary beacon amidst the desolation. Another feed caught his attention: a formation of Bloomspawn, their grotesque forms moving with unsettling coordination, advancing towards the complex''s perimeter.? "?Marcus, what''s the status of those hostiles?" Thomas asked, his voice tight.? "?They''re closing in, sir. Estimated time to contact: fifteen minutes." Thomas''s jaw tightened. He couldn''t afford to lose the MOA Complex. Not now. "?Deploy the Warthog." The A-10 Thunderbolt II, affectionately known as the "Warthog," roared to life on the airstrip. Its twin General Electric TF34-GE-100 turbofan engines emitted a deep, throaty growl as it taxied into position. The aircraft''s distinctive 30mm GAU-8/A Avenger rotary cannon, capable of firing 3,900 rounds per minute, gleamed ominously under the hangar lights .? "?Pilot, your mission is to intercept and neutralize the Bloomspawn formation heading towards our perimeter."? "?Roger that, command. Warthog is airborne."? The Warthog lifted off, banking towards the threat. As it approached, the pilot engaged the targeting systems, locking onto the leading Bloomspawn. With a squeeze of the trigger, the GAU-8/A unleashed a torrent of armor-piercing incendiary rounds, tearing through the creatures with devastating efficiency. The Bloomspawn scattered, but the Warthog was relentless. It circled back, deploying AGM-65 Maverick missiles to eliminate clusters of the infected. Two of the missiles streaked toward the ground like steel javelins guided by death itself. Their infrared seekers locked onto a massive concentration of heat signatures near a partially collapsed parking complex. The warheads struck with brutal precision¡ªtwin flashes of flame and force that sent bodies, biomass, and shattered concrete flying in all directions. A thick plume of black smoke curled into the sky, tainted with hints of crimson mist. From the command center, Thomas didn''t blink. "Confirm splash," he said. "Targets neutralized. Estimated seventy-plus," the pilot confirmed. But the feed didn''t clear. More contacts appeared on the thermal overlay. Not just more Bloomspawn¡ªdifferent ones. Larger. Heavier. "Sir," Marcus said, voice tight. "New heat signatures. They''re coming out of the pod cores. Looks like armored types." "Patch me into the pilot again." "Warthog, be advised," Thomas said into the mic. "New targets emerging. Larger. Possibly resistant. Do not attempt low-level strafe until confirmed clear." "Copy that, Command," the pilot replied. "Switching to Hydra rockets. Let''s see if these bastards flinch." From a wide banked turn, the A-10 dropped lower¡ªjust enough to get a clear angle. The pilot toggled the weapon systems and selected the 70mm Hydra pods mounted under the wings. He squeezed the trigger. Dozens of Hydra rockets screamed from their launch tubes, spiraling toward the advancing creatures like a swarm of angry hornets. They hit hard¡ªsome striking directly, others exploding nearby. The results were violent. Two of the lumbering figures staggered, one collapsing under the barrage, but the other kept moving. Its body was like plated carapace, thick as tank armor, ribs turned outward into jagged spines. "Confirmed partial kill," the pilot said. "Armor''s tougher than expected." "Hit it again," Thomas ordered. The Warthog circled once more. This time, the pilot lined up a clean shot and squeezed off a burst from the GAU-8/A. BRRRRTTTT. The rounds hammered into the larger infected''s upper body¡ªbones shattered, flesh tore, and what passed for a spine exploded in a shower of dark red. The beast dropped mid-stride, crumpling like wet paper. "Contact down," the pilot said. "But it took a full burst. These aren''t walkers anymore. They''re evolving." Thomas''s jaw clenched. The Bloomspawn weren''t just spreading¡ªthey were escalating. Testing Overwatch''s response. Pushing back. "Clear the rest of the formation. Leave nothing moving," Thomas said. "Affirmative. Continuing run." Back in Ortigas, Erika crouched behind a derelict generator shed on the roof of an old shopping complex. She could hear the distant thunder of the Warthog''s cannon, feel the tremors of its bombs in her bones. From her position, the city skyline flickered in the afternoon haze¡ªlit by missile bursts and the rolling fire trails of high-speed rotary rounds. She knew the sound. She''d heard it during drills. But this? This was war. She pulled her scarf tighter around her mouth, trying to filter out the lingering mist, and kept moving. Whatever the Warthog was targeting, it was between her and the western sector¡ªher best shot at eventual extraction. She needed to move now, while those creatures were distracted. Another Hydra salvo lit the horizon. She ran. Meanwhile, the Warthog swept over another block, this time deploying a Mk-82 low-drag bomb¡ªa general-purpose 500-pounder¡ªright into the heart of an overgrown Bloom Nest core forming along a school courtyard. "Package away." A second later, the screen in the MOA Complex command center lit up with a flash. The detonation sent a shockwave through the block, leveling whatever had managed to sprout around the center. Glass shattered in all directions, spores ignited, and a plume of ash and bio-flame surged toward the sky. "Direct hit," the pilot confirmed. "Nest is down. Moving for cleanup passes." But then the Reaper drone overhead picked up something new. "Sir," Marcus said. "We''re detecting strange EM pulses around the blast radius. Fluctuating signal... not standard. We''ve seen this before¡ªback when the Bloom reacted to stress testing in the lab." Thomas narrowed his eyes. "Are we triggering another transformation?" "We might be," Marcus said. On the display, another thermal signature flared¡ªthen three more. Smaller. Quicker. The pilot saw it too. "Multiple fast-movers breaking from blast radius. Engaging." He banked hard, pulling the Warthog into a wide S-curve and unleashing another burst of cannon fire. The 30mm rounds chopped through the fleeing infected, sending bodies tumbling across the street like ragdolls. But one made it through¡ªa spindly Bloomspawn with elongated limbs and blade-like arms. It skittered through alleyways, darted between cars, and vanished under a collapsed tunnel. "Lost one," the pilot reported. "Pursuit not viable without visual." "Return to base," Thomas ordered. "We''ve pushed them back enough for now. We''ll get the rest when we know what the hell we''re looking at." "Copy. RTB." The Warthog banked one final time, engines roaring as it pulled away from the smoldering city ruins. The streets below burned. Bloomspawn lay scattered in pieces. Fire and ash danced in the wind like confetti at a funeral. Inside the command room, the mood was quiet. Everyone watched the monitors, absorbing the magnitude of what had just happened. Phillip walked in from the adjacent briefing room, sweat still clinging to his temple. "That sounded like war," he said. Thomas gave a slow nod. "It was." "They''ll retaliate." "I know." He turned toward the feed tracking Erika''s movement. She had made it to the top of another building¡ªan old hotel now turned into a collapsed concrete husk. From above, her figure was small but purposeful. "She''s still alive," Thomas said quietly. Chapter 159: I Deserved That Erika crouched motionless for a few more minutes, ears perked, eyes scanning every corner of the shattered skyline. The Warthog had long since vanished behind the smoke, its roaring engines now just a ghost echo across the city. But its devastation remained. Streets that were once crawling with Bloomspawn now lay scorched and silent. Twisted bodies, burned husks, and shattered buildings formed a grotesque battlefield beneath her. She adjusted her grip on the rifle and swallowed hard. The gunmetal taste of fear had dulled into something else now¡ªweariness, maybe. Resentment. Survival instinct. But mostly, exhaustion. Her knee ached from the run. Her ribs still throbbed from where she''d slammed into a broken table earlier trying to avoid a patrol. She couldn''t keep doing this. The radio on her chest crackled once¡ªsoftly, as if testing her. She hesitated. Then, with slow fingers, she reached for it and pressed down the mic button. "Echo-7..." Her voice came out hoarse, cracked. She coughed, cleared her throat, and tried again. "This is Echo-7 to MOA Command... requesting air extraction. I repeat, requesting air extraction. Hostile activity has ceased. Area is quiet. I''m alive... but not for long if I stay out here." She let go of the mic and waited. Static at first. Then¡ª "Echo-7, this is MOA Control." Erika felt her heart skip. "Erika," the voice continued. Marcus. Calm, steady. "We''re receiving your signal. Hold position. Patching through to Supreme Commander." A beat passed. Then another voice came on. "...Erika." Thomas. She didn''t respond immediately. "We''ve been tracking you. Saw you make it through the blast zone. You held out longer than anyone expected." There was a pause. "I''m approving your extraction. Hang tight. Black Hawk in the air in five." She should''ve felt relieved. Instead, she clicked the mic once for acknowledgment and said nothing else. The sky above was still dimmed by soot and red haze, but in the distance, a familiar sound began to rise¡ªlike thunder cutting through fog. The distinct chop of rotor blades. Fast. Purposeful. She stood slowly and stepped toward the rooftop''s edge. Her legs felt like lead, but she forced them to move. Below, the streets were quiet. No signs of patrols. No movement in the shadows. The Bloom had been pushed back. For now. The Black Hawk appeared over the eastern skyline moments later, its dark silhouette gliding low over a ruined tower. A green flare burst from its undercarriage as it signaled approach. She took a deep breath and pulled a flare from her belt. With a flick of her wrist, she struck the cap and raised it high. Bright green smoke spiraled up from her hand as the helicopter drew closer, circling once before hovering above the rooftop. Wind kicked up debris and ash. The downdraft forced her to squint, one hand shielding her eyes as a crewman lowered the winch line. The soldier wore the gray-green of Overwatch, helmet low, face obscured behind goggles and respirator. "Hold tight, ma''am!" the crewman shouted over the roar. She clipped the line to her harness and gave a thumbs-up. The winch engaged, pulling her skyward. As she ascended, the city seemed to fall away beneath her¡ªits ruined streets and pulsing vines, its broken towers and burning smoke. She didn''t look down again. The crew pulled her into the cabin. The door slammed shut, muffling the rotors. "Vitals look good," the medic said quickly, scanning her with a handheld device. "You''re one hell of a survivor." Erika didn''t answer. She sank into the seat across from the door, rifle resting against her knees. The others on board didn''t speak either. The crewman across from her gave a silent nod of respect. As the Black Hawk banked west toward MOA Complex, she watched the world blur past below. The Bloom was everywhere. Creeping through the city like veins through rot. But for now, the skies belonged to Overwatch. She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. Back at the MOA Complex Thomas stood beside the helipad, arms crossed, watching the chopper''s approach. Marcus stood nearby, headset still on, tracking the aircraft''s vitals and onboard feed. "She made it," Marcus said. "She always had a chance," Thomas replied quietly. The Black Hawk touched down with a light thud. Its side doors slid open, and the crew began to disembark. Erika stepped out last. Her boots hit the metal pad and stopped. Helmet still on, rifle still slung over her shoulder. Thomas stepped forward. And Erika also stepped forward¡ªand as Thomas was about to greet her, there was a resounding sound that shocked everyone nearby. SMACK. "Don''t you abandon me out there!" Erika growled, low and predatory, her voice like gravel as Thomas''s cheek stung beneath her palm. His head turned slightly from the force of it, but he didn''t flinch. He didn''t step back either. He just stood there and took it. Everyone froze. The ground crew, the medics, even Marcus stopped mid-step near the helipad terminal. No one dared say a word. Erika''s shoulders rose and fell rapidly, her rifle still slung but forgotten, her face flushed not from the heat¡ªbut rage. "You watched me," she hissed. "You watched me through your drones. You heard me. You knew I was still alive." Thomas didn''t respond right away. His expression was hard to read¡ªstoic, but not emotionless. His hand never moved to his cheek. He just looked at her. "I gave the order based on risk," he finally said. Calm. Controlled. "The perimeter was in danger. You know that. You were trained to understand that sometimes we can''t¡ª" "Bullshit!" she snapped, stepping even closer now, voice cracking. "I wasn''t asking for a damn parade, Thomas. I was asking not to die alone." He opened his mouth again, but Erika didn''t let him speak. "After everything? After I put my trust in you?" Her voice dropped now, quieter, but sharp enough to cut steel. "You couldn''t even say my name when Marcus told you I was the last one left." Thomas lowered his gaze for a second¡ªjust a second. Then he sighed. "You''re right." That stunned her more than another excuse would''ve. "I thought if I waited just a little longer, the threat would pass. I gambled on silence, on you staying hidden long enough for us to stabilize the perimeter. But you''re right¡ªI should''ve pulled you sooner." Erika blinked, breathing still uneven. Her eyes were glassy now, but no tears fell. "You''re the Supreme Commander," she said bitterly. "But you made me feel like I was nothing." Thomas took one slow step forward. He didn''t raise his hands, didn''t reach out. "You''re not nothing. I failed you. And I can''t undo that." He paused. "But I can make sure it never happens again." Erika stared at him for a long moment. Then she shook her head. "Just... don''t talk like I''m some asset in your report." Her voice was lower now. "Don''t pretend that night didn''t happen." Thomas hesitated¡ªbut then nodded. "I remember. Every second." Another long silence passed between them before Marcus finally stepped in. "We should get her to medbay," he said, voice cautious, carefully neutral. Erika didn''t resist when the medic gently tapped her arm, but her eyes never left Thomas as she turned away. As she walked toward the main entrance, the tension in the air slowly loosened. People returned to work, footsteps echoed again, conversations resumed in hushed tones. Thomas stood alone near the edge of the helipad, one hand tucked behind his back, the other still by his side. Marcus returned to his spot beside him. "Sir?" he asked quietly. Thomas didn''t look away from where Erika had disappeared into the facility. "I deserved that." Chapter 160: Something That Came Out It started as a groan beneath the earth¡ªlong, low, and unnatural. Ruben was halfway through a rusted tin of sardines when the entire building beneath him shuddered. The tremor knocked his can to the floor, where it rolled, clinking, into a pile of broken glass. For a moment, he thought it was another Bloom Nest surge. The kind that sent spores shooting into the air like fireworks made of blood. But then the sky darkened. Not from clouds. From something else. From the earth across the ruins of EDSA-Aurora Boulevard junction¡ªsomething rose. Ruben staggered out of the shattered 7-Eleven he had holed up in, squinting into the dusk. The ground across the street was splitting open, like the skin of the city was being peeled back by invisible claws. The old Araneta Coliseum loomed behind it, broken and hollow, its dome caved in like a crushed soda can. But what erupted from the earth in front of it dwarfed even that. At first, he thought it was a building collapsing in reverse. Then he realized it wasn''t a building at all. The creature rose slowly, groaning as it emerged¡ªits body layered in curved red-black plating that pulsed faintly, as though alive. The shape was vertical, towering, stretching higher and higher until it loomed above the entire Cubao district. Ruben could see no legs. No wings. No face at first. Just height. Then, near the top, something opened. It was a mouth. A jagged spiral of interlocking fangs curled back like petals on a rotting flower. From within, a deep, violet glow radiated outward¡ªhot, electric, violent. The glow brightened, and with it came a noise. Not a roar. Not a scream. It was a hum. Mechanical, dense, and layered like something ancient had just booted up. Ruben stumbled backward, eyes wide. He wasn''t military. He wasn''t a fighter. He used to repair cell phones for a living. Since the outbreak, he had stayed alive through sheer dumb luck and the ability to hide well. But now? Now there was nowhere to hide. The massive creature rooted itself in place. It didn''t walk. It didn''t slither. It stood like a grotesque monument of flesh and steel. A tower of horror that had no reason to move¡ªbecause the damage it would cause wasn''t by movement. It pulsed again. And this time, the light from its core flared out into the sky in a violent beam of energy that split the clouds. Lightning crackled around the pulse, scorching the air. The blast didn''t hit the ground. It didn''t need to. It went straight up, illuminating the smoke-choked heavens like a signal flare to hell itself. Then came the fallout. Every Bloom Nest in the surrounding kilometers answered. Ruben heard them. He felt them. A chorus of shrieks, of pods cracking open, of infected howling as they dropped from walls, ceilings, rooftops¡ªall writhing toward the monument in Cubao. A pilgrimage of meat and madness. He ducked under a fallen steel beam and scrambled toward the alley behind the old bus terminal. His boots slipped on moss-covered pavement, and he only just missed being seen by a wandering infected with one twisted leg and eyes glowing red. He held his breath. The creature didn''t chase. It didn''t even react. It was rooted. And that, somehow, was worse. Because Ruben realized what it really was. It wasn''t a monster. It was like a broadcasting spire. A new kind of Bloom Nest¡ªno longer content to grow low and spread like mold. This... thing... was a broadcast tower. A beacon. Maybe a queen. Maybe a signal. He didn''t know. But every infected was being drawn to it, lured like moths to an apocalyptic flame. And then, to make it worse¡ªit began to sing. That was the only word he had for it. The creature''s core unleashed a sound, rhythmic and layered, deep enough to rattle his ribs. It was music without melody. Static with structure. A language he couldn''t understand but instinctively feared. A warning? A command? He couldn''t tell. He didn''t want to. Ruben crouched in a mangled jeepney, heart racing, ears ringing from the sound. He grabbed the radio he''d stolen from a dead scavenger days ago, but the static pouring from it was too loud¡ªmatching the pulse of the creature''s frequency. He yanked out the battery and tossed it aside, gripping his head. The city was being changed. Not just corrupted now. Transformed. Around the base of the spire, vines began to harden, twisting into black spires and skeletal branches that reached outward like a forest of bone and rot. Buildings around it cracked and bent, drawn toward it. Cars levitated briefly off the ground before crashing down again in synchronized collapse. And still¡ªit did not move. It didn''t have to. This was its nest now. Its throne. Ruben bit his lip until it bled. He didn''t know how long he stared. But eventually, the light pulsed one final time¡ªmassive, blinding¡ªand the creature went silent. Still glowing. Still alive. But quiet. Dormant, perhaps. Watching. Waiting. Ruben sat in the silence that followed, the hum of the creature''s energy still vibrating through the concrete. His hands shook. His mind reeled. And for the first time in days, he began to cry. Not because he was hurt. But because he understood. The world wasn''t going back. Not after this. This was something new. Something worse. And whatever Overwatch was doing on the other side of the city... they didn''t know it yet. But they would. Oh, they would. Ruben crawled deeper into the shadows of the jeepney, curling into himself as the light from the monster''s core dimmed to a low, steady throb. The heat in the air lingered, but the sound had faded. All that remained was the silence¡ªthe oppressive, suffocating kind that filled your ears when even the insects were too afraid to make a sound. He wrapped his arms around his knees and pressed his forehead against the metal wall. His breathing slowed, shallow and unsteady, like every exhale might draw attention from the thing that now loomed like a god just blocks away. He didn''t speak. He didn''t move. He just prayed¡ªnot to be saved. But to be unseen. Chapter 161: Apocalyptic Monster A sudden chime pierced the silence¡ªa sharp, insistent tone that resonated directly within his mind. Thomas''s eyes snapped open, the HUD in his vision flickering to life. [NEW MISSION ALERT] Designation: Apocalyptic Threat Emergence Location: Unknown Objective: Identify and Neutralize Difficulty: [CLASSIFIED - NEW PARAMETER INITIATED] Rewards: [System Upgrade] He sat up abruptly, the cold floor sending a jolt through his bare feet. The mission parameters were unlike any he had seen before. The inclusion of a difficulty rating was new¡ªa feature the system had never utilized. And the term "Apocalyptic Threat"? That was unprecedented.? Without hesitation, Thomas grabbed his uniform, foregoing the usual morning routine. There was no time. The system''s urgency was clear. *** The corridors of Conrad were eerily quiet as Thomas made his way to the command center. The usual buzz of activity was absent, replaced by a tense stillness. As he entered, Marcus looked up from his console, eyes wide.? "?Sir, you''re here."? "?I received the alert from the system. What''s the situation?"? Marcus gestured to the main screen, which displayed a satellite image of Metro Manila. A massive, pulsating structure had erupted in the heart of Cubao, dwarfing the surrounding ruins. The creature was stationary, yet its presence was causing seismic disturbances and electromagnetic anomalies.? "?We don''t know what it is, but it''s affecting all our systems. Communications are down in the vicinity, and our drones can''t get close."? Thomas studied the image. "What the heck was that?" "We don''t know sir...perhaps it has a name." Thomas looked closer, the system has granted him abilities to know the name of the monster and based from the text above its form, it''s name was Colossal Worm. "What the heck was that?" "We don''t know, sir... perhaps it has a name." Thomas leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at the grainy satellite feed. The image trembled slightly from EM interference, but the shape on screen remained unmistakable¡ªtowering, organic, still. And then it flickered. Only in his vision. A translucent overlay blinked into life¡ªa system interface, visible only to him. [ENTITY DETECTED: APOCALYPTIC CLASS] [NAME: COLOSSAL WORM] [THREAT LEVEL: UNKNOWN] [REWARDS: System Upgrade] [NOTE: ENTITY IS FIXED IN POSITION. HOSTILE POTENTIAL ¨C MAXIMUM.] [OBJECTIVE: FIND A WAY TO DESTROY] The moment he read the name, a cold chill went down his spine. Colossal Worm. Not a metaphor. Not a nickname. That was its designation¡ªgranted not by some analyst, but by the system itself. And for the first time since the outbreak began, the system had included a difficulty rating that was blacked out. "Sir?" Marcus asked quietly. "Are you okay?" Thomas blinked, refocusing. "That thing has a name. The system gave it to me directly. It''s called the Colossal Worm." Marcus looked back at the screen. "It doesn''t look like it''s moving." "It doesn''t have to." The command center remained dead silent for several seconds. Thomas stepped back and turned toward the drone operators. "We need visuals. High altitude. Long-range optics. I want details¡ªsurface composition, energy readings, biomass structure, everything we can pull." One of the operators, Lena, nodded quickly and began programming a fresh launch sequence. "Deploying Reaper Three-One now," she said, fingers flying across the terminal. "We''ll keep it well above its EM field. 400 meters up, max zoom." The feed came online slowly. A blurry visual at first, then sharpened. The drone''s camera locked onto the monument of flesh and plating now rooted in the ruins of Cubao. The worm didn''t move, but even from this distance, the power it radiated was unmistakable. Its spiral maw, now half-open, glowed faintly with violet heat. Marcus stepped closer, crossing his arms. "It''s like it''s not even alive. But it''s doing something. Look¡ªthere." He pointed to the outer shell. Across the body, faint pulses of light traced up from its roots to its peak like veins running in reverse. And at the very base¡ªsurrounding buildings were warping, bending toward it like flowers turning toward the sun. "Jesus..." Lena whispered. "It''s not just emitting a signal. It''s... changing the terrain. Bioforming the city." Thomas''s jaw tightened. "That''s not all it''s doing." He gestured toward the screen. "Zoom on that spiral core." The operator complied. The violet light flickered erratically, like a strobe beneath water. Then for a split second¡ªonly visible frame by frame¡ªa concentrated pulse of plasma arced upward into the sky. "Frame it," Thomas ordered. They froze the feed and enhanced. "It''s firing upward," Marcus said, squinting. "But there''s nothing up there." "It''s signaling," Thomas said flatly. "Or scanning. Maybe both. This thing isn''t just calling the infected. It''s looking for something." Or someone. Thomas didn''t say that last part out loud. Lena gasped suddenly. "Sir¡ªuh¡ªdrone feed is unstable." "What?" "Something''s changing. EM interference spiking. Readings jumping across all ranges." "Abort visual. Pull it back," Thomas ordered immediately. But it was too late. On screen, the spiral maw of the Colossal Worm began to unfurl again. Fully this time. The violet glow brightened into a blinding flash. The core convulsed once, like a giant pupil dilating¡ªand then fired. A beam of focused energy launched upward¡ªthen bent midair, curving unnaturally through the clouds, locking straight onto the Reaper drone. There was no time to react. The screen went white. Then black. [SIGNAL LOST] Everyone stood frozen. Thomas clenched his fist. That wasn''t an accident. That wasn''t passive. "That thing saw the drone," he growled. "It tracked it. Adapted to its path. It''s not broadcasting blindly¡ªit''s scanning, triangulating. It''s aware." Marcus''s face paled slightly. "Sir... if it can detect aerial recon, it could potentially jam future Reaper flights." "It doesn''t need to jam anything," Thomas said. "It just needs to fire again. And again." He turned away from the screen and looked at the 3D simulation table. "Load atmospheric data. I want a breakdown of the plasma shot. Speed, heat, spread." Lena pulled up the figures. The numbers weren''t comforting. "Plasma output exceeds standard anti-air weaponry. Equivalent to a ship-grade pulse cannon. Effective range? Probably citywide. Accuracy? High. It''s not a blind weapon¡ªit''s aimed." Thomas muttered under his breath, "Then we''re dealing with an anti-air monstrosity the size of a skyscraper... that sings." "Get Phillip on standby," Thomas continued. "And start prepping the heavy birds. Apache gunships, artillery grid lines, even Spooky if it''s ready. We''re going to need everything." Marcus hesitated. "Sir... you don''t even know if the thing can be destroyed." Thomas turned to him, eyes hard. "Then we''re going to find out." He exhaled slowly. Because something told him... This wasn''t just the biggest threat they''d faced. It was the beginning of something worse. Something ancient. Something planned. The Colossal Worm had emerged. And it had only just begun. Chapter 162: Phillip, You Got This ?The reclaimed airfield at the MOA Complex buzzed with anticipation. Phillip, known by his callsign Shadow 0-1, stood at attention alongside his ten-man Special Operations unit. Each soldier, designated from Shadow 2 to Shadow 11, was clad in advanced combat gear, their faces obscured by tactical visors reflecting the early morning sun.? The growl of an approaching JLTV broke the stillness. The vehicle rolled across the tarmac, tires spitting dust as it came to a stop ten meters in front of the team. The doors opened. Thomas Estaris stepped out. He wore a black Overwatch field coat, collar up, no armor on him¡ªjust command. His eyes scanned the line of soldiers without a word. Phillip snapped to attention. "Sir." The rest of Shadow Team followed in unison. Thomas returned the salute with a firm nod. "At ease." They relaxed, but only just. Phillip stepped forward. Thomas gestured to the twin Black Hawks being fueled nearby. "A situation''s developing. A new entity¡ªnon-mobile, but broadcasting a signal across the city. It erupted from Cubao about twelve hours ago. We didn''t know about it until a Reaper drone picked up the EM spike and visuals." He turned back to Phillip and handed him a folded tablet. Phillip tapped it open. What he saw made him squint. A single frame. A fixed structure. A tower of biological and metallic mass. One long body, rooted in place. Its mouth was a spiral of bone, and light pulsed from within like a beating heart made of energy. "Designation," Thomas said. "Colossal Worm. System confirmed it as a Tier Omega target." Phillip frowned. "Never heard that classification before." "It''s new," Thomas replied grimly. "System assigned it as Apocalyptic Threat. Our mission parameter is simple: we need eyes on it. We need to know what it is, what it''s doing, and how to kill it¡ªif killing it is even possible." "Recon only?" "For now. If it reacts, defend yourselves. If it doesn''t¡ªwatch. Record. Learn." Phillip nodded and handed the tablet back. "Understood." Thomas stepped forward and extended a fist. Phillip smirked faintly and bumped it with his own. "Be careful out there," Thomas said. "Always." The Black Hawks lifted from the runway in tandem, blades slicing through the humid air, engines roaring above the growing sprawl of the base below. From the door gunner''s perch, Shadow 5 glanced out the open side. The ruins of Pasay gave way to Makati''s fractured skyline, the bones of glass towers jutting toward the sky like broken spears. Inside one of the birds, Phillip adjusted his headset. "All Shadows, check in." "Shadow 2, green." "Shadow 3, green." The rest followed in quick sequence. As they closed in on Quezon City, the chatter died. They didn''t need to talk. They all saw it. The Colossal Worm rose above Cubao like an ancient god woken from the crust of the earth. It towered above the shattered remains of Araneta Center, taller than any remaining building, and worse¡ªalive. Its mouth glowed with deep violet energy, pulsing in slow, steady intervals like it was breathing. "Jesus," one of the Shadows muttered. Phillip''s eyes narrowed. "Hold altitude. Circle pattern. Drone launch prepped?" "Affirmative," replied the co-pilot. The launch bay opened, and a scout drone buzzed out, banking toward the Worm''s crown. The drone''s camera fed directly into the cockpit displays, showing sharp, high-res footage of the creature''s plating¡ªred-black and armored, like segmented chitin. Along the base, massive roots extended outwards, corrupting the structures around it. "Signal holding," the co-pilot said. "We''re getting thermal reads¡ªwait¡ªEM spike!" Phillip''s eyes snapped to the screen. The drone had drifted too close. Above the Worm''s spiral mouth, something shifted. The core opened wider. A pulse of light. The drone feed began to distort. "Back it up!" Phillip ordered. Too late. The Worm fired. A lance of violet plasma, wide as a truck, erupted from its mouth. It struck the air directly ahead¡ªno tracking, just pure reaction. But the Black Hawk carrying Phillip had just begun its second pass... and the plasma clipped the tail rotor. The blast didn''t explode. It cut. The rear rotor sheared off in a clean spiral. "Tail hit! Tail hit!" the pilot screamed. Phillip barely had time to grab the safety bar before the bird spun violently. The world outside became a blur of rooftops and smoke. "Brace for crash!" the co-pilot shouted. The Black Hawk slammed into the side of an old office building, blades carving through support beams as the chopper skidded into a rooftop and rolled. Sparks. Screams. Then blackness. When Phillip opened his eyes, it was to the groaning of metal and the thick taste of smoke in his throat. He coughed, unbuckled, and crawled out of the wreckage. "Shadows! Status!" "Alive," Shadow 2 grunted nearby, helping another man out. "Shadow 4 down. Pilot and co-pilot¡ªunconscious. Serious trauma." Phillip rolled the pilot over. Blood pooled from a head wound. The co-pilot''s arm was mangled, bone visible through the sleeve. "Stabilize them," he ordered. "Get them under cover." Then he heard it. The distant chorus of shrieks. From all directions. "Contact inbound," Shadow 5 said grimly, peeking over the shattered edge of the rooftop. Dozens of infected swarmed toward the wreckage, drawn by the fire, the sound, the smell. Phillip pulled his carbine from its sling. "Perimeter form-up! Defensive positions! Prepare to engage!" Shadow Team moved like one. Rifles up, safeties off, they took cover behind steel beams and broken concrete. From the rooftop edge, they saw the first wave emerge from the alleyways¡ªshamblers, runners, and new ones with jagged limbs and glowing chests. Phillip keyed his mic. "Overwatch Command, this is Shadow 0-1. Recon flight downed. Casualties moderate. We''ve located the target, and it''s more than just a structure. We''re under immediate threat. Requesting emergency QRF. Grid marker uploading now." The comms hissed. No reply. The signal was jammed. Of course it was. He turned to his team. "We hold here until help arrives¡ªor until we carve a path out." Shadow 3 looked toward the Worm, still glowing, still watching. "That thing''s not just a monster," he said. "It''s a goddamn signal tower." Phillip stared at it. And clenched his jaw. "Then let''s make sure it hears us." He raised his weapon. The first infected came over the rooftop edge. Phillip fired. The battle had begun. And they weren''t done yet. Chapter 163: Prodding the Monster The command center at the MOA Complex was tense¡ªrows of monitors blinking in red as emergency feeds flickered across the main tactical screen. Thomas stood in the center, hands gripping the edge of the situation table, eyes locked on the drone feed last relayed before contact was lost. "Black Hawk Two just went dark," Marcus called out from his console. "Telemetry cut out mid-transmission. Last ping shows possible crash near Arayat Street, Cubao sector." Thomas''s jaw tightened. "Shadow 0-1 was aboard." "Affirmative, sir. Phillip''s squad went down. Black Hawk One is rerouting to circle but... no comms. No radio. It''s a black zone." Thomas''s mind raced. The Colossal Worm¡ªthis towering aberration¡ªwasn''t just a beacon. It was a jammer too. Its presence was distorting everything: comms, radar, infrared readings. Even the Reaper drones couldn''t lock onto the area cleanly. Like the creature had bent the air itself around it. "Deploy QRF. Now," Thomas ordered. "Sir, without comms, they''ll be running in blind," Marcus warned. "I know. But they''re not going in alone." Thomas''s eyes narrowed as he pulled up a separate interface linked to aerial assets. "I want Warthog in the air." Marcus''s head whipped around. "The A-10?" "Yes. If we hit the Worm hard enough, we might disrupt whatever field it''s projecting." "But sir¡ª" "Just do it." Marcus nodded and keyed into the airbase. The tarmac lit up with yellow markers as the A-10 Thunderbolt II, callsign Warthog, taxied down the runway. Twin turbofan engines screamed to life, the aircraft''s shark-toothed nose glinting under the floodlights. Beneath its wings, a deadly array of armament hung: AGM-65 Mavericks, Hydra 70mm rocket pods, and the ever-reliable 30mm GAU-8/A Avenger cannon. "Warthog to Overwatch Command, airborne and en route," the pilot''s voice crackled through the main feed. "Mission parameters: engage the target designated Colossal Worm. Priority one is to interrupt electromagnetic jamming in the Cubao sector. Do not engage low unless ordered," Marcus relayed. "Roger that. Setting altitude to 3,000. Approaching AO in three minutes." Thomas leaned in as the feed lit up¡ªWarthog''s nose camera painting the skyline as it streaked across the Manila ruins. On the ground in Cubao, Phillip crouched behind the twisted frame of the downed Black Hawk. Smoke curled from the engine compartment; the pilot and co-pilot were barely breathing, slumped in their harnesses. Shadow 2 through 11 had fanned out, rifles trained outward, forming a tight defensive ring as the infected swarmed toward them from the east. "Still nothing," Phillip muttered, tapping the side of his helmet. "All comms dead." The only sounds were groans¡ªboth mechanical and human¡ªas the horde emerged from alleyways and storm drains, drawn by the wreckage and scent of blood. "Shadow 6, status?" "We''ve got at least sixty infected closing fast." "Hold line," Phillip said, raising his rifle. "We''re not dying here." But as he took aim, a sudden rumble split the air. High above, a scream of jet engines¡ªlow and thunderous¡ªripped across the sky. Phillip looked up just in time to see it. The Warthog had arrived. "Holy hell..." Shadow 3 whispered. "That ours?" It was. And it was angry. The aircraft dropped altitude just enough to aim. The GAU-8/A Avenger cannon whirred to life. BRRRRT. A stream of armor-piercing rounds rained from the sky, punching holes through the oncoming infected like paper targets. Explosive force shredded the lead wave, black mist and limbs flying in all directions. Then¡ªBOOM. Two Hydra rockets slammed into a Bloomspawn cluster behind a collapsed commercial building, lighting the street with fire. But more importantly¡ªPhillip''s comms crackled to life. "¡ªadow 0-1, do you copy?¡ª" "Say again, command?" Cheers erupted across the squad. "Signal back!" Shadow 4 said. "We''ve got signal!" At the MOA Complex, Thomas leaned forward. "Phillip, report." "Bird''s down. Pilot and co-pilot are critical. We''re intact, holding position southwest of the target. Engaged with multiple hostiles. Worm engaged us with plasma. Took out the rear rotor." "We''re dispatching QRF. ETA ten. But your mission''s still green, Shadow 0-1." Phillip didn''t hesitate. "Copy that, Eagle." Thomas looked to Marcus. "Tell Warthog to maintain pressure. I want that thing pissed off¡ªbut too busy to react." The Warthog banked hard to the left, lining up another attack run. But as it reoriented, the Colossal Worm stirred. Its mouth opened¡ªjagged teeth spiraling wide¡ªand something inside flashed. A tendril shot outward like a whip. It slammed into the pavement¡ªthen ripped. A piece of the earth the size of a two-story house was hurled skyward. "Evasive! Evasive!" Warthog''s pilot shouted. The A-10 rolled just in time, the debris chunk narrowly missing its left wing. "Jesus! It threw a goddamn building!" "Stay high. Maintain distance. Continue fire support," Thomas ordered. "Roger that. Making another run." On the ground, Phillip ducked behind a crate as another wave of infected poured in. Shadow 5 laid down suppressive fire with his squad''s LMG. "Hold the west flank! Shadow 9, grenade¡ªnow!" Boom. Body parts rained. And above them, the Warthog rained more death. Rockets slammed into a Bloom Nest node. The infected wailed in disarray. "Call for fire!" Phillip shouted. "Mark 80 meters north-northeast. We''ve got armored infected incoming!" Laser designators blinked on. "Target locked," Warthog confirmed. "Firing Mavericks." The missiles streaked across the skyline, impacting with surgical precision. The blast was massive, uprooting vines, shattering infected bodies into pulp. "We''re clear!" Shadow 2 shouted. For now. Thomas watched the feed as the Colossal Worm''s tendrils writhed, smashing into buildings, lashing blindly¡ªbut not firing plasma. "Why isn''t it firing again?" Marcus asked. "Recharge time," Thomas muttered. "It can''t keep firing forever." "But it''s learning. It''s reacting." "Yes," Thomas said grimly. "Which means we only have a small window to break it before it changes the game again." He turned back to the display. "Keep hammering it. Keep the sky loud." Back in Cubao, Phillip turned his rifle down the last alleyway. More infected. Too many. But above him, the sky rumbled with thunder. And in that moment¡ªdespite the hell around him¡ªhe knew Overwatch was still with them. The mission was green. The war was far from over. But for now... they were holding. Chapter 164: We Have to get Close The skies above Cubao were thick with smoke and static as the Quick Reaction Force thundered in from the west. Two Black Hawk helicopters, call signs Raptor One and Raptor Two, flew low and fast, slicing through the corrupted skyline like knives through wet cloth. Inside Raptor One, the rescue team braced themselves, rifles in hand, armor cinched tight. The command center had gone dark for nearly ten minutes¡ªno signal, no vitals, no comms from Shadow Team. In a place like this, silence meant death. But not for Shadow 0-1. Phillip''s voice cracked through the comms just seconds after the Warthog''s strafing run disrupted the signal jam. "Shadow 0-1 to MOA Actual¡ªWe''re alive. Pilots are down, we''ve got heavy casualties on-site. Still holding perimeter, but we''re running low. Infected swarming from the northeast and west. Request QRF and medevac¡ªurgently." Inside the command center, Thomas stood with his arms crossed, eyes locked onto the flickering drone feeds now returning to full clarity. The Colossal Worm stood motionless, but its presence bent reality around it. Even the clouds seemed to churn unnaturally above its crown of crimson plating. "Get them out of there," Thomas ordered. "Raptor flight, you are green for extract. Touch down close, hot zone or not." "Copy that," came the lead pilot''s voice over comms. "We''re four minutes out." On the ground near the downed Black Hawk, Phillip and the remainder of Shadow Team were huddled around their wounded. Smoke trailed from the wreckage, and the air was filled with the scent of blood, charred plastic, and the sour tang of death. The horde was relentless¡ªshambling figures and mutated sprint-types swarmed through the alleyways and over collapsed debris like insects. Phillip slammed home another magazine into his rifle, then shouted over his shoulder. "Shadow 5, get a signal flare ready! They need eyes on our position!" "Already lit, sir!" Shadow 5 barked, throwing the bright green flare high into the open street. It hissed violently as it ignited, bathing the battlefield in eerie light. "Keep your sectors tight!" Phillip yelled. "Hold the line until they''re down!" Rounds cracked from Shadow rifles, mowing down zombies as they closed in. They dropped in waves¡ªheads burst open, limbs severed, but they kept coming. From the sky, the twin Black Hawks dropped into view like descending angels. Their side gunners opened fire, tearing apart groups of infected with minigun bursts that churned asphalt and bone alike. "Touching down in five!" Raptor One''s pilot called. "Move!" Phillip ordered. "Get the injured loaded first! Go!" The Shadows moved quickly, dragging the wounded pilot and co-pilot to the extraction zone as the choppers flared into a landing. Raptor Two''s crew jumped down with stretchers and covered fire, assisting the last of the injured onto the birds. Phillip stood at the edge of the LZ, still firing bursts into the horde. As the last of his team boarded, he turned to Raptor One''s crew chief. "Take them back." The crew chief blinked. "Sir?" Phillip''s voice was firm. "We''re not done." Moments later, he was on comms with the pilot. "Raptor One, I need you to take us closer to the Worm." Inside the cockpit, the pilot shook his head. "Sir, with respect¡ªthat thing''s not just big, it''s lethal. The beam¡ªif it recharges again, we''re all vaporized." "It already fired once. It''s not ready again. We have a window." Phillip''s tone brooked no argument. "I just need one building. Closest rooftop to the base. Drop and go." Silence hung on the line for a second. "...Copy. Adjusting flight path. Hold on." Raptor One peeled away from the formation, banking sharply left toward the looming spire that pierced the heart of the city like a blackened tree from hell. As they drew closer, the turbulence grew heavier¡ªwinds whipped unpredictably, and the static in their radios increased. "Jesus," one of the Shadows muttered. "It''s like flying through an EM storm." Below them, the Colossal Worm stood silent and watching. Its plates glistened with residual plasma, and faint arcs of energy still danced along its sides. Around its base, the terrain was warped¡ªmetal twisted like taffy, vines hardened into spires, and the very earth had cracked into geometric patterns that made no natural sense. "We''re dropping!" the pilot shouted. The helicopter dipped low over a mid-rise rooftop adjacent to the Worm''s twisted root system. The rope lines dropped, and Phillip led his team down in a single smooth motion. They hit the roof hard and fast, weapons up, forming a perimeter as the chopper peeled off immediately to avoid lingering. "Clear!" Phillip called. "Building''s intact!" Shadow 3 confirmed, already kicking open a rooftop access door. "Stairs lead down!" "Let''s move! Get to ground level and close the distance! We''re getting eyes on that thing!" One by one, the Shadows filed down the stairwell, boots pounding concrete, weapons at the ready. Each floor was dark, abandoned¡ªoffices hollowed out, dust layered over long-dead computers and wilted plants. Then the infected came. Floor 6. A zombie lunged from behind a shattered door, wailing as it threw itself toward Shadow 6. "Contact!" he shouted, blowing it back with a shotgun blast that painted the wall in black-red spray. More followed. They poured from side rooms, crawling out of vents and stairwells. "Hold this floor! Clear and move!" Phillip barked. It took them five minutes and nearly 300 rounds to clean the level. "Keep going!" he shouted, adrenaline dulling the ache in his arms. By the time they reached the ground, the Worm loomed just four blocks away¡ªso close it filled their peripheral vision. Its hum was audible again, low and pulsing like a heartbeat heard underwater. "Spread out," Phillip said. "Get footage. Thermal, structural scan, all of it. No one fires unless fired upon." As the Shadows moved into recon positions, Phillip stood at the center of the street, staring up at the monolithic creature. For the first time, he felt truly small. But also ready. Whatever this thing was¡ªit was alive. And now... it knew they were there. Chapter 165: Taking Samples The air near the Colossal Worm was heavy¡ªelectrically charged and dense like the moment before a storm breaks. Phillip stood motionless for several seconds after issuing the order, scanning the spire with narrowed eyes. Even from this close, it didn''t move. Didn''t flinch. It simply loomed¡ªits surface glistening with a strange combination of biofilm and hardened carapace, its jagged plates shifting ever so slightly with an almost imperceptible rhythm, like breathing. "Shadow 4, bring up the Bio-Extract Kit. Shadow 7, thermal scan. Shadow 9, set the drone. Let''s not waste time," Phillip ordered. The team scattered into roles. Their helmets'' HUDs flickered to new overlays, switching from standard ops to scientific recon mode¡ªfilters calibrated for biological structures, thermal maps, and micro-vibration feedback. "Thermal''s weird," Shadow 7 muttered, kneeling behind a crumbled car frame. "Core temperature spikes every thirty-seven seconds. Then drops. Not consistent. Like it''s pulsing energy outward." "It''s not passive," Phillip said. "It''s doing something." He moved closer¡ªjust to the edge of the root-like spires. The ground here wasn''t just cracked¡ªit was changed. Hardened like volcanic glass, and littered with veins that glowed faintly beneath the surface. Every few meters, tiny pods pulsed like organic sensors. "Shadow 6," Phillip called, "cut a pod loose. Use precision tools¡ªdon''t break the outer membrane." Shadow 6, already kneeling with a field scalpel and pressurized sample vial, nodded. His gloved fingers worked quickly, slicing around the thick, rubbery base of one of the fist-sized pods. A small mist of vapor escaped, but the membrane remained intact. "Pod''s intact. Sealing the sample," he confirmed, locking it into a reinforced container with a hiss of nitrogen sealant. "Readings say it''s generating trace amounts of synthetic neurotransmitters. Non-standard. Something similar to serotonin, but... not." "Like it''s broadcasting stimuli," Shadow 2 muttered. "Mood regulation on a mass scale?" "Could be a control vector," Shadow 4 added. "We''d need a lab to know for sure." Phillip didn''t reply. He stepped in closer to one of the large bone-like tendrils. It twitched slightly¡ªno more than a muscle reflex¡ªbut he paused. Then reached for it. "Shadow 0-1, hold¡ª" Shadow 3 warned, but Phillip was already kneeling by the tendril with a field biopsy drill. He activated the tool. The tip glowed as it began to spin, a hollow bit designed to carve into both bone and chitin. With careful pressure, he placed it against the surface and began to drill. There was resistance¡ªmore than expected. Not quite like drilling into metal, but close. A dense layering of keratin and silicate mixed with something softer beneath, something that bled faintly when pierced. The moment the core sample dislodged, the surface twitched again¡ªslightly harder this time, like a heartbeat startled awake. "Sample secured," Phillip announced, voice tight. "One cubic inch, core tissue, carapace and sub-surface." He withdrew, holding the core inside a titanium biopsy tube. As he stood, the ground beneath their boots trembled slightly. "Whatever you just did," Shadow 5 said quietly, "it noticed." "Shadow 8," Phillip said, "status on the spore drone?" "Ready for launch," came the reply. The scout drone, roughly the size of a crow, buzzed to life and lifted off from its launch pad. It spiraled upward, adjusting for turbulence as it ascended. Its cameras focused on the spire''s midsection¡ªwhere violet light still shimmered just beneath the surface. "I''m going for a mid-body surface scrape," Shadow 8 said. "Deploying arm now." The drone released a carbon-fiber filament tipped with a micro-scraper. It hovered in close¡ªbarely meters from the glowing plates. Then touched. A sudden discharge of static hit the drone. Its feed stuttered¡ªblurring with static and lines. "Pull back!" Phillip barked. Too late. From the top of the Worm, something opened. It didn''t move like a weapon port or a cannon. It opened like a flower. A twisting lens of translucent bone split down the center of its crown, revealing a massive, pupil-less eye that pulsed with vibrant violet light. There was no iris. No blink. It just stared. The drone exploded mid-air, plasma searing through it with pinpoint precision. The blast lit the area like daylight, and for a moment the heat pushed back the haze around them. The Worm''s eye closed. Silence. But the message was clear: We see you. Phillip gritted his teeth. "Shadow 7, scan frequency logs. That plasma beam¡ªit''s not constant, right?" "Confirmed," came the quick reply. "Power draw is massive. It needs recharge intervals. Based on atmospheric readings, next beam within two to three minutes if fired again. Cooling process is visible¡ªsee the steam trails from the mid-plates?" "Then we have a window." He turned, holding up the titanium vial. "Mission complete. We got tissue, spore, pod, and reaction logs. Time to fall back." "Copy that, Shadow 0-1," said Shadow 3. "But we''ve got movement. Lot of it." Phillip turned his gaze to the surrounding buildings. He saw them too now¡ªinfected pouring out from sewer grates and alleyways, shuffling toward the Worm in a daze. Dozens. Then hundreds. "Confirmed mass convergence," Shadow 5 said, checking his scope. "They''re not attacking us¡ªthey''re ignoring us. Heading for it like it''s calling them." Phillip knew it was. "All units," he said. "Begin tactical withdrawal. We move rooftop to rooftop, low profile. Mark this area with beacon flare." Shadow 6 stabbed a long-range marker into the road behind them¡ªits signal pulsing upward like a heartbeat. It wouldn''t last long, but it was enough for a drone or fighter to trace later. As they turned and began sprinting toward the nearest stairwell, the Worm didn''t retaliate. It just watched. And pulsed. Thirty minutes later, they got extracted. ¡ª Back at MOA Complex, Thomas stood over the command table, drone feeds flickering. "Status?" Marcus looked up. "Shadow Team has secured samples. They''re withdrawing now. We''ve confirmed¡ªwhatever that thing is, it can identify recon equipment and respond to direct contact. But there''s a delay. Plasma reaction''s not instant." Thomas stared at the map. "This is a weird monster we are facing right now Marcus frowned. "Sir?" Thomas''s jaw clenched. "You know what I mean, Marcus." He looked to the biosample being lowered into the lab chamber beyond the glass. A sliver of crimson-black carapace, still faintly glowing. "We dissect it," he said. "We see what''s hiding inside." Chapter 166: How To Defeat the Thing The specimen chamber at MOA Complex''s subterranean research wing was silent but for the faint mechanical hum of active scanning equipment. Floodlights bathed the secured containment unit in sterile white, while overhead arms positioned with surgical precision hovered above the object of interest: the core biopsy tube retrieved by Shadow Team. Inside the titanium cylinder lay a segment of the Colossal Worm''s carapace, sliced clean and sealed in nitrogen. It still faintly shimmered with residual bioenergy¡ªdark crimson interlaced with soft pulses of violet light. The worm tissue seemed to breathe on a cellular level, even disconnected from the host. Dr. Lena Calix, Overwatch''s head xenobiologist, leaned over the chamber''s interface console with her usual precision. Her team had already run three spectrograph tests, and now the big ones were queued: density mapping, plasma susceptibility, and directed explosive resonance. "Alright," she said, adjusting her lab goggles. "We''ll start with baseline composition." A low mechanical clank issued as the biopsy tube was depressurized. A robotic claw retrieved the sample and laid it gently onto the hardened graphene testing plate. The sample''s structure looked like it belonged to some hybrid of coral and hardened obsidian. Dr. Calix initiated the first scan. "Spectrometry shows..." She squinted at the monitor. "Okay, this is nuts. There are trace elements of silicate, calcium phosphate, and¡ªwhat the hell¡ªconductive proteins?" Her assistant, Luis, frowned. "Conductive? Like nerve fibers?" "Not just nerve," she muttered. "This thing''s shell is semi-neural. It responds to stimuli like skin¡ªbut it behaves like armor." She flicked her fingers across the console, triggering the electron micrograph. The visual returned in moments. The tissue was dense. Too dense. "It has four distinct layers," she said aloud, "an epidermal sheath, under that a ceramic-composite layer similar to artificial armor plating, a third layer of bio-conductive gel, and a core stratum made of... is this... regenerating keratin?" "Regenerating?" Luis echoed. "It self-repairs," she confirmed. "Slowly. But it does." He whistled. "So if we bomb it, it could theoretically regrow?" "Unless we can override or destroy the regenerative mechanism." Luis adjusted the scanner focus. "Let''s see what happens when we stress-test it." "Do it." First came the laser ablation. A 3.4-watt directed beam¡ªtypical for slicing steel¡ªfired against the outer sheath. It sparked... and stopped. "Minimal penetration," Lena noted. "Surface only scorched. No cut." Luis upped the setting to 6.0-watts. Same result. "It''s not laser-weak. It''s laser-immune," Lena murmured. "We''re going to need a blunt-force solution." She loaded the stress-test platform with an impact hammer calibrated for high-yield testing. A carbon-alloy spike slammed down onto the sample at 1,200 psi. Finally¡ªa crack. "Now we''re getting somewhere," she said. "Mark that. Blunt kinetic force is viable." The machine repeated the test at intervals, increasing psi until the deepest fracture exposed the gel layer. They paused. The gel hissed and oozed slowly¡ªreacting to air. Within seconds, the outer edges started to harden again. Luis stared. "It''s sealing itself." "Not completely, and not fast," Lena replied. "That gives us a window. Penetrate fast and deep enough, we interrupt regeneration." She turned toward the other test rig. "Load the plasma cutter. Controlled burst." "Wait, plasma? Isn''t that what the worm uses against us?" "Yes. I want to know if it''s vulnerable to its own weapon class." Luis activated the rig. A short burst of plasma discharged at the cracked sample. This time, the reaction was different. The inner gel flared violet, reacting violently¡ªbriefly ionizing. The lights in the lab flickered. Dr. Calix''s eyes widened. "It has a threshold. Plasma destabilizes the internal matrix. It''s not immune to it. Just... resistant." Luis stared. "Then we use plasma-based ordnance?" "No," she said slowly, eyes gleaming. "We use a plasma-primer. Something that shocks the inner layers. Then a delayed kinetic payload." "A tandem warhead?" he guessed. "Exactly." She turned toward the comms station. "Get me Command. We''ve got viable weapon profiles." ¡ª Back upstairs, in the MOA command center, Thomas paced behind the central table as data fed into the holographic projector in real time. The structural layers of the Worm''s hide spun slowly in 3D¡ªeach one labeled, each one mapped. Marcus read off the results. "Confirmed: outer hide impervious to standard rifle and laser fire. Moderate resistance to heat. Plasma can be used to destabilize internal bio-gel, especially after breach. Regenerative layer slows after core layer is compromised. But..." Thomas raised an eyebrow. "But?" Marcus looked grim. "Its surface can emit a feedback charge. Anything that touches it¡ªbiological or mechanical¡ªgets a high-voltage response. We''re estimating 80 to 110kV arcs." "Good for frying anything too close." "Exactly." Thomas turned toward the glass lab panel. Beyond it, Dr. Calix stood with her team. He pressed the comms. "You have a solution?" She nodded. "We do. This thing can be killed. Not easily. But killed." She pressed a sequence and displayed a new layout. "A tandem payload¡ªa plasma warhead to destabilize the core layers followed by a delayed kinetic impact. We drop both in sequence. The plasma shocks it, opens the internal matrix. The kinetic punch drives through before regeneration stabilizes. But we''ll need delivery mechanisms." "Jets?" Marcus asked. "Jets would be best. Or rail-launched heavy drones. The warheads would have to be custom-built." Thomas folded his arms and hummed in thought. What they were asking aren''t available to them right now, not even the system has what they need to bring down the Colossal Worm. "Sadly, we don''t have anything in our inventory that matches what the doctor''s recommendation. Let''s look into what we have. We have A-10s, Apache, AC-130, we have artillery as well and if we want to send some Abrams in the front line we are going to send it to the front." Dr. Calix didn''t flinch at Thomas''s reply. She had expected it. "No tandem warhead platforms, then," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear and studying the data on her tablet. "Alright. Let''s work with what we have. I''ll improvise." Thomas stepped closer to the glass separating the lab from the command floor. "We''ve got A-10 Warthogs with a full loadout of GAU-8 rounds and Maverick missiles. Apaches with Hydra 70s. We also have the AC-130 for heavy air support and 155mm howitzers ready for indirect fire. No smart munitions or experimental systems," he said. "But we''ve made less work with worse." Dr. Calix glanced at her assistant Luis, then tapped a few keys on her terminal. A 3D schematic of the Worm''s layered armor reappeared, this time with heatmap indicators showing pressure zones, weak points, and plasma-reactive zones. "Alright, listen closely," she said. "We''ve confirmed the Worm''s hide isn''t invulnerable¡ªjust layered. Its surface plates are hard, but if you disrupt the bio-conductive gel underneath, you compromise the entire system." She pulled up another slide. This one showed the violet energy spike when the plasma test had been conducted. "This reaction? That was from a 1.5-second plasma burst from a lab rig. Your Warthogs fire depleted uranium shells at over 3,000 feet per second. The plasma effect isn''t necessary to kill¡ªit''s necessary to weaken." Thomas folded his arms. "Soften it with plasma. Hit it with kinetic after." "Exactly," Calix said, pointing. "The A-10''s Avenger cannon? It''s your best kinetic delivery system. If you can coordinate that with a saturation burst from the Apache''s Hydra pods¡ªespecially with incendiary warheads¡ªyou can trigger a similar effect to a tandem payload. Not perfect, but viable." Marcus leaned in. "So what are we talking here? Coordinated airstrike? Multiple aircraft?" "Yes." Chapter 167: Defeating the Thing Part 1 "Three phases," Dr. Calix said, holding up fingers. "Phase one: Apaches fly in and dump incendiaries on the surface plates¡ªlight it up. This should soften the armor and agitate the plasma-reactive layer. Phase two: The Warthog makes a gun run and focuses fire on known weak zones from Phillip''s recon. Those ridged plate lines you saw near the root base? Target them." Thomas nodded. "And phase three?" Calix brought up a final slide. "AC-130. After the surface is breached, hit the exposed inner structure with 105mm rounds. That''s where you maximize penetration and damage the regenerative core. You''ll only get one clean window before it reacts." Marcus turned to Thomas. "We can fly that. We''ve got the pilots. The question is: will the Worm stay still long enough for all three stages?" Thomas didn''t answer right away. He stared at the live feed showing the Colossal Worm still rooted in Cubao, its body rising like a demonic cathedral into the churning clouds above. Even now, it didn''t move. It didn''t have to. "We make it stay still," Thomas said coldly. "We hit it hard enough to keep it busy." Dr. Calix stepped back from the console, satisfied. "Then I''ll make sure the warheads are configured for heat-tipped penetration. I''ll also prep a second round of anti-bio gel inhibitors¡ªspray canisters. Just in case the Worm bleeds." Marcus looked skeptical. "You think someone''s gonna get close enough for that?" "I don''t plan for luck," Calix said. "I plan for when everything goes wrong." "Very well...let''s do that, let''s send Shadows back to Cubao." Thirty minutes later, in Cubao. "Patch me to Shadow." "Channel green," Marcus replied. "Channel green," Marcus replied, keying in the secure uplink. A few seconds of static followed before Phillip''s voice came through, slightly distorted but clear. "Shadow 0-1 online." Thomas leaned closer to the mic. "Phillip. We''re initiating an aerial strike. Three phases. You and your men have eyes on the target¡ªyou''ll coordinate the uplink with targeting telemetry. Confirm your drone''s active." "We''ve got a line-of-sight recon drone 300 meters northeast of the target," Phillip replied. "Thermal and multi-spectrum active. Feeding real-time data now." Thomas looked at Marcus, who gave a thumbs-up as the feed from the small recon UAV lit up one of the overhead screens. The Colossal Worm appeared like a scar in the earth¡ªpulsing slowly, motionless but clearly alive. "Good," Thomas said. "Apaches will hit the carapace with incendiaries. Your recon drone will lase the ridged plate lines near the root base. Warthogs will follow with kinetic. AC-130 will take final shot if breach is confirmed. ETA for strike group is twenty-five minutes." There was a pause. "Understood," Phillip said. "We''ll mark the weak zones as soon as the Apaches hit." Thomas nodded to himself, then added, "Dr. Calix is prepping anti-bio gel inhibitors. If this thing starts bleeding, we might see new biological reactions. Be ready for environmental hazards." "We''ve dealt with worse," Phillip replied. "Not like this," Thomas said firmly. Another voice chimed in through the secondary channel¡ªCallsign Reaper Two-One, the lead Apache pilot. "Command, Reaper flight is green and fueled. We''re armed with full Hydra-70 pods, thermobaric loadout. Standing by for coordinated flight path and entry vector." Thomas stepped away from the mic. "Marcus, send the coordinates and targeting priority to Reaper, Warthog, and Spectre units. And prep the AC-130. I want it circling at high altitude until we confirm penetration." "Already uploading," Marcus replied, hands flying across the console. "Command net linked. All three elements synced." Dr. Calix approached the glass again, voice softer now. "We''ve never attempted something like this before. Coordinating overlapping fire missions against a semi-sentient, non-terrestrial biomass..." Thomas looked back. "Are you saying we shouldn''t?" "I''m saying," Calix said, "make the first shot count." Out on the tarmac, engines roared to life. Reaper flight launched first, twin Apaches banking into formation as they rose into the ash-choked skies over Manila. Beneath them, the city sprawled like a dying organism¡ªBloom nests scattered like tumors, blackened ruins threaded with glowing red veins that pulsed toward Cubao. Five minutes behind them, the Warthogs followed¡ªheavy with fuel and ordnance. Their GAU-8/A Avenger cannons gleamed beneath the rising sun, and their payloads of Mavericks locked and armed. And high above it all, invisible against the clouds, the AC-130 Spectre circled, waiting for its cue. In the MOA Complex command center, Marcus updated the holographic strike map. Three colored lines traced the coordinated attack pattern¡ªyellow for Reaper, red for Warthog, white for Spectre. "Apaches will hit from the southwest, split into two teams. Reaper One targets upper carapace. Reaper Two flanks the midsection, lays down thermobaric spread. Total engagement window: forty-five seconds." Thomas nodded, then pointed at the Warthog icon. "Gun run starts ten seconds after. Prioritize plate seams and the thermal spikes recorded by Shadow Team." Marcus switched the display. "Spectre is holding at twelve thousand feet. Optics locked. If the Worm breaches or collapses, they''re cleared for 105mm suppression fire." Dr. Calix added from her station, "We only need one opening. Even a partial rupture in the gel layer means internal destabilization. Once that happens, the regenerative tissue collapses under kinetic pressure." Thomas turned to the command net. "All units¡ªOperation Lancefall is a go." Six kilometers out, Reaper One''s cockpit was filled with flickering targeting data and red-lit instruments. The city loomed ahead¡ªbroken, silent, and yet not dead. Cubao''s skyline was a jagged ruin. And at its center, the Worm stood unmoving. "Target visual," the pilot called. "Holy hell. Look at that thing..." Reaper Two locked its reticle. "Confirming thermal pulse. Lasers active. Beginning run." The Apaches dove low and fast. Dozens of 70mm incendiary Hydra rockets streaked from the pods, screaming through the smoke as they arced down on the Worm''s upper plates. The impact was immediate¡ªgouts of flame and smoke erupted as magnesium-based explosives hit the hardened surface, igniting with violent flashes. The Worm didn''t move¡ªbut its carapace flared with light. Violet pulses rolled along its body like ripples on water. Back in the command center, Marcus shouted, "Surface temperature spike confirmed! Heat is penetrating!" Thomas leaned in. "Warthog. Go." The A-10s came in next¡ªlow, with engines snarling. "Targeting locked," Warthog One said calmly. "Engaging." The GAU-8/A roared to life. BRRRRRRT. A burst of armor-piercing incendiary rounds slammed into the weakened carapace. Fractures exploded outward, and bio-gel began to leak in thick, steaming rivulets. Violet mist rose from the wounds. Then came the Mavericks. One. Two. Direct hits near the root base. The impacts blew entire plates free, revealing twitching muscle and inner membranes that shimmered unnaturally. Inside the command center, the entire room went silent as the first breach was confirmed. "Penetration achieved," Marcus said. "We''ve got gel exposure!" Thomas turned sharply. "Spectre¡ªfire." High above, the AC-130''s gunner made final adjustments. "Target locked. 105mm HE ready." The command came. "Fire." The gun mount thudded once¡ªthen a second time. Two shells spiraled down. They hit square into the breach. The resulting explosion was almost surreal. A dome of flame erupted around the Worm''s midsection. Shockwaves rippled outward. Windows shattered across three blocks. And for the first time... The Colossal Worm recoiled. Its entire frame quivered. Light flickered violently across its skin. The mouth at its top twisted open¡ªbut no beam followed. Not yet. Dr. Calix whispered to herself, "We hurt it..." Thomas clenched a fist. "And now we keep hurting it until it stops moving." Chapter 168: Defeating the Thing Part 2 The city shook. Buildings three blocks out trembled from the blast radius of the AC-130''s impact. Glass panes exploded outward, dust clouds billowed into the air, and the streets were bathed in a flickering violet-orange hue from the burning wounds of the Colossal Worm. Phillip and his Shadow Team, crouched on a rooftop less than four hundred meters away, shielded their visors from the shockwave. The light seared their HUDs. Static danced across their visors for a second before recalibrating. "Jesus," Shadow 3 muttered. "We actually hit it." Phillip''s voice was even, but cold. "Target''s bleeding. Get the uplink back to Command. Confirm impact zones. We need to know if that blast cracked the regenerative core." Shadow 7 snapped back into motion. "Telemetry uploading now. Surface gel is destabilizing. Thermal is dropping." From the MOA command center, Marcus''s voice came in hot. "Shadow 0-1, we have visual confirmation. Biogel ruptured. Inner tissue exposure is confirmed. Worm is destabilizing¡ªbut it''s not collapsing." On the overhead screen, the Worm swayed slightly. Not from a breeze, not from weakness¡ªbut from some internal shift. Like it was recalibrating. The glowing eye at the top began to open again. "Beam formation underway!" Marcus called. "We have less than two minutes before it retaliates!" Thomas slammed a fist on the console. "Warthog! New fire mission¡ªnow!" A-10 Warthog One banked hard, wings flexing under the stress. "Re-engaging. Switching to APIT rounds. Concentrated fire." It looped low and fast, engines screaming. Then: BRRRRTTT. Another burst from the GAU-8 tore into the same wound. This time, the carapace caved inward¡ªlike striking a cracked shell. The plates shattered. Purple fluid sprayed into the air like blood caught in a storm. And then the Worm... screamed. Not with a voice. Not a roar. But through the atmosphere itself. A wave of energy pulsed outward¡ªvisible to the naked eye. Air shimmered, sound warped, even the clouds above were momentarily pushed outward like smoke from a bomb blast. Inside the command center, consoles flickered. Lights dimmed. Radios whined. "What was that?" Thomas barked. Marcus stared at his screen. "Localized EMP burst. It''s not dying¡ªit''s lashing out." "Shadow, status?" Thomas called. Phillip''s voice returned, slightly garbled but clear enough. "Still up. Static hit our drone¡ªlink fried. Moving to manual. Still observing worm''s behavior. Not mobile yet." Thomas turned toward Calix, who was adjusting the biosample monitoring from the lower lab deck. "Is it dying or adapting?" "Both," she said grimly. "You''re hitting something it wasn''t expecting. But that means it''s changing. The longer we drag this out, the more it adjusts." "Then we need to finish this," Thomas growled. "We do not let it evolve." He turned back to the screen. "Spectre. Reload and prepare secondary strike package. Switch to bunker busters." "Roger, Command," came the reply. "Adjusting fire solution." At the same time, the overhead drone¡ªone of the few still functional¡ªrelayed an image that made Marcus''s stomach turn. The base of the Worm had begun to shift. Not to move. To grow. Roots¡ªmore accurately, massive tendrils¡ªwere spreading underground. They cracked through pavement, emerging like bony branches clawing toward the nearby streets. "They''re spreading!" Marcus called. "It''s trying to anchor deeper!" "Shadow Team, eyes on?" Thomas said. Phillip''s voice came in. "Confirmed. Tendrils expanding into nearby sewer grid. Estimated spread rate¡ªten meters per minute." "If it roots deeper, we lose the chance to kill it," Calix said. "Those roots are protective. Once it''s reinforced, no amount of fire''s breaking through." Thomas''s gaze was steel. "Then we stop the rooting." "Sir," Marcus added, "we could divert the AC-130 for a secondary pass, but we''ll lose the kill shot window on the core." "Split the fire mission," Thomas ordered. "One shell at the roots. One into the breach." Marcus hesitated. "Spectre''s not designed to split loads like that." "Do it anyway." In the sky above Cubao, the AC-130 Spectre began to bank again, its gunners scrambling to adjust for a dual-target assault. "New mission directive," the commander announced. "Round one: center mass, breach zone. Round two: coordinate fire to intercept root tendril spread at grid marker C-3." "Two guns, two targets," the gunner grunted. "Not exactly textbook." "Nothing about this is textbook," the commander replied. "Load and fire." The first shell launched. It spiraled down with a whine and slammed into the Worm''s exposed gel core. The second shell followed a second later¡ªimpacting two blocks east, directly on one of the fast-spreading root clusters. Both targets erupted. The root zone fireball cracked the street in half, sending a shockwave up the Worm''s tendril. The gel-core strike, meanwhile, burned brighter than anything so far. The entire torso of the creature flared, bioluminescent veins surging, then rupturing outward in web-like fractures. The Colossal Worm let out another EMP pulse¡ªbut this time, it staggered. Its base shifted. Not in growth. In collapse. Inside the command center, Marcus slammed both palms on the table. "We did it! It''s destabilizing!" Thomas watched carefully. He could see it too. The Worm was starting to sink. Its tendrils retracted. Its eye dimmed. And its pulse¡ªits monstrous heartbeat¡ªbegan to slow. But then... "Sir," Marcus said, voice suddenly flat. "There''s a heat signature. Something''s... forming in the breach." On-screen, where the gel had ruptured¡ªsomething moved. It wasn''t more Worm. It was something inside the Worm. A new structure. Like a cocoon. Or worse... a chamber. "What the hell is that?" Thomas muttered. Dr. Calix, now pale, leaned toward the screen. "That''s not bone. That''s not gel. That''s..." She didn''t finish. Because the cocoon cracked. And something inside it moved. Back on the rooftop, Phillip saw it too. "Shadow Team," he called out. "We''ve got a new emergence. All eyes on the core. Weapons hot." They lifted their rifles. And watched as the Worm cracked open like an egg. Inside, something writhed. Something... humanoid. Dripping with violet slime. Its limbs too long. Its spine arched like a centipede. Its eyes¡ªif they were eyes¡ªwere just pits of shifting light. "New contact," Phillip growled. "It''s not over." Back at the MOA, Thomas''s face was stone. "Call off Spectre," he ordered. "Pull them back to safe altitude." "Sir?" "The system didn''t notify me that the monster is dead, so this is like the phase 2 when fighting a boss in a game," Thomas replied. Chapter 169: Defeating the Thing Part 3 The command center grew silent for a beat. Marcus exchanged glances with one of the flight controllers, then keyed his mic. "Spectre, abort ground fire. Climb to safe altitude and await further orders." "Copy, Command," came the reply. "Climbing out. Returning to overwatch pattern." Thomas turned away from the screens, his jaw tight. He stared at the projected schematic of the Worm''s layers, which now had a new anomaly blinking at the breached core. The bio-signature was unfamiliar¡ªerratic, shifting. Alive. "Get me real-time data on that thing," he barked. Down in the lab, Dr. Calix was already ahead of him. She stood beside Luis, eyes glued to the new waveform dancing across the biosensor readings. Her face had lost all of its earlier confidence. "This isn''t a regenerative phase," she said slowly. "It''s spawning." Marcus looked up. "Spawning?" "The Worm isn''t dying¡ªit''s transitioning." Thomas didn''t flinch. "What''s coming out of it?" The holographic display updated with a pulsing, translucent chamber forming within the Worm''s core. The new lifeform inside writhed against the walls¡ªhumanoid in shape, but grotesquely elongated. Its body shimmered with bioluminescence, veined with the same violet plasma that flowed through the Worm. Phillip''s voice came through the comms next. "Command, this is Shadow 0-1. We''ve got visual on the interior structure. Something''s inside the Worm. Roughly three meters tall. Humanoid silhouette. It''s breaking free." "Is it moving?" Thomas asked. "Not yet," Phillip answered. "But it''s breathing." Breathing. A word that somehow made the situation worse. Marcus''s voice cut in sharply. "Sir, whatever it is, it''s generating a thermal bloom. Rapid growth. We''re reading an internal spike of over 500¡ãC localized to the new form." Dr. Calix''s eyes narrowed. "That''s not gestation. That''s ignition. It''s building up internal plasma." Thomas clenched his fists. "Then we can''t wait. We finish what we started." He strode over to the munitions screen. "Marcus, get me a full readout of remaining assets. What do we still have to throw at this thing?" Marcus brought up the readiness display. "Apaches are down to 40% ammo¡ªenough for a single volley of thermobarics. Warthog One is re-arming but has another run in it. Spectre has four 105mm shells left, and two 40mm belts." "How about ground artillery?" Thomas asked. "We''ve got two Paladins mobile. HIMARS batteries are also in standby and all of them are within firing range." "Fire control on all of it?" Thomas asked. Marcus nodded. "Synced and ready." "Good. Load everything." "You want to dump it all now?" "I want saturation fire," Thomas said. "We''ve breached the armor. That thing inside the Worm isn''t armored. We kill it before it matures." Marcus relayed the fire mission. Inside the MOA Complex, armored treads rumbled to life. Two M109 Paladins stationed behind reinforced barricades at the Mall of Asia lined up their barrels. HIMARS launchers unfolded and locked on to the Cubao grid. Nearby, the 155mm M777s parked along the elevated sections of elevated parking were dragged into firing position by growling JLTVs. All of it was aimed at the beast in Cubao. At the heart of that bleeding crater where something new was being born. "Shadow Team, you are in the blast radius," Thomas called. "Pull your men back now." "Negative," Phillip answered. "We''re not leaving without eyes on target. We''ll take cover. Just warn us when it''s inbound." Thomas gritted his teeth but didn''t argue. "Fine. Marcus, give them a ten-second countdown once fire mission is launched." "Yes, sir." A few minutes later, the fire mission synced. Green lights flashed across the screen. "Fire." BOOM. From MOA, the ground erupted in a staggered symphony of destruction. Paladin 1 fired first¡ªa thunderous boom that rocked the plaza as its 155mm shell arced into the sky. The HIMARS followed a heartbeat later, unleashing a swarm of guided rockets in perfect sequence. Each streaked across the sky like blazing arrows, descending with pinpoint accuracy on the bleeding Worm and its malformed offspring. The sky turned crimson with fire and shrapnel. M777 howitzers roared next, their shells whistling as they plunged into the smoking remains of the creature''s core. Every impact was a miniature earthquake. The street beneath the Worm cratered violently, sending debris and gore flying in all directions. The flesh of the beast ignited, and from its ruptured veins burst fountains of bioluminescent plasma that splattered across surrounding buildings. Inside the command center, Thomas stood unmoving as the monitors turned white from blast feedback. The audio feeds were drowned in a storm of static, flame, and concussive booms. "Ten seconds," Marcus counted aloud, voice strained. "Nine... eight..." Down on the ground, Shadow Team hunkered behind a shattered parking garage, visor feeds scrambled from the EMP surge, heat rising like an open furnace. "Four... three..." "Hold!" Phillip shouted to his men. "Hold¡ª" "Two... one¡ªimpact complete!" And then... silence. No growl. No hum. No pulse. Thomas exhaled slowly and tapped the comms. "Shadow 0-1, status?" Phillip''s voice returned, breathless but steady. "We''re alive... and it''s not." Around them, the crater sizzled with flame and steam. The cocoon had been obliterated¡ªscattered in chunks of still-sizzling bio-mass. Whatever had been growing inside never had the chance to stand. Phillip looked over the rim of the debris field, eyes narrowed beneath his helmet. "There''s nothing left but ash." Thomas stood silent for a few long moments, his eyes locked onto the main screen. The image of the crater was grainy from static interference, but the lack of movement¡ªof any pulse or glow¡ªwas more telling than the visuals. No electromagnetic surges. No thermal bloom. Just ash, smoke, and silence. He finally exhaled, slowly, as if releasing the weight of an entire continent from his chest. "Marcus," he said, voice level. "Confirm full damage report. I want every seismic, thermal, and atmospheric reading recorded." "Already compiling," Marcus replied. "Shockwaves registered up to three kilometers out. Structural collapse in four blocks. No secondary life signatures detected near the breach. All indicators point to a full kill." Thomas turned to the comms console and pressed the mic. "Shadow 0-1, you have my respect," he said. "You and your men held the line." Phillip''s voice came back, a touch of tired pride bleeding through the radio static. "Wasn''t just us. The whole damn Complex pulled it off. But I don''t know if it''s done already." "We are going to confirm it stand-by." Chapter 170: Exhausted For a moment, everything was still. The fires crackled. Smoke twisted in the air like dying serpents. Shadow Team remained low behind cover, weapons still raised, scanning the molten crater ahead of them. Inside the command center, Thomas leaned closer to the main screen. His knuckles were white against the edge of the table. He was waiting. Listening. Hoping for that one chime¡ªthe system alert that always confirmed a kill. It never came. Instead, the ground began to rumble again. "Seismic activity!" Marcus shouted. His console lit up with warning markers. "Localized under the crater!" Phillip''s voice burst across the comms. "Command, we''ve got movement! It''s still alive!" Before anyone could react, the ashen pit exploded outward. Flaming debris and shattered concrete rained down like shrapnel. From the center, the thing that had once been cocooned inside the Worm clawed free. It wasn''t humanoid anymore. It had transformed¡ªpart skeletal, part bioplasmic horror. Its chest pulsed with violet light, and whiplike tendrils lashed from its back. Its height had grown¡ªnearly five meters now¡ªand its elongated limbs snapped and twisted unnaturally as it tore free of the wreckage. It let out a sound¡ªsomewhere between a shriek and a thunderclap¡ªand the very air seemed to vibrate. "Target reacquired!" Marcus barked. "Hostile is mobile!" Thomas slammed his fist into the console. "All air units, re-engage! Hit it with everything you have!" But the screens around them blinked red. "Sir," Marcus said grimly. "Warthog One is down to 20% ammo. They have one gun run left before Winchester." "And Spectre?" Thomas demanded. "Two shells. That''s it. They''re almost bingo fuel, too. They''ll need RTB after the next pass." Thomas clenched his jaw. "Damn it." He pressed the comms again. "Reaper Flight, Warthog, Spectre¡ªyou are weapons free. Full release. After that, RTB for rearmament and refuel." The responses came quick and crisp. "Reaper One, solid copy." "Spectre confirms." "Warthog One, locked and loaded." Above Cubao, the battered A-10 swung into its final run. Its nose dipped low, cannon spinning up one last time. BRRRRTTT. A stream of depleted uranium rounds slammed into the creature''s side, tearing flesh and bone alike. Pieces flew off in burning chunks, but the monster didn''t falter¡ªit howled, its body already knitting back together in sickening flashes of violet light. Following behind, the AC-130 Spectre lined up for its last shot. "Target sighted. Firing." The 105mm cannon thundered, sending a shell straight into the creature''s left shoulder. A second shot followed a heartbeat later, slamming into its center of mass. Explosions tore open its torso, revealing writhing strands of muscle and plasma underneath. Smoke billowed. Debris rained down. And yet¡ªit remained standing. Barely. "Sir, they''re Winchester," Marcus reported. "Warthog and Spectre are returning to base. ETA for rearm and re-sortie is minimum thirty minutes." Thomas exhaled through his nose slowly, thinking fast. "Order them back. Safe route. Tell maintenance to fast-track reloads the moment they touch down." He turned back toward the battlefield map. "What about artillery?" he asked. Marcus grimaced. "Paladins are reloading, but HIMARS and M777s are spent. It''ll take fifteen minutes to rotate fresh shells." Fifteen minutes. An eternity in a fight like this. "Get me a rotation schedule. We don''t let that thing breathe," Thomas snapped. Below, Phillip''s voice came through the open channel. "Command, this is Shadow 0-1. We''re still on-site. Monster''s wounded but not dropping. We''re moving to secondary cover¡ªclose to the eastern block ruins." Thomas pressed the mic. "Stay low, stay mobile. Engage only if necessary. Your priority is survival until air assets return." "Understood, sir." Phillip led his team at a dead sprint through the rubble-choked streets, moving from cratered walls to shattered storefronts. Dust and plasma vapor filled the air, making visibility near impossible. "Stay tight!" Phillip ordered, motioning with his hand. "Watch for tendrils!" Behind them, the creature shifted. Its violet glow pulsed faster now¡ªunstable, flickering like a dying star on the verge of collapse. But even a dying star could destroy everything around it. Inside the command center, Thomas turned toward the lab deck where Calix monitored the biosignatures. "What''s happening to it?" he demanded. Calix''s fingers flew across the sensor interface. "It''s in a state of biological overdrive. Plasma generation is unstable. If it releases that energy uncontrolled..." She trailed off. She didn''t need to finish the sentence. Thomas finished it for her. "It''ll blow half the goddamn city off the map." Marcus paled. "Sir, if that thing detonates¡ª" "¡ªWe lose Cubao, maybe more." But the creature didn''t move. Not immediately. It just stood there¡ªsmoke trailing from the gaping wounds torn across its frame, violet plasma leaking from cracks in its armor. The tendrils on its back twitched occasionally, spasming like dying nerves, but it made no attempt to attack or advance. It simply stood. Breathing. Regenerating. Inside the command center, Thomas leaned heavily on the edge of the table, frustration simmering under the surface of his calm exterior. Every second they wasted, that thing knitted itself back together. Every minute without fire support, it grew stronger. "Why isn''t it attacking?" Marcus muttered under his breath, tapping rapidly at his console. "It''s just... standing there." Dr. Calix''s voice was tight. "It''s stalling. Gathering energy. Healing itself. If we give it enough time¡ª" "It''ll be worse than before," Thomas finished grimly. He clenched his fists tighter. They had thrown everything at it¡ªartillery, aerial strikes, thermobarics¡ªand yet it refused to die. It was as if this monster was designed not just to endure punishment, but to evolve from it. "Sir," a flight controller called out suddenly. "Spectre''s radar sweep just pinged... something." Thomas turned sharply. "Define ''something.''" The controller''s face paled slightly as he expanded the radar feed onto the main holoprojector. A new series of blips appeared¡ªsmall, fast-moving contacts converging toward Cubao. Lots of them. Marcus''s voice was low, almost a whisper. "Sir... those aren''t ours." The room fell silent again, the tension coiling like a drawn bowstring. Thomas''s eyes narrowed as he stared at the incoming swarm. "Looks like we''re not fighting just one enemy anymore," he muttered. The screen blinked again¡ªcloser. Chapter 171: What The Heck is Happening?! The radar screen pulsed violently now¡ªfive new contacts moving fast from the northeast, low over the ruined skyline. The spectrograms showed irregular wingbeats, jagged flight paths. They weren''t drones. They weren''t aircraft. They were alive. "Spectre Actual to Command!" crackled the voice over the priority channel. "We''ve got multiple airborne hostiles inbound! Five large contacts¡ªclosing fast! We do not have enough air-to-air ordnance to engage!" Thomas''s heart sank for half a second¡ªbut only half. "Stay defensive," he snapped into the mic. "Deploy countermeasures. Warthog One, divert and assist. You are cleared to engage hostile air targets." "Copy that, Command. Redirecting," came the pilot''s calm response, even as the urgency thickened in the air. On the external cameras mounted along the Spectre''s fuselage, the shapes became visible¡ªmonstrous silhouettes slicing through the heavy clouds. Each was grotesque¡ªhalf humanoid, half avian nightmare. Their skeletal wings beat with unnatural force, feathers mottled with decay and plasma burns. Razor-sharp talons gleamed under the dying sun, and elongated beaks snapped hungrily at the air as they closed the distance. Inside the Spectre, alarms blared. The crew rushed to battle stations, but everyone knew it¡ªthe AC-130 was designed for ground attack, not dogfighting flying beasts. "Incoming!" the copilot yelled. The first monster struck. It slammed into the right side of the Spectre, claws screeching across the armor plates. One talon ripped into the sensor array, sending a shower of sparks spiraling away into the sky. The gunner at the 40mm station swiveled his cannon desperately, tracking the blurred form as it latched onto the wing strut. He squeezed the trigger. THUD-THUD-THUD! The shells exploded outward, missing by meters as the creature clung tenaciously. Another one dove in, slashing across the fuselage. It ripped into the outer skin, tearing up the rear communications antennae. Warning lights flared across the cockpit. "Minor hull breach, tail section!" the systems officer barked. "Stabilizers holding¡ªfor now!" Thomas listened grimly from the command center. "Warthog, where are you?!" he demanded. "Two clicks out," Warthog One replied tightly. "Visual on targets. Engaging." Below them, the A-10 banked hard into a brutal climb. The pilot squeezed the trigger. The GAU-8/A Avenger cannon spun up with its terrifying roar¡ªBRRRRTTT!¡ªspewing a storm of depleted uranium rounds into the sky. The rounds lanced into the lead monster, tearing through one wing. The creature shrieked, spinning wildly as it lost lift and spiraled down in a trail of violet plasma. "Target down!" Warthog confirmed. "Adjusting on second contact!" But even as one fell, the remaining four creatures kept attacking. The Spectre bucked in the air as another beast clawed along the upper fuselage, trying to rip through the dorsal armor to get inside. "Deploy flares!" the Spectre''s captain ordered. The defensive officer slapped the countermeasures release. Flares spat from both sides of the aircraft¡ªdozens of them, glowing like miniature suns. The creatures reacted immediately¡ªhissing and recoiling from the searing heat and light. One peeled away, veering off into the clouds with a frustrated screech. Another faltered, momentarily stunned by a flare bursting too close to its head. The Spectre banked hard left, trying to use its momentum to shake off the clinging monsters. "Warthog, second pass! Now!" Marcus shouted through the channel. "On it!" The A-10 swung around like a sledgehammer, lining up its second gun run. The pilot''s reticle blinked red over two targets struggling midair. He squeezed again. BRRRRTTT. The stream of rounds tore one creature''s chest open. It convulsed midair and fell like a stone, splattering somewhere in the ruins below. The third creature took glancing hits¡ªwounded but not dead¡ªfalling back, screeching with rage. "Ammo low!" the Warthog pilot called. "One more burst¡ªmax!" He lined up the last surviving monster still latched to the Spectre''s side. This time, he didn''t miss. The final burst of 30mm rounds stitched across the beast''s spine, breaking it apart in midair. The body tumbled away into the fog of smoke and ash rising from the ruins. Inside the Spectre, the crew exhaled raggedly. "Damage control reports outer hull breach, rear quarter," the systems officer said. "Flight systems operational. Stabilizers strained but holding." "Spectre to Command," the captain reported. "Remaining contacts neutralized. We''re heading back to base. Hull integrity compromised¡ªwe can''t stay in the air much longer." Thomas pressed the comm. "Acknowledged, Spectre. You''re clear to RTB. Good work." On the radar feed, the battered icon of the Spectre banked southward, limping back toward the safety of the MOA Complex. "Warthog One, ammo?" Thomas asked. "Zero. Winchester. Heading home," the pilot confirmed. Thomas nodded grimly. They had survived¡ªbut barely. He turned back to Marcus. "Get maintenance crews prepped. I want that bird patched and rearmed the second it touches ground." "Already on it," Marcus replied. Below, Phillip and Shadow Team saw the last of the monsters fall from the sky. They crouched in the ruins, breathing hard, eyes scanning the horizon for more threats. "Shadow 0-1 to Command," Phillip called. "Spectre made it out. Area seems clear... for now." Thomas pressed the mic. "Good. Hold position. Support will return soon." The command center settled into a tense, uneasy silence. Outside, Cubao burned. Above the smoldering city, the sky darkened again¡ªnot from clouds, but from something else. Something vast. Something that blotted out what little sunlight remained. Marcus looked up from the radar feed, his face pale. "Sir," he said slowly. "New contacts inbound." Thomas stiffened. "How many?" Marcus swallowed. "Too many to count." The screen blinked once¡ªthen again¡ªflooding with new signals. The second wave had arrived. Thomas''s breath hitched, a cold knot forming in his chest as the entire holographic map lit up like a cursed Christmas tree. Blips. Hundreds of them. Moving fast. Converging from all directions¡ªnorth, east, south. Even from the coastline. "Composition analysis?" Thomas demanded sharply. Marcus shook his head, hands flying across the keyboard. "Mix of biological and unknown signatures. Some airborne. Some ground-based. Different sizes... lots of them." At the bottom of the screen, new classifications began auto-generating: Behemoth-class. Feral-class. Reaper-class. Names they had never seen before. The system struggled to catalog them all. "Sir," a technician called out from the back, voice barely controlled. "Some of them are bigger than anything we''ve faced before." Thomas''s eyes narrowed. His knuckles whitened. "Sound the Complex-wide alarm," he ordered. His voice was low but unshakable. "Prepare all defenses. Mobilize every asset." He stared grimly at the incoming storm. "The real battle is about to begin." Chapter 172: The Sudden Fight in the MOA Complex The wailing of sirens echoed across the MOA Complex as the alarm blared to life. Red warning lights bathed the airfields and perimeter walls in a harsh glow. Soldiers sprinted to designated posts. Anti-air batteries¡ªsystems that had been hastily welded together from salvaged Patriot launchers, Phalanx CIWS turrets, and locally-upgraded missile systems¡ªwhirred and locked into firing positions. "Spectre Actual to Command," the battered AC-130 pilot called. His voice was strained. "We''re final approach. Twenty seconds out. Hull compromised. Rear stabilizers damaged. Requesting immediate cover fire." "You''re cleared," Thomas replied. "AA batteries are online. Marcus?" "Anti-air network primed. Sector North and West turrets locked on. East and South warming up." On the tarmac, the ground crews scrambled, flares in hand, illuminating the landing zones with green markers. Emergency teams with hoses and welding kits waited near the hangars. Through monitors, Thomas watched the Spectre''s approach¡ªits heavy fuselage shuddering as it fought against crosswinds and the invisible pressure of the incoming swarm. "Visual on Spectre!" Marcus barked. But they weren''t alone. From the bruised sky behind the AC-130, a pack of flying nightmares emerged¡ªtwenty, maybe more. Half were grotesque bird-things, their ragged wings gliding on air currents; the rest were unclassified, squirming forms with too many limbs and plasma-dripping maws. "Anti-air units!" Thomas roared. "Priority fire on incoming hostiles! Spectre gets through no matter what!" The complex''s defenses activated in full. The Phalanx CIWS units¡ªtheir six-barrel 20mm Vulcan cannons¡ªspun up with a furious whine. TRRRRRRRRRRRRT! Streams of tungsten rounds laced the sky in brilliant tracer fire, drawing crimson lines that intersected the incoming swarm. Several creatures were shredded instantly, their bodies bursting into showers of black blood and molten plasma. Missile pods barked from the improvised Patriot batteries, smoke trails cutting into the heavens. Two, three direct hits¡ªwinged monsters spiraled out of the air, crashing into nearby ruined skyscrapers and erupting into pulsing violet fireballs. But for every one that fell, two more closed in. "Spectre, on final! Gear down!" the pilot called, voice hoarse with focus. The AC-130 lumbered in low, its underbelly inches from scraping the tops of nearby ruined buildings. Sparks danced as a loose antenna from a half-demolished office tower snagged against the fuselage before breaking free. "Come on," Thomas muttered, watching. "Come on, damn you." One monster slammed into the Spectre''s port wing, gnawing and clawing at the already-strained strut. "Port wing compromised!" the systems officer cried. Without hesitation, the Spectre''s side gunners swung their 25mm Bushmaster cannons out of transport lock. RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT! The shells punched through the creature at point-blank range, tearing its midsection apart and sending its remains spiraling toward the golf course outside the perimeter. "Spectre down to one operational engine!" the pilot reported. "Hard landing imminent!" "Clear the deck!" Thomas barked. The emergency crew at the strip scattered back as the Spectre''s rear wheels slammed into the concrete, sparks flying as the brakes screamed under the load. The nose slammed down a moment later, gouging deep scars into the landing strip, the entire aircraft groaning like a wounded animal. Finally¡ªit skidded to a violent halt just meters from the edge of the runway. "Spectre down! Repeat, Spectre down but intact!" a ground officer shouted. Cheers erupted briefly¡ªbut were cut short by another alarm. "More airborne hostiles inbound!" Above, the Warthog¡ªout of ammo, running fumes¡ªroared in low over the bay, struggling to stay ahead of the remaining flyers. Thomas seized the mic. "Warthog One, vector to Runway Two. AA will clear your path!" "Copy, Command. Coming in dirty and low." The A-10 pilot wrestled his controls, jinking erratically as two of the remaining airborne beasts latched onto his six. "Anti-air! Lock onto tail contacts trailing Warthog One! Priority fire!" Marcus ordered. Within seconds, a Phalanx turret near the southern control tower pivoted and opened fire. TRRRRRRTTT! A solid stream of 20mm shells hammered the space behind the A-10. One creature was caught mid-dive, blown apart in a fountain of blood and shattered bone. Another was grazed, spiraling wildly before slamming into an abandoned shopping complex adjacent to the field. The way cleared, the Warthog dropped its landing gear and hit the strip hard, tires smoking. Thomas exhaled. "Warthog down safe?" "Affirmative!" came the ground officer''s shout. "Bird intact. Pilot climbing out!" Inside the command center, Marcus updated the screens rapidly. "Spectre secured. Warthog secured. No loss of pilots." Thomas allowed himself a second¡ªa single second¡ªof relief. Then his gaze snapped back to the horizon. The radar feed showed it: the endless swarm still approaching. Not just air units anymore. Ground units too. "Get the secondary defense grid active!" Thomas ordered. "Deploy the Abrams! Get the Bradleys moving! Fortify the northern and western sectors!" Sirens screamed again. Heavy engines rumbled to life. M1 Abrams tanks rolled from reinforced hangars, tracks grinding over cracked asphalt. M2 Bradley IFVs followed, their turrets swiveling into combat posture. Above them, anti-air missiles reset their locks, cycling targeting data for the next wave. Across the outer walls of the Complex, hundreds of soldiers from Overwatch forces¡ªinfantry, engineers, heavy weapon teams¡ªrushed into defensive lines. Heavy machine guns were mounted on sandbagged posts. Snipers took up overwatch positions on rooftop nests. In the underground bunkers, reserves prepped the last-resort defenses¡ªman-portable SAMs, and even ATGs. As the last defensive orders echoed through the command center, the overhead speakers inside the MOA Complex crackled to life. A calm yet firm automated voice flooded every hallway, every corridor, every public chamber: "Attention all civilians. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill. All non-combatants are to proceed immediately to designated shelter areas. Stay indoors. Follow emergency personnel instructions. The MOA Complex is now on full lockdown." Inside the mall''s cavernous interiors, families, scavengers, and traders¡ªordinary survivors who had sought safety within the massive walls¡ªfroze for a moment at the announcement. Then, panic briefly surged. Emergency marshals in Overwatch uniforms quickly moved among the crowds, guiding them firmly but steadily toward the nearest hardened shelters: retrofitted theaters, underground service tunnels, fortified storerooms. Heavy blast doors began sliding shut over the main entrances. Steel shutters descended across storefronts and atriums. Portable barricades and automated turrets locked into place at key choke points. From the outside, the MOA Complex still looked massive. But now, it was a fortress fully sealed for war. Inside the command center, Thomas heard the final tone confirming lockdown. He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling. The civilians were secured. Now, it was war. Chapter 173: Defense The moment the lockdown tone faded into silence, the first rumble hit. The ground trembled¡ªa faint vibration at first, like the prelude to an earthquake. But it grew. Louder. Heavier. Outside the main walls, dust clouds rose in thick columns from the western ruins. The approach of something massive. No, not something¡ªmany somethings. "Visuals incoming," Marcus said tensely, enlarging the external feed to the main holoscreen. Thomas leaned forward. The sight was monstrous. Through the ruins, hordes of infected charged¡ªmore than they''d ever faced before. Twisted humanoids, some sprinting on all fours like beasts, others hulking with grotesque muscle and bone growths. Interspersed among them were towering brutes, eight meters tall, dragging malformed limbs heavy enough to crush tanks. And above them, filling the ash-thickened sky, hundreds of flying creatures circled like vultures waiting for the kill. "All units," Thomas said into the mic. "Weapons free." The MOA Complex''s walls roared to life. The outermost defenses opened fire first. M2 Brownings and salvaged Miniguns stitched the advancing front ranks with high-caliber rounds. Anti-material rifles barked from sniper nests, punching fist-sized holes through the heads and torsos of the sprinting infected. But it was the armored lines that truly answered the challenge. The first salvo from the Abrams tanks thundered out in coordinated unison. BOOM-BOOM-BOOM. High-explosive shells tore into the massed creatures at the front, blasting craters of gore and shattered bodies. The M2 Bradleys followed, their 25mm chainguns spitting hot lead into the thickest concentrations. Above, the Phalanx CIWS turrets shifted skyward once more, tracking the airborne nightmares diving toward the walls. TRRRRRRTTTTTT! Tungsten shells formed invisible barriers in the sky, shredding smaller flyers in half before they could even reach the perimeter. Bodies rained down in showers of black ichor. "Reload patterns on Phalanx units," Marcus ordered. "Cycle fresh belts every ninety seconds." "Copy," came the crisp response from ground control. Inside the mall, civilians huddled deeper into their shelters as the first concussive impacts rattled the entire complex. Screams were muffled behind thick steel doors as the blast shutters absorbed the external shockwaves. Back in the command center, Thomas moved between operators, assessing the real-time situation. "Status on sectors west and north?" he demanded. "West sector holding!" an officer reported. "Heavy contact! Northern wall engaging at medium range¡ªexpected contact in three minutes!" Thomas nodded grimly. "Prepare reserves for north defense. Abrams units rotate southward when west sector stabilizes." "Sir!" another technician called out, tapping furiously at his screen. "Large heat signatures emerging west of main boulevard ruins! Three contacts! Behemoth-class!" Thomas moved to his side. On the thermal feed, he saw them. Three massive figures lumbering forward¡ªbigger than anything they''d faced in the city so far. Each one easily the size of a two-story building, with distended torsos, quadruple-jointed limbs, and gaping maws that dripped molten plasma. "Jesus," Marcus muttered under his breath. "They''re like walking siege engines." "Order Abrams to switch to sabot rounds," Thomas snapped. "Tell artillery to retarget for mobile bombardment. Focus on that thing!" Outside, the tanks rotated turrets. With a synchronized series of clunks, their autoloaders fed in fin-stabilized sabot rounds¡ªarmor-piercing darts designed for tank warfare. The first volley fired. The sabot rounds punched into the lead Behemoth''s torso, releasing sharp bursts of black mist¡ªbut not stopping it. The creature bellowed, the sound a deep, rattling boom that shook dust from the very ceilings. "Not enough," Marcus growled. "I know," Thomas said grimly. "Keep hitting it. Target joints. Cripple, then kill." The second volley came in lower¡ªaiming for knees, hips, and ankles. Shell after shell tore into the massive limbs, splintering bones and rupturing flesh. One of the Behemoths stumbled¡ªthen fell with an earthshaking crash that sent dozens of sprinting infected flying. Cheers erupted briefly on the Overwatch channels. But there were still two more Behemoths... and hundreds more infected flooding the streets behind them. "Sir, airborne contacts descending from east side!" another tech called out. Thomas swung toward the eastern monitors. A new wave of the flying horrors had broken off, gliding low over the bay to flank the complex. "Get Stinger teams to eastern rooftops!" Thomas barked. "Man-portable SAMs¡ªprioritize intercept!" Already, soldiers scrambled up emergency stairwells, Stinger launchers hefted over their shoulders. Some climbed onto hastily reinforced penthouses and parking structure roofs. "Lock... lock... fire!" one soldier barked. White smoke burst from the launcher as the missile screamed into the air. Direct hit¡ªone flier exploded in a burst of plasma and blackened feathers. Another fell, trailing violet smoke. But more kept coming. "Marcus," Thomas said lowly, "we need air support back ASAP." "All our Apaches are now in the air," Marcus confirmed, eyes glued to the radar. "ETA over battlefield in ninety seconds. They''re loaded with full Hydra and Hellfire payloads." Thomas gave a sharp nod. "Task Reaper Flight to prioritize airspace clearance. Break the flanking formations." "Copy. Relaying now." Outside, the east side of the MOA Complex erupted again as the Stinger teams reloaded and fired off another volley. More fliers spiraled down in burning wreckage, but it was clear¡ªthe rooftop teams were being overwhelmed by sheer numbers. On the western front, the second Behemoth had reached the outer barriers. The beast barreled straight into a wall section reinforced with salvaged steel beams and concrete blast panels. It slammed a massive, deformed shoulder against the barrier, sending cracks spiderwebbing across the structure. "Wall integrity at 78 percent!" Marcus shouted. "Breaching imminent if they keep hitting it!" "Focus fire!" Thomas barked. "West artillery¡ªconcentrate all rounds on Behemoth Two!" Outside, the M777 batteries adjusted. New firing solutions locked in. WHOOMPH-WHOOMPH. Shells rained down on the Behemoth like the wrath of the gods, blasting chunks from its armored hide. One round struck the creature''s upper back¡ªripping free an entire slab of rotting muscle¡ªand the monster staggered. But it didn''t fall. It roared in defiance and slammed into the wall again. "Third Behemoth advancing!" another officer reported frantically. "It''s behind the second one¡ªusing it as a shield!" "Smart bastards," Marcus muttered. Thomas''s mind raced. "Reposition Abrams Alpha Team," he ordered. "Northwest firing lane. Hit them from the flank." "Roger!" On the battlefield, the Abrams tanks rumbled, swinging into a new arc. Their turrets rotated with mechanical precision, lining up new kill shots. TRRRRRRRRTTTT! The Phalanx cannons kept roaring above, carving the sky as more Apaches finally arrived, diving from altitude. A cluster of Hellfires streaked downward, spearing into the densest concentration of infected. Explosions tore massive gaps through the horde. For a brief moment¡ªjust a breath¡ªthe tide seemed to falter. Chapter 174: Relief? The world finally seemed to slow. After what felt like endless hours of thunder, smoke, and blood, the roar of battle began to fade into something quieter¡ªsomething less furious, but no less grim. Gunfire tapered off to sporadic bursts. The deep thumps of artillery grew distant, only firing in short, precise salvos. The skies, once blotted out by monsters and tracer fire, now hung heavy and gray, littered only with drifting ash and blackened wings. Inside the MOA Complex, Thomas stood with both hands braced against the command table, his eyes scanning the updated tactical map. "West sector clear," Marcus announced, his voice hoarse but steady. "North sector mopping up stragglers. Eastern perimeter secured. No breaches recorded." Thomas straightened slowly, the ache in his shoulders finally catching up with him. He hadn''t moved from the command center for hours¡ªhe hadn''t needed to. His presence was the spine keeping everything upright. "Good," he said. His voice carried a weariness he didn''t bother to hide. Out beyond the reinforced walls, the Overwatch forces moved methodically across the battlefield. The tanks advanced slowly, their machine guns firing short, precise bursts to finish off any crawling infected that had survived the first bombardments. The Bradley IFVs followed behind, infantry squads fanning out from their hatches to sweep the rubble-strewn streets. Every movement was mechanical, practiced. They knew the routine: double-tap anything that twitched, clear all the bodies, and tag anything anomalous for biohazard teams. Shadow Team was among them, Phillip leading the cleanup with his rifle slung low. "Stay sharp," Phillip called to his men over the squad channel. "Anything moving gets ventilated. No risks." "Copy, Shadow 2-9," came the quick reply. Alongside them, medics moved between squads, checking vitals, patching minor injuries, tagging the dead for later recovery. Combat engineers worked swiftly to repair damage to the perimeter wall, welding temporary plates over cracked sections and rigging new razor-wire barriers. The entire complex was breathing again¡ªnot easily, not peacefully, but breathing. Thomas watched from the command center, the silence almost unnerving after the chaos. "Spectre and Warthog crews are stable," Marcus reported, pulling up the latest medical logs. "No major injuries. Just banged up." He paused. "Spectre''s rear stabilizers will need a full replacement, though. She''s grounded until further notice." Thomas nodded once. "Better the ship than the crew." In the far plaza, where only hours ago creatures the size of tanks had raged, teams were setting up triage tents and mobile decontamination units. Scientists in full hazmat suits moved carefully between the carnage, collecting samples, tagging alien tissue, spraying down biohazards. The stink of burnt flesh, plasma, and gunpowder clung thick in the humid air. But still¡ªthere were no more alarms. No more shrieks from the infected. No more violet flashes on the horizon. It was over. At least, for now. In the civilian bunkers beneath the Complex, the mood was a strange mix of tension and cautious relief. Families huddled close together, whispering prayers or holding tightly to one another. Children whimpered quietly, but the loud sobs from earlier had faded into exhausted silence. Through the narrow slit windows, they could hear the dull thud of heavy boots as Overwatch soldiers patrolled the halls. The PA system crackled back to life. "Attention all residents. The immediate threat has been neutralized. Remain in shelters until authorized personnel provide clearance. Medical aid and ration packs will be distributed shortly." A few people sobbed openly at the announcement¡ªwhether from relief or simply from the pent-up terror finally finding release, no one could tell. Above ground, the smell of victory was bitter. Phillip wiped a streak of grime from his face, exhaling heavily as he scanned the ruined western field. Corpses¡ªthousands of them¡ªlay strewn across the landscape in grotesque piles. Some still twitched faintly, muscles spasming as whatever dark energy had once animated them finally burned out. He keyed his radio. "Shadow 0-1 to Command. Field clear. Requesting final sweep authorization." Thomas''s voice came back after a moment. "Granted. Mark anomalous remains. Keep your masks on. No heroics." "Understood." The Shadows moved forward again, more slowly this time. No longer hunting an enemy¡ªnow they were merely cleaning up after a massacre. Still, every man and woman among them kept a finger ready on the trigger. No one trusted the silence just yet. Inside the command center, the atmosphere had shifted from battle readiness to operational exhaustion. Operators slumped slightly in their chairs, their movements a little slower. Medics moved through the room, handing out water, ration bars, and quick shots of adrenaline for those still on duty. Marcus leaned heavily against the nearest console, his face pale but determined. "You did good," Thomas said quietly as he approached. Marcus gave a thin smile. "You too, sir." They exchanged a tired but genuine nod. For a brief moment, Thomas allowed himself to look beyond the monitors, beyond the bloody readings and casualty reports. He looked at the people. His people¡ªor summons if others preferred. Tired. Battered. Some wounded. But alive. The MOA Complex had held. Against impossible odds, they had survived. Thomas tapped the central console once, a sharp rap of knuckles against steel. "Get me a full casualty report in two hours," he said. "And prepare a debrief for all squad leaders at 1900." Marcus nodded. "And Marcus," Thomas added, pausing at the door. "Find something good to put in the announcements tonight." "Sir?" "A victory. However small." Thomas''s mouth twitched into something almost like a smile. "People need it." Marcus saluted, a little sharper this time. "Yes, sir." Thomas left the room, his boots echoing in the quiet. Out across the battered, blood-soaked fields of Cubao, the smoke still rose. Fires still crackled. But for the first time in what felt like forever... The defenders of the MOA Complex could see the sun again. Even if it was only a faint, fractured light through the ashen sky¡ª It was still light. And for now, that was enough. Even though this is tougher than the wave he had experienced from before. Chapter 175: After the Storm The sun hung low behind a veil of dirty gray clouds when the call for the debrief went out. Inside the MOA Complex''s fortified briefing hall¡ªa retrofitted cinema turned war room¡ªdozens of soldiers filed in slowly. Squad leaders, fireteam commanders, Shadow operatives, artillery officers. They came with dirt still streaked across their faces, blood on their uniforms, and exhaustion etched deep into their bones. The lights were dim. A single overhead projector cast a flickering blue hologram of Metro Manila''s burning ruins onto the battered wall at the front of the room. Thomas stood there, waiting silently, hands clasped behind his back. When the last of the officers found a seat¡ªor simply stood leaning against the walls, too tired to care¡ªMarcus stepped forward and killed the chatter with a short, sharp whistle. "Attention on deck." The room stiffened. Thomas didn''t waste time. "At ease," he said. His voice was low but carried clearly over the ragged breathing and shifting boots. "You earned it." Some tension eased, though not much. Thomas stepped into the center of the room, tapping a few keys on the console. The holographic map shifted, zooming in on Cubao and the MOA Complex perimeter. "This is where we stand," he began. "And this is what you all bought us." He highlighted the defensive zones: West Sector¡ªscarred but intact. North¡ªminor breaches, already patched. East and South¡ªlight engagements, successfully repelled. "Casualties," Marcus read from a datapad, voice tight. "Confirmed KIA: 43 Overwatch personnel. Wounded: 121, ranging from minor to critical. Civilian casualties¡ªminimal. No breaches into civilian bunkers." A murmur went through the room¡ªgrim, but relieved. Forty-three dead was heavy. But it could have been hundreds. Thomas let the numbers sink in before continuing. "You did what no one thought possible," he said, scanning the faces around him. "You held this ground. You protected the Complex. You protected the civilians." A few heads nodded slowly. "Now," he said, voice hardening, "comes the reality." He tapped another key. The map shifted again¡ªthis time highlighting new red zones spreading outward from Cubao, fanning east toward Pasig, north toward Quezon City. "These are the latest recon reports," Thomas said. "Residual clusters. Mutated infected. Remaining pockets of airborne hostiles." The map pulsed faintly. "And this," he said, zooming farther out, "is the broader problem." Dozens of new red dots appeared across the city. Far too many. The officers stirred uneasily. Thomas turned toward them fully. "The surge we faced today wasn''t random. It wasn''t an accident. It was coordinated." The word hit the room like a slap. "You saw the tactics," he continued. "They weren''t mindless. They flanked us. Targeted key units. Hit our logistics. Tried to blind our air assets. Even those flying monstrosities weren''t just instinct-driven¡ªthey moved with intent." He let the words hang there. Phillip, standing near the center, spoke up with a rough, steady voice. "You''re saying they''re evolving." Thomas nodded slowly. "Faster than we thought. We always knew about the zombies evolving but we don''t know at what rate. But given the circumstances, they are fast." A heavy silence settled over the room. "Based on post-battle samples," Marcus added, stepping forward, "Dr. Calix''s preliminary report suggests multiple strains. Different classes of infected now¡ªferal types, behemoth types, aerial types. Some completely new biological markers we haven''t even categorized yet. We will wait for the doctors to properly categorized them." Thomas pointed back to the map. "And they''re spreading." "How far?" a squad leader asked from the back. Thomas didn''t sugarcoat it. "Farther than our immediate recon zone. The entire eastern sector of Metro Manila is compromised. Scout drones spotted bio-massive growths as far out as Antipolo and Marikina. We have no idea how deep it goes beyond that¡ªour long-range comms are patchy." Another officer leaned forward, frowning. "Sooner or later, there will be another assault coming. We don''t know when but it''s going to be like us fighting a whole other country." Thomas exhaled slowly. "That is right, we are the only ones here as confirmed from previous reconnaissance. Sure there will be pocket survivors that are still hiding and the military in shambles, but we are the only working organization in this country," he said simply. The reality crashed down hard. It was them. Here. Now. Thomas let it settle before pushing forward. "But," he said, voice sharpening, "we''re not helpless. You know my abilities right? I can summon ammunition, manpower, and military hardware. I''m going to do that after we finish our debrief. So you can think of it as reinforcement coming in." Some heads lifted at that. "And more than that," Thomas said, voice low, intense, "we''ve proven one thing today." He looked them all in the eyes. "We can kill them. We can crush them. So long as their body is made of hydrocarbons, they won''t be invincible from conventional weapons." The room stirred. Phillip straightened slightly at that. "You saw it," Thomas continued. "They bleed. They burn. They fall. They''re not invincible. And if we fight smart¡ªif we fight together¡ªwe survive." A long, steady silence. It wasn''t cheering. It wasn''t wild shouting. It was harder. More honest. The kind of silent, burning determination that only came from people who had seen hell and decided they would not bow to it. Thomas keyed off the map, returning the room to darkness broken only by the soft glow of emergency lights. He looked at them one last time. "Rest up. Rotate squads. Rebuild what we can. In 48 hours, I want full readiness. Because we all know it¡ª" He tapped the side of his head. "¡ªthis was just the opening salvo." Phillip gave a small, tight nod. Other squad leaders did the same. No one here needed false hope. They just needed the truth¡ªand the will to face it. "Dismissed," Thomas said finally. Boots scraped the floor as the officers began to file out, heads bowed but shoulders squared. Only Phillip lingered for a moment longer. He met Thomas''s gaze across the room. No words needed. We''re still standing. And we''re not done yet. Thomas gave him a nod¡ªand Phillip returned it before turning away into the smoke-tinged corridor beyond. Outside, the skies were still bruised with ash. But beyond the horizon, somewhere, the sun still burned. And so did they. "Time for another military shopping." Chapter 176 176: Shopping Time The cold Manila air bit into Thomas''s skin as he stood alone in the middle of the massive, blackened airstrip. The battle was over¡ªfor now¡ªbut the real preparation was just beginning. He tapped open his system menu, the familiar translucent blue screen flickering to life. [User: Thomas Estaris] [Level: 48] [Experience Points: 95,234,733 / 97,114,886] [Souls: 1,000,000+] [Blood Coins: 434,512,445] [Current Mission: Prepare for the Next Wave] [Shop: Military Hardware Access ¨C Unlocked] Thomas scrolled down through the military shop tab. Now was not the time to hold back. They needed tanks. They needed firepower. They needed air dominance. He gritted his teeth¡ªand began. First stop: Heavy Armor. [M1A2 SEPv3 Abrams Main Battle Tank] Armor: Composite armor with depleted uranium mesh Primary Armament: 120mm smoothbore cannon (M256) Secondary Armament: .50 cal M2 Browning + 2x 7.62mm M240 coaxial machine guns Engine: 1,500 hp AGT1500 gas turbine Max Speed: 67 km/h (on-road) Features: Active Protection System (Trophy), remote weapon station, advanced thermal imaging, upgraded battlefield management system. Quantity Purchased: 30 Units Thomas selected thirty of the newest upgraded Abrams to anchor the Complex''s armored lines. He could already picture them grinding through the shattered streets of Cubao, their cannons roaring. Next: Infantry Fighting Vehicles. [M2A4 Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicle] Armor: Aluminum alloy armor with explosive reactive armor panels Primary Armament: 25mm M242 Bushmaster chain gun Secondary Armament: TOW Anti-Tank Guided Missiles, 7.62mm M240C coaxial machine gun Crew: 3 + 6 infantry Quantity Purchased: 40 Units Fast, rugged, and deadly. Thomas loaded his cart with 40 Bradleys¡ªperfect for rapid response across the Complex''s expanding perimeter and for supporting infantry advances deep into enemy-held ruins. Now: Mobile Artillery. [M109A7 Paladin Self-Propelled Howitzer] Primary Armament: 155mm howitzer Rate of Fire: 4 rounds per minute (sustained) Range: 30 km (standard shells) / 40+ km (rocket-assisted shells) Crew: 4 Quantity Purchased: 20 Units Indirect fire was critical. Thomas knew the next siege wouldn''t be fought face-to-face¡ªit would be barrages against hordes from kilometers away. Twenty mobile Paladins would rain hell when needed. [M142 HIMARS (High Mobility Artillery Rocket System)] Armament: 6x Guided MLRS rockets or 1x ATACMS tactical missile Max Range: 300+ km (ATACMS) Crew: 3 Quantity Purchased: 15 Units Long-range, high-impact firepower. HIMARS was a battlefield equalizer. Thomas smiled faintly as he confirmed the purchase¡ªthese would be their ace against heavy monster waves or distant hives. Now... the sky. [AH-64E Apache Guardian Attack Helicopter] Primary Armament: 30mm M230 Chain Gun Hardpoints: AGM-114 Hellfire missiles, Hydra 70 rocket pods, AIM-92 Stinger missiles Sensors: Longbow radar, night vision systems Quantity Purchased: 15 Units The Apache¡ªthe flying scythe of the battlefield. Perfect for urban skirmishes and rooftop clearances. With fifteen in rotation, Overwatch would dominate the skies. [AH-1Z Viper Attack Helicopter] Primary Armament: 20mm M197 Gatling cannon Hardpoints: AGM-114 Hellfires, Hydra 70 rockets, AIM-9 Sidewinders Advanced Targeting: FLIR sensors, laser designation Quantity Purchased: 10 Units Lighter and faster than Apaches, the Vipers would provide quick-strike and close-support roles. The speed would be key against agile mutant flyers. Then¡ªair superiority. [A-10C Thunderbolt II "Warthog"] Primary Armament: 30mm GAU-8/A Avenger cannon (armor-piercing incendiary rounds) Hardpoints: AGM-65 Maverick missiles, cluster bombs, JDAMs Armor: Titanium bathtub armor around cockpit Quantity Purchased: 10 Units Urban warfare''s angel of death. Thomas remembered how critical the last Warthog had been. Now he would have ten of them¡ªcircling, strafing, punishing anything that dared rise from the ruins. [AC-130J Ghostrider Gunship] Primary Armament: 30mm GAU-23/A autocannon 105mm M102 howitzer AGM-176 Griffin missiles GBU-39 Small Diameter Bombs Sensors: All-weather day/night targeting pods, radar, thermal Quantity Purchased: 5 Units A mobile fortress in the sky. The Ghostriders were Overwatch''s hammer from the heavens. No horde could withstand coordinated Ghostrider strikes¡ªThomas would see to it personally. Final Tally: Land Forces: Abrams tanks, Bradley IFVs, Paladins, HIMARS. Air Forces: Apaches, Vipers, Warthogs, AC-130 Ghostriders. As Thomas finalized the cart, the system interface tallied the purchase. [Confirm Purchase: 309,950,000 Blood Coins] [Remaining Balance: -] Thomas didn''t hesitate. [Confirm] The blood coins burned away, flowing into the system like an offering. The air around him shimmered. And then¡ªthey began to arrive. Summoning portals opened across the airfield¡ªmassive, swirling distortions of light and smoke. With deafening thunder, Abrams tanks materialized on the tarmac, their steel frames still steaming from the dimensional transition. Bradleys rolled out after them, their engines roaring, cannons swiveling as if seeking targets. A distant roar filled the sky as helicopters phased into existence midair¡ªApaches and Vipers circling like deadly hawks over the Complex. Warthogs and Ghostriders shimmered into being above the distant coastlines, ready to descend into new hangars being prepared. Soldiers and engineers¡ªfresh Overwatch operators pulled through the system alongside the vehicles¡ªrushed forward to crew them, already moving with trained efficiency. Thomas exhaled slowly. They were ready. Wait¡ªSomething gnawed at the back of his mind. Defense. Counterattack. Air dominance. They had tanks. They had artillery. They had helicopters and gunships. But they still lacked something critical. An integrated air defense net. He remembered how easily the flying mutants had nearly brought down the Spectre. How even the Warthog had been swarmed. One Phalanx CIWS per sector wasn''t enough. The missile batteries they had were patchwork at best. If another, larger aerial wave hit, they couldn''t rely on bravery and luck again. They needed real air defense. Layered. Autonomous. Relentless. Without hesitation, Thomas reopened the [Shop] tab, scrolling through the high-tier defensive systems. There it was. [Iron Dome Air Defense System ¨C Advanced Version] Radar: EL/M-2084 multi-mission radar Missile Interceptors: Tamir advanced interceptors (upgraded to track and destroy airborne monsters and fast-moving biological threats) Effective Range: 4 to 70 km Features: Multi-target tracking, automated interception, mobile launcher platforms. Description: Designed to annihilate enemy rockets, drones, and now adapted against biological aerial threats. Capable of intercepting small, fast-moving creatures or plasma projectiles. Fully autonomous once deployed. Thomas selected it. Quantity: 5 Batteries (Each battery consisting of 3 launchers + 1 radar unit) Price: 35,000,000 blood coins. He hit [Confirm]. The blood coins bled away one final time. With a flash of shimmering light, five massive mobile radar units and fifteen Iron Dome missile launchers materialized across the eastern and northern flanks of the MOA Complex. Already, the units whirred to life. Radars spun. Launchers locked into auto-targeting mode. Above the airfield, Thomas heard the mechanical hiss of missiles sliding into racks¡ªready to fire at anything hostile that crossed into their domain. Now, he thought, now we''re a real fortress. Chapter 177 177: Visiting the Injured After summoning, Thomas decided to visit one facility within the complex. The hospital at Solaire used as a huge quarantine site during the covid-19. The buzz of fluorescent lights was the first thing Thomas noticed as he stepped into the hospital wing. The second was the smell. Antiseptic. Burned fabric. Dried blood. The aftermath of a battle wasn''t just scorched earth and broken tanks. It was here too ¡ª lingering in the beds, stitched into the white linens, reflected in the glazed eyes of the wounded. Thomas paused at the entrance, his boots silent on the polished floor. The medical wing had been expanded weeks ago when the first serious attacks began. Now it looked like a battlefield all its own ¡ª filled to capacity, with cots squeezed between real beds, and temporary partitions put up to give at least the illusion of privacy. Doctors and nurses, many of them Overwatch volunteers, moved between patients with quiet urgency. Clipboards. IV drips. Portable monitors patched together with salvaged tech. Everywhere, there was movement ¡ª but it was careful. Respectful. Life had been bought dearly today. Thomas took a slow breath and moved forward. He wasn''t in his combat fatigues anymore. Just plain Overwatch black cargo pants and a jacket. No medals. No formalities. He wasn''t Commander Estaris here. He was just... Thomas. One of the first he passed was a young Overwatch soldier ¡ª maybe nineteen, twenty at most ¡ª his entire left arm wrapped in gauze, suspended in a sling. Shrapnel wounds dotted his chest, a few stitches peeking from under the hospital gown. The boy''s eyes widened as he recognized him. "Commander," he croaked, trying to sit up. Thomas raised a hand immediately. "Easy. Rest." He pulled up the single folding chair at the side of the bed and sat down heavily. "You fought well," Thomas said simply. The young man ¡ª his ID badge read Benjamin¡ª swallowed hard. "I... I thought we weren''t gonna make it. When the Behemoths came, sir..." His voice broke slightly. Thomas leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You held," he said quietly. "You bought time. You gave our defenses enough breathing room. That''s why you''re alive. Why we''re all alive." Benjamin blinked rapidly, his mouth twitching between a grimace and a smile. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he just nodded ¡ª a sharp, jerky movement ¡ª and slumped back onto the bed, exhausted. Thomas squeezed the young man''s shoulder gently, then moved on. In the next bay, two engineers sat side-by-side on their cots, legs bandaged up to the thigh, swapping quiet jokes over a battered tablet. Both saluted when they spotted him. Thomas returned the gesture instinctively ¡ª but this time, with a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I heard you two kept the northern CIWS online even after it took a direct hit," he said. "Had to," the older one ¡ª a burly man with streaks of gray in his beard ¡ª said with a raspy chuckle. "We figured if the flyers got in, we were all bird food." The younger one, missing two fingers on his left hand, grinned through his pain. "No way we were letting them turn the mall into a buffet." Thomas laughed softly ¡ª the sound almost alien after everything. "You saved lives today," he said. He meant it. And they knew it. He spent a few more minutes with them, trading small talk. Even though they were summoned from the system, they felt like ordinary people with ordinary lives, doing extraordinary things. Room by room, cot by cot, he moved. He visited the medics who had dragged wounded back under fire. The gunners who stayed at their posts when the air turned black with plasma and smoke. The scouts who marked enemy targets until the very last second before the bombardments fell. Some were asleep. Some were too sedated to even notice him. But that didn''t matter. Thomas made sure to stand there anyway. To see them. To acknowledge them. Victory wasn''t banners raised high and heroes on podiums. It was broken bodies. It was sacrifices stitched together in IV lines and gauze. Toward the end of the row, he found Phillip. Shadow 0-1 himself ¡ª propped up against a mound of pillows, an ugly gash stitched across his side, an arm in a cast, but otherwise awake. Phillip cracked a tired grin when he saw him. "Sir. Took you long enough." Thomas smirked. "You looked comfortable. I didn''t want to interrupt." Phillip chuckled, then winced as the motion tugged on his stitches. "Tch. Would''ve been worse if you hadn''t gotten that AA grid online when you did." Thomas pulled up a chair beside him. They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the distant sounds of heart monitors and muted voices filling the space between them. "You did good, Phillip," Thomas said finally. "Could''ve been better," Phillip muttered, glancing down at the bandages. "Lost good people today." Thomas nodded slowly. "We all did." Another long pause. Phillip''s voice dropped to a rough whisper. "Do you think it''ll ever be enough? Everything we''re throwing at them?" Thomas didn''t answer right away. He stared across the medical wing ¡ª at the wounded, the tired, the broken. At the ones who would carry the scars of this day forever. "No," Thomas said quietly. "It won''t ever be enough." Phillip looked up sharply. "But it doesn''t have to be," Thomas continued. His voice was steady now. Certain. "We just have to outlast them. One day longer. One fight tougher. One step further." He looked back at Phillip. "And with you here? With all of them?" ¡ª he nodded toward the rows of wounded soldiers ¡ª "We will." For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Phillip let out a slow breath and leaned back against his pillows. "Guess I better heal up fast, then." Thomas chuckled low in his chest. "Yeah. You''ll need it." He clapped Phillip lightly on the good shoulder, then rose to his feet. "Rest. Doctor''s orders," Thomas said with mock sternness. Phillip gave a lazy salute with his uninjured hand. "Aye, sir." Thomas smiled ¡ª a rare, genuine smile ¡ª and turned to leave. As he walked back down the hospital corridor, the fatigue finally began to settle into his bones. The burden of leadership was heavy. But tonight... after seeing them... after seeing the fire still burning in their eyes... He knew it was a weight worth carrying. No matter how long the war would last. No matter how many nights like this would follow. He would carry it. He must. Because behind every victory, behind every wall they held, behind every inch they refused to surrender ¡ª there were people counting on him. People worth fighting for. People worth bleeding for. People worth everything. Chapter 178: A Moment of Peace The war had paused¡ªbut only just. For once, the skies above the MOA Complex weren''t filled with the roar of gunships or the howl of incoming threats. Instead, there was a strange, temporary stillness, like the world had taken a breath along with its exhausted defenders. And Thomas had decided, just for tonight, to stop moving. He walked alone down the corridor of the Conrad Hotel, where he had kept its luxurious interiors and plush surroundings. This was his home after all, like a White House with him as its president. When Thomas reached the double doors that led to the rooftop pool, he let out a breath he hadn''t realized he was holding. The pool area was nearly deserted. A single guard stood off to the side, seated with his rifle resting against the chair''s arm, clearly on relaxed rotation. He gave a small nod of recognition but said nothing as Thomas passed. Thomas peeled off his black Overwatch jacket, the fabric still faintly stained with soot and dust. Underneath, he wore only a fitted dark gray shirt and training slacks. He stepped toward the pool''s edge and dipped a hand into the water. Warm. Someone had gone out of their way to activate the heating system. A luxury, but one he wouldn''t question tonight. He sat at the edge first, letting his legs slide in, the water lapping gently against his calves. Then, slowly, he lowered himself in. The warmth enveloped him. Muscles he didn''t realize were clenched slowly eased. The heat soothed the deep aches in his back and shoulders, places no battlefield medicine could reach. His eyes closed for a long moment as he floated backward, arms spread, the quiet ripples echoing softly in the still air. Above him, the stars peeked through scattered clouds. No drones. No sirens. No screams. Just peace. For a fleeting moment, Thomas allowed himself to forget the blood-soaked memories, the burdens of command, the endless logistics of survival. Just water. Just starlight. Just silence. He swam a few slow laps¡ªnot to train, not to push himself, but simply to move without urgency. His body welcomed the rhythm. Each stroke loosened something knotted in his soul, a weight he''d carried since the very first day of the outbreak. After what felt like an hour, he pulled himself out, dripping and breathing deep. A white towel waited on a nearby chair, placed by someone long before he arrived. He dried off and wrapped it around his shoulders, letting the cool air brush over his damp skin. Then, as if summoned by fate¡ªor perhaps good scheduling¡ªshe appeared. "Commander," a woman called gently. He turned. A civilian woman in her early thirties, wearing a plain gray Overwatch utility apron over a white blouse, stood respectfully by the poolside. Her name tag read Marina, and her eyes held the calm professionalism of someone who had once worked in a world that no longer existed. "I was told you''d be visiting the wellness floor," she said. "Would you... like a massage session?" Thomas blinked, then offered a faint nod. "Yes. Please." The massage room had been repurposed from one of the old spa suites. Candles flickered faintly in the corners, casting warm amber light against the beige walls. It smelled faintly of lavender and eucalyptus¡ªold oils still preserved from the hotel''s heyday, now used sparingly but effectively. Marina gestured for him to lie on the padded table, and Thomas obeyed, pulling off his shirt and laying down with a quiet grunt as his spine settled into the cushion. The moment her hands touched his back, he understood just how tense he truly was. "Your shoulders are knotted like steel cables," she murmured, kneading firmly. "You haven''t rested properly in a long time." "Feels that way," Thomas muttered into the headrest. She worked in silence after that, using pressure points and careful strokes. Thomas didn''t know the names for the techniques, but each motion sent waves of release through him. At one point, he actually let out a groan¡ªhalf-pain, half-relief. He didn''t speak much. Neither did she. But by the time she was done, Thomas felt like his body had dropped ten years of exhaustion. His arms hung limp. His breathing slowed. Even the dull throb behind his eyes had eased. "Thank you," he said sincerely as he sat up and rotated his neck. Marina gave a professional smile. "You''re welcome, Commander. I used to work here. Before it all fell apart." "You''re damn good at what you do," he said honestly, pulling his shirt back on. She bowed her head slightly. "We all try to contribute where we can." Thomas offered her a rare, genuine nod of gratitude before stepping back out into the corridor. Down in the private dining suite, lit with warm overhead bulbs and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the battered city, a plate waited for him. Steak. There was even mashed potatoes, lightly seasoned with rosemary and a side of saute?ed vegetables. He sat slowly, knife and fork in hand, and dug in. The flavor was... incredible. Not because it was seasoned like the old world, or because it came from premium cuts¡ªbut because it was normal. Because it was food made by people who believed in something again. Each bite reminded him that survival wasn''t just blood and steel¡ªit was in rebuilding moments like this. He took his time. Finished every last scrap. Drank a tall glass of cold water¡ªchilled with real ice. Wiped his mouth clean. And leaned back in his chair with a long, satisfied exhale. The kind of breath that said: I''m alive. We made it, even just for tonight. Then came the sound of boots. Deliberate. Calm. Familiar. Thomas glanced toward the doorway. Phillip. His friend and right hand stood there, still bandaged, one arm in a sling, the other holding a secured tablet. The light from the hallway cast long shadows across his face. "Evening," Phillip said. Thomas smirked. "You really don''t believe in sick leave, do you?" "Only when I''m unconscious," Phillip replied dryly. He stepped into the room, the light clicking shut behind him. Thomas sat up straighter, his fatigue now tempered by habit. "Report?" Phillip didn''t answer immediately. He walked forward, placed the tablet on the table between them. His expression had shifted. Calm, but serious. "Yeah," Phillip said quietly. "We''ve got something." The room went still. And the war, once again, edged back into focus. Chapter 179: Lets Go For Another Run Then Thomas leaned forward, wiped his hands on a napkin, and tapped the screen. The report loaded immediately. Thermal overlays. Reaper drone footage. All centered on the cratered ruins of Cubao. Thomas''s eyes narrowed. The footage was dark¡ªinfrared mode active¡ªshowing the devastated commercial district reduced to twisted girders and scorched asphalt. But at the heart of the ruin, coiled like a festering wound, was the creature. The Colossal Worm. Fully regenerated. Its once-burned and ruptured flesh had sealed shut with new layers of glistening organic mass. Pulsing veins ran along its armored carapace like red-hot scars, feeding nutrients into the thing''s thick torso. Its head, once split open by hellfire and gunships, now rested low against the earth¡ªwatchful. Waiting. Twitching at the faintest movement from above. Phillip spoke, his voice low. "Recon Command confirms regeneration." "And while we were busy burning the swarm..." Phillip let the implication hang. The worm healed. Thomas''s hand balled into a fist and struck the table¡ªnot a slam, but a sharp, controlled thud. The crystal water glass rattled against the polished wood. It made sense now. The swarm wasn''t just coincidence. It was strategy. The beast, or whatever mind drove the infected, had played them. Divided their forces. Deliberately distracted Overwatch with a wave too large to ignore¡ªso the worm could regenerate unchallenged beneath the rubble. "Used the chaos as cover," Thomas muttered. "Focused on survival. On healing." He looked back at the video. The worm writhed slightly in the footage, its skin glistening with moisture and clotted blood. It wasn''t sleeping. It wasn''t resting. It was waiting. Phillip''s voice cut through the silence. "Sir... I know we hurt it bad. Burned it down to the bone. But look at it now." "I am," Thomas replied. "I''m looking at a corpse that''s still too stupid to stay down." Phillip raised an eyebrow. Thomas leaned back in his chair, his expression calm¡ªalmost cold. "We killed it once, Phillip. We''ll do it again. It bled. It burned. It howled when we hit it hard enough." He stood, the towel around his shoulders dropping onto the chair. The calm from the pool, the massage, the meal¡ªit had all evaporated. His muscles were alert now, his breathing even and sharp. "There''s no fear left in me for that thing," Thomas said. "Only calculation." Phillip gave a nod of quiet approval. "Mission''s still active to kill that thing right?" Thomas opened the system and there the mission is still ongoing, and he confirmed it to Phillip with a nod. "We don''t stop," Thomas said. "Not until that bastard''s bones are sun-bleached and shattered." He tapped the tablet off and handed it back. "Let''s go." They moved quickly through the hotel''s reinforced corridor, descending one floor via a private staircase behind the old spa wing. This level¡ªonce luxury executive suites¡ªhad been gutted and rebuilt entirely. The Overwatch Command Center. The heart of every operation. Every deployment. Every decision. Steel doors opened as they approached, biometric sensors confirming Thomas''s identity before unlocking with a soft hydraulic hiss. Inside, rows of terminals lined the long room, bathed in soft blue and amber glow. Operators moved with practiced precision, some seated at ruggedized laptops, others issuing orders through headset comms. On one end, a massive video wall of mounted flat-panel televisions dominated the space, showing live Reaper drone feeds, seismic activity graphs, and bio-sensor overlays. At the center of it all stood Marcus. "Commander on deck," he said simply. The room''s noise dropped a level, operators straightening subtly but continuing their work. Thomas stepped forward and looked up at the largest monitor. The image was sickening. There it was¡ªthe worm. It had coiled again, tucking its tail beneath ruined concrete like a python in a nest. But its upper torso remained aboveground. The mouth¡ªa grotesque, vertical slit of fangs and hardened mandibles¡ªtwitched every few seconds. And from those movements, Thomas could tell: it was not dormant. "Latest feed?" he asked. Marcus nodded. "Reaper One-One''s live feed. This was taken fifteen minutes ago." Thomas studied the monitor. The colossal worm was surrounded by smaller organisms¡ªcreatures barely the size of humans, scuttling in and out of its coiled body. Not infected in the traditional sense¡ªmore like parasites. "What the heck is that thing?" "It''s not in our catalogue but we can assume that those things are support organisms," Marcus replied grimly. "We''re calling them symbiotes for now. They don''t behave like typical infected¡ªno direct aggression, no swarming. They stay close to the worm. Almost like... caretakers." Thomas''s eyes narrowed as one of the symbiotes in the footage crawled along the worm''s flank, depositing a translucent gel from its underbelly onto a section of scar tissue. The worm twitched slightly, but didn''t retaliate. Instead, the muscles around the application site tightened¡ªflexed¡ªalmost like the creature was absorbing it. "Feeding it. Healing it. Accelerating the regeneration process," Marcus added, disgust etched across his face. Phillip crossed his arms, wincing slightly from his sling. "So it''s not just alive. It''s got a damn support crew." "Worse than that," Thomas muttered, "it''s evolving." He stared hard at the screen. One of the worm''s eyes¡ªa grotesque cluster of red-veined orbs embedded in the chitin near its head¡ªseemed to shift, locking momentarily toward the Reaper''s high-altitude lens. The image blurred slightly from atmospheric distortion, but the suggestion was there. It was aware. "This isn''t just brute force anymore," Thomas said, stepping closer to the command desk. "It''s defense. Strategy. Adaptation." The room stayed silent as the footage continued looping, showing the creature resting¡ªbut not relaxed. Its entire body was taut with barely restrained tension, like a bowstring pulled to the breaking point. Every vibration in the rubble. Every glint of reflected metal. It was responding. It was waiting to be provoked. "What''s the call, Commander?" Marcus asked, eyes on him now. The whole room was. Thomas didn''t answer immediately. His gaze returned to the mission tab on his system screen. He closed it. "We are going to attack it again, only this time with more freedom," Thomas calmly said. "That''s what I like," Phillip grinned. "Will I be on the field?" Thomas shook his head. "No, I am not going to send any men near that thing because we are going to level the entirety of Cubao with that thing in it. You will stay here, see if there will be another swarm if we start attacking that thing." "Very well, sir." "Now, let''s finish what we started." Chapter 180 180: Preparing for the Assault The order had been given. No more skirmishes. No more containment. Tonight, Cubao would burn. Inside the MOA Complex''s main airfield in the reclaimed lands, now an airbase carved from war¡ªfloodlights bathed the tarmac in harsh white light. Rows of armored vehicles stood in readiness. Mobile artillery barrels angled toward the eastern horizon. Rotor blades spun lazily as helicopters powered up. Engines hummed like sleeping monsters being stirred awake. It wasn''t just a strike. It was a reckoning. Technicians moved with surgical precision beneath the vaulted hangar dome. The Reaper drones¡ªsleek, gray hunter-killers¡ªrested on reinforced racks like silent predators. One by one, ground crews loaded Hellfire missiles beneath their wings, securing them with magnetic clamps and ratcheted locks. "Payload confirmed," said one of the techs, stepping back as a checklist scrolled across his tablet. Nearby, Lieutenant Dorian tapped a finger against his headset. "Reaper One-One through Three-Three¡ªsystems green. Initiating final UAV systems boot." Monitors flickered. Engine diagnostics. Flight path overlays. Infrared target queues. Each drone''s camera lens whirred quietly as it adjusted focus. From the ops platform above, Phillip watched the process through a glass window, arms crossed. He said nothing¡ªbut his eyes followed every wire, every warhead, every micro-drone hovering in preparation. Farther down the tarmac, the Apache Guardians and AH-1Z Vipers stood ready, their cockpits glowing with HUD lights and flickering multi-spectrum sensors. Pilots climbed aboard, checking straps, visor feeds, and weapons interface units. The preflight ritual had become second nature¡ªmuscle memory burned into them after countless sorties. Inside Apache Gunship Echo-Four, Captain Hargrave ran his fingers across the targeting panel. FLIR: Operational Hellfire Missiles: Locked and armed Hydra Pods: Loaded Chain Gun: 100% ammo, linked and ready Radar: Longbow pulse sweep clear His copilot gave a thumbs up. "Gun is hot." Hargrave flexed his fingers inside the glove, cracking his neck. "Let''s go make some noise." Engines flared, rotors spooling into a low, thunderous roar. Across from them, the sleeker Vipers lifted off first¡ªagile and fast, banking left in perfect synchronization as they took to the sky in a tight V formation. The Apaches rose next, slower but heavier, stabilizers adjusting in the air. Overwatch''s air cavalry had launched. Also within the MOA Complex, M109A7 Paladins lined the bluff like metal beasts awakening from slumber. Each one pointed east, toward Cubao, its long 155mm howitzer angled and fed coordinates by a live uplink from Command Center. Crewmen in black and camo Overwatch vests moved quickly, loading charges, adjusting elevation, cross-checking GPS vectors. "Target grid confirmed: 14.6022, 121.0544," shouted Sergeant Renn to his team. "Fire Mission: Zone Saturation. HE rounds only." He climbed into the Paladin''s rear hatch, slamming it shut behind him. Nearby, HIMARS launchers were being prepped on mobile rigs¡ªeach loaded with six Guided MLRS pods and one tactical ATACMS missile prepped for deep impact. "Launch sequence ready," one operator reported over comms. "Confirming blast radius clear of friendly signatures." The Warthogs were already taxiing. Short-nosed, wide-winged, and built like flying anvils, the A-10s looked brutal even at rest. But when the twin turbofan engines screamed to full thrust, they sounded like the sky itself was ready to tear open. Inside Warthog Hammer-One, Lieutenant Reyes adjusted his seat, ran through his GAU-8 Avenger system check, and locked in the strike feed from the Command Center. Gun: Ready Loadout: 30mm depleted uranium shells AGM-65 Mavericks: Armed Flares: Active Emergency Afterburner: Locked He pulled the throttle gently. The A-10 responded with a growl. As he lifted off the runway, the Warthog''s undercarriage retracted and the pilot grinned inside his helmet. "Let''s carve this thing open again." Last to lift, but never least¡ªthe Ghostriders. Three of them, stationed at the far end of the field, powered up with a low thunder that rumbled in the gut. Inside, the crews checked their consoles: weapon targeting systems, thermal acquisition feeds, manual override toggles for the 105mm howitzers. In Ghostrider One, the lead weapons officer gave a curt nod as his team reviewed the targeting zones. "Thirty-mil autocannon is hot. Griffins armed. We''re good for angel ten on arrival." The pilot''s voice crackled through the comms. "Let''s give ''em hell." The AC-130s lumbered forward and climbed into the darkening sky¡ªmassive, slow-moving fortresses with teeth. Each one carried the firepower of a battalion. Thomas stood at the center of it all¡ªarms behind his back, watching the aerial movements unfold on the digital war map. Dots representing friendly aircraft marked their positions, converging on the Cubao strike zone. Red thermal spikes still pulsed from the area¡ªlow, steady¡ªindicating the worm hadn''t moved. Yet. Marcus approached with a clipboard and tablet. "All units are in the air. Artillery confirms green light for initial salvo. ETA to impact: eight minutes." Thomas nodded slowly. "Phase One?" "Rain hell. Crater the site. Watch for movement." "And Phase Two?" "If it twitches, we bury it deeper." Phillip''s voice chimed in from the upper gallery. "Spore clouds forming near the worm''s mouth. Symbiotes are agitated. It knows something''s coming." "Let it know," Thomas said coldly. "Let it feel dread." He turned to the communications officer. "Open line to all strike units." A short pause. "You''re live, sir," the officer said. Thomas stepped forward, speaking with calm authority. "This is Commander Estaris. We are going to finish what we have started. You''ve trained for this. You''ve bled for this. And now you''re going to end this." He paused. "Light Cubao up. No restraint. No mercy." Then, calmly, he looked toward the map again. "Show the world what Overwatch does when we come back swinging." Marcus lingered for a moment, eyes locked on the screen where targeting overlays slowly blinked across the map of Cubao. The outlines of destruction widened with each second¡ªblast radii, impact zones, secondary fire probabilities. Then he spoke, voice low. "Sir... what about the civilians?" Thomas didn''t look away from the map. "We''ve done sweeps. Thermal scans. Reaper One-One didn''t catch any major clusters," Marcus continued. "But we both know there could still be people down there. Hiding in basements. Sewers. Bunkers." A silence followed. Even the operators nearby seemed to pause in anticipation of what Thomas would say. The weight of command settled like stone on his shoulders. He exhaled through his nose. "I know," Thomas said. He turned slightly, eyes meeting Marcus''s. "There will be casualties." Marcus''s jaw tightened. "We might be killing people who survived this long just to be caught in our blast." Thomas nodded. Slowly. Deliberately. "And if we don''t act, that thing crawls its way into Makati. Ortigas. The Complex. It burrows through our defenses. It kills thousands more." He turned back to the screen. "Sometimes we don''t get clean victories, Marcus. Sometimes we make the call no one else will." He tapped the digital screen. "This is one of those times. It''s worth the risk." Chapter 181 181: Hello Once Again The night sky over Cubao ignited like a second sun. At precisely 2100 hours, Overwatch''s attack begun. The first shells screamed through the air¡ª155mm HE rounds fired from the M109A7 Paladins perched along the perimeter of the MOA Complex. Each shell struck the crumbled ruins of the old Araneta district like a hammer from the gods, detonating in thunderous blooms of flame, shrapnel, and shockwaves that shattered what remained of concrete towers and skeletal malls. Each impact cratered the earth. Each detonation scorched the air. From the MOA Command Center, the digital map flickered with each confirmed strike. Heat signatures lit up like fireworks¡ªdozens of red markers around the Colossal Worm''s coordinates flared and vanished as the outer symbiotes were incinerated by the first barrage. "Paladin battery report," Marcus called over comms. A gruff voice returned, thick with adrenaline. "Raven Battery to Command, twenty rounds out. All tubes green. Reloading." "ETA on next salvo?" Marcus asked. "Seventy-five seconds, sir." Then the HIMARS joined in. High Mobility Artillery Rocket Systems¡ªfifteen launchers fired their payloads in tight succession. Each launcher loosed a full salvo of six GMLRS rockets, arcing high before diving like reaper scythes into Cubao''s burning heart. The earth shook. Cubao ceased being a district and became a crater. Back at MOA, Thomas stood still, hands clasped behind his back, watching the war map ripple with expanding red circles¡ªeach one a blast radius. Overwatch''s drones confirmed: secondary explosions had begun in the worm''s nest. Either ammunition cooked off from scavengers... or the worm was reacting. Then came the scream. Not audible¡ªseismic. Deep tremors rolled through the crust, enough to jostle readings on the nearby tiltmeters deployed around the blast zone. Cameras mounted on Reaper One-One caught the moment: the worm rose. Through flame, ash, and shattered steel, the Colossal Worm reared up, its segmented body glowing with molten lines. Plasma glands near its throat glowed red-hot, then yellow¡ªits signature charging phase. "Worm''s prepping plasma fire," Phillip warned over comms. "Interval tracking in effect. Estimated charge time: twenty-three seconds. Beam duration: eight-point-four seconds." "Confirm flight dispersal pattern," Thomas ordered. "Already airborne," Marcus replied. "Evasive pattern Delta-3." "Break right, break right!" Apache Echo-Four banked hard just as the worm''s plasma beam erupted. A searing column of light¡ªthick as a train car¡ªswept across the sky, melting a row of hollowed-out skyscrapers. The blast lit up the Manila skyline like a sunrise. But this time, they were ready. The choppers danced. AH-64E Apaches and AH-1Z Vipers rolled and flared at the edge of the beam''s arc, evading just past the burn radius. Chaff and flares deployed automatically, though the plasma didn''t seek¡ªit simply vaporized. In the cockpit of Echo-Four, Hargrave''s voice stayed steady. "Interval reset. We got twenty seconds before it heats again." "Copy that," came Viper Two-One. "Time to ruin its day." Viper Two-One dropped low between ruined towers, popped up over the next block, and released a full Hydra 70 rocket pod straight into the creature''s face. The explosions burst across its armored head like fireworks. Molten flesh sprayed backward. The worm recoiled¡ªits head shaking violently side to side. Behind it, Echo-Four unleashed AGM-114 Hellfires, laser-guided straight into the exposed gills along the worm''s sides. Impact. Detonation. Chunks of scorched meat and bone erupted skyward. A sharp buzz rippled through the air as the GAU-8 Avenger on Hammer-One spun up. "On the deck. Hammer-One, guns hot," the pilot called. From just 500 feet above Cubao''s burning crater, the A-10 Thunderbolt II lined up its run. Crosshairs locked on the worm''s exposed spinal ridges as it writhed between partially collapsed LRT tracks and fractured foundations. BRRRRTTTTTTTTTTT The 30mm depleted uranium rounds shredded through tissue like paper, sending up plumes of black mist as the worm roared in pain, its body convulsing violently. Secondary rounds slammed into the ground around it¡ªtargeting retreating symbiotes attempting to repair its armor. The pilot banked left, flares deploying automatically. "Pulling out. Ammo spent." Behind him, Hammer-Two and Hammer-Three began their run. From ten thousand feet, the Ghostriders circled the sky like vultures with cannons. "Target acquired," the fire control officer barked. "Firing thirty-mil autocannon. Sector three." The side-mounted GAU-23/A let loose, spitting high-velocity rounds that chewed through the worm''s lower trunk. Followed immediately by a 105mm M102 howitzer¡ªeach shot like a miniature earthquake delivered from heaven. "Griffin missile ready." "Send it." The AGM-176 Griffin launched from the underwing rail. Precision-guided. It punched into the worm''s gaping plasma gland¡ªjust as it began to glow again. Detonation. The worm convulsed, beam short-circuiting mid-charge, plasma igniting prematurely within its own throat. The explosion burst outward, rupturing a section of its upper body¡ªinternal organs, bile, and seared cartilage raining into the burning crater below. "Direct hit confirmed," Marcus said, eyes wide. "Secondary explosion. It backfired on its own plasma." Thomas didn''t flinch. "Continue the barrage. Don''t let it settle." "Roger that. All batteries, fire for effect. Continuous." On the map, a new ripple of red circles expanded. Phillip''s voice returned on the line. "Symbiote count dropping fast. Half are dead. The others are scattering." "They''ll die tired," Thomas muttered. "Keep the sky hot. No breath. No breaks." Another feed came in¡ªReaper One-One zoomed in on the worm''s charred, ruptured segments. Its head remained intact... but now sluggish. Trembling. "It''s weakening," Marcus said. "But it''s not down." Thomas''s jaw clenched. "Then we keep striking until there''s nothing left." Above Cubao, the air had turned into a hellstorm of missiles, cannon fire, and raining steel. Smoke blanketed the sky. Fire licked the ruins. And at the center of it, the Colossal Worm¡ªonce the apex predator of the infected¡ªlay writhing and broken. But not dead yet. Its movements were erratic now¡ªjerking, spasming, no longer coordinated like before. Sections of its armored flesh peeled back from the heat, exposing raw muscle and twitching veins. Its glowing plasma sacs flickered¡ªunstable, glitching with each pulsing throb like a faulty reactor on the verge of overload. From the command center, Thomas leaned closer to the war table, eyes locked on the feed. "Status?" he asked. Marcus answered grimly, "It''s bleeding out, sir. But it still has enough mass and power to level another city block if it gets a chance." Thomas''s eyes didn''t blink. "Then don''t give it one." Chapter 182: Hammering it Down The ground assault resumed. The M109A7 Paladins, repositioned atop pre-cleared overpasses, fired in perfect synchronized intervals. Their barrels belched fire and smoke as 155mm shells soared skyward before arcing back toward the broken cityscape. The high-explosive rounds punched deep into the ruined earth, surrounding the wounded titan with thunderclaps of kinetic fury. One shell landed directly onto the worm''s exposed spinal ridge¡ªwhat had once been a tough, armored shell now softened by continuous fire. The impact split the segment open with a fleshy crack, as if cleaving through cartilage. A roar followed. Not seismic. Not felt. Heard. For the first time since the battle began, the Colossal Worm screamed audibly¡ªan earth-rattling, guttural howl that echoed across the Quezon skyline like a death knell. In the cockpit of Echo-Four, Hargrave''s face twitched. "Jesus Christ..." "Focus!" Phillip''s voice snapped over comms. "It''s not dead until it stops moving!" High above, Hammer-Two''s Warthog began its second run. "Guns hot," the pilot barked. "Avenger primed. Lining up the dorsal tract." The 30mm GAU-8/A cannon came alive again, vomiting depleted uranium shells into the exposed section just behind the worm''s shattered plasma gland. The rounds tore deep, carving long furrows of ruptured tissue. Red mist gushed like a geyser. Something snapped within the beast, and it lurched hard to the left¡ªits full weight collapsing into a scorched section of debris. A shockwave rolled outward, flattening a half-toppled SM Cubao sign like paper. "Brace for collapse!" one drone operator warned. But the pilots stayed their course. Below, Viper Two-Three performed a wide arc before dipping behind a skeletal mall. They emerged between rusting steel beams and fired another full pod of Hydra 70 rockets into the worm''s flank. Smoke trails and detonations stitched a path up its side. Symbiotes tried to swarm up to reinforce the creature¡ªbut most were already limping, bleeding, or dead. They were no longer support. They were meat caught in the grinder. "Secondary motion!" a spotter shouted in the command center. Reaper One-One''s feed zoomed in¡ªshowing the creature''s mouth opening wide again, but it didn''t charge a plasma blast this time. Instead, tendrils burst from within. Thick, sinewy appendages¡ªfour of them¡ªlashed outward like whips, grabbing at debris and dragging more mass toward its body. Rebar, broken corpses, even burning symbiote husks¡ªit pulled them in. "What is it doing?" Marcus asked, brows furrowed. "Feeding," Thomas growled. "Or evolving again. Either way, stop it." The order echoed across all comms. From above, Ghostrider-Three took a sharp orbit to align the 105mm cannon. Fire Control locked onto the mouth of the beast¡ªwhere tendrils spasmed and coiled. "Target locked. Firing." The cannon boomed. The shell entered mid-pull¡ªjust as a new chunk of writhing symbiote was being dragged inward. Detonation. The explosion was violent. The tendrils snapped in all directions like blown wiring, flailing blindly before crumpling limp into the dirt. A gout of black, boiling bile gushed upward¡ªcoating half the worm''s remaining armor. Its mouth sagged open, hissing now, not roaring. Not screaming. Choking. It tried to rise, but a second howitzer round slammed into its right eye cluster. A spray of yellowish fluid splattered across the crater. One eye was gone¡ªits remaining orbs fluttering wildly like a creature truly in panic. "Hit it again!" Thomas shouted. "Finish it!" At that moment, Raven Flight arrived. From behind the elevated remains of EDSA flyovers, Shadow Team''s air insertion squad soared in on fast low-altitude heliborne approach. Two Black Hawks flanked their EC635 recon bird, modified with stabilized cameras and a laser designator. "Target locked," came Ghost''s voice over the recon channel. "Marking with laser now. Send the payload." "Roger that, Raven," Marcus confirmed. "Griffins en route. ETA twenty seconds." From above, Ghostrider-One and Two loosed their remaining AGM-176 Griffin missiles. Guided by the green dot painting the worm''s midsection, they tracked low¡ªpiercing through smoke and flame¡ªand slammed into the base of its neck, where its spine met the crater. Direct hits. The explosions erupted deep inside, the twin blasts blowing out the surrounding armor in twin gouts of fire and shredded tissue. The Colossal Worm lurched upward one final time. Its head snapped toward the heavens, mouth wide open in a voiceless cry. Then it collapsed. Hard. The impact cracked the surrounding rubble like an earthquake. Debris flung outward. A final spray of blood jetted from its back as internal organs failed catastrophically. It stopped moving. For a full ten seconds¡ªno one spoke. No one breathed. From the command center, Marcus slowly stepped toward the monitors. "Reaper confirms... no movement. Plasma sacs cold. No seismic motion." "Thermals?" Thomas asked, voice even. "Dropping fast. Like a body cooling." Phillip exhaled. "It''s done." A soft chime echoed in Thomas''s mind. His system interface flickered to life before his eyes, glowing with a deep crimson shimmer as a notification window expanded at the center of his vision. [Mission Complete: Target Eliminated: Colossal Worm] [Reward Earned: Blood Coins: +10,000,000 Experience Gained: +1,000,000 EXP] Thomas blinked as the numbers settled. His vision returned to the dim glow of the command center, but the weight behind the screen lingered. It was over. For real this time. The blood coins weren''t just currency¡ªthey were proof. Tangible confirmation from the system itself that the worm had died. Not fled. Not retreated. Died. Even so, Thomas wasn''t the type to trust a screen alone. He turned to Marcus. "Send ground recon. Now." Marcus didn''t hesitate. "Phillip, you are on this along with Ghost and other Shadow Teams. Move out. Full biohazard gear. I want boots in that crater in ten." Thomas''s voice was low but resolute. "No one gets close until we have a visual confirmation on the corpse. I want full spectrum scans. Core sample, if possible." Phillip nodded from across the table, rubbing his temple with his good hand. "Understood. I''ll relay direct to Raven Flight. They''ll drop a containment unit and drone team." The room moved quickly. Orders were issued. Personnel scrambled. The sense of victory was sharp¡ªbut not unguarded. Thomas remained still, hands pressed to the edge of the war table as he stared at the main monitor. The colossal body still lay motionless, its flesh ruptured, its cratered remains smoking under the hellfire barrage they had unleashed. Even with the system confirming the kill... He had to see the body. They all did. Because in this new world, death wasn''t always the end. And nothing was ever truly over¡ªnot until he made sure. Chapter 183: I Want to Know for Sure The ruins of Cubao steamed beneath a blood-red sky. It had been less than an hour since the Colossal Worm collapsed in a thunderous heap, its final death throes shaking the bones of the city one last time. Now, ash and scorched debris blanketed the landscape, glowing faintly in the heat of residual fires and the flicker of Overwatch''s aerial flares. From the northern approach, three modified JLTVs rolled cautiously through the fractured remains of EDSA. Inside the lead vehicle, Phillip adjusted the mic on his headset. "Shadow One to Command. We''re approaching the kill zone. Visual confirmation in two minutes. Advise all units: air''s thick with particulate ash and acidic vapor. Gas masks are mandatory." "Copy that, Shadow One," replied Marcus from the MOA Command Center. "Reaper One-One has eyes on your movement. Thermal tracking green. Proceed with caution." The convoy slowed as it crossed over a collapsed pedestrian overpass. Concrete slabs had fused into jagged blackened ridges. Melted steel beams jutted upward like fangs. And then¡ªpast the smoke¡ªthe corpse came into view. A mountain of rotting flesh. A monument of death. The Colossal Worm lay in a massive crater at the heart of what had once been the Araneta Center. Its upper torso¡ªnow ruptured and slumped sideways¡ªspilled viscera and gelatinous fluids across several city blocks. A thick river of yellow-green bile oozed from its mouth, mixing with the rain-slicked rubble. "Jesus Christ..." one of the soldiers in the rear JLTV muttered, eyes wide behind his visor. "Hold formation," Phillip ordered. "This thing might be dead, but I don''t want to be its lunch if it twitches." The vehicles stopped at a safe distance¡ªroughly 300 meters from the primary mass. Ground troops in full Overwatch HAZMAT suits dismounted, rifles slung but eyes alert. They moved in silence, boots crunching on glass and broken bone. From the command center, Thomas stood with arms crossed, watching the helmet cam feed as it broadcast onto the central monitor. The footage was jagged¡ªconstant flickers from the residual heat and interference from plasma discharge¡ªbut clear enough. He could see it now. The gaping wound at the base of the creature''s neck, blackened and torn open like a hollow volcano. The burned flaps of meat that once protected its plasma sac were shriveled and still leaking internal residue, pooling into acidic smoke along the crater floor. Marcus leaned in beside him. "Vitals?" "No bioelectric activity. Drone sensors are showing full temperature decay. No heartbeat. No spiking gas emissions either." Thomas nodded, but his eyes didn''t leave the screen. "I want ground confirmation," he said flatly. "Tissue samples. Mass estimate. Scan for any residual neural signals. We''ve seen what these things can do. No risks." Back on the ground, Shadow One advanced up a slope of ruptured concrete slabs. Phillip climbed atop a rusted out LRT car half-buried in the worm''s remains. From there, he could see the entire kill zone. The worm was coiled in partial segments, its length stretching deeper into collapsed infrastructure like a snake halfway buried in its burrow. Chunks of its armor were missing, blown away by artillery and strafing runs. Exposed flesh twitched from thermal contraction, but there were no signs of muscle response. "Command, this is Shadow One. We are within forty meters of the primary body. No movement. No defense. Target appears fully neutralized." "Confirmed," Marcus replied. "Proceed with internal survey. Sample teams are greenlit." Two techs moved in with drone launchers, releasing quadcopters outfitted with infrared cameras and micro-samplers. The small drones zipped into the open wounds of the beast, scanning and retrieving fragments of organic tissue. Phillip continued his walk around the corpse, careful to avoid the glowing pools of acid-like plasma near the throat. "Internal cavity looks like it imploded," he said into his mic. "Based on damage radius and splash pattern, I''d say the Griffin missiles ruptured its primary plasma chamber. The rest of the detonation cooked its spine from the inside out." On one of the nearby monitors, the drone camera fed in a chilling image¡ªan enormous spinal nerve cluster blackened with char. Thick bundles of flesh, now inert, once responsible for the beast''s twitching tendrils and grotesque mobility. Phillip stepped up beside Thomas and exhaled through his nose. "You think there''s more of these?" Thomas didn''t answer at first. He studied the exposed muscle fibers, the gaping mouth frozen open in a final death rattle, and the tattered remnants of what had once been a living engine of destruction. "I think we just killed a prototype," he said. "And whoever¡ªor whatever¡ªis behind it... was watching." "Sir," Phillip reported again, "we''ve located what appears to be a secondary organ system¡ªsome kind of secondary heart. Burned out, but intact enough for collection. Sending coordinates now." Thomas turned away from the monitor. "That''s enough," he said quietly. "Suit up the Rover." Marcus blinked. "Sir? You want to head out there?" "I do," Thomas said. "I need to see it myself." Marcus frowned. "System already confirmed the kill. Shadow''s confirming. Why risk it?" Thomas looked over at him. "Because we''ve never killed something like this before. And I don''t trust confirmation screens and sensor logs when it comes to monsters that tunnel through cities and survive bunker busters." He turned toward the command crew. "Prep a bird. I want boots on the ground in ten." Fifteen minutes later, Thomas stood atop a scorched parking structure overlooking the creature''s remains. The smell was worse than anything the cameras conveyed¡ªlike sulfur, meat, and burning plastic all mixed into one. Even through his mask, the stench clawed its way into his lungs. The ground crunched beneath his boots as he walked toward the edge of the crater, Phillip falling in behind him. The worm was... horrifying. Even in death, it radiated power. Seeing it up close, Thomas felt the sheer scale of what they had destroyed. It was a reminder. Of the stakes. Of what could rise next. He crouched beside the largest exposed wound¡ªwhere the Griffin had entered¡ªand peered into the mess of shattered armor and melted bone. It was quiet now. Dead. Finally. He stood, slowly. "All teams," he spoke into his comms. "This is Eagle Actual. The Colossal Worm is confirmed neutralized. Prepare for Phase Two: extraction of materials and full biohazard sweep." Then he looked back at the corpse. Even monsters die. And Thomas would make sure this one stayed dead. Chapter 184: System Maintenance?! While Thomas was watching for the extraction of samples done by his Overwatch men, he realized one thing. Wait isn''t the rewards for killing this beast supposed to be something about the system itself? Not the blood coins and the experience points? With that, he quickly checked the system and then written on it was: [System is undergoing maintenance in preparation for the new updates. Estimated time of completion is fourteen days] "...what kind of upgrade would require two full weeks?" Thomas muttered, brows furrowed. The system''s plain blue interface blinked gently before him in the corner of his vision. No additional tabs. No further explanations. Just a frustrating progress bar labeled System Maintenance ¨C 2% Complete. "Great," he muttered. "So much for answers." He dismissed the interface with a flick of his hand and returned his attention to the crater below. His Overwatch ground team continued their methodical extraction¡ªmetallic arms, reinforced crates, and long-arm forceps pulling pieces of scorched flesh, bones, and internal bio-sacs from the steaming corpse. Despite the carnage, they moved with precision, not hesitation. Trained. Efficient. Yet even with all the noise¡ªgenerators humming, cranes groaning, boots crunching over broken rubble¡ªThomas couldn''t shake the feeling that something was off. Too quiet. He scanned the horizon. The city beyond the kill zone remained frozen. No movement. No infected. No bloomspawn screeches. No stuttering howls. It was as if the entire zone had been vacuum-sealed by death and silence. "Where the hell are the biters?" Phillip asked from beside him, voice low. "After all that noise, I expected a swarm by now." Thomas nodded slowly. "Something''s holding them back." "Or pulling them somewhere else." That sentence hung in the air for a beat too long. Before Thomas could answer, a comm ping buzzed through the command line. "Commander, this is Shadow Five. We have a live one." Thomas straightened. "Civilian?" "Affirmative. Male. Late twenties to early thirties. No weapons. Emerged from a collapsed structure near the north approach." "Status?" "He''s not hostile. Hands in the air. Compliant so far." Thomas pressed his earpiece tighter. "Is he injured?" "No visible wounds. Just looks... shaken. Covered in ash and dried blood. Like he walked out of a goddamn furnace." "I''m on my way." Within minutes, Thomas made his way down the lower ridge of the crater toward the northwest quadrant. His boots crunched over blackened concrete as he moved past two IFVs parked for perimeter defense. A few soldiers gave nods of acknowledgment but didn''t speak. He arrived to find four Overwatch operators standing in a wide circle around a man who clearly didn''t belong here. His clothes were threadbare. A long-sleeved hoodie stained with soot, the sleeves tied in tatters at the elbows. His face was thin, unshaven, smeared with ash. He looked more like a ghost than a survivor. But it was his eyes that caught Thomas''s attention. Wide. Alert. Too focused to be in shock. Too aware to be broken. Thomas signaled the soldiers to lower their weapons. The man flinched slightly but kept his hands up. "You with the national military?" the man asked, voice hoarse. "No," Thomas replied, stepping forward. "We''re Overwatch." "Private?" the man asked. "Independent," Thomas said. "Military-grade. You got a name?" The man hesitated, as if the question itself was heavier than it should be. "Ruben," he finally said. "I''m nobody. Just a guy who used to fix phones in Pasig." Thomas eyed him. "And what the hell is a guy like you doing here in Cubao, ground zero of a monster''s graveyard?" "I saw it," Ruben replied, voice quieter now. "Not the worm¡ªthe thing before it. Or... after it. I don''t even know anymore." Thomas frowned. "Be specific." Ruben glanced at the soldiers around him, then at the sky, then down at the crater. "You killed that, yeah?" He motioned toward the corpse with a trembling hand. "Big worm. Plasma cannon in its chest. Ate buildings." Thomas gave a curt nod. "I saw what came before it. Or maybe it caused it. I don''t know." There was a silence. Then Thomas gestured to one of the men. "Get him some water." A canteen was handed to Ruben, who took it with both hands and drank deeply. He wiped his mouth and then looked back to Thomas. "It wasn''t like the others," he said. "Didn''t chase anyone. Didn''t spread spores. It just... rose." Thomas said nothing, letting him speak. "It came out of the ground. Like it had been waiting for years. Red-black plates, as tall as a skyscraper. No legs. No face. Just this... spiral maw near the top. It opened and this violet light came out¡ªlike a lighthouse made of nightmares. And then..." He swallowed. "It sang." "Sang?" Phillip repeated, stepping up behind Thomas. Ruben nodded slowly. "Not music. Not really. More like static and humming and... structure. A frequency that hit you in the bones. You didn''t hear it. You felt it." Thomas glanced at Marcus, who had just arrived. "Any seismic anomalies earlier today, aside from the worm?" Marcus nodded. "Yeah. Brief spike right before its emergence. Thought it was collapse tremors. Could''ve been something else." "Keep going," Thomas said to Ruben. "I tried to call it in," Ruben said. "Stole a radio from a dead scav, tried transmitting. But whatever that thing was¡ªit scrambled everything. I don''t think anyone heard me." "You''re the only one who saw this?" Ruben shook his head. "Others might''ve been around, but I was alone when I saw it. Near Aurora Boulevard. Hiding in a collapsed 7-Eleven." Phillip let out a slow breath. "That''s less than two clicks from here." Thomas studied the man for a long moment. "Do you want extraction?" he asked. Ruben blinked. "What?" "You want out of here?" Thomas asked again, clearer. "We can fly you to safety. Medical. Shelter. Food. If you''ve been alone this long, it''s a miracle you''ve survived." Ruben''s lips parted slightly. He looked down at his hands, still shaking. Then he nodded slowly. "Yeah. I want to get out. Please." Thomas turned to one of the squad leads. "Get him on the next shuttle back to MOA. Full medical screening. Debrief. And flag this for intelligence." "Yes, Commander." As Ruben was led away toward a waiting JLTV, Thomas remained still, eyes narrowing. A monument that sings. A frequency that commands. A structure that doesn''t walk because it doesn''t need to. He activated his comms. "Marcus, raise all intel divisions. I want sensor coverage extended to Aurora Boulevard immediately. Satellite, Reaper, everything." "Copy that." Chapter 185: Two Days After at the Site Two Days After the Assault on the Colossal Worm Cubao Ruins, Former Kill Zone The air was hot, but dry. Most of the smoke had cleared. What was left of the worm''s body¡ªnow slumped across the crater¡ªhad stopped leaking fluids. It had begun to dry out, baking under the Manila sun like a massive slab of overcooked meat. The buildings around Cubao were dead. No power, no people, no movement. Just silent ruins and blackened concrete. But the peace didn''t last. A group of survivors entered the area from the east, coming from the collapsed highway that once connected to the Aurora Boulevard junction. They didn''t walk like soldiers. But they didn''t walk like scavengers either. Their formation wasn''t tight, but it wasn''t aimless. There were fourteen of them¡ªmen and women of different ages, most of them in makeshift armor, motorcycle pads, and sun-bleached clothing layered for protection. Their weapons were old and rusted¡ªbolts barely held together, magazines duct-taped to keep them from falling apart. They weren''t a gang. Not really. Just a group that had survived long enough together to become something worse. At the head of the group was a man called Marrow. He was lean, with sunburnt skin and short, uneven hair. His rifle looked more like a hunting weapon than anything military-grade, but he carried it like it had weight. Like he had used it often. They stopped when they saw it. The corpse. It lay in a twisted mess across the crater, like a dead god had fallen from the sky. Giant coils of armor-plated flesh. Burned holes through its sides. Blackened organs spilling into the soil. The head, if you could even call it that, was half melted¡ªits massive jaw torn wide open, exposing layers of shattered fang and collapsed tissue. "Shit," one of the younger survivors whispered. "Is that the one?" asked another. "The monster we heard from up north?" "Must be," said Marrow. He stepped closer, squinting down at the body. "No one said it was this big." A woman beside him, wearing a torn flannel shirt and leather gloves, crossed her arms. "What the hell could''ve killed something like that?" They stood there in silence, staring. The worm wasn''t moving. There were no crows. No rats. No infected. The usual scavengers avoided the corpse like it was cursed. Marrow stepped down the slope, slowly and carefully. The others followed after a moment, watching the ruined skyline for threats. The closer they got to the crater, the more signs they noticed. Empty shell casings. Crushed treads in the dirt. Burned-out drone fragments. Scorch marks from missiles or high-caliber explosives. "This was military," someone said. "No way," another replied. "Military''s dead. We''d have seen them by now." "Then who did this?" They didn''t know. That was the problem. Whoever had come here¡ªwhoever had fought this thing¡ªwas long gone. But they hadn''t just fought. They had won. Cleanly. Precisely. There were no signs of chaos, no corpses scattered around, no failed last stands. Just empty crates, burned-out fuel drums, and a few temporary shelters already broken down and packed away. Marrow crouched by one of the brass shell casings and picked it up. "This wasn''t home-made," he said. "This is factory. Clean press. Same with the missile shrapnel. Whoever did this had access to real gear." "They could still be nearby," the woman in the flannel warned. "I don''t think so," Marrow muttered. "If they were, they''d have finished cleaning up. This looks like an abandoned forward camp. They packed what they needed and moved out." He stood up, looking at the worm again. "We''re standing in the middle of someone else''s battlefield." The group spread out across the edge of the crater. A few of them moved cautiously around the worm''s corpse, poking it with sticks or examining the melted bones. They didn''t get too close¡ªnone of them trusted it, even dead. "What if it comes back?" asked one of the younger men. "It won''t," Marrow replied. "Not after what happened to it." "How do you know?" "Because no one stops this thing halfway. Whoever killed it made sure it stayed down." He looked at the others. "But that raises a question. If there''s someone out there strong enough to kill something like this, why haven''t we heard of them?" The group went quiet. They hadn''t thought about that. Everyone in the city knew the rules by now. You heard gunfire, you ran. You saw infected, you hid. You found someone with better gear than you, you avoided them. The strong didn''t go unnoticed. The ones with firepower and food¡ªpeople talked about them. Word spread. But whoever fought here had done it in silence. No broadcasts. No banners. No looting. Just in and out. "Maybe they don''t want to be found," the woman said. "Or maybe," Marrow added, "they''re not trying to save anyone." He didn''t say it like a threat. Just a fact. Because in a world like this, anyone with enough power to kill a monster the size of a stadium wasn''t out there to hold hands and sing songs. They were cleaning house. And maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªthey didn''t care who got caught in the crossfire. "What do we do?" one of the others asked. Marrow didn''t answer right away. He looked at the corpse. At the signs of battle. At the strange silence around them. Finally, he said, "We don''t go looking. Not yet." "So we just leave?" "No," he said. "We watch. We find out who did this. Quietly. If they''re friendly, maybe we get lucky. If they''re not, we stay out of their way." He looked at his people. "We survived this long because we didn''t pick fights we couldn''t win. This? This isn''t just another gang or a settlement with barbed wire." He motioned to the worm. "This was a war." The group nodded slowly. They didn''t need to be told twice. They marked the route on one of their paper maps and took turns sketching the layout of the ruined camp and the body''s position. They didn''t take anything, didn''t disturb the site. And something about this place... it felt wrong to touch. As they pulled back from the crater and began the long walk back toward their shelter east of San Juan, the silence around the worm returned. Still. Heavy. Unnatural. The kind of silence that warned you not to stay too long. And none of them did. Chapter 186: The Assurance Two days after the battle in Cubao The SMX Center had never seen a crowd like this. Not before the outbreak. Not during the first evacuations. Not even during the announcement of the MOA Complex as a permanent survivor zone. Hundreds of people¡ªmaybe over a thousand¡ªhad gathered in the main hall of the SMX Convention Center. Despite everything that had happened to the world outside, the hall looked untouched. The polished floors still gleamed under the overhead lights. The glass panels above remained intact, letting in soft daylight through their clear panes. The steel beams overhead were unbent, clean, and steady¡ªlike a fragment of the old world frozen in time. It was one of the last places that felt... whole. And that alone gave people reason to breathe a little easier. Civilians stood shoulder to shoulder with Overwatch soldiers in crisp field uniforms¡ªmany of them dressed in clean, brand-new clothes pulled from the untouched stockrooms of the mall. There were fresh jackets, properly fitted jeans, even running shoes that hadn''t seen dust until now. Engineers still bore streaks of grease on their sleeves, medics had dark circles under their eyes, and kitchen staff wore aprons smelling of garlic and soot¡ªbut everyone stood tall. Not because they were ordered to. But because word had spread. The Commander was going to speak. The lights flickered twice, casting long shadows over the packed crowd, before finally stabilizing. At the front, a makeshift stage had been assembled using scrapwood and reinforced steel panels. It wasn''t elegant, but it held. Then, a murmur passed through the crowd. "He''s here," someone whispered. Thomas Estaris stepped onto the platform. He wasn''t dressed in armor. He wore his black Overwatch jacket¡ªworn at the shoulders and scuffed at the sleeves¡ªwith the collar popped slightly from the wind outside. His boots were dusty. His face was tired. But his presence was solid. Grounded. He didn''t need a speechwriter. He didn''t need a podium. He just stood at the center, arms relaxed at his sides, and waited until the room fell quiet. And then¡ªhe began. "I won''t waste your time with small talk." The words carried clearly through the hall, firm and steady. The SMX''s original sound system still worked flawlessly. Crisp audio filled the space from hidden ceiling speakers, as if the world beyond the walls hadn''t fallen apart at all. "You''ve all heard the rumors. You''ve seen the skies light up over the north. Some of you felt the tremors. Some of you didn''t sleep that night because the walls shook." He let that hang. A few people nodded, quietly. "What we fought in Cubao wasn''t just another beast. It wasn''t a swarm. It wasn''t a new strain." His tone was steady. Controlled. But behind his eyes, everyone could see it¡ªthe weight of what he had seen. "It was a monster the size of a building. With armor that absorbed rockets. With a plasma beam that could melt through high-rise concrete in seconds." He took a step forward. "And we killed it." No cheers. Just shock. And disbelief. You could feel the air change. "We brought it down with every ounce of firepower we had. Paladin shells. Warthogs. Ghostriders. Apaches. Drones. Everything. We scorched the ground it stood on. We buried it in flame. And it died." Still no applause. Just people trying to understand what that meant. "We didn''t do it because we''re heroes," Thomas continued. "We didn''t do it because we wanted revenge. We did it because if we hadn''t¡ªit would''ve found this place next." He looked toward the far side of the hall, where evacuees sat cross-legged on the floor beside volunteers handing out water. "I''m not going to stand here and tell you that it''s the last monster we''ll ever face. We all know the truth. This world... is different now. There are things out there we haven''t even seen yet." He took a breath. Not to compose himself¡ªbut to deliver what came next. "But I will make one promise. One that matters." He raised his voice¡ªnot shouting, but firm. "As long as I''m alive... as long as Overwatch stands... this place¡ªthis complex¡ªthis fragile patch of humanity¡ªwill remain safe." Murmurs swept the crowd. "I''m not a president. I didn''t run for office. I don''t sit on a throne." He gestured to the crowd. To the soldiers lining the edge. To the people watching from the upper balconies. "I started this because survival matters. That''s it. Not politics. Not rebuilding malls or banks or elections. Just... keeping people alive." A woman in the crowd wiped her eyes. A child clung to her side, silent. "This complex... it wasn''t built with concrete and steel. It was built by grit. By those who fought in the dark so others could sleep. By the ones who died giving others a chance to live." He paused again, scanning the faces before him. "We are not waiting for the end anymore." A soft shift swept across the crowd. "We are building something here. We''re creating rules. Protection. We''re teaching our kids how to grow food again. How to read. We''re giving people jobs. Purpose." A young technician near the front¡ªbarely more than a teenager¡ªlowered his head, shoulders shaking. "I know we''re tired. I know we''ve lost too many. But if that monster in Cubao proved anything¡ªit''s that we can fight back. That we can kill the nightmares." Thomas''s voice grew sharper now. "Because we are not prey. We are not leftovers of the old world." He took a step forward, speaking from his chest now. "We are the living. And we are still here." There it was. A beat of silence¡ªsharp, clear. Then, it started slowly. Someone clapped. Then another. Then it spread. The hall filled with the sound of tired hands¡ªcalloused, burned, scraped¡ªclapping not because they were told to, but because they needed to. Not because they were celebrating a man. But because they were holding onto the last thing that made them human. Hope. Thomas stood still. He didn''t bask in it. He didn''t raise his arms. He just looked out, nodding once, letting the people have that moment. Then, quietly, he stepped down from the stage. No ceremony. No music. Just the sound of people clapping long after he had left. Because they believed him. And that was enough. Chapter 187: A Mean to Celebrate Two days after the speech at SMX, the mood across the MOA Complex had shifted from survival to something else¡ªcelebration. The Seaside Park along the Manila Bay, once known for concerts and weekend strolls, had been transformed into a festival ground. Colored tarpaulins were hung between lamp posts, and makeshift lanterns swayed gently in the sea breeze. From the edge of the reclaimed boardwalk to the open plaza near the bayfront, dozens of food stalls lined the paths¡ªgrilled fish, roasted corn, boiled peanuts, even skewered meats sizzling on hot steel griddles. The aroma of spices and charcoal filled the air, mixing with the salty sea wind. Generators hummed steadily in the background, powering everything from rice cookers to lightbulbs. Someone had even managed to get one of the old ice cream freezers working¡ªkids with small plastic spoons crowded around a man in a repurposed Mang Inasal apron as he handed out scoops of vanilla, chocolate, and something vaguely fruity. The rides still worked. Not all of them¡ªbut the MOA Eye, the towering Ferris wheel at the edge of the complex, turned slowly against the orange-pink horizon. Overwatch engineers had worked around the clock, rewiring the motors, checking the supports, making it safe again¡ªnot because anyone needed it to survive, but because they needed it to remember joy. The carousel had music again. Slightly off-pitch and scratchy through the old speakers, but it played. Children¡ªsome orphans, some lucky enough to still have parents¡ªrode the painted horses like it was the most normal thing in the world. Inside the mall itself, the corridors had come alive. For the first time in months, the shutters of dozens of shops had been lifted¡ªnot for looting, but for use. People browsed shelves and used their digital credits to purchase shoes, clothes, books, tools. A few adults lingered in front of old toy stores, their hands hovering over boxed board games, puzzles, even model kits they once took for granted. The currency was simple: contribution credits. Every person in the complex had a record¡ªwhat they did, how often, what value they brought to the community. Every hour volunteered at the kitchen, every day spent hauling rubble, every wounded soldier recovered¡ªit all counted. It wasn''t perfect, but it worked. And today, for once, people were spending. Thomas Estaris walked quietly along the seaside path, hands in his jacket pockets. The sun had begun to dip below the bay, casting golden streaks across the water. He wore no formal uniform, just his usual black jacket, slightly faded from wear. Behind him, Phillip walked with a slight limp but a quiet smile. "Feels like a different world," Phillip murmured. Thomas nodded. "Even if just for a day." They passed by a group of volunteers handing out grilled banana on sticks. One of the kids offered Thomas a skewer. He blinked, then took it with a small thanks. The boy grinned and ran off. Phillip smirked. "That''s a first." "What?" "You. Eating in public." Thomas raised the skewer like a toast. "Consider it character development." He took a bite. It was sweet, soft, and still hot. They continued walking. By the edge of the plaza, a dart game had been set up. A crowd had gathered, cheering as a young woman in a scavenged denim jacket hit three bullseyes in a row, winning a giant plush tiger from an old arcade prize rack. Beside the booth, a board had been erected with the words "Festival of Fire" hand-painted across it. "Catchy," Phillip commented. "Marketing department''s working overtime," Thomas replied. He watched as a father lifted his daughter to pop a balloon with a dulled throwing knife. She missed, but the booth operator gave her a candy bar anyway. From one of the benches, Erika sat with two other Overwatch guards, laughing softly over a plate of roasted squid. She didn''t wave. She didn''t even glance his way. But Thomas saw her¡ªhair tied back in a loose braid, her posture relaxed in a way that made her distance from him more obvious than words ever could. He gave a small nod in her direction, more out of habit than expectation. She didn''t respond. "Did we approve alcohol?" Thomas asked, eyeing the makeshift open bar near the center. Phillip shrugged. "One drink limit. Mostly rice beer and coconut brew. Security''s watching. Worst case, we clean vomit off the sidewalk." Thomas grunted, but didn''t object. People needed this. He stopped near the boardwalk railing, watching as the Ferris wheel turned slowly above the festival grounds. The cabins were full¡ªeach one holding families, lovers, or friends who leaned back and watched the world from above. From that high up, maybe the damage wasn''t so visible. Maybe the ruins looked distant. Small. "Commander." A voice called from behind. Thomas turned to see Marcus approaching with a tablet under one arm. But he wasn''t in uniform. He wore a gray t-shirt and clean cargo pants, his sleeves rolled up, a soda in one hand. "I''m off duty," Marcus said with a grin. "Don''t worry. Just wanted to give you something." He handed over the tablet. A still image was frozen on-screen¡ªdrone footage of the Cubao crater. The worm. Dead. Still unmoved. The data overlay showed it all: biomass harvested. Area now thermally stable. No signs of residual spore activity. "Clean site," Marcus said. "Team One''s packing up tomorrow." Thomas nodded and handed it back. "Thanks." Marcus gave a small salute and walked back into the crowd. Nearby, music started. Old speakers began pumping a familiar tune¡ªan old pop song from the pre-apocalypse years. Something nostalgic. The kind people could dance to without remembering what came after. And they danced. Mothers with toddlers, teenagers laughing in circles, even a few soldiers clumsily trying to keep up. Thomas watched, then looked up at the sky. No drones tonight. No gunships. No monsters. Just stars beginning to peek through the dusk. "You think they''ll remember this?" Phillip asked beside him. Thomas didn''t answer right away. Then he said, "I hope they don''t have to." Phillip tilted his head. "What do you mean?" "I mean I hope we do our job so well... that kids born in this complex someday will think tonight was just normal. Just life. Not something rare." They stood there for a while, letting the noise and warmth of the crowd wash over them. And for one evening¡ªfor just a few hours¡ªthe world felt a little more human again. Chapter 188 188: Checking the Status of the Complex Part 1 Morning came slow and golden. The MOA Complex stirred earlier than usual¡ªnot from sirens or drills, but from the quiet rhythm of something long forgotten: peace. The night before had been loud. Laughter. Music. The sounds of plastic chairs being dragged across tiles and empty cans clinking against tabletops. The faint crackle of speakers playing an old 2010s playlist still echoed faintly in the minds of those who had stayed late at the seaside plaza. Some were hungover¡ªnot from alcohol, but from joy. By 7:00 AM, the mall''s central atrium was already active. Volunteers swept confetti into neat piles while small drones hovered overhead, scanning for debris or damage. Food stall owners were rolling up their canvas awnings, and kids sat on the edge of the fountain with cups of leftover ice cream melting in their hands. Thomas Estaris stood on the second-floor balcony overlooking the entire atrium, sipping from a black mug. No lid. Just strong coffee¡ªthick, bitter, with no sugar. He didn''t need it sweet. "Morning, Commander," came a familiar voice behind him. It was Howard Briggs, Chief of Logistics & Supply. He wore a freshly laundered polo, neatly tucked, and carried a clipboard too full for this early in the day. "You look like you haven''t slept," he added. Thomas didn''t respond right away. He took another sip, then finally gave a low, "I got a few hours." Howard smiled. "You always say that." Below them, a group of children were chasing each other through the fountain''s shallow edge. The water jets hadn''t worked in months, but the basin was clean, and for now, that was enough. "Did anyone get hurt last night?" Thomas asked. "Nothing serious. One guy slipped trying to climb the Ferris wheel structure¡ªsecurity pulled him down before he could break his neck. Someone else passed out from dancing too hard. Pretty tame for a post-monster-kill party." Thomas gave a dry chuckle. "Good. Let''s keep it that way." They stood there for a bit longer, watching as more people filtered into the mall. A group of engineers walked past with tablets and power tools, heading toward the old tech hub on the third floor. A trio of cooks pushed a cart full of fresh pan de sal toward the market zone, the smell wafting up to where they stood. "How long do you think this''ll last?" Howard asked quietly. "The quiet?" Thomas didn''t answer. Not at first. Then, as the kids below erupted into a splash war, he said, "Long enough for people to remember what it feels like." ¡ª Elsewhere in the complex, life moved on with a rare sense of normalcy. At the old Timezone arcade, someone had rewired a few machines. A teenager named Luis had figured out how to get three units working again: the basketball shooter, the racing game, and an old Dance Dance Revolution pad. The screen flickered occasionally, but the kids didn''t care. The line was long, and the excitement was real. "You suck!" one boy shouted as his friend missed a jump on the DDR pad. "Shut up, you tripped too!" Adults watched nearby, half-smiling, arms crossed. For once, no one was rushing to work detail. No one was checking emergency exits. Just letting it happen. At the MOA Food Hall, families gathered around long plastic tables. Workers handed out trays¡ªsome for credits, others for free if they had a voucher from yesterday''s celebration. The menu was simple: rice, grilled fish, munggo stew, and banana for dessert. But it was hot, clean, and shared. That made all the difference. Beside the escalators, a young couple held hands in front of a reopened bookstore. He pointed at a poetry collection. He raised an eyebrow. They laughed. And just like that, they bought it. People still kept their radios close. The sound of static was a comfort, not a warning now. Civilians traded jokes and stories as they waited in line for everything from toothpaste to flashlights. One man even bartered his way into buying a guitar¡ªstrings broken, but body intact. Said he''d restring it himself. Said music was coming back. ¡ª Back at the Overwatch command wing, Phillip leaned on the edge of the loading bay railing, eating a boiled egg and watching the vehicles move in and out. Supplies were being prepped for a routine scouting mission toward Paran?aque. Nothing urgent. Just making sure roads were still clear. "Thomas out there playing Mayor again?" someone asked. Phillip nodded. "He deserves a few hours off." "Think we''ll ever get another one of these?" the other guard asked. "Another day like yesterday?" Phillip cracked the eggshell against the rail. "I think we''ll make one. Eventually." He looked up at the Ferris wheel, still turning, slow and steady. ¡ª By noon, Thomas found himself at the rooftop garden. What had once been a bar and smoking area was now filled with planters, rows of lettuce, beans, and even tomato vines climbing up rebar trellises. Sunlight poured over the concrete space, and solar panels hummed quietly nearby. Maya, the head of agricultural ops, wiped her brow and approached him. "You''re early." "Wanted to see how it''s going." She handed him a small cherry tomato. "Try that." He did. It was slightly tart, but fresh. "Not bad," he said. "We''re getting better yields now. Might actually have enough for the next ration cycle." Thomas nodded. "Good. Let me know what you need." "Well, perhaps we can try to take over a farm field located in the provinces, make an outpost there solely for agricultural purposes." "I''ll think about it." They spoke a bit more¡ªsoil levels, water distribution, maybe converting another wing of the parking structure into greenhouse space. Then Maya turned to check on a set of grow lamps, and Thomas stood for a moment, alone again. The wind from the bay drifted in, warm and gentle. Below him, the sounds of life continued. And for the first time in a long while, Thomas Estaris allowed himself to believe¡ªnot just in surviving¡ªbut in living. Even if only for now. Chapter 189 189: Checking the Status of the Complex Part 2 A week after the SMX speech, five days before the system maintenance completion. The soft hum of fluorescent lights filled the hallway as Thomas Estaris made his way through the administrative wing of the Conrad Hotel. He stopped at a door labeled "Director of Civilian Affairs ¨C Rebecca Langley" and knocked twice. "Come in," a voice called. Thomas pushed the door open. Inside, the room was surprisingly well-kept. The large desk near the center was stacked with organized folders, a map of the complex pinned across the wall with colored tags and strings. On one side, a small couch hosted a half-finished cup of tea. On the other, Rebecca Langley sat behind the desk, her glasses perched at the edge of her nose, scrolling through a digital tablet. She looked up and smiled faintly. "Commander. To what do I owe the honor?" Thomas stepped in and closed the door behind him. "Figured it was time I checked in on how the other half lives." Rebecca chuckled, setting the tablet aside. "Well, if you mean the half not holding rifles and chasing infected through buildings, then yes. It''s... a quieter existence." "Walk me through it, literally." "You are inviting me for a walk, commander?" Rebecca arched a brow, her tone dry with amusement. Thomas gave a small smirk. "I''ve been in a dozen meetings this week. A walk might be the only way I stay awake." She stood and picked up a light blazer from the back of her chair. "Well, far be it from me to deny the great commander a stroll." "Careful," he said, holding the door open for her. "That almost sounded sarcastic." Rebecca stepped out with him into the hallway. "Almost." They walked in step down the corridor, the polished floor reflecting the warm lighting overhead. This section of the Conrad had been fully converted into the civic administration zone¡ªclean, well-ventilated, and organized. It stood in stark contrast to the field bunkers and watchtowers Thomas spent most of his time around. As they turned the corner, a soft chime rang from a nearby room. A teacher stepped out with a group of young children filing behind her in neat rows, each of them carrying small plastic trays from the daycare lunchroom. "Afternoon, Director!" the teacher greeted with a nod. Rebecca gave her a warm smile. "Afternoon, Mariel. How''s the little hurricane squad today?" "One tried to trade his banana for a button, so... a productive day," the teacher replied, chuckling as she guided the kids down the hall. Thomas watched the group disappear around the corner. "I forget how many kids are in the complex now." "Ninety-four," Rebecca said. "Three born here. One more on the way, from what I heard yesterday." He glanced at her. "That''s... more than I expected." She nodded. "People still believe in tomorrow, Thomas. That''s why they keep going." They stepped into a secondary wing, where a cluster of staff volunteers were sorting boxes labeled footwear," and "Books." A young man with glasses offered a short salute as they passed. A few others nodded in greeting. Rebecca gestured toward the room. "This is the Donation Redistribution Hub. Most of it comes from the stocks of malls. We started rotating stock to avoid waste, especially with clothing and medical supplies." Thomas took note of how clean the operation was. Neatly labeled crates, digital clipboards. People looked busy but not overwhelmed. "What''s morale like?" he asked. Rebecca shrugged slightly. "Depends who you ask. Some folks are just glad to have lights and clean water. Others still wake up every night thinking the wall''s going to break. But overall? Stable." They exited into the Conrad''s east-side corridor, where a wide window overlooked the bay. The water shimmered in the late afternoon sun, the same horizon that had once seemed unreachable from the chaos of the inner city. "Every time I walk past this window," Rebecca said, pausing, "I think about the people who never got to see this place. Whole families. Entire districts wiped out before they could even pack a bag." Thomas didn''t say anything. He didn''t need to. His silence was heavy enough. Rebecca turned to him. "But the people who made it here¡ªthey matter too. They''re not just numbers on a log. They''re survivors. They''re builders." They continued down the corridor and passed a door with the words "Vocational Training Center ¨C Room A" stenciled onto it. Through the glass, they could see a group of young adults practicing basic carpentry under the guidance of an older man with calloused hands and a kind face. Thomas slowed his steps. "We''re training them?" Rebecca nodded. "We''re not just patching holes anymore, Commander. We''re trying to prepare people for something more permanent. A real future." He looked through the window, watching as a girl carefully measured a wooden plank, her brow furrowed in focus. "You really think we can build that?" he asked quietly. Rebecca looked at him. "What''s the point of surviving, sir, if we''re not going to live?" That stuck with him. They walked a few more steps before she led them to a small balcony overlooking the northern edge of the complex. From here, the distant skyline of Metro Manila could still be seen¡ªblackened towers, broken overpasses, long shadows. But closer, within MOA''s fortified walls, were gardens. Tents repurposed into classrooms. Repaired homes. Real people doing real things. "Sometimes I worry we''re just delaying the inevitable," Thomas said, his voice low. Rebecca leaned on the railing. "Then delay it as long as you can. And while you''re at it, give people a reason to believe that delay is worth something." He nodded, slowly. "What do you need?" She turned to him. "A few more volunteers for the school. More trauma counselors¡ªif any come in with the next refugee wave, we''d be lucky. We''re running low on chalk, actually, and batteries for the projectors. But more than anything, sir?" He looked at her. "More time." He exhaled. "I can give you that." A pause. "And I''ll speak to Marcus. See if we can bump civilian requests a little higher on logistics rotation. Not a lot. But enough." Rebecca smiled. "That''s all I ask." Chapter 190: We need Arable Land MOA Complex ¡ª Starbucks, Mall of Asia Four days before system maintenance completion The smell of coffee was one of the last luxuries that still felt real. Inside the preserved Starbucks on the ground floor of the MOA mall, the polished counters and glass display shelves looked almost untouched by the apocalypse. The espresso machines whirred steadily, powered by Overwatch-engineered generator backups. The baristas¡ªvolunteers trained in food service¡ªmoved with calm efficiency, wearing clean aprons and name tags from a world that no longer existed. Thomas Estaris sat near the back, a black mug in front of him. No logo, no brand¡ªjust a solid ceramic mug filled with something dark and bitter. Across the table sat Howard Briggs, head of Logistics and Supply, in his usual gray Overwatch jacket with a tablet resting beside his arm and a cappuccino slowly cooling in front of him. For a few minutes, they didn''t speak. Just sat in companionable silence, letting the ambient hum of casual chatter, clinking cups, and the low hiss of steam fill the air. Then Thomas broke it. "We''re burning through our food stores faster than projected." Howard nodded. "Yeah. I ran the numbers again this morning." He turned the tablet around and slid it across the table. On screen were three line graphs, color-coded in red, orange, and green. Red was consumption. Orange was resupply from mall inventories. Green was projected farming output. The green line dipped before it ever had a chance to rise. "We''ve got maybe eight to ten months of existing stocks left¡ªif rationing stays tight and there are no emergencies," Howard said. "But you and I both know that''s not how things go around here." Thomas nodded grimly. "We can''t just keep pulling from mall storage and patting ourselves on the back for efficiency." "No," Howard agreed. "We can''t." They both took a sip of their drinks. "I want to expand," Thomas said plainly. "We need to look beyond the city. Agricultural provinces. Places like Nueva Ecija, Isabela, maybe even parts of Batangas or Tarlac. Areas that used to feed the whole country." Howard raised an eyebrow. "You''re thinking long-term, not just foraging?" "I''m thinking sustainable farming. Occupy and secure farming zones. Rebuild irrigation, repurpose barns and silos. Grow again." Howard exhaled. "It''s a solid plan, but you know the obstacles." "Tell me." Howard leaned forward. "We don''t know what the infection density is outside the city. No updated drone scans past Bulacan. Roads are blocked, bridges are either collapsed or mined. And even if we make it to those zones, we don''t know if they''re usable. Flooded rice fields. Spoiled soil. Overgrown by Bloom Nests." Thomas nodded again, not blinking. "And if we find usable land?" Howard didn''t hesitate. "Then we still need manpower. Trained farmers. Seeds that haven''t rotted. Equipment. Fuel for tilling. Fertilizer." "I also considered factory reclamation," he said. "Snack food plants, canned goods¡ªanything we can restart." Howard frowned. "Tougher proposition. Most factories can''t operate without a steady supply chain. They need sugar, flour, preservatives, packaging. Raw materials that used to come from across the archipelago or abroad. Even if we clear one plant, it''s a logistical nightmare to keep it running." "So we don''t," Thomas said. "Not yet." "No," Howard agreed. "Not yet." Silence again. The coffee shop was still filled with survivors¡ªpeople on breaks from their shifts, engineers reviewing maps, nurses sitting in groups, chatting over cups of warm brew. It looked like a coffee shop from before the world ended. But Thomas knew better. He knew how much it cost to keep something like this running. Not just in power or supplies. But in hope. "What about test runs?" Thomas asked. "We send recon teams to scout agricultural zones. Secure a few hectares. Trial runs." Howard brightened slightly. "Now that we can do." He brought the tablet back, swiped a few pages, and brought up satellite overlays of Central Luzon. Pinned marks blinked over areas labeled San Jose, Science City of Mun?oz, Baliwag, and Camiling. "These are old irrigation zones," Howard said. "We think the terrain''s still usable. Low Bloom Nest presence based on last Reaper sweep two months ago. If we send a small team¡ªrecon plus agritech advisors¡ªwe can test the waters." "And if we lose them?" "Then we don''t send another until we understand what killed them." Thomas tapped a finger on the tablet screen, near San Jose. "Start with this. Closest and flattest terrain." "I''ll prep a team," Howard said, saving the file. "Maybe three vehicles. One drone. Light gear." Thomas leaned back in his chair, rolling his shoulders. "If we''re going to survive the next two years, Howard , it''s not going to be by sitting inside a mall." "No argument here," Howard replied. "But one step at a time." Thomas gave a small smile. "That''s what I pay you for." "You don''t pay me at all." "Exactly." Howard chuckled and stood, grabbing his drink and tablet. "I''ll send you the outline in three hours." "Good," Thomas said, standing as well. "I''ll greenlight the op by evening." They both left the cafe? and stepped into the mall''s main hallway. Families were walking with bags of dry goods. Children were skipping beside guards. Life¡ªif you could call it that¡ªwas continuing. As they walked together down the polished corridor, Thomas glanced at the passing storefronts¡ªsome reopened, some still shuttered, all reminders of the old world. But beyond the glass and concrete, beyond the illusion of normalcy, he could already see the next frontier forming in his mind. Fields. Tractors. People with dirt on their hands and sunburns on their faces¡ªnot scavengers, not survivors. Farmers. "San Jose''s just the first," Thomas said quietly, more to himself than to Howard. "We reclaim the land, one plot at a time." Howard gave a small nod. "And hope it doesn''t bite back." Thomas didn''t answer. Because it might. But it was a risk they would take. They reached the escalator, where a pair of teenagers were laughing, holding bubble teas bought with contribution credits. It looked like something from before. Maybe, Thomas thought, it could be again. He stepped onto the escalator, already thinking about the next move. Chapter 191: Recon on the Land Three days before system maintenance completion Thomas stood before the tactical operations table, a large digital map of Central Luzon projected across the surface. Green overlays denoted Reaper drone scans from two months ago, while red markers warned of potential Bloom Nest concentrations. The largest icon blinked softly near San Jose, Nueva Ecija. Behind him, a few operators clicked away at their stations, but the room was otherwise quiet. Focused. Clean. Phillip stepped in through the sliding door, still dressed in field gear from morning drills. His black vest bore faint scuffs, and a pair of gloves was tucked into his belt. His expression, as always, was serious. "You called?" he asked. Thomas didn''t look up. "Come here." Phillip approached the table. His eyes followed the blinking terrain markers. "San Jose," Thomas said. "You''re going there." Phillip didn''t flinch. "Recon only?" "First pass, yes. I need a visual confirmation of terrain usability. No engagement unless necessary. You''ll take a Black Hawk from MOA Airfield. You leave tomorrow at 0600." Phillip gave a small nod. "Team?" "Five Overwatch SFs. Shadow-class only. Quiet, disciplined. Each one''s been briefed. They''re prepping gear as we speak." Thomas pulled up another window on the screen¡ªphotos of irrigation networks, decades-old silos, and a potential landing zone. "This location was once a rice farm cooperative," Thomas continued. "Old silos. Nearby water pumps. We think it could serve as a central farming hub, if reclaimed." "What''s the last known infected presence?" "Low, but dated," Thomas replied. "Last Reaper scan showed minimal movement. That was fifty-two days ago. Could be quiet. Could be a nest." Phillip crossed his arms. "Extraction protocol?" "If you''re compromised, you radio Marcus. We''ll have Spooky One on standby for aerial support. If it''s a Bloom Nest outbreak, pull out. No heroics." Phillip gave a slight grin. "Wouldn''t dream of it." Thomas finally looked at him. "You''re not invincible, Phillip." "I''m aware." "I''m sending you because I trust your judgment," Thomas said, his tone sharper now. "Not your bravado." Phillip''s grin faded. "Understood, sir." Thomas hit a button on the table. A printer near the wall buzzed to life, producing the mission folder. He handed it to Phillip. "Two flight plans. One primary, one emergency reroute. Drone imagery. Last known terrain elevation data. And a full map overlay of the west irrigation grid." Phillip flipped through the folder. "Looks thorough." "It has to be. We''re not just checking dirt. We''re laying the groundwork for something bigger." Thomas stepped back from the table. "Howard and I agree¡ªurban salvage isn''t enough. We need farmland. Real production. And if we can''t secure that... then everything we''re doing here eventually collapses." Phillip tucked the folder under his arm. "You''ll have your eyes on the ground by sunrise." Thomas nodded. "Report at 0530. Wheels up at 0600." Phillip turned to leave, then paused at the door. "What if we find survivors out there?" Thomas met his gaze. "You know the drill. Assess, document, approach only if safe. Bring them back if they''re stable." Phillip nodded. "Copy that." He left without another word. Next Morning ¡ª 0547 Hours The sky was still dim as the sun rose over the Manila Bay, casting a faint orange glow across the airfield. The Black Hawk sat parked at the center of the pad, rotors still. A low hum came from nearby fuel tanks as mechanics completed last-minute checks. Phillip approached with his team¡ªfive operatives in full gear, each with matte black rifles slung across their chests and tactical packs secured tight. Their helmets bore the Overwatch logo. Phillip greeted them with a nod. "Final check. Comms?" "All green." "Weapons?" "Loaded and secure." Phillip climbed into the co-pilot''s seat, while two team members secured themselves inside the bay. The others took positions on either side of the open doors. The pilot flicked switches across the control panel. "Clear for takeoff in five," he said over the headset. Phillip clipped his earpiece in. "Shadow One to Overwatch Command. Ready for lift." "Confirmed," a voice responded from control. "Godspeed." The engines roared to life. The rotors spun faster and faster until the air trembled. The Black Hawk lifted off the deck, rising over the Mall of Asia Complex like a silent hawk taking flight. Below, the buildings shrank, the boardwalk curved into view, and the sea glinted faintly beyond the flood barriers. Phillip stared down as they passed over the fortified perimeter. The glow of solar panels, the shimmer of rooftop gardens, the tiny silhouettes of civilians walking the mall corridors¡ªall of it slowly disappeared behind them. Then came the ruins. They flew over Paran?aque and Las Pin?as, the bones of the old city below them. Collapsed buildings. Abandoned roads. Some neighborhoods looked like they had burned long ago¡ªothers looked like they had been swallowed by something worse. Twenty minutes into the flight, the first signs of green appeared on the horizon. Central Luzon. "Approaching San Jose airspace," Vargas announced. "No anti-air. No contacts." "Copy," Phillip replied. "Take us lower." The chopper descended, skimming above the tree line. Fields began to appear¡ªpatches of green, muddy pools, the shattered skeletons of rice terraces. Old irrigation lines stretched like spiderwebs through the landscape. Some silos still stood, rusted but intact. "Visual confirmation on target grid," one of the Shadows said. "Landing zone clear." "Bring us down," Phillip ordered. The Black Hawk touched down on a flat patch of cracked dirt. Dust swirled as boots hit the ground. Phillip disembarked last, rifle slung low but ready. He scanned the field. Quiet. No birds. No movement. "Shadow Team, form perimeter," he called. "Two scouts with me." They moved quickly, checking for Bloom growth, signs of recent infected activity, or anything that looked unnatural. Twenty minutes passed. Still quiet. "Sir," one of the operatives called out, kneeling near a collapsed shed. "We''ve got buried tools. Intact. Farming gear. Still usable." Phillip knelt beside him and brushed off the mud. Old plows. A rusted tiller. A box of rice seed packets, waterlogged but still legible. It wasn''t much. But it was something. He reached for his comms. "Shadow One to Overwatch. Landing successful. Terrain appears viable. No immediate hostiles. Recommend secondary team for assessment and soil testing." "Copy that," the reply came. "Good work, Shadow One." Phillip looked out across the field, wind sweeping across the dry grass. In the distance, broken windmills creaked faintly. "We''re going to make this work," he said to no one in particular. Then he signaled to his team. "Hold position. Reaper support''s en route. Let''s prepare for drone relay." Above them, the sky was clear. No monsters. No shrieks. Just the hum of a hopeful morning. Chapter 192 192: Surveying the Area The sun had risen higher by the time Phillip and his team fanned out deeper into the farmland. The morning haze had lifted, revealing more of the shattered countryside¡ªmiles of scorched paddies, leaning water towers, and broken irrigation canals half-swallowed by creeping vines. But for now, the quiet held. Phillip knelt beside a cracked concrete trough once used to store water for fieldwork. He dipped two fingers into the stagnant pool and raised it to eye level. Algae. No rot. No blood. It wasn''t clean, but it wasn''t tainted either. He glanced up. "Shadow Three, status?" A voice crackled in his earpiece. "Northern perimeter secured. No contact." "Shadow Four?" "Eastern ridge clear. Found an overturned cart and a few rusted drums. Nothing hostile." Phillip nodded to himself. "Keep a tight watch. We''re pushing west." He rose to his feet and gestured for Shadows One and Two to follow. Together, the three-man squad advanced through what was once a narrow farming lane flanked by rows of dry banana trees. Their boots crunched over brittle leaves, each step deliberate, each breath shallow. A faint breeze stirred the air. Suddenly, a low groan echoed through the trees. Phillip raised a fist. Everyone stopped. He swept his rifle forward and signaled for the others to spread. They moved into flanking positions, rifles raised. There it was again. Closer now. Then a shape stumbled into view¡ªhalf-clothed, skin pallid and sagging, its left arm twisted at an unnatural angle. Its jaw hung open, and its sunken eyes fixated on the movement in front of it. "Contact," Phillip whispered. More emerged behind it. Four. Maybe five. Shufflers. Slow, degraded ones. Phillip gave a silent signal¡ªthree fingers, then a forward sweep. Suppressors hissed as the team opened fire. Controlled bursts. One by one, the infected dropped. No screeches. No runners. Just the slow tumble of dead bodies hitting dry earth. Phillip approached the last corpse, still twitching. A final shot ended it. "Clear," called Shadow Two. Phillip gave a nod. "Minimal resistance. Looks like they''ve been isolated a while. Malnourished." He knelt beside one of the bodies. Its fingernails were cracked and muddy¡ªthis one had been digging. A broken rice sack was clutched in one hand. There were bite marks on its side, old ones. "Desperation turned into infection," he muttered. Shadow One joined him. "They were trying to harvest what they could. Probably starved. Then one turned." Phillip exhaled and rose. "Tag the corpses. Burn them before we leave." They moved on. The path widened as they reached a cluster of buildings¡ªa farmhouse and two sheds, all half-collapsed. A faded sign lay face-down in the grass. Phillip flipped it over. San Jose Agrarian Cooperative Founded 1998 He scanned the area. The buildings were empty, but not untouched. A few broken crates, a shattered solar lantern, and old footprints in the dust. Some led into the barn. Others... just stopped. "Movement!" Shadow Two hissed, pointing to the far shed. Phillip dropped to one knee, weapon up. "Talk to me." The door was ajar, swinging slightly in the breeze. Then¡ªa shuffle. "Not infected," someone whispered. Phillip froze. The voice wasn''t from his comms. Another whisper. A child. He lowered his weapon slightly. "Shadow Team¡ªhold fire. Eyes on the shed. I''m going in." "You sure?" asked Shadow One. "If it was a trap, they''d already sprung it." He stepped forward slowly, rifle lowered but ready. "Inside the shed," he called out. "This is Overwatch. We''re not here to hurt you." Silence. Then, a soft scuffle. Phillip nudged the door open with his boot. The interior was dark, musty. Old tools lined the walls, and sacks of hardened fertilizer were stacked along the far side. In the corner, huddled beneath a torn burlap cloth, were two figures. A girl, maybe ten, clutching a length of rebar in her small hands. Her clothes were threadbare, face smudged with dirt. Beside her, curled up and half-asleep, was a boy even younger¡ªsix, maybe five. Phillip stepped in slowly, hands raised. "We''re not enemies," he said gently. "You''re safe now." The girl didn''t speak. But she didn''t strike either. He removed his helmet, revealing his face. "My name''s Phillip. I came from the city. We have food. Clean water. You don''t have to hide anymore." Her grip on the rebar loosened slightly. Behind him, Shadow One stood by the doorway, weapon lowered. Phillip knelt down. "What''s your name?" The girl looked at him, eyes hollow but not vacant. "Anya." He smiled faintly. "Anya. That''s a strong name." Her eyes flicked to the boy. "This is Nico. He''s my brother." "Is anyone else with you?" Phillip asked softly. She shook her head. "Just us. Mama was... she got sick. Papa went out weeks ago. He didn''t come back." Phillip''s jaw tightened. "I''m going to call my team. We''re going to get you out of here. Is that okay?" Anya hesitated. Then nodded. Phillip tapped his comms. "Shadow One to Overwatch. Two survivors located. Children. Alert medical for evac prep. ETA pending." "Copy, Shadow One," came the reply. "Standby for drone coverage. Extraction window opening in thirty." Phillip turned back to Anya. "You''re going to be alright. I promise." She nodded again, tears quietly streaking down her cheeks. Outside, the team began preparing for extraction¡ªclearing a nearby zone, setting up flares, and requesting drone overwatch. Then came the screech. A low, unnatural sound¡ªdistant, but unmistakable. Phillip whipped around. Another. Closer this time. Echoing off the distant hills. Shadow Two''s voice crackled over the comms. "Sir. We''ve got movement on the western ridge. Lots of it." Phillip''s blood ran cold. He reached for Anya and pulled her close, motioning for Shadow One to grab the boy. "Fall back to the LZ. Move, now!" As they sprinted through the field, the wind shifted again. And from beyond the trees came the unmistakable sound of a Bloom Nest cracking open. The sky began to darken. Phillip looked up. And froze. Descending from the clouds¡ªlarge, bat-like shapes began circling the field. Reapers. Not drones. But the infected ones. "Shadow One to Overwatch," he shouted. "We have airborne hostile variants! I repeat, Reapers in the air! We need immediate evac¡ª" Static. Then silence. The comms went dead. And the sky screamed. Chapter 193 193: A Scuffle The first Reaper dove with a guttural shriek, wings slicing the wind like knives. Its silhouette flashed across the morning sky¡ªlarge, leathery, humanoid with elongated limbs and a grotesque jaw distended beyond natural limits. It swooped low over the field, targeting the extraction zone like a predator spotting prey. Phillip''s boots pounded the dirt as he led the charge back toward the Black Hawk landing zone, Anya clutched tightly in one arm, rifle slung and bouncing against his side. Behind him, Shadow One carried Nico over his shoulder like a sack of rice, not slowing even as the child whimpered in fright. "Contact! Reaper incoming from the west!" Shadow Three shouted, his voice sharp over the local comms net. "Everyone drop and form staggered defense!" Phillip barked. The team didn''t hesitate. Within seconds, they shifted from retreat to firing formation. Phillip handed Anya off to Shadow Four, who crouched beside a ruined concrete culvert and shielded the children with her body and pack. The others knelt in a semi-circle around the open patch of dirt they''d marked as the LZ. "Shadow Five, eyes high. Two o''clock!" "I''ve got visual!" he responded. The Reaper banked hard, wings flaring out as it swept in again. "Take it!" Phillip called. Muzzle flashes blinked to life across the team''s formation. Suppressed bursts of 5.56mm cracked upward, stitched with pinpoint precision into the creature''s chest. The Reaper screamed mid-dive, veering off-course and tumbling through the air before crashing into a field of brittle sugarcane with a sickening thud. "Target down," Shadow Five confirmed. "Minimal armor. Soft body tissue. Small arms are effective." Phillip didn''t relax. "They''re scouting. Expect more." As if on cue, three more Reapers burst through the cloud layer. Their screeches grew louder as they spiraled into attack formation, flanking from multiple angles. "Shadows, we go full tree-funnel defense," Phillip snapped. "Fire in sectors. One and Two¡ªleft arc. Three and Five¡ªright arc. Four, protect the civvies and hold center support. Mark and drop them as they dive." "Copy!" came the chorus of replies. The Shadows moved like a machine. Each one knew their spacing, their lane, their kill zone. They didn''t panic. They didn''t scream. They fought like Overwatch''s finest¡ªsharp, efficient, ruthless. The second Reaper came in low, skimming the tree line. Shadow One fired a burst into its shoulder, shifting its path mid-air. Shadow Two followed up with a clean shot through the eye socket. The Reaper folded in on itself and tumbled down like a ragdoll, splattering into the side of a silo. Another came in faster, banking right. "Five, it''s yours!" Phillip called. "Tracking¡ªwait for it¡ª" Shadow Five squeezed his trigger. The round tore through the Reaper''s wing joint. It let out a high-pitched screech as it spiraled, smashed into a power pole, and lay still. "Three down," someone said. "One left in this wave!" Phillip turned just in time to see the final Reaper come from directly above¡ªa vertical divebomb with claws outstretched. It was aiming for him. Phillip dropped to one knee and fired upward. The shots struck its lower abdomen, slowing it¡ªbut not stopping. Then came a second burst from his right. Shadow Three. The bullets ripped through the creature''s jaw and tore into its skull. The Reaper collapsed midair, momentum flipping its body end-over-end before it slammed into the dirt just meters from the squad. "Clear!" Phillip called out. "All hostiles down!" Silence returned¡ªmomentarily. Everyone scanned the skies. "Still no signal from Overwatch," Shadow Two said, checking his wrist-mounted tablet. "Comms are jammed." "We hold here until it stabilizes," Phillip replied. "Eyes up. Set up a 360 perimeter around the culvert. Watch the skies and the ridgelines. If anything moves, call it fast." He moved back to the culvert and dropped beside Shadow Four. Anya was trembling in her arms. Nico had buried his face in her vest. "They''re safe," Shadow Four whispered. "Scared. But not injured." Phillip nodded. "Good. You two stay here with them. Keep your fire selective." "Understood." The others had begun dragging the Reaper corpses into a pile twenty meters away. Their bodies oozed dark, tar-like blood, and their wings twitched sporadically with leftover nerve impulses. "Samples?" Shadow Three asked, holding up a sterile pouch. "Take one wing, one jaw, and blood," Phillip said. "But double-bag them. No spores this time¡ªbut I''m not risking anything." They worked fast, surgical. "Still no bloom activity on scanners," Shadow Five said, checking his motion tracker. "This wasn''t a nest proximity alert. They were patrolling." Phillip stared at the remains. "Or hunting." A low electronic whine suddenly crackled in his earpiece. "...Shadow One, this is Overwatch Command. Do you copy?" Phillip pressed his comm. "Overwatch, this is Shadow One. Loud and clear now." "We lost connection due to atmospheric interference. Status?" "Four Reaper-class infected engaged and neutralized. No casualties. Two survivors recovered. Extraction site secured." A pause. "Confirmed. Excellent work, Shadow One. Spooky One is back on grid. ETA to your position: twenty minutes. Hold LZ. Transmitting drone coverage now." A high-pitched tone signaled the data sync. Phillip exhaled. "Roger that. We''ll prep for evac." He turned to his team. "Alright, let''s clean this up. Bag what we can, burn what we can''t. I want this zone locked down before Spooky One gets here. Eyes up until the rotors touch dirt." "Copy!" the team echoed, already moving. Minutes passed. The sun was rising higher now, casting golden rays over the ruined field. The smell of smoke drifted from the small controlled fires the Shadows had set¡ªReaper corpses turning to ash under white phosphorous strips. The wind carried the acrid scent out over the fields. Anya had stopped shaking. She now sat beside Nico, both of them sipping water from a spare ration pack tube. Their eyes followed the Shadows in silent awe. Phillip knelt beside them. "You were really brave back there," he told Anya. She looked down. "I didn''t do anything." "You stayed alive. You kept your brother safe. You didn''t panic. That''s everything." She didn''t respond, but her shoulders eased. Then, in the distance¡ªa faint sound. Rotor blades. Phillip stood and looked skyward. "Eyes up. Spooky''s inbound." Sure enough, a Black Hawk dipped over the northern tree line, sun glinting off its nose as it approached low and steady. "There''s our ride boys." Chapter 194: FAZ-1 November 6, 2025 ¨C 0630 Hours San Jose Agricultural Recovery Zone ¨C Central Luzon The ground shook. Not from tremors or infected stampedes¡ªbut from the massive rotor wash of heavy-lift helicopters descending over the reclaimed fields of San Jose. Thomas Estaris stood atop a makeshift observation platform¡ªan elevated steel scaffold bolted onto the bed of a JLTV¡ªwatching the horizon thunder to life. Sunlight shimmered across the rising dust clouds as the first wave of transport choppers began touching down in sequence. The first bird was a MH-53 Pave Low, its side doors already open mid-hover as its wheels kissed the dirt. Its matte black fuselage bore Overwatch insignia and sensor pods bristled from its nose and underbelly. Its twin rotors churned the air like a typhoon. "Pave One has landed!" someone called over the field comms. Right behind it came a Boeing CH-47 Chinook, the tandem rotor transport wobbling slightly as it settled into place, its massive cargo ramp opening with a metallic hiss. Workers in reinforced vests and face shields moved like clockwork, guiding the vehicle down with glowing batons and clipped commands. Farther out, a monstrous Mil Mi-26 Halo emerged from the eastern clouds¡ªits size dwarfing everything around it. The largest operational helicopter in Overwatch''s fleet, the Mi-26 looked like a flying barn. It carried prefabricated housing units in its underbelly and steel irrigation pipes chained beneath its belly. Thomas adjusted his gloves and stepped off the platform. "Let''s move, people!" he barked into the handheld radio. "Staging points Alpha through Echo go live now. First priority¡ªpower grid and water lines. Deploy the APU towers and get the irrigation survey drones airborne in ten." "Copy that, Director," a voice replied. Around him, Overwatch engineers, logistics crew, and agricultural specialists swarmed across the reclaimed field like ants. The once-dead rice cooperative had begun to stir with life. The site had transformed overnight from a reconnaissance outpost into the beating heart of what Thomas now called Forward Agro-Zone One, or FAZ-1. Phillip''s successful mission and the viability scan had convinced command to act fast. Thomas had pulled every available unit from the MOA Complex and sent them north. Not just to claim land¡ªbut to revive it. "Deploy the modular solar rigs along the southern embankment," shouted one foreman, pointing toward a line of folding aluminum panels being offloaded from a container. "Copy¡ªsetting up auto-trackers to follow sunrise orientation!" Twenty Overwatch personnel rushed to install the solar arrays, each one folding out like a flower and locking into adjustable steel stems drilled into pre-cleared earth. The goal was simple: clean energy, low footprint, and enough juice to power early irrigation pumps, charging stations, and mobile command gear. To the north, another squad used bulldozers and heavy crawler-tractors airlifted in from MOA to flatten and re-grade a 500-meter strip of field. Their target: a crude landing strip capable of handling short-range STOL aircraft within the week. "We''ll get the first test landings done tomorrow," said one of the engineers, looking up from a tablet. "Surface compaction is rough, but it''ll hold for twin-props." Closer to the main staging area, a team of hydrology experts and drone operators monitored live feeds from their hovering scouts. These machines flew low over the landscape, scanning for buried water lines, blocked irrigation gates, and soil hydration patterns. "Plot C is still dry," one of them said. "Drones are picking up clay compaction in the sublayer. Might need manual trenching or microburst irrigation if we want usable planting in the next two months." "Understood," Thomas said as he reviewed the map. "Start with plots A and B. Those showed higher loam content." Nearby, freshly-dropped habitat modules hissed and clicked as hydraulics extended stabilizing legs. Each one could house eight crew members, fully sealed, with backup generators and collapsible satellite dishes. Within the hour, a grid of twelve modules stood in a neat rectangular layout¡ªcommand center, barracks, armory, med bay, and tool depot. Cargo drones buzzed back and forth from the Chinook staging lines, dropping supplies like food packs, medical kits, seed samples, fertilizer canisters, and basic tools. Within hours, FAZ-1 looked like a hybrid of a military base, a construction zone, and an off-world colony. By noon, the air was thick with the sounds of power drills, hydraulic hisses, tracked vehicle clanks, and short bursts of radio traffic. Thomas walked along the perimeter, flanked by two field techs with clipboards and armored vests. His boots pressed into freshly-tilled soil. "What''s the status on the irrigation gate on Plot B?" he asked. "Manual pump installed, sir. Pressure test passed. We''re working on a flow divider that''ll let us control each quadrant without too much manual labor." "Good. Any sign of infected?" "No. Not since the Reaper engagement yesterday. Local scans are clean. We''ve got perimeter drones and motion sensors now active on a 600-meter radius." Thomas nodded. "Once the test crop is in, we''ll install sonic deterrents." The tech beside him paused. "You think they''ll wander back here?" "They always do," Thomas said quietly. "Eventually." He turned and walked back toward the center of the base. The med bay had already been assembled by early afternoon. Inside, a small air-conditioned unit held the two children Phillip had rescued¡ªAnya and Nico¡ªnow washed, fed, and given clean clothes. Phillip stood near the door, arms crossed. "How are they?" Thomas asked. "Stable. Anya''s withdrawn but cooperative. Nico doesn''t speak much." "They''ll need more than rations," Thomas muttered. "We''ll rotate a counselor up from MOA once we have routine flights." Phillip nodded. "They''re not the only ones out here, Thomas. You know that." "I do." Thomas stepped outside the med unit and looked across the awakening land¡ªthe fields, the helipads, the tractors, the shelters. "Which is why we''re going to take back everything. One farm at a time." As the sun dipped lower toward the western horizon, the Mi-26 lifted off again¡ªnow empty of its cargo, its chains swaying gently beneath its belly. Chinooks circled overhead on return vectors, their shadows stretching long over the rice terraces. From above, the scene was surreal. Fields once dead now bore organized rows. Shelters stood in formation. Solar panels gleamed like rows of petals. Tractors rumbled with purpose. People moved like they belonged. The land wasn''t whole. But it was healing. Thomas stood at the heart of it all and checked the date on his wrist pad. One day left until the system comes online. He keyed in a command, sending out an encrypted update to all division leads. "All FAZ-1 personnel. Begin Phase Two stabilization." Chapter 195: The Work Continues & System Maintenance Nearing Completion November 6, 2025 ¨C 1600 Hours Forward Agro-Zone One ¨C San Jose, Central Luzon The sky had turned gold by late afternoon, the kind of warm hue that once meant harvest season to generations long gone. Now, it cast long shadows across the trench lines, scaffold towers, and scattered machinery dotting the reclaimed farmland. Work hadn''t stopped. It wouldn''t. "Hold it steady¡ªsteady!" a crane operator yelled from the cockpit of a compact crawler crane. Its boom arm lifted a large water tank, swaying slightly in the breeze. Below it, two Overwatch engineers guided the cylinder into a circular metal cradle embedded in fresh concrete. "Hydraulic locks engaged," one of them called. "Anchoring complete!" To the north, another team worked on trench-digging. Not with power augers or excavators¡ªthey had those¡ªbut this section was too delicate. The old irrigation channels ran close to the surface, and one wrong cut could collapse the brittle cement structure buried below. So, they dug by hand¡ªpickaxes, shovels, elbow grease. "Depth''s holding steady at one meter. We''ve got contact with the main feeder line," said a hydro tech, sweat dripping from his bandana as he brushed aside the last clump of dry earth. Thomas crouched beside him. He looked down into the trench, then at the exposed concrete pipe. "This is the original system from the 80s." "Yeah. Still surprisingly intact. We can reinforce it with PVC sleeves and reroute flow to new basins." Thomas nodded. "Do it. And start mapping water distribution patterns for this zone. Any sign of leech growth?" "None. Soil''s clean, sir." That was good news. The Bloom Nests weren''t present in the sublayer¡ªyet. But Thomas had seen firsthand how fast things could change. He stood and turned toward the horizon. The second wave of aircraft was already inbound. Three more CH-53E Super Stallions thundered in from the west, engines groaning under the weight of new cargo modules, hover drones, and modular greenhouses. A flight of V-22 Ospreys followed behind, their tilt-rotors shifting to vertical mode as they approached. "Wave Two on final approach!" a flight marshal yelled over the rising wind. "Clear landing zone!" came the reply from field control. Crewmen moved fast, waving glowsticks and holding up paddles as the aircraft came in one by one, flaring and dipping until their wheels crunched onto the makeshift pad. Dust flew everywhere, coating faces and gear in a fine brown film. But nobody complained. They had work to do. By 1800, lights began to flicker on. The solar array along the southern ridge had gone live, charging a backup battery bank that now powered lamps, consoles, and the overhead floodlights above the landing strip. Blue-white LEDs lined the walkways between the habitat modules. A generator station hummed behind a wall of sandbags, belching heat as its engines kicked into idle. Overwatch engineers were finishing the greenhouse shells now¡ªfive translucent domes, each with internal misting systems and insulated walls. Two were hydroponic units, the rest soil-based, seeded with fast-growth vegetables and high-yield rice strains. "Temperature regulation''s online," an agri-tech reported. "Interior climate stabilized at twenty-two Celsius. Seed trays are being prepped now." Across the field, a group of Overwatch soldiers¡ªoff-duty but still alert¡ªtook up night perimeter watch. One man climbed the scaffolding to man a mounted thermal scope while others patrolled in pairs, rifles slung, eyes scanning the treeline. Phillip stood near the central command module, hands on his hips, watching the night operation unfold. "How many people are up here now?" he asked. "Eighty-six, including crew, techs, pilots, and guards," answered Corporal Reyes, the deployment coordinator. "We''re expecting twenty more by morning. That''s our current operational limit without stretching rations." "And the kids?" "Sleeping. Med staff gave them something mild to help. They''ve got their own cot in the med bay." Phillip nodded, then looked back out over the field. The view was surreal. Where once had been cracked dirt and windblown ruins, now stood rows of structured activity. Machines hummed. Lights buzzed. Teams moved with practiced coordination. Even the distant air buzzed with renewed presence¡ªmotion sensors, spotlights, relay towers all forming a living web. It wasn''t a city. But it was civilization. "I''ll take third watch," Phillip said, stepping away. "Copy that, sir." Night deepened. 2000 hours. Then 2200. Then 0100. Still they worked. The hydro teams began laying the secondary pipe network deeper into the fields, aided by short-range digging bots shaped like moles. Overwatch logistics teams offloaded crates labeled with barcodes and timestamps. Some were ammunition and emergency rations, others marked SEED STOCK ¨C GENETIC VARIANT 17B or SOIL RECON AGENT ¨C DO NOT EXPOSE TO AIR. Farther out, a two-man patrol inspected motion sensors embedded along the ridge. "Sensor 3B offline," one of them said, kneeling by the blinking red light. "Might''ve shorted from rotor wash earlier." The other soldier checked the base plate. "Connector''s loose. Re-seating it now." They fixed it in under five minutes, reactivated the IR scanner, and logged it with base control. Every step mattered. Every fix was a future meal. A future harvest. A future defense. By 0300, some of the crew finally rested. Not all. Most took turns on folding chairs or inside cots inside climate-controlled modules. The medics rotated in fresh coffee brewed from the last remaining bags of roasted beans recovered from a Manila warehouse. It wasn''t the best brew, but it tasted like stability. Thomas remained awake. Inside the central command tent, he reviewed drone overlays of the surrounding provinces, tagging possible secondary zones for future reclamation. "Zone 8A near Tarlac... maybe," he muttered, highlighting an area with elevated terrain and surviving water channels. He keyed into his wrist console. System Maintenance Completion: 2 hours and 53 minutes. "It''s getting closer." Voices rose. Boots thudded. Cots creaked. New teams took over patrols. Crews resumed digging. Farmers-in-training grabbed toolkits and headed for the greenhouse. One group of bioengineers prepped a trench for soil microbial testing. Phillip returned from watch, face shadowed, gear dusty. Thomas met him at the center walkway. "Still think it''s a long shot?" Thomas asked quietly. Phillip looked out at the growing lights, the distant drone hum, the greenhouses now misted from within. He shook his head. "No," he said. "I think this place has a shot at life." Thomas nodded once. "Then let''s make sure it sees morning. We can move some of the survivors from MOA, you know, to avoid overpopulation." "Yeah...that''s a good idea." Chapter 196: The New Toys From the System Forward Agro-Zone One, San Jose ¡ª Executive Quarters The room was dark, silent, and sealed from within. A steel door marked AUTHORIZED ENTRY ONLY locked from the inside, its biometric panel pulsing dim blue with every heartbeat-like blink. Inside, Thomas Estaris sat alone at a polished metal desk in the center of his private quarters¡ªone of the first modules bolted to the ground when the new Forward Agro-Zone was built. His eyes were fixed on the wall-mounted interface above his head, a countdown timer displayed in red digits across its surface. SYSTEM MAINTENANCE MODE: 00:02:59 Thomas had not slept. He hadn''t even removed his gear¡ªhis black vest still clipped tight over his shirt, the pistol on his hip untouched since last night. A half-empty mug of now-cold coffee sat beside a sealed data drive labeled "BACKUP // OVERWATCH CORE NODE ¨C MANUAL REBOOT ONLY." He leaned back in the chair, the leather creaking slightly beneath him. For the last twenty-four hours, the base had run on sweat, muscle, and discipline. No drones. No satellite uplinks. No predictive threat models. Just analog watches, radio comms, and gut instinct. But now... He stared at the final seconds ticking away. 00:00:10 00:00:05 00:00:03 00:00:01 00:00:00 The lights in the room dimmed for a moment¡ªjust a flicker. Then the screen turned black. Thomas exhaled slowly. A low hum filled the air. Then¡ª [SYSTEM REACTIVATED] Welcome, Director Thomas Estaris. Your network access has been restored. New update available. Processing... The interface shifted. ARMORY UPDATE: Thomas tapped the screen. The moment he did, the wall interface dissolved into a full holographic suite¡ªprojecting blue-tinted images into the air, accompanied by a low thrum. A rotating icon labeled "Advanced Weaponry Interface" spun at the center. "So this is the rewards huh? New sets of weaponry..." Thomas muttered under his breath. "Show me the new toys." [WEAPON SYSTEM CATALOG ¡ª SPECIAL UPDATE] PL-40 Hydra Plasma Rifle Cost: 40,000 Blood Coins (per unit) Availability: 20 units globally (rotating refresh every 72 hours) Specifications: Length: 86 cm Weight: 6.3 kg (loaded with power core) Power Source: ArcCell Mark-IV Compact Fusion Core Muzzle Velocity: ~11,500 m/s (plasma bolt discharge) Effective Range: 800 meters (precision); 1200 meters (saturation) Fire Modes: Semi-Auto / Burst (3-round) / Full Auto (plasma stream) Rate of Fire: 400 RPM (Semi), 950 RPM (Burst), 1200 RPM (Stream) Magazine: 1 Fusion Core (good for 150 plasma rounds or 60 seconds sustained beam) Recoil: Negligible (magnetic dampening system) Cooling System: Active liquid helium circulation + passive venting fins Maintenance Cycle: Core replacement every 5000 rounds Tactical Attachments: Integrated smart-scope (thermal + night vision), biometric lock, advanced recoil control gyros Description: The PL-40 Hydra is the first man-portable plasma rifle available through Overwatch''s Weapon System interface. Using compressed hydrogen and fusion ignition within a magnetic bottle, it delivers hyper-accelerated plasma bolts capable of melting through heavy armor, concrete, or organic tissue. Designed for use in high-threat zones, especially against Bloomspawn, Reaper-class flyers, or Scourged hulks. Its unique burst-fire mode is designed to stagger larger infected and create thermal trauma on hardened targets. The plasma stream function can be used as a cutting torch in emergency engineering situations or breaching operations. Notes: Not recommended for confined spaces due to thermal backblast. Power cells require special handling¡ªexplosive if ruptured. Not immune to EMP effects¡ªthough heavily shielded. Thomas tapped the rifle''s 3D model. It expanded, rotating in mid-air. The gleaming blue barrel, glowing plasma chamber, and digital ammo counter built into the rear grip gave it an alien, dangerous elegance. No moving parts. All reaction was internal. The weapon didn''t fire so much as release destruction. "Forty thousand..." Thomas whispered, his eyes narrowing. Ten times more expensive than the standard rifles. But it was worth every coin¡ªespecially against the horrors they now faced. EX-3 ''Sentinel'' Exosuit Frame Cost: 150,000 Blood Coins Powered armor capable of lifting 1.5 tons Reinforced ceramic-titanium plating Integrated heads-up display, shoulder launcher ports, and trauma-dampening boots Ideal for field commanders or shock units MK-V Argus Rail Sniper Cost: 35,000 Blood Coins Fires magnetically accelerated slugs at Mach 6 Range over 2.5 km Comes with adaptive smart optics and ballistic compensation AI HV-9 ''Stormwall'' Arc Cannon Cost: 50,000 Blood Coins Deployable tripod weapon Generates high-voltage discharges up to 3 million volts Best used for area denial and counter-charge measures. Thomas scrolled deeper into the glowing interface, his fingertips hovering just above the holographic display. The plasma rifle was only the beginning, it has more at the end. A second catalog unfurled¡ªdozens of weapon schematics, each more advanced than the last, now available to Overwatch Command for steep prices in Blood Coins. Thomas'' expression hardened as he reviewed the list. . MX-7 "Hellspike" Magnetic Shotgun Cost: 28,000 Blood Coins Length: 102 cm Weight: 7.9 kg Ammo Type: Superdense ferromagnetic slugs Chamber Capacity: 10 slugs per mag Fire Modes: Pump-action / Burst (3-shot auto-magnetic pulse) Features: Electromagnetic rail ignition system Wide-cone kinetic burst dispersal for CQB (close-quarters battle) Smart ammo selection (non-lethal, armor-piercing, bio-reactive options) Effective Range: 35 meters (spread) / 60 meters (slug) Combat Role: Designed for brutal urban combat and hive-clearance operations, the MX-7 delivers devastating force at close range. Can tear through Bloom Nest membrane walls or liquefy infected with reinforced muscle structures. Warning: Excessive recoil on burst mode. Requires reinforced gloves or exosuit support. XR-99 "Scythe" Laser Carbine Cost: 45,000 Blood Coins Length: 78 cm Weight: 5.2 kg Power Source: Quantum Battery Cell (400 shots) Fire Modes: Continuous beam / Pulse shot / Disruptor burst Effective Range: 600 meters (beam), 400 meters (pulse), 200 meters (burst) Unique Capabilities: Melts conventional cover in seconds Can disable electronics and drones with disruptor mode Near-zero sound signature¡ªstealth operations optimized Zero recoil; perfect linear discharge Use Case: Primarily deployed for silent elimination missions and advanced Bloomspawn hunting. The disruptor setting causes bioelectric overload in Reaper-class targets, frying their nervous system mid-flight. AV-12 "Tempest" Micro Missile Launcher Cost: 70,000 Blood Coins Payload: 6 guided micro-rockets Weight: 14.5 kg (shoulder-mounted system) Range: 3 km max / Lock-on radius: 800 meters Targeting: Dual-mode guidance (IR + UV signature lock) Smart warheads (anti-armor, anti-bio, EMP) Reload Time: 20 seconds (manual) / 5 seconds (auto pod) Special Use: Developed specifically to counter Scourged giants and airborne hordes. The smart missiles can curve mid-air, avoiding obstacles and prioritizing threat profiles. Downside: Extreme cost per reload (5,000 Blood Coins per six-missile pack). Recommended only for dire engagements. VX-4 "Ghostveil" Active Camouflage Suit Cost: 100,000 Blood Coins Purpose: Stealth Recon / Forward Scouting / Deep Infiltration Specs: Active adaptive fabric with light-bending panels Masks heat, motion, and basic sound Short-duration invisibility (30 seconds continuous, recharge cooldown 90 seconds) Armor Rating: Class II (lightweight, won''t stop high-caliber rounds) Interface: Neural-linked controls, gesture-based activations Field Utility: Can infiltrate Bloom Nests undetected for planting charges, rescuing hostages, or marking targets for airstrikes. Warning: Extended use may cause disorientation, memory lag, or sensor blackouts. Not effective in heavy rain or chemical fog. ZF-13 "Oblivion" Anti-Matter Grenade Cost: 20,000 Blood Coins (per grenade) Radius: 8 meters kill-zone / 15 meter disruption zone Effect: Implodes upon activation, causing molecular disruption via localized space fold. Destroys organic and synthetic matter indiscriminately. Handling: Armored carrying case. Biometric safety. Dual-switch detonation. Best Used Against: Heavy Bloomspawn nodes, fortified cult positions, clustered Reaper groups. A single detonation can turn the tide of a siege. Warning: Detonation is indiscriminate. All personnel must evacuate the blast radius immediately. "Let''s see what kind of hell this new world brings," he said quietly. Then, with one final look at the screen, he closed the system. Chapter 197: Testing the New Toys November 7, 2025 ¨C 9:35 AM Forward Agro-Zone One ¨C South Perimeter Range The test site wasn''t marked on any official schematic. It sat half a kilometer south of the main command hub, beyond the irrigation ditches and solar panel rows¡ªjust far enough from the bustle of reconstruction that nobody stumbled into it by accident. A dirt path curved toward it, flattened recently by the weight of trucks and foot patrols. At its edge stood a row of modular barricades, a storage container turned into an improvised observation bunker, and five reinforced cages¡ªeach one sealed, each one holding something far from dead. Inside, they groaned. Clawed. Twitched. Bit at the bars. Phillip stood with arms folded, eyes narrowing at the grotesque sight before him. The five zombies¡ªone of them a bloated, another a scarred¡ªwere thrashing within the cages, chained at the neck and ankles, just barely restrained. "When you told me to bring live ones," he said slowly, "I figured you were going to hand them to the researchers." Thomas didn''t respond immediately. He stood across the makeshift range, adjusting the fit of something bulky across his torso. His expression was unreadable, but there was a quiet energy in the way he moved¡ªprecise, composed, sharp. Then he looked up and smiled. "I am the researcher today." Phillip blinked. "You''re kidding." Thomas stepped forward, now fully suited in an EX-3 Sentinel Exosuit¡ªthe powered armor gleamed dark gray under the sun, every inch of it humming faintly with energy. Servos whined as he moved, the shoulder plates shifting like the wings of a sleeping bird. On his right arm was a compact launch rail socket; on his back, an extendable power module hummed like a restrained engine. The exosuit wasn''t bulky in the way old power armor was. It was streamlined¡ªdesigned to move with the user, not around them. "So that''s the new update on your system?" Phillip said, his eyes scanning every inch of Thomas''s figure. "Yeah...we are going to test if it''s worth the wait," Thomas grinned. Thomas''s boots thudded onto the compacted soil as he stepped onto the cleared dirt range, flanked by stacks of sandbags and armored floodlights now idling in standby. His plasma rifle, the PL-40 Hydra, hummed softly in his hands¡ªthe cooling fins along the side ticking quietly as the fusion core came to full charge. Phillip shook his head, half in disbelief, half in resignation. "You could''ve just shot at targets, you know. Steel plates, maybe a simulated nest. Not actual biters." Thomas smirked as he turned, the HUD inside his helmet lighting up with tracking data, ammo count, and power core telemetry. "Simulations don''t scream back." He tapped his comms. "Control, open the first cage. Begin test cycle one." "Copy, Director. Commander, Cage One." A hydraulic hiss followed, and one of the reinforced doors groaned open. From within, the creature stumbled forward¡ª Mid-thirties at the time of death, still in tattered civilian clothes. One of its legs dragged behind it, swollen and ruptured at the knee. Its jaw hung open, tongue slack, groaning low as its head jerked toward movement. Phillip watched silently from behind the barricade. "Target acquired," Thomas muttered, lining up his shot. The Hydra locked onto the moving form automatically, the smart-scope adjusting with a slight mechanical click. FWHOOM. The plasma bolt punched forward with a thunderclap, the bright lance of heat cutting a swath through the air. The Shambler didn''t even have time to react. The bolt hit its chest and exploded in a flash of white-blue fire, instantly vaporizing the torso from sternum to spine. The upper half was gone¡ªlegs stumbled forward out of sheer inertia, then collapsed. Thomas lowered the weapon, his HUD already reloading diagnostic data. Core temperature holding. Barrel clean. "Effective," he said quietly. "Overkill," Phillip replied, stepping closer. "That thing''s skin was already falling off. Any rifle could''ve done it." Thomas shrugged inside the armor. "We''ll see." He waved at the bunker. "Next one.." "Confirming release of Cage Two." This time, the moment the gate opened, the infected launched out like a shot. The zombie moved low to the ground, spindly arms thrashing, mouth unhinged in a high-pitched screech. It darted toward Thomas in zigzag motions¡ªtoo fast for any regular soldier to track in time. Thomas didn''t flinch. The Hydra flicked to Burst Mode. The reticle pulsed red. FWHOOM-FWHOOM-FWHOOM. Three bolts surged out¡ªtight, surgical. The first missed. The second clipped its arm. The third connected squarely with the midsection. The plasma ignited on contact, cooking the core muscles instantly. The zombie''s speed turned against it¡ªit flipped forward, spinning head over heels before crashing onto the gravel, twitching once, then lying still. Phillip raised a brow. "Now that''s something." Thomas exhaled slowly inside the helmet. "Even at top speed, the tracking held. Delay''s under a second. Could''ve handled two." He turned. "Cage Three." The zombie stumbled out, bloated and gurgling, its mouth already leaking viscous acid. It didn''t run¡ªit stood and hacked, lobbing a glob of green bile through the air. Thomas sidestepped cleanly, the suit enhancing his movement just enough to make it feel natural¡ªlike dodging a ball. He switched to Stream Mode. HSSSSS-KRAAAK. A continuous beam of plasma lanced out of the Hydra''s barrel, roaring as it connected with the Spitter''s abdomen. Its belly swelled, cracked, then burst in a violent explosion of pressure and liquefied tissue. The acidic bile flared up, turned inert by the extreme heat before it even hit the ground. The wind carried the scorched, chemical stench back toward the barricades. Even Phillip winced. Thomas stepped back, the rifle venting excess heat through its side fins, glowing faintly orange. "Third test confirmed. Beam control''s stable. Core temp''s hitting 83%. I''ll need to cool before the next one." "Yeah," Phillip coughed, pulling his scarf over his nose. "Or before the damn thing melts your hands off." Thomas chuckled through the comms. "The suit''s insulated. I''m fine." He turned back to the bunker. "Open Cage Four." "Sir... you sure that one was a bodybuilder enhanced with virus." "I know." There was a long pause. Then: "Releasing." The final gate clanged open. And out stepped the infected. It was huge¡ªeasily seven feet tall, with shoulders like slabs of meat and arms thick enough to bend rebar. Plates of hardened flesh covered its torso, fused with what looked like twisted remnants of car bumpers and shrapnel. It didn''t roar. It charged. Thomas rolled his shoulders. The exosuit flexed with him. Hydra back to Burst. He fired. The bolts struck the chest¡ªburned, but didn''t drop it. "Phillip," Thomas called calmly. "Yeah?" "Catch." He reached to his belt and pulled a small cylinder¡ªrounded, matte black, blinking red. Oblivion Grenade. Phillip''s eyes widened. "No way. That''s one of the antimatter ones?" Thomas tossed it underhand toward the infected''s path, then triggered the magnetic pulse with a flick of his wrist. The grenade clanked against the dirt¡ªthen blinked white. Time seemed to pause. Then the air collapsed. A spherical implosion pulled the infected inward, folding the monster in on itself before erupting in a low, hollow THUMP. The thing was simply gone. All that remained was a crater six feet wide and three feet deep, lined with vitrified dirt. Phillip whistled. "Okay. I''m sold." Thomas stood still, breathing steadily, the exosuit venting from the back as his systems cooled down. The plasma rifle dimmed, returning to standby. He finally turned toward Phillip, lifting his visor. "I needed to see it for myself," he said, voice lower now. "Not just the power. The control. The cost. These weapons¡ªthey aren''t for average squads. They''re for moments when nothing else works." Phillip nodded slowly. "So... what now?" Thomas looked toward the horizon, where the fortified greenhouses of Forward Agro-Zone One shimmered in the morning sun. "Now?" he said. "Now we build the team who can actually carry this into the field without blowing themselves up." He slung the Hydra over his back and stepped off the range, leaving the ashes and the silence behind. Chapter 198: New Conventional Toys November 8, 2025 ¨C 06:18 AM Forward Agro-Zone One ¨C Newly Constructed Landing Strip The early morning light rolled over the rice paddies and hardened dirt roads of Forward Agro-Zone One. Golden sunlight spilled across solar arrays and prefab housing units, but all eyes were fixed on one thing: the runway. It wasn''t much, not by peacetime standards¡ªjust a long, straight stretch of compacted soil and gravel reinforced with metal mesh and stabilizing foamcrete beneath. It stretched for 1,200 meters from edge to edge, enough for short takeoffs and tactical landings. No control tower, no hangars yet. But it was something. It was hope. Dozens of Overwatch personnel stood on either side of the makeshift tarmac, watching with helmets off and breath visible in the morning chill. Engineers, guards, technicians¡ªthey had all worked day and night to make this happen. At the edge of the field, Thomas Estaris stood with a thermal mug in hand, visor up, the EX-3 Sentinel exosuit powered down and resting idle on a charging cradle nearby. He wore his usual vest and sidearm today. This wasn''t a battle test. This was a milestone. "Comm check," came a voice through his wrist radio. "Ghost Two-One approaching final descent vector. Call sign: Titan." "Copy that, Titan," Thomas replied. "You are clear for first touch. We''re standing by." Above the clouds, the low growl of engines pierced the quiet. The C-130 Hercules descended from the sky like a silver beast, flaps extended, its four turboprop engines rumbling like a thunderstorm. Painted in Overwatch gray with twin red stripes along the tail, it was a war-worn transport¡ªbut it still flew. And in the apocalypse, that alone made it sacred. "All eyes, all ears," Thomas called. "Let''s see if she holds." The C-130 flared gently as it neared the strip, wheels rotating into position. Its bulk loomed over the perimeter fences, casting a long shadow across the field. Then¡ª THUD. The landing gear hit dirt. Dust kicked up in thick sheets as the brakes hissed and the plane roared forward, tires biting into the foamcrete mesh, slowing. Thirty seconds later, the plane came to a smooth halt. No sparks. No damage. Applause erupted from the crew. A few whooped. Others just clapped each other on the back. Thomas gave a nod. "Strip holds. Log it. First success." Phillip, standing beside him, grinned. "Think it can handle the gunship?" Thomas tilted his head. "Let''s find out." 07:05 AM Ten minutes later, the sky groaned again¡ªthis time deeper, more ominous. Everyone knew the sound. Few had seen the beast it belonged to. The AC-130 Spectre Gunship broke through the cloud layer, its silhouette heavier, meaner than the Hercules before it. Side-mounted cannons gleamed beneath its frame. A black maw of rotating barrels sat mounted in its port-side wing. Its engines churned like iron gears grinding. "Spooky One inbound," the radio crackled. "Requesting landing clearance." "Cleared, Spooky," Thomas replied. "Show us what you''ve got." The AC-130 came in lower, more deliberate, its wings barely above the field''s perimeter. The team watching from the sidelines fell silent. The gunship''s mere presence was like watching an apex predator descend into a sheep pen. Wheels touched down hard¡ªTHUD-THUD¡ªthe weight heavier than the Hercules by nearly twenty thousand pounds. Dust filled the air again. The plane roared down the strip, kicked up debris, and eventually slowed to a controlled stop. The field held. Again. "Two for two," Phillip muttered. "Now all we need are jets." Thomas didn''t respond right away. He glanced down at his wrist console, flipping open the interface. The weapon system blinked to life, its blue-glass UI adjusting to his personal profile. He swiped left, then down, and tapped a new icon: Aviation ¡ú Fixed-Wing ¡ú Combat A list loaded. It wasn''t long¡ªfighter jets were far more complex than rifles, and they weren''t exactly in demand in the early months of the outbreak. But now? Now air superiority mattered again. Thomas scrolled through the available aircraft. [1. F-16V Viper+ (Enhanced Multirole Variant) Cost: 405,000 Blood Coins Speed: Mach 2.05 Range: 2,200 km Payload: 7,700 kg Key Features: Advanced AESA radar Infrared search & track Compatible with smart munitions and EMP missiles A-29B Super Tucano (Light Attack Aircraft) Cost: 95,000 Blood Coins Speed: 590 km/h Range: 1,500 km Payload: 1,500 kg Key Features: Rugged airframe, STOL-capable Twin .50 cal machine guns Supports laser-guided bombs and rocket pods Ideal for low-speed overwatch and precision support Can land on dirt or improvised runways In use with special forces worldwide pre-outbreak OV-10X Bronco Cost: 110,000 Blood Coins Speed: 720 km/h Range: 2,400 km Payload: 3,200 kg Key Features: High loiter time Reinforced undercarriage for rough strips Tandem seating for pilot + sensor/gunner Multi-mission capable: CAS, recon, forward air control Excellent fuel efficiency Mirage 2000-C (Light Fighter, Delta Wing) Cost: 350,000 Blood Coins Speed: Mach 2.2 Range: 1,550 km Payload: 6,300 kg Key Features: Simple maintenance, durable frame Can carry nuclear or biohazard payloads Lightweight and fast scramble capability Compatible with radar-jamming and bloom sonar pods Thomas lingered on the Mirage for a second, admiring the French engineering and the fact that it could operate in aggressive climates with minimal overhaul. But his thumb moved again. And there it was. F/A-18C HornetCost: 390,000 Blood Coins Speed: Mach 1.8 Range: 2,300 km Payload: 6,200 kg Key Features: Carrier takeoff/landing compatible Air-to-ground and air-to-air capability Integrated targeting pods Supports cluster munitions, JDAMs, and bloom-deactivating warheads ECM systems onboard Tough enough to land in combat zones with minimal prep ] The digital interface hovered in the air before Thomas Estaris, projected from his wrist console in crisp blue light. Rows of aircraft models rotated slowly, specs and costs displayed like digital dossiers. Beside him, Phillip stood silent, arms crossed, watching the selection unfold like a general previewing an army not yet summoned. Thomas swiped through the interface once more. He had reviewed nearly every viable airframe in the system''s vault: nimble fighters, rugged attack planes, agile bombers, and bleeding-edge prototypes. All impressive. All expensive. But in this new world, he only need one aircraft that could do everything. He returned to the F-16V Viper. [F-16V Viper+ Cost: 405,000 Blood Coins (Per Unit) Speed: Mach 2.05 Range: 2,200 km Payload: 7,700 kg Flight Ceiling: 15,240 m Turn Rate: 9 G-capable fly-by-wire system Maintenance Class: Moderate Mission Roles: Air Superiority Close Air Support Deep Strike Reconnaissance EMP Avionics Package: AN/APG-83 SABR AESA Radar Infrared Search & Track (IRST) Enhanced ECM and radar spoofing Integrated Data-Link for swarm coordination Helmet-mounted targeting system for off-boresight missiles Weapon Compatibility: AIM-120D AMRAAM AIM-9X Sidewinder GBU-39/B Small Diameter Bomb JDAMs EMP missile pods Bloom Deactivation Ordnance (B.D.O.) Internal smart-bay for modular upgrades] Phillip looked over at him. "You''re going with the Viper?" "Yes." Confirm Acquisition ¡ª F-16V Viper Quantity: [10 Units] Total Cost: 4,050,000 Blood Coins. "Confirm." Chapter 199: At Last, Fighter Jets November 11, 2025 ¡ª 06:00 AM Forward Agro-Zone One ¨C South Landing Strip The sun hadn''t yet risen, but the sky was already alive. Spotlights lit the length of the makeshift runway, casting long shadows across crates of munitions, fueling rigs, and drone-guided ground crew shuffling between operations. The roar of engines broke the dawn silence like a declaration¡ªone that echoed far beyond the Agro perimeter. Thomas Estaris stood beneath the watchtower scaffolding, helmet in hand, eyes fixed on the ten F-16V Viper+ jets lined up across the strip, their gray-blue fuselages glinting beneath the floodlights. Each one bore a red sword decal under the cockpit: a mark of Skyhammer Squadron. And this morning, the Vipers would take to the air¡ªfor the first time. Not for training. Not for display. For war. Phillip approached from the side, a binder tucked under his arm, still chewing the last bite of protein bar. "Squadron pre-flight checks all green. Fuel at max. Ordnance loaded as briefed." "Confirm munitions," Thomas asked, eyes still on the birds. Phillip flipped a tab. "Skyhammer One through Six are equipped for deep-strike¡ªfour JDAMs, two AIM-9X each, plus internal countermeasures. Seven to Ten are on CAS loadouts: GBU-39/Bs, B.D.O. canisters, and twin underwing EMP pods." Thomas nodded. "And targets?" "Scouted overnight by Reaper One-One and One-Three. Four zombie horde concentrations within a 25-kilometer radius," Phillip replied. He tapped a datapad. "Closest is six clicks southeast. Abandoned industrial park. 600 to 800 walkers minimum. Thermal readings suggest a Bloom influence, but no nest. The others are similar¡ªrefugee camps overrun months ago. Estimated total: over three thousand infected." Thomas took a slow breath. "Time to see what airpower does to rot." One by one, the Vipers came alive. Avionics powered on. HUDs flickered in the cockpits. Ground crews pulled back as hydraulic lifts dropped final payloads into place. The engines ignited with a high-pitched whine that swelled into a roar, each turbine pulse like thunder rolling down the length of the field. Inside Skyhammer One, Captain Elian Torres grinned behind her helmet. "Skyhammer One to Tower¡ªsystems online, flight controls synced, radar clean." "Skyhammer Two, standing by. Ready for burn." "Skyhammer Three, all green." Thomas''s voice came through the comms. "This is Eagle Actual. You are cleared for takeoff. Target data uploaded. Engage at discretion. Show the world we don''t need to fear the sky anymore." "Copy that," Elian said. "Skyhammer launching." The first Viper screamed down the strip, its afterburner lighting up the runway like sunrise. The moment its wheels left the earth, the watching crews erupted in quiet awe. Then came the second jet, and the third, and soon all ten were rising into formation¡ªclimbing like silver blades into the predawn mist. Thomas stood beneath them, one hand gripping the railing. "They''re beautiful," Phillip said. "Good thing we have those on our side," Thomas replied. 07:11 AM ¡ª Target Zone Alpha ¨C Steelhand Industrial Park Elian''s cockpit glowed with multicolored light, her HUD painted with sensor tags and radar arcs. Below her, the industrial ruins passed by in jagged grays. The first target zone¡ªan old rebar factory, now flooded with the undead. Thermal overlays showed movement packed wall-to-wall inside the crumbled hangars. "Skyhammer One to strike team. Locking bombs. Standby for fire mission." She flicked a switch. Four green squares lit up¡ªJDAMs armed. Her targeting reticle narrowed in over a building tagged "Echo Foundry"¡ªthe heart of the cluster. "Confirming lock. Three-second drop window." Elian breathed in. Then exhaled. "Fox One." The bomb dropped. Then the second. Third. Fourth. Below, the hangar roofs caved in as the munitions struck, followed by a bone-jarring ripple of flame and shockwave. One of the structures collapsed completely, belching black smoke into the sky. Another bomb struck a processing tower, igniting a stored gas line that sent a jet of fire arcing across the lot like a dragon''s breath. Phillip watched the live feed from the control screen at Agro, eyebrows rising. "Jesus. They''re tearing it apart." "Look at the heat signature," Thomas said, pointing. "That''s over 800 bodies evaporated in under thirty seconds." In the air, Skyhammer Two and Three moved into strafe position, using 20mm cannon bursts to wipe out infected spilling into the open from the shockwaves. The bursts were surgical¡ªtight, controlled, carving arcs of gore and ruin across the broken ground. Then Skyhammer Seven moved in¡ªCAS loadout armed. "EMP deployed," the pilot said calmly. "Bloom activity suppressed." A crackling flash hit the ground, knocking out the faint pulsing red spores that had begun to swirl at the edge of the crater. Bio-readings flatlined. It was clean. [Blood coins earned: 812,525] 07:36 AM ¡ª Target Zone Bravo ¨C Balacat Refugee Compound The second target zone was worse. Rows of collapsed tents. Buses overturned. Hundreds of infected packed shoulder to shoulder, caught in the remains of their last desperate stand. There were no walls here¡ªjust bodies. Skyhammer Six dropped low. "Altitude 120 meters. BDOs online." Two canisters released from the Viper''s undercarriage and tumbled toward the center of the horde. They split in midair, releasing a wave of aerosolized Bloom neutralizer laced with thermobaric agents. The result was catastrophic. A wide red mist ignited like napalm as the canisters hit the ground, engulfing hundreds in a rolling firestorm. Screeches filled the air. Runners broke formation and bolted¡ªbut another strafing pass from Skyhammer Nine ended that retreat with precision airburst munitions. No survivors. No movement. By 07:50, three clusters were annihilated. The fourth¡ªalready scattering from the roar of engines¡ªnever had a chance. 08:10 AM ¡ª Agro Command, Forward Ops Tent Thomas stood at the center of a wide holographic table, watching live drone footage and thermal scans. The final overlay faded to blue. Cleared. "Four thousand hostiles eliminated," a comms officer reported. "Zero pilot injuries. Fuel consumption under projected. Weapons nominal." Phillip leaned over the table, nodding. "We haven''t had a kill ratio like that since Subic was retaken." [Blood coins earned: 1,125,520] Thomas stepped back. "No infected survived. No Bloom activity reported. That''s what we needed to know." He turned to the room, raising his voice. "Log the operation under designation: First Talon. Today marks the beginning of Overwatch Air Command. Skyhammer Squadron is now active for deployment." Applause followed. Engineers. Pilots. Officers. But Thomas didn''t smile. Instead, he walked out of the tent and looked skyward¡ªwhere the ten contrails of the Vipers still cut white streaks across the blue. They had firepower now. But firepower wasn''t enough. Not yet. He tapped his console again. Pulled up the system. [Aircraft refueler.] "Let''s see how far we can really go," he murmured. Chapter 200: KC-135 Stratotanker November 12, 2025 ¡ª 10:20 AM Forward Agro-Zone One ¨C South Landing Strip The hum of logistics activity rolled through the airfield like background music to a rising empire. Forklifts transported fuel drums and sensor pods. Engineers checked stress points on the foamcrete landing mesh. In the distance, the recently returned Skyhammer Squadron stood parked in a V-formation, their wings still bearing soot from yesterday''s bombing raid. But Thomas. His eyes were fixed on his user interface hovering before him. Purchase Confirmed: KC-135 Stratotanker Cost: 970,000 Blood Coins Designation: Valkyrie One Status: Materializing... Please Stand Clear Phillip stood beside him, arms crossed, brow furrowed. "You sure about this?" he asked. "I''ve been sure for months," Thomas said quietly. Phillip glanced back toward the flightline. "That tanker eats fuel. Needs a full crew. Takes up nearly the entire western pad. You planning on midair refueling already?" "I''m planning on range," Thomas answered, eyes still forward. "Reach. We''ve turned the tide here¡ªbut the rest of the world? We have no idea. Not since the satellites went down. No live feeds. No intelligence. Only rumors. Manila. Cebu. Bataan. But what about Tokyo? Darwin? Anchorage? Mexico City?" He tapped the console again. "The only way we find out... is to go see for ourselves." A pulse of blinding light surged upward from the circle. Wind blasted across the strip. The air warped¡ªand then it appeared. Valkyrie One. The KC-135 Stratotanker materialized with a low groan of metal and hydraulic systems settling into place. It was massive. Longer than a C-130. Sleek in profile despite its bulk, with four massive jet engines hanging under swept-back wings and a refueling boom mounted like a tail stinger at the rear. The Overwatch crest was already painted along its fuselage¡ªwhite sword over twin wings. Phillip let out a breath. "Big bird." "It''s bigger than my bird." 10:34 AM ¡ª Aboard Valkyrie One The metal clanked beneath Thomas''s boots as he stepped through the forward hatch, his hand gliding along the interior bulkhead. The inside of the tanker was spartan, utilitarian. Rows of avionics panels, storage for fuel line maintenance gear, a communications rack with encryption nodes still powering up from summoning stabilization. Three jumpseats lined the forward crew section. A narrow corridor led toward the boom operator''s station and cargo systems. But it wasn''t luxury Thomas was here for. It was capability. He ducked through a low passage and entered the cockpit. Four seats. The flight engineer panel still booting. The main avionics screen flickering between test patterns and system checks. The two pilot stations, complete with HUD-linked yokes and navigational overlay glass, slowly lit up. This thing has a fueling capacity of 200,000 pounds. Operational ceiling: 50,000 feet. Range: 15,000 kilometers. Thomas exhaled. "Fifteen thousand..." he whispered. "That''s across the Pacific. Twice." He stepped out of the cockpit and made his way down the aisle, past sealed compartments lined with fuel bladders and emergency drop kits. Everything had been pre-loaded¡ªsupply crates, weather monitoring probes, survival rations, and even foldable satellite relay towers. This wasn''t just a refueler. This was a mobile base. Phillip caught up behind him. "Okay," he said, whistling. "I get it. This thing can fly to Alaska and back." Thomas stopped by the rear observation panel, where a large reinforced window offered a rare view¡ªbehind them, the field glistened in the morning light, Overwatch personnel moving like clockwork across the Agro complex. "It''s not about Alaska," Thomas said. "It''s about the unknown. We''ve built something strong here. Efficient. But we''re still blind. No one knows what''s happening in Australia. Or if Taiwan still holds. All we know is that they had collapsed from the news. But it collapsed." Phillip leaned against the metal frame. "So you want to send the Vipers on recon?" "Eventually. But not alone," Thomas replied. "The Vipers are fast, but they can''t get that far without help. Valkyrie One gives them the legs to go anywhere. And if the pilots get stranded out there, we have a bird big enough to bring them back." He tapped the rear panel beside the boom operator''s seat. A soft chime opened the aft bay, revealing the internal refueling station. The retractable boom sat retracted above their heads¡ªsleek, multi-jointed, and capable of refueling two aircraft simultaneously in midair. The screen beside it displayed a targeting cone and remote AI-assisted stabilization software for adverse weather operations. Autonomous AAR. Status: Operational. "We can refuel Skyhammers midair," Thomas said. "We can launch recon flights beyond Palawan. Check on Subic''s island chain. Even reach Taiwan if we''re bold." Phillip crossed his arms, nodding slowly. "You want to scout the world." "I want to know if there''s still a world," Thomas replied. A silence settled between them. Then Thomas turned toward the front of the aircraft and walked back to the exit hatch. Before stepping off, he paused and looked over his shoulder. "Prep Valkyrie One for long-range endurance test," he ordered. "We''ll run a three-hour low-altitude loop over Western Luzon and back. I want the boom system tested. Comms. Fuel burn rate. Every system stress-tested before we think about crossing water." "Understood," Phillip replied. "Who''s your pilot?" "I''ll fly it," Thomas said. Phillip blinked. "You''re serious?" Thomas simply smirked and walked down the boarding stairs. "I have the skills, remember?" "Oh...yeah...almost have forgotten about that sir." 11:28 AM ¡ª South Strip, Pre-Flight Preparation The fuel trucks pulled away from Valkyrie One. Crew in black jumpsuits ran final checks on the engines. The boom arm was unlocked for remote diagnostics. A chase drone hovered nearby, ready to shadow the flight and relay data to Agro Command. Thomas stood in the cockpit, helmet clipped, fingers sliding over the flight control panel. The engines spooled up with a low rumble. Outside, Phillip watched with arms crossed as the Stratotanker''s wheels began to roll. Valkyrie One thundered down the runway¡ªslow, deliberate, regal. And then it lifted into the air. A shadow cast across Agro as it ascended into the clouds. Chapter 201: Taking a Tour November 12, 2025 ¨C 1:43 PM Somewhere Over Western Luzon ¨C Aboard Valkyrie One The sky stretched endlessly ahead, painted in soft hues of pale blue and streaks of thin white cloud. At 31,000 feet, the world below seemed quiet. Still. And for the first time in a long time, Thomas Estaris found himself without the hum of chatter in his ear, without gunfire in the distance, without orders barked over radios. There was only the steady thrum of four massive turbofan engines, the glow of his cockpit display, and the dark, sprawling land far below. Valkyrie One was in cruise. Smooth. Stable. Everything that Thomas had asked for. He sat in the pilot''s seat, relaxed but focused, both hands on the yoke. His helmet rested in the seat beside him. He didn''t need it now. Just the old-fashioned headset and the weight of silence. The landscape below¡ªflattened cities, skeletons of highways, forests overtaking suburbs¡ªrolled slowly beneath them like a broken diorama of a world long gone. Even from this altitude, he could pick out former towns swallowed by nature and rust, their concrete outlines barely distinguishable from the jungle''s march. The autopilot chimed. He glanced at the HUD. They were approaching the western spine of Luzon¡ªZambales, mostly hills and cliffs, ridges dotted with collapsed radio towers and transmission lines that hadn''t buzzed in over a year. Thomas keyed in a slight heading correction and banked gently to the south. No turbulence. No weather interference. Just clean air. In the co-pilot seat, a female summoned named Madel, stared out through the canopy glass, her hands folded in her lap. "No movement on surface scans," she said softly. "No heat blooms either. Just wild growth. You seeing this?" Thomas nodded. "I am." Below, the crumbling outline of the old civilian airstrip was barely visible¡ªhalf-swallowed by overgrowth, rusted out aircraft shells scattered around it like forgotten toys. "You think there''s anyone left down there?" she asked. Thomas didn''t answer right away. He reached for the binocular scope mounted near his seat and brought it to his eyes. A slow pan revealed green hills, quiet villages overrun by time, rice paddies turned into marshes. Some rooftops were still intact. Some even bore makeshift paint¡ªbright tarps, plastic sheeting, symbols he couldn''t read. Signs of life, maybe. But no movement. No vehicles. No smoke. Just wind. "No one we could help by dropping in blind," he finally said. "And not with this bird." Madel nodded. "Fair." They passed over Botolan, the remnants of a coastal community once bustling with fishing boats and tourism. From above, the beachfront looked quiet¡ªtoo quiet. A handful of boats lay capsized near the shoreline, others left tied to broken piers, covered in seaweed and rot. "There," Madel said, pointing. "That building... could''ve been a hotel once." The roof had collapsed in on itself. A swimming pool sat half-full with algae and rainwater. Palm trees leaned against its facade, pushing windows inward. "Looks like the apocalypse was generous with the ocean views," Thomas muttered. Madel chuckled lightly. "Morbid." "Practical," he replied. "We''re seeing what the world looks like when it''s not screaming." He tapped into the system interface and brought up the terrain scanner feed. Red and orange overlays marked thermal readings, population density estimates, motion trails. All of it was ghost data¡ªnothing real-time. The scanners barely registered anything larger than a stray deer. "Zombies don''t come this far inland unless they''re pushed," Thomas said. "No herds. No scent trails. No flares. Either the people here fled long ago... or there was nothing to hold them together." Madel frowned, turning her eyes to the window again. "You ever wonder if we''re just lucky? That we survived by accident?" Thomas didn''t speak for a while. He watched the earth move beneath them. The soft curve of the land. The gentle rise and fall of ridges that once held cell towers. Burnt tree lines from past wildfire outbreaks. "We sure are in luck because some omnipotence had granted me abilities to summon you and military hardware. It seems as though I was blessed with this skill to reclaim what belonged to humanity." He adjusted the yoke slightly, easing the plane into a wide southern arc. The coastline appeared ahead¡ªSubic Bay glimmering under the afternoon sun. Madel leaned closer. "That''s the docks, right?" Thomas nodded. "Subic Naval Port. What''s left of it." From above, it still resembled its old self. Long piers stretching out like fingers into the sea. A couple of ships rusting in place. One of them¡ªa small destroyer¡ªwas listing heavily to port, half-submerged. The base buildings were collapsed in places, gutted by either fire or siege. Barricades formed crude lines around the perimeter, but none looked recently manned. Even the boats near the beach were dry-docked, vines growing over their hulls. "I don''t think anyone''s been here in months," Madel said quietly. "Maybe longer," Thomas added. "Reaper scans were inconclusive. We never prioritized it." He marked the site on his datapad. "I will now." They continued on, hugging the coastline for another twenty kilometers before banking east toward the mountains. Here, the air changed slightly. Less coastal humidity. The skies cleared even more. Madel ran a systems check. "Fuel status: optimal. Burn rate lower than spec. We could push her all the way to Taiwan and back if we wanted." "Not yet," Thomas said. "We start with what we can hold. Then we reach." He stared out the canopy glass as they passed over the highlands¡ªgreen hills folding into one another like waves. No signs of nests. No scorched earth. Just untouched terrain. The kind of land they could take back. "Agro''s secure," Thomas said aloud, mostly to himself. "But Luzon isn''t enough. Not anymore. We don''t just fortify the last stand. We take the first step forward." Madel tilted her head. "We really going to start flying international again?" Thomas''s jaw clenched slightly. "If there''s anyone left across the sea," he said, "they need to know they''re not alone." The KC-135 turned slowly back toward the south. Beneath them, the sun cast long shadows across the land¡ªshadows of towers toppled, cities reclaimed by vines, and valleys where silence ruled. But from above, in that sky-carving behemoth of steel and resolve, Thomas saw something more. Lines. Routes. Corridors. Paths forward. The world had gone dark. But today? Overwatch turned the lights back on¡ªat least for a few hours. And soon, the rest of the world would know they were coming. Chapter 202 202: Taiwan November 14, 2025 ¡ª 04:32 AM Over the Luzon Strait ¨C Aboard Valkyrie One The KC-135 Stratotanker, Valkyrie One, flew steady and silent through the darkness, its four massive engines humming with mechanical precision. Outside the reinforced cockpit glass, the black ocean stretched endlessly below, calm and featureless under the early morning sky. Navigation lights blinked red and green at the wing tips, slicing across the void with rhythmic certainty. Inside, the hum of onboard systems, quiet breathing, and the occasional shuffle of boots filled the cabin. Thomas Estaris sat in the pilot''s chair, eyes focused on the heads-up display projecting their route forward. Beside him, Lieutenant Madel checked the avionics again, ensuring fuel burn, cabin pressure, and auxiliary systems remained within nominal parameters. They had departed Forward Agro-Zone One just after 3:00 AM, flying low over northern Luzon before banking east across the Luzon Strait. Now, they were halfway to Taiwan. It had been a long time coming. Thomas had waited months for this¡ªfor a flight that reached beyond the crumbled borders of the Philippine archipelago. Beyond every lost signal, every dead satellite, every unanswered call. The world had gone dark after the outbreak''s second wave. Only rumors and fragments had remained. But now, Overwatch had the sky again. Now, he could see. "ETA to Taiwan coastline: twelve minutes," Madel said softly. "Copy," Thomas replied. "Alert the team." A quiet beep sounded over the cabin comms. In the back of the aircraft, two more Overwatch personnel¡ªFlight Engineer Lopez and Mission Tech Serano¡ªsecured themselves at observation stations. They weren''t armed for combat. They were here to watch, record, and report. "Engaging sensor sweep in five," Serano called over the intercom. "Thermals, optics, lidar, radiation. Full sweep." The lights dimmed in the cockpit as the onboard systems switched to reconnaissance mode. A soft chime echoed through the fuselage. Thomas exhaled and sat back, staring ahead into the darkness. "Let''s see if anyone''s still out here." 04:49 AM ¡ª First Contact: Taiwan Coastline As they crossed into Taiwanese airspace, the first hints of coastline began to appear¡ªa jagged, broken line against the black sea, bathed in the faint gray of impending dawn. The HUD tagged the landmass as accurate. Thomas looked through the side glass. "What''s that?" Madel asked. He adjusted the zoom on his forward display. At first, it looked like cliffs or natural rock formations¡ªbut no. They were ruins. Ruined ships. Half a dozen rusted naval vessels¡ªfrigates and destroyers¡ªlay scattered along the shoreline. Some had run aground. One had capsized. All were broken, leaning at unnatural angles, covered in moss and salt-streaks. Lifeboats hung from shattered davits, untouched. Thomas leaned forward. "No movement. No signal. No heat." Madel frowned. "Abandoned. Completely." They continued inland, now flying over what once was Kaohsiung¡ªa city known for its bustling port, towering buildings, and vibrant night markets. Now? Nothing moved. From their altitude, they could see the blackened remains of high-rises. Craters littered the harbor district. Several oil tankers sat in the port basin, scorched and half-submerged. One had burst open, its metal curled outward like paper torn from the inside. Thermal scans revealed only a single heat source. A fire. Small. Likely from a structural collapse, not any human activity. Madel checked her console again. "No RF signals. No open comms. Dead spectrum." Thomas tapped his interface and opened an overhead satellite render from before the apocalypse. He overlaid it over the real-time scan. The difference was staggering. Highways that once glowed with traffic were now drowned in vines. Stadiums had collapsed inward. The famous Fo Guang Shan Buddha¡ªonce towering on the outskirts¡ªwas gone. Nothing but a shattered foundation remained. And then, at last, they reached their destination. Taipei. 05:17 AM ¡ª Over the Ruins of Taipei They approached the former capital from the south, descending slightly for better visual recon. The sky had brightened just enough to reveal outlines clearly. In the dim morning light, Taipei sprawled below them¡ªgray, black, and broken. Madel gasped softly. "Oh god..." Thomas didn''t speak. Where there had once been light, life, and 2.6 million people, there was now only wreckage. Not the kind of natural collapse caused by time or neglect¡ªbut destruction. Deliberate. Explosions had torn through major sectors. Bridges had been severed with surgical precision, as if to halt mass movement. The central business district was flattened. Whole blocks turned to ash. The Taipei 101¡ªonce the pride of the city¡ªstood no more. Its base was a scorched pit. The tower itself had fallen sideways, split in half. "Whatever happened here," Serano said over comms, "it wasn''t gradual." Thomas agreed. He could see the traces of it now. Not just decay. Bombing runs. Shelling. Firestorms. Someone had tried to burn the infection out of Taipei. And failed. Madel adjusted the thermal filter again. "We have... bodies. Lots of them. But no movement. No active clusters. It''s like..." "A tomb," Thomas finished. They circled once, scanning the city from multiple angles. Parks overgrown. Government buildings collapsed. Every highway choked with vehicles that had never moved again. Buses burned out. Military vehicles overturned and left behind. In one plaza, they saw a ring of burned-out tanks, arranged in a defensive circle. Whatever last stand had happened here... it hadn''t lasted. "Power grid is dead," Lopez said from the rear console. "No broadcast signals. No satellite relay. It''s like they cut themselves off." "Or were cut off," Madel added. They completed their second loop and began to ascend again. "We''ve seen enough," Thomas said. Madel nodded. "Course back to Luzon?" "Yes. Mark the route. Tag every heat anomaly and terrain change." He turned his eyes one final time toward the broken skyline of Taipei. There had been hope, once, that some part of East Asia had held on¡ªthat the cities had fared better. That governments had rallied, that maybe an ally remained across the sea. But looking down now... Thomas knew the truth. There were no broadcasts because there were no survivors. Not here. Not anymore. 06:41 AM ¡ª Return Flight, South of the Strait The sun was rising behind them now as Valkyrie One cruised back toward the Philippine coastline. The golden light broke across the sea, making it almost peaceful¡ªalmost. But no one in the cockpit was smiling. Madel finally spoke. "What now?" Thomas answered without looking up. "We keep flying." He tapped into his console, setting new folders for recon data, terrain models, and potential landing zones. "We log everything. Share nothing. Not yet. Not until we''re ready." She tilted her head. "Ready for what?" Thomas looked forward, eyes steady, voice calm. "To be the last line... or the first step forward." Outside, the ocean stretched forever. But beyond it¡ªmore nations, more cities, more ruins. And maybe, one day, someone else would answer from the sky. Chapter 203 203: Another Flight, This Time to Japan November 15, 2025 ¡ª 4:07 AMLuzon Strait ¨C Aboard Valkyrie One The pre-dawn silence was complete. High above the dark sea, the KC-135 Stratotanker, Valkyrie One, soared through the void¡ªfour engines humming with mechanical calm, its matte-gray fuselage slicing silently across the lower stratosphere. The fuel indicators blinked green. Navigation systems held steady. There was no turbulence, no chatter, no motion¡ªjust the steady heartbeat of technology and purpose. In the cockpit, Thomas Estaris sat calmly in the pilot''s chair, eyes fixed on the projected navigation arc. Their destination was far, farther than any flight Overwatch had dared attempt before: Japan. Beside him, Madel adjusted the radio bands and confirmed their autopilot altitude. They had pre-set the route manually, avoiding old air defense corridors and presumed hostile zones based on outdated satellite data. "How long till we hit Honshu airspace?" Madel asked, her voice low, as if the world outside could still hear. "Forty-seven minutes," Thomas replied. "Assuming no major weather anomalies or unexpected... guests." She gave a small nod. "Copy." Thomas didn''t say it out loud, but his mind turned, just as it had the day before when they flew over Taipei. This was no longer about reconnaissance. This was a search for answers. For connection. For a world that might still be out there¡ªclinging to the edge of survival like they had. Taiwan had shown them devastation. A silent grave. But Japan... Japan had been different. Before the Collapse, the country had one of the most well-organized disaster protocols on the planet. Thousands of shelters. Hardened infrastructure. Military reserves. A population conditioned to react fast. If anyone could''ve held the line, it was them. Thomas wanted to believe that. He needed to. 4:53 AM ¨C Approaching Kyushu As the coastline of southern Japan appeared on radar, Madel adjusted the sensor suite. "Thermal scans live. No unusual cloud formations. No active radar sweeps. Coastal wind strong." Thomas leaned forward slightly, hands on the yoke. The auto-leveling systems adjusted them to a slight descent, bringing the tanker to 26,000 feet for better visibility. Outside, dawn began to smear orange against the eastern horizon. Through the cockpit glass, the edge of Kyushu came into view¡ªa black mass of forest, broken city outlines, and high coastal ridges. Then came the first signs of ruin. "Zoom on Fukuoka," Thomas said. Madel complied. A second screen magnified the image from their nose-mounted optics. The once-proud city was broken. The bay still shimmered, but the port was crushed¡ªcargo ships overturned, cranes rusted and crumbled into the sea. Buildings inland bore blast damage and overgrowth. Fires had blackened entire districts. Dozens of vehicles dotted the expressways, most covered in vines, others melted into twisted wreckage. "Anything moving?" Thomas asked. Madel shook her head. "Negative. Still no heat. No broadcasts." "Log it. Keep going." They followed the southern coast, passing over cities that looked more like battlefield mockups than once-living communities. The infrastructure had clearly held longer than Taipei. There were signs of barricades, perimeter defenses, and controlled burns. Whoever had fought here had put up a damn fight. But the result had been the same. Silence. 6:02 AM ¨C Over Osaka Prefecture The aircraft curved northeast, approaching Osaka, once Japan''s second-largest metro area. What they saw chilled the cockpit. The city hadn''t just fallen¡ªit had been razed. Entire zones bore the scars of orbital-level bombardment. Entire city blocks were flattened into glassy terrain, as though hit by weapons no man should''ve fired on his own soil. Bridges over the Yodo River were vaporized. Train lines melted into slag. "My god," Madel whispered. "They nuked themselves..." Thomas swallowed hard. He didn''t reply, not at first. But she was right. This wasn''t the work of infected. This wasn''t even a last stand. It was containment. And it had failed. "Is Kyoto still intact?" he finally asked. Madel ran the scan. "Barely. Fires scorched most of the surrounding forest. Downtown collapsed. The palace area is gone." Thomas looked down at the jagged shadows below. A chill ran down his spine. "Then we keep moving." 6:47 AM ¨C Nearing Tokyo Airspace By the time the sun fully crested the horizon, they were climbing into the outskirts of Tokyo¡ªor what had once been Tokyo. The view was worse than Taipei. Skyscrapers had fallen into each other like dominoes. Flooded districts created stagnant inland seas. Power lines lay snapped across highways, tangled like webs. An entire section near the Sumida River appeared cratered, as if something massive had exploded from below. There were no plumes of smoke. No lights. No blinking towers. Even from thirty thousand feet, Tokyo was dead. Thomas stared for several long seconds. Then he turned to Madel. "Run full-band comm sweep. All known emergency frequencies. Japanese military, maritime self-defense, aviation. Try them all." She nodded, typing quickly. One by one, they opened comm channels. One by one, the responses were the same. Static. Silence. Ghost frequencies. Until¡ª 6:59 AM ¡ª Unidentified Signal "Hold on," Madel said suddenly, frowning. "I''m picking up something. It''s weak. Not a distress beacon. Directional burst¡ªencrypted." Thomas leaned forward. "Where?" Before she could answer, a ping lit up on the radar. Contact. Altitude: 35,000 feet. Speed: Mach 1.1. Heading 267 degrees. Madel stiffened. "We''ve got a fast mover." Thomas immediately took manual control. On the HUD, a red blip appeared¡ªcoming toward them fast. Not hostile, not broadcasting IFF, but flying like it knew exactly where they were. "Could be an automated drone," Madel offered, but she didn''t sound confident. "No," Thomas said slowly, narrowing his eyes. "That flight pattern''s reactive. It''s adjusting to our altitude. It knows we''re here." Madel zoomed the camera. The silhouette came into focus. A twin-engine fighter jet. Sleek. Agile. Low radar cross-section. A Japanese flag. "No way," she whispered. "Is that an... F-2?" Thomas blinked. The aircraft slowed, moving into parallel flight beside them¡ªjust fifty meters to starboard. Its canopy shimmered under the sun, tinted black. Then¡ª The pilot tilted their wings. A signal. A maneuver old aviators used to say: I see you. And I''m not your enemy. Thomas and Madel sat stunned. Then Thomas, heart racing, smiled. "Well," he murmured, voice low and tight with restrained hope. "Guess we''re not the only ones still flying." Chapter 204 204: Japanese Enclave The F-2 pilot''s craft remained parallel to Valkyrie One, cutting through the sky with the agility of a predator. The sun reflected off its sleek frame, a sharp contrast to the battered world below. For a few moments, there was no movement, just the silent hum of the Stratotanker''s engines and the faint ping of radar, both aircraft flying in tandem as though they were old friends reunited. Thomas and Madel exchanged glances. Both were silent, watching the Japanese fighter in awe. "What do we do?" Madel asked, her voice steady but tinged with uncertainty. "We follow," Thomas replied, tapping a few controls on the console to initiate a low-band comm channel. There was no hesitation, no words of caution¡ªjust an innate sense that this was the moment they''d been waiting for. An encounter with the unknown. Not another empty city or an overrun stronghold, but an active military presence. A remnant of the world they had lost. For the first time in days, Thomas felt a glimmer of hope. The Japanese pilot''s voice crackled over the radio, their words sharp and precise, carried by the static of long-range communication. "Overwatch Command, this is JASDF Flight Alpha, F-2. Confirm your position. Do not approach our airspace without clearance. We are not hostile but will engage if necessary. Confirm identification." Thomas''s hand hovered over the mic, but he didn''t speak right away. Instead, he looked at Madel, who gave a slight nod, then tapped the comms system to broadcast their response. "This is Valkyrie One, Overwatch Command. We are a humanitarian and reconnaissance team operating in the Philippines. We''ve been conducting long-range reconnaissance and are requesting a safe passage to land. We mean no harm. Over." There was a pause on the other end, the air thick with silence. Thomas kept his hand poised, ready for whatever response would follow. "Overwatch Command, this is JASDF Alpha. You are cleared to proceed. However, you are to land at our designated rendezvous point. Do not approach urban centers. We are prepared to receive you." The voice was firm but devoid of aggression. It was a command, not a threat. "Roger, JASDF Alpha. We copy. Please send coordinates." A few moments later, a series of GPS coordinates blinked across the display. "Proceeding as ordered," Thomas said, adjusting the yoke and guiding Valkyrie One to align with the new course. Madel glanced out the side window, still taking in the sight of the F-2 maintaining formation with them. "We''re not heading toward Tokyo... looks like we''re heading east. Into the mountains." Thomas raised an eyebrow but didn''t comment. He already knew that any airbase or military facility that had survived this long would be well-hidden¡ªfar from the devastation of the major urban centers. The F-2 made a slight banking maneuver, signaling their direction. "Copy that," Thomas said into the comms. "We''re on our way. Over." Madel glanced at him, her voice quiet. "What do you think? What are we going to find?" "I don''t know," Thomas replied honestly. "But I think we''re about to find out." 08:05 AM ¡ª Hidden Military Enclave, Japanese Highlands An hour later, they were descending through the clouds, cutting across jagged mountain peaks far north of Tokyo. The landscape had shifted from the decayed remnants of the cityscape to rough, untouched wilderness. The forest canopy below had begun to thin, revealing small military encampments and isolated bunkers nestled in the foothills. A few dirt roads ran between them, and Thomas could see the unmistakable signs of an active but low-profile military operation. "Watch your altitude," Madel said, looking at her readings. "We''re almost there." Thomas held the aircraft steady as they descended toward a cleared area between two ridges. The landing pad came into view¡ªa flat, open area with military-grade barriers and vehicles parked off to the side. Several small buildings lined the outskirts, camouflaged under netting. There were no large, open structures¡ªjust tactical buildings and hardened fortifications, showing clear signs of being prepared for a long-term holdout. As they neared the landing zone, Thomas keyed in the radio again. "Valkyrie One to JASDF Alpha. Requesting final approach to designated landing site. Over." "Copy, Valkyrie One. You are cleared for final approach. Proceed with caution." Madel readied herself, preparing for the landing, while Thomas adjusted the controls to ensure a smooth descent. They flew in lower, following the path of the F-2, which had already begun its own landing approach. A row of armed guards waited in the distance, observing their movements with quiet attention. They were ready. Valkyrie One''s wheels touched the earth with a soft thud, its engines humming as it decelerated along the runway. The back door opened automatically, and the ramp dropped, lowering slowly to the ground. Thomas took a deep breath as the aircraft came to a full stop. Outside, he could see a team of soldiers in full combat gear approaching the aircraft, their rifles slung across their backs. Their faces were obscured by helmets, but their posture was rigid, professional. "Time to see what''s left of Japan," Thomas muttered. He unstrapped himself and stood, heading toward the back of the aircraft. Madel followed, her steps light but purposeful. They reached the bottom of the ramp, stepping out into the cool morning air. The ground felt firm beneath their boots, and the air smelled clean, untainted by the pollution of long-abandoned cities. A soldier in front stepped forward, removing his helmet as he approached. His face was weathered, his expression one of cautious curiosity. "Overwatch Command, I presume?" The man''s English was clear but accented. His posture was military, rigid, yet there was an unspoken weariness in his eyes. Thomas extended his hand. "Thomas Estaris. We''ve been operating out of the Philippines. Overwatch. We''re just here to make contact and gather intel. You''re... Japanese Self-Defense Forces?" The soldier nodded, shaking Thomas''s hand with a firm grip. "I am Lieutenant Takeda. We are the remaining forces of Japan''s Self-Defense Unit, stationed here in the mountains. We were forced to relocate after the fall of the major urban centers." Thomas glanced around the site. Small squads were stationed at various points, scanning the horizon. It was clear that they were operating with minimal resources but had managed to maintain order and discipline. "I''m glad to finally make contact with someone still holding the line," Thomas said. "We''ve been isolated, in the Philippines. We''ve been working on rebuilding infrastructure, but we''ve had no real communication with the outside world since... well, since it all fell apart." Takeda nodded again. "We know. Our communications were jammed shortly after the outbreak spread westward. We''ve been surviving on limited supplies, securing the perimeter against infected and hostile groups alike." Madel stepped forward. "We have equipment, resources, and manpower. We can help you re-establish communications if you''re open to it." Takeda paused, his eyes narrowing slightly, but there was no immediate rejection. "We would appreciate that. But you must understand, we can''t trust just anyone. The world out there is filled with groups that are... not what they once were." Thomas took a steadying breath, then nodded. "We''re not interested in anything but survival," Thomas said. "We''ve seen the wreckage of entire nations. But the Philippines¡ªthere are people still fighting. We''re ready to extend that fight to the rest of the world. We''re all in this together." Takeda studied him for a moment, his eyes assessing, then finally relaxed. "Very well. Welcome to Japan. We''ll take you to our base camp. We have a secure facility where we can discuss future plans." With that, Takeda turned, signaling to the soldiers. A few began moving equipment while others took up defensive positions. As they walked toward the encampment, Thomas felt a sense of weight¡ªof purpose. They weren''t just meeting survivors. They were meeting an entire country''s last remnants, hanging on in the shadows of their former glory. And maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªthey could help each other rebuild. Chapter 205 205: Exploring the Enclave November 15, 2025 ¡ª 09:10 AM Japanese Self-Defense Forces Enclave ¨C Hidden Military Base, Japanese Highlands The air was crisp, almost biting, as Thomas Estaris and Lieutenant Madel Madel followed Lieutenant Takeda into the heart of the military conclave. The camp was nestled in the valley of the mountains, shielded from the outside world by jagged cliffs and dense forestry. The perimeter was heavily secured, with sentry posts and camouflaged barriers placed at strategic points, but there was a stillness to the place¡ªa stillness that hinted at both peace and isolation. The path leading deeper into the enclave was narrow, lined with small wooden buildings that had been fortified with scrap metal and stone. The scent of fresh pine mixed with the faint smell of smoke, coming from the campfires scattered around the area. There was no large base structure here, no towering infrastructure. Just a series of makeshift shelters and a few well-hidden vehicles, parked under tarps. As they walked through the camp, Thomas observed the inhabitants¡ªtired faces but with eyes sharp, alert. There was no desperation in the air, no hint of chaos. These people had learned to live with the barest of essentials, to adapt and survive. "This way," Takeda called over his shoulder, leading them toward the central hub of the enclave, a large building built into the side of the mountain. It was a stark contrast to the rest of the camp¡ªwell-constructed, reinforced, and guarded by two heavily armed soldiers at its entrance. The building was a combination of a command center, operations room, and living quarters for the highest-ranking members of the enclave. Inside, it was quieter, more orderly. Maps and tactical charts were pinned to the walls, and a series of monitors flickered with data. On one wall, a massive map of Japan, marked with strategic points and zones of interest, dominated the space. Takeda stepped aside, allowing them to enter. "This is where we coordinate everything. We''ve been able to keep the surrounding regions relatively clear of infected, and we''ve established a few supply routes to the other survivors in the mountains." Thomas and Madel entered the room, their eyes scanning the monitors. The base seemed to be well-organized, but there was a noticeable lack of external communication. No satellites, no internet, nothing to reach the outside world. Takeda led them further into the room to a table covered with papers and charts. "We''ve been trying to contact other factions, other enclaves, but the interference is overwhelming. We''ve had no word from the capital since the disaster. No reports from Okinawa, nothing." Thomas stood silently for a moment, processing the weight of their situation. Here, in the heart of Japan''s military backbone, he saw not the remnants of a great nation, but the quiet endurance of survivors, holding on to a world that no longer existed. "We''re not giving up on reconnections," Takeda continued, "but it''s been hard. Too many regions are compromised. Too many... unspeakable things happening." Thomas nodded. "I understand. But you''re not alone anymore. We''re here to help, to offer what we can." Madel stepped forward, observing the maps. "Are there survivors outside the mountains? Or is this it?" Takeda hesitated, then glanced at the map. "There are a few scattered survivor enclaves, but they''re isolated. No major cities still function. The best we can do is reach them on foot or by smaller aircraft. Our reconnaissance teams have been flying out, but there''s little left to salvage." Thomas sighed, his mind already working. This base was strong. But it couldn''t be the last holdout. They needed to expand. They needed to know who else was still standing. "We''ll talk about expansion soon," Thomas said, his voice firm. "But first, I''d like to see how you''ve been surviving here. What are you doing to stay self-sufficient?" Takeda nodded, understanding the unspoken question. "Follow me." 09:45 AM ¡ª Self-Sufficiency Facilities The two followed Takeda through another set of corridors, past soldiers training, past storage areas filled with rations, and to a large underground area beneath the facility. The temperature dropped slightly as they descended, and the air smelled faintly of damp earth. "Here''s where we grow most of our food," Takeda explained. He gestured to the rows of makeshift hydroponic farms¡ªsmall, self-contained systems growing various vegetables, herbs, and even fruit trees in controlled environments. "We''ve been able to maintain a steady supply of crops, although it''s far from ideal. Our water comes from a reservoir higher up in the mountains, and we''ve had to rely on filtration and careful management." Thomas stepped closer to inspect the plants. The greens were healthy, their colors vibrant against the sterile white of the hydroponic trays. He could tell that the system wasn''t ideal, but it was functional. "Impressive," Madel said, kneeling down to inspect the plants more closely. "How do you manage pests?" Takeda smiled slightly. "We don''t have many, actually. The biggest issue is the air quality. There''s still a lot of dust and debris, but we''ve worked out some rudimentary filtration." They moved through the farming area, taking note of the soldiers who worked here. Everyone had a task, even the youngest members of the enclave. There was no wasted energy, no idle hands. Every single person contributed. Next, Takeda led them to a small storage area filled with tactical gear¡ªrifles, protective vests, helmets¡ªorganized neatly on racks. "We have to stay ready," Takeda said. "The infected aren''t the only threat out there. We''ve had skirmishes with raiders¡ªthose who''ve lost everything and turned desperate. They come in from the coast or from other survivor groups." Madel looked over the weapons. "Looks like you''ve got some decent firepower." Takeda nodded. "We''ve managed to maintain our stockpiles by scavenging. We''ve found some old weapons caches, and we''ve been training our people to use them. But it''s always a balancing act. Ammo is limited. Maintenance is a constant challenge." Thomas glanced at the racks of weapons. The sheer practicality of it all struck him¡ªthe blend of old-world military might and new-world survival instinct. He was seeing the legacy of a nation that had been forced to adapt, and in many ways, it reminded him of Overwatch''s own struggle. "We''ll need to establish a logistics network soon," Thomas said. "If you''re willing, we could help expand this operation, help you get connected with other groups." Takeda looked at him, his eyes unreadable for a moment. "We''ve made it this far alone," he said finally. "But... we could use the help. If you''re willing to risk it." Thomas met his gaze. "We didn''t come this far to turn back now." 10:12 AM ¡ª The Meeting Hall The tour continued, and as they moved through the final corridor, Takeda paused. The hall they were entering was far quieter than the rest of the enclave. Inside, a group of military personnel gathered around a table, their faces stern, eyes focused on the map in front of them. The room was cold, lit only by overhead lights and a few flickering monitors. "We meet here daily," Takeda said, "to plan out our next steps. It''s where we discuss movements, supply runs, and what''s left of our tactical positioning." Thomas nodded and moved closer to the table, scanning the map. Large sections of the map were still blacked out¡ªareas marked "Uninhabitable," "Raiders," "Bloom Zones." He could feel the weight of it¡ªthe map was a map of a nation lost, where every marked area represented a challenge, a barrier to survival. Takeda turned toward him. "We''re not the only ones left, but we''re among the few who can defend ourselves. If we had more resources, we could expand our reach. Maybe re-establish some of our connections with the outside world." Thomas exhaled. "We''re in the same position. We''ve been trying to rebuild the Philippines, but it''s slow. We don''t have all the answers either." He looked at the team gathered around the table, their weary faces heavy with the burden of survival. "We''re here to help. But we''ll need to work together. For all our sake." Takeda nodded, meeting Thomas''s gaze. "Then welcome to Japan, Overwatch. We fight together, or we don''t fight at all." Thomas gave a firm nod, his heart steady, even as the weight of their shared future settled over them. It wouldn''t be easy. But they were no longer alone. Chapter 206 206: So Thats How it Is November 15, 2025 ¡ª 2:18 PM Japanese Self-Defense Forces Enclave ¨C Command Bunker, Central Meeting Room The meeting room wasn''t designed for diplomacy. It was a bunker, plain and functional. Concrete walls. Sandbags in the corners. A pair of rusting fans turning slowly on the ceiling. A rectangular metal table bolted to the floor sat at the center, covered with maps, marked-up aerial photos, half-burnt notebooks, and a portable radio wired to a backup battery. Thomas Estaris sat at one end of the table, his back straight, hands resting calmly. He wore no rank on his vest, no insignia on his shoulder, just the standard Overwatch black field gear. A visitor from across the sea. A stranger. Across from him sat five uniformed members of the Japanese Self-Defense Forces, each with a sidearm holstered, each one bearing the hardened stare of someone who had survived long past their country''s fall. Standing off to the side was Lieutenant Takeda, the one who had made first contact. "This is our leadership council," Takeda said, voice steady. "Captain Hiroshi¡ªlogistics. Sergeant Sato¡ªdefense and ground ops. Ensign Morita¡ªcommunications and field recon. Chief Kobayashi¡ªcivilian coordination. Warrant Officer Nishimura¡ªstrategic planning." Each gave a nod. No one smiled. Thomas returned the nod. "I appreciate the time. I won''t waste it." The sound of the ventilation fans filled the silence that followed. There was no small talk. No ceremonial gestures. Just quiet observation. Captain Hiroshi spoke first, voice calm and deliberate. "Lieutenant Takeda has briefed us on your arrival. You''re with Overwatch?" "That''s right," Thomas replied. "We''re based in the Philippines. Started small¡ªmilitary holdouts, local defense groups. We stabilized one city. Then another. Eventually formed a long-term network. We call it Overwatch because there''s no more government to speak for us. We don''t pretend to be the old world." Ensign Morita leaned forward slightly. "You crossed the ocean in that Stratotanker?" Thomas nodded. "Valkyrie One. Refitted with extended-range sensors, hardened avionics, and additional fuel bladders. It''s not fast, but it gets us there." "You came alone?" "We needed to know if there was anything left," Thomas said simply. The council exchanged glances. A moment passed. Then Nishimura leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Well... you found us. But there''s no government here. No more nation. Only this outpost. And maybe a few like it in the north." Thomas''s expression didn''t shift. "That''s what I came to ask. I need to know what''s left of Japan. If there''s still a chain of command. Civilian or military." It was Hiroshi who answered. "There isn''t." His voice was matter-of-fact. No anger. No sorrow. Just the truth. "No Prime Minister?" Thomas asked. Chief Kobayashi shook her head. "Reported killed during the evacuation of Sapporo. We don''t know the full story. The government''s last broadcasts came from a destroyer off the eastern coast. That signal went dead nearly nine months ago. There''s been nothing since." Thomas''s jaw tightened slightly, but he didn''t speak. He just listened. Sergeant Sato picked up from there. "The JSDF tried to hold regional commands. That failed. Too many bases fell too fast. Coordinated strikes. Bloom infestations. Civilian panic. Once Tokyo fell, the rest followed like dominoes." "Any remaining forces?" "Fragmented," said Nishimura. "Some commanders tried to rally. Some went rogue. Others died in place. Most of us that survived did so by retreating into the mountains and cutting ourselves off." "Anyone else still claiming command?" Thomas asked. "No one credible," Hiroshi said. "There are militias in the north. Some coastal remnants in Hokkaido. But they''re not governments. They''re just... survivors with guns." Thomas let that sit for a moment. "So it''s the same here," he muttered. That got their attention. "In the Philippines," he continued, "the government collapsed in weeks. Malacan?ang was overrun. Military high command fell apart. We had generals trying to declare martial law over provinces, but none of them lasted. The communications blackout sealed it. Chaos took everything else." Nishimura folded his arms. "And what''s left?" "Pockets," Thomas said. "Strongholds. Civilian enclaves. Farming collectives. Some of them we''re helping. Others we had to fight. The ones who adapted became Overwatch. We stopped waiting for orders and started building something that could last." Of course, his story is fabricated, he doesn''t want to lead them that all his forces are summoned. Though there is some truth where there are civilians living inside their bases. He looked around the table. "That''s why I''m here. I''m not asking you to take orders. I''m not offering you a chain of command. I''m offering a connection. A line. Something better than silence." Takeda spoke for the first time in several minutes. "We''ve tried to reach others. It''s not easy. Equipment''s failing. Weather''s unstable. The last two relays we deployed got cooked in mountain storms." "We''ve got drones," Thomas said. "What''s in it for you?" Hiroshi asked bluntly. "Stability," Thomas replied. "We''re not going to survive alone. I''ve seen too many enclaves go silent because they couldn''t call for help. You''ve got intel on this region. We''ve got air support and resource logistics. You give us terrain maps and patrol data. We give you Bloom movement patterns, recon from the mainland, and tech upgrades." Morita nodded slowly. "A trade." "A start," Thomas corrected. "A way forward." Another pause. Finally, Nishimura nodded. "Fine. We''ll give you access to our logs. Ensign Morita will provide your tech crew with coordinates for installation." Kobayashi added, "And if this works... maybe we start mapping what''s left of this country." Thomas nodded once. "Good. That''s all I wanted to hear." Hiroshi exhaled and leaned back in his chair. "You asked if there were politicians left. The answer is no. The infected didn''t care about parties or ideologies. They wiped the slate clean. There''s no parliament. No flag. Just uniforms that don''t mean anything anymore." "That''s how it is everywhere," Thomas said quietly. "The titles died first. What''s left is who can adapt." He stood slowly, dusting off his knees. The rest of the table didn''t rise, but their expressions softened¡ªjust slightly. "You''re not Japan anymore," Thomas said. "And we''re not the Philippines. We''re not nations." He met each of their eyes, one by one. "We''re what''s left. And that means we have to be what comes next." No one spoke. But no one disagreed. Chapter 207 207: What are You? Insurance? November 15, 2025 ¡ª 4:40 PM Japanese Self-Defense Forces Enclave ¨C Barracks Corridor, Upper Level The mountain wind outside whistled faintly through the ventilation shaft, a sound Thomas Estaris had grown familiar with over the past few hours. Cold, constant, and unchanging¡ªlike the silence after a battlefield, or a conversation where too much had been left unsaid. He stood at a wide window overlooking the valley below. The trees down the slope swayed gently in the breeze, and beyond them, the sky was beginning to lose its light. The Stratotanker¡ªValkyrie One¡ªsat parked far below on the ridge landing pad, engines off, silhouette dark against the fading sun. Footsteps approached from behind. Thomas didn''t turn immediately. Only when he heard the voice. "You run a tight operation, Estaris. I''ll give you that." It was Captain Hiroshi, the same man who''d led much of the conversation earlier that afternoon. The logistics officer was in his late forties, with a lined face, short black hair, and the demeanor of someone who had spent too many nights auditing numbers that meant life or death. Thomas gave a small nod. "We do what we can." Hiroshi stepped beside him, folding his arms, eyes narrowing slightly. "C-130s I can believe. Some old attack choppers? Maybe. But that Stratotanker... and long-endurance drones? That''s not something you pull out of a hangar. Not in the state the world''s in." Thomas didn''t respond right away. "I''ve seen airbases," Hiroshi continued. "In the early days. We lost access fast. Civilian aviation vanished overnight. And yet here you are¡ªflying a full-range tanker across the sea. So I have to ask..." He turned his head slightly. "Where did Overwatch get that hardware?" Thomas exhaled slowly through his nose, never breaking his gaze from the window. It wasn''t the first time someone had asked. And it wouldn''t be the last. He kept his voice calm. Steady. "Salvage. Retired assets. Some airbases weren''t hit directly. They were simply abandoned. We had pilots, mechanics, engineers¡ªsome from Clark, some from Mactan. They knew where things were. They got them working again." Hiroshi didn''t answer. Just watched him carefully. Thomas continued. "We consolidated. Pulled everything into one site. Took months to recondition the Stratotanker. Same for the drones. We don''t have endless inventory. We just keep our systems flying. Because we don''t have the luxury of replacement." A lie¡ªwrapped in pieces of truth. Close enough to believe. Hiroshi said nothing for a long time. Then: "Convenient, isn''t it? How your team managed to find everything just intact enough to use." Thomas didn''t flinch. "Convenient? No. We lost people recovering it. We buried more than a few trying to defend it. And we''ve sacrificed good men and women to keep it in the air." Hiroshi nodded slowly. "Fair enough." The conversation drifted into silence again, broken only by the wind. Then, softer: "Are you a soldier, Estaris?" Thomas glanced at him. "No." "But you lead a military network." "I lead survivors." "Same thing these days." Thomas gave a faint smile. "Maybe." Hiroshi didn''t press further. He seemed to accept the answer¡ªor at least decide not to push the issue. After a long pause, he spoke again. "You said something earlier. That you weren''t the Philippines anymore. That Overwatch isn''t a nation." Thomas nodded. "Because we''re not." "Then what are you?" Thomas looked out the window one last time. "Insurance," he said. And that was that. November 15, 2025 ¡ª 6:02 PM Command Bunker, Central Meeting Room The leadership council had reassembled. The mood this time was slightly less tense, but no less focused. The maps were still laid out. The portable radio still crackled faintly in the corner, picking up only static. Thomas stood this time, both hands resting on the edge of the table. "I appreciate the hospitality," he said, addressing the room. "And the honesty. This wasn''t just about reconnaissance for us. This was about contact. Trust. And after what I''ve seen today, I''m confident we can move forward together." Nishimura nodded. "You mentioned drone relays. Communication support." "Yes," Thomas said. "Our drones. They can deploy low-band repeaters and persistent observation towers. We can install one on your ridgeline and uplink it to our relay system when we return." Morita leaned forward. "How soon?" "We''ll need prep time," Thomas replied. "I want to ensure the equipment is hardened for the climate here. That means calibrating against your wind data, terrain layouts, signal obstructions. We''ve never operated in these mountains before." Kobayashi asked, "And how long will that take?" Thomas looked around the room. "I''ll return in a month." There were murmurs. Takeda frowned slightly. "A month?" Sato echoed. "Isn''t that a bit long?" "We''re stretched thin," Thomas said. "We''re pushing expansion in multiple directions. Rebuilding radar networks in Luzon. Clearing corridor zones near Pampanga. I can''t commit resources I don''t have. But I can promise that when I come back, we''ll bring everything we need to establish stable, long-range contact." Reyes added, "And after that, we can start sharing more than just data. Fuel, equipment, maybe even medical supply drops." Nishimura looked to the rest of the council, then finally nodded. "You''ll have our cooperation." Thomas inclined his head. "Thank you." Takeda stepped forward, arms crossed. "We''ll hold position here. But if your promise holds, we''ll be ready when you return." "It will hold," Thomas said firmly. He stepped back from the table. "I came here for a signal. I leave with allies." Hiroshi stood and walked over to him, offering a hand. "Then we''ll keep the fires lit." Thomas took the hand and shook it. "And we''ll keep the sky open." November 15, 2025 ¡ª 7:03 PM Outside the Enclave ¨C Landing Pad The sun had fully set. The Stratotanker sat prepped and waiting, its beacon lights casting a glow over the makeshift tarmac. Snow drifted lightly across the ridgeline as Thomas and Reyes boarded, escorted by Takeda and two guards. At the bottom of the ramp, Takeda stopped him. "One month," he said. "We''ll be here." Thomas nodded. "And so will we." With that, he turned and ascended the ramp, Reyes following behind. The hatch sealed shut with a soft hiss. Inside, the lights warmed, systems coming online. Thomas sat in the pilot''s seat, slipping the headset into place. Reyes moved to the co-pilot station, running diagnostics. "You think they bought the story?" she asked, without looking up. Thomas didn''t answer right away. He adjusted the throttle. "They don''t have to believe it. They just have to believe in us." And with that, Valkyrie One lifted off into the night sky, fading into the black above the mountains¡ªon its way back home. Chapter 208: Returning to the Philippines November 16, 2025 ¡ª 2:02 PM Above Metro Manila ¨C Valkyrie One The Stratotanker cut through the clouds with a steady hum, descending toward the Manila Bay coastline. Its landing gear deployed with a mechanical hiss as the sunlight bounced off the ocean below. From the cockpit, Thomas Estaris saw the familiar sprawl of Metro Manila, much of it still in ruins¡ªcollapsed buildings, overgrown roads, and distant Bloom Zones marked with scorched perimeters. But as the aircraft angled eastward, a different sight greeted them. The MOA Complex¡ªOverwatch Base of Operations¡ªstood like a fortress on the bay. Antenna towers, solar panel fields, elevated gun nests, and layered barriers formed a secure perimeter that had held for over a year. Drones hovered in lazy loops above the rooftops. Vehicles moved in orderly rows near the tarmac. It was organized. Alive. And most importantly¡ªtheirs. "Visual on Complex confirmed," Madel said from the co-pilot seat, tapping a few icons on her console. "Tower has us cleared for runway two. Wind south by southwest." "Take us in," Thomas said. The Stratotanker leveled out and began its final approach. Below, Overwatch ground crews waited near the landing zone. A team of soldiers in black field gear stood near a command JLTV, their rifles slung, watching as the bird came in. Valkyrie One''s wheels touched down with a thud, followed by the hiss of compressed air and the loud roar of engines decelerating. The tanker rolled along the foamcrete surface, coming to a smooth stop beside the forward hangar. As the engines powered down, Thomas removed his headset and stood. "Let''s move. I want Marcus debriefed within the hour." Madel nodded, already collecting the data logs from her side console. "Welcome home, sir." Thomas didn''t respond. He was already heading for the hatch. 2:17 PM ¡ª MOA Complex, Command Deck The air outside was warmer than in Japan¡ªhumid and thick. A faint scent of sea salt and grease hung over the motor pool as Thomas stepped off the ramp and into the Philippine sun. Soldiers saluted as he passed, but he waved it off. He wasn''t here for ceremony. He crossed the tarmac quickly, boarded the JLTV which would take him to the Conrad tower. He walked towards the elevator and rode it up to the central command deck. The walk from the elevator to the briefing room was lined with glass panels that overlooked the bustling core of Overwatch operations. Staff moved between terminals. Monitors tracked Bloom movement. Drones fed in live video from provinces hundreds of kilometers away. It was efficient. And Marcus, as always, was already inside¡ªwaiting. 2:24 PM ¡ª MOA Complex, Strategic Operations Room The doors hissed open and Thomas stepped in. Marcus¡ªhis Deputy Chief of Staff¡ªwas standing near the operations table, flipping through a series of printed reports. He turned as soon as Thomas entered. "You made good time," Marcus said. "We picked you up the second you hit Luzon''s airspace. How was Japan?" Thomas unstrapped his field vest and set it on a side rack. "Complicated." Marcus raised an eyebrow but didn''t interrupt. He just waited. Thomas walked over and stood at the edge of the table. "They''re alive. That enclave Takeda led us to¡ªthey''ve been holding out for over a year. Mountain bunker. JSDF remnants. No central command. No active government. Just a network of soldiers and civilians surviving in isolation." Marcus nodded slowly. "No politicians?" Thomas shook his head. "None. Their Prime Minister was killed during the fall of Sapporo. The last broadcast from their national government came from a ship off the east coast. It went dark nine months ago." Marcus grimaced. "So they''re in the same boat." "Worse," Thomas said. "Their cities didn''t just fall. They were flattened. Scorched. Tokyo is ash. Osaka is cratered. Most major prefectures are either overrun or abandoned. It''s complete anarchy. They''ve got scattered enclaves, small pockets of control, but nothing coordinated." Marcus leaned on the edge of the table. "Did they know about us?" "No. No radio contact. No aerial surveillance. They assumed the rest of the world was gone." Marcus paused, then folded his arms. "And now?" "Now they know better," Thomas said. "I offered them a relay link. Data sharing. Air recon support. They accepted. We''re returning in one month with a drone package and a deployment team. They''ll feed us terrain data, we''ll feed them Bloom tracking and intelligence." Marcus studied him for a long second. "Did they ask how we got all this?" "They did." "And?" "I told them we salvaged it," Thomas replied evenly. Marcus gave a slow, careful nod. "Not wrong. Just not complete." "Close enough." There was a brief silence. Outside the glass wall, a team of engineers moved across the southern deck, assembling what looked like a drone launcher. Marcus watched them for a moment before speaking again. "What''s your take on the Japanese enclave? Will they hold out?" Thomas thought for a second. "They''re disciplined. Running low on tech, but high on morale. It''s not some ragtag survivor camp¡ªthey still run drills. Still manage supplies. If we can give them recon support and stable comms, they could start reaching other enclaves across Honshu." "Another node," Marcus said. "Exactly." Marcus pushed a data pad across the table. "While you were gone, we had four Bloom emergence reports¡ªtwo in Tarlac, one in Batangas, and one near Nueva Ecija. Shadow Teams neutralized all four, no casualties." Thomas scanned the log. "Frequency''s rising again." "Summer weather''s drawing them out. We''re deploying more ground sensors this week." Thomas handed the pad back. "Schedule additional training for the new recruits. We''ll need a detachment ready to support the Japan mission." Marcus looked up. "You planning on bringing more than comm gear next time?" "If they''re stable, yes," Thomas said. "Maybe help them secure another base. But I want to observe their situation first. No promises." Marcus nodded again, then leaned forward. "Can we trust them?" Thomas didn''t hesitate. "Yes." There was no ceremony. No flag exchange. Just cold numbers and shared survival. And sometimes, that was enough. Marcus reached for his clipboard. "I''ll start drawing up the logistics manifest for the return trip. Any special requests?" "Three heavy drone carriers. One relay hub with solar expansion. And a full weather-hardened antenna kit." "Got it." Thomas turned to leave, but Marcus called after him. "One more thing. The team here... they''re asking questions." Thomas paused at the door. Marcus shrugged. "They saw jets and our new The gear we''re running. People are wondering where it''s all coming from." Thomas didn''t turn around. "Let them wonder." And with that, he left the room. 3:12 PM ¡ª MOA Complex, Rooftop Walkway The wind picked up slightly as Thomas stepped onto the rooftop catwalk that overlooked the base. Valkyrie One stood at rest on the landing pad below, engines cold, its surface glinting under the late afternoon sun. Down below, life moved on. Troops trained. Civilians loaded crates. Technicians adjusted drone mounts. Overwatch wasn''t just surviving. It was growing. But Thomas knew what came next would be harder. Connection. Expansion. Integration. He reached for his wrist console and opened a fresh folder: "JAPAN OPS ¨C PHASE II" Deployment date: December 15, 2025 Status: In planning He closed it. Then turned to walk back inside. There was still much to do. Chapter 209: Transport Issue November 17, 2025 ¡ª 11:36 AM MOA Complex ¨C Operations Deck The base was alive with movement. Crates were being cataloged, drone frames inspected, and packing manifests drafted. A dozen Overwatch personnel bustled across the tarmac and into the adjacent loading depot, working efficiently. Everything was being prepped for the second Japan mission. The return trip would involve more than just Thomas and a Stratotanker. This time, they''d be bringing gear. A lot of it. From the command balcony overlooking the operations deck, Thomas Estaris leaned against the railing, arms crossed, watching it all unfold. His thoughts weren''t on the drone crates, or the relay towers, or the modular shelters being pulled from storage. They were on something bigger¡ªhow to get all this across the ocean. Valkyrie One was good. Reliable. The Stratotanker had the range, the fuel capacity, and the endurance. But it wasn''t made to carry a full forward operations package. Not drones. Not antenna arrays. Not eight tons of comms and hardened electronics. He needed something else. Something with real lift. Something with a spine. A name came to mind¡ªone he had stared at several times over the past few months but never dared pull the trigger on. C-17 Globemaster III. A beast of the sky. Heavy-lift, long-range, battlefield-grade transport aircraft. Capable of carrying up to 77 tons of cargo. Used by air forces worldwide before the Collapse. Versatile. Durable. Designed to land on rough strips and fly through low-level radar environments. And more importantly, capable of moving an entire forward support package to the Japanese highlands in one go. The only problem was the price. He brought up the interface privately in his mind. C-17 Globemaster III Status: Available Cost: 800,000 Blood Coins Cargo capacity: 77,000 kg Range (loaded): 4,400 km Crew: 3 minimum (pilot, copilot, loadmaster) Requirements: One widebody-capable summoning zone Summon Time: 12 seconds Recommended: Enclosed hangar or runway Thomas exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes still fixed on the tarmac below. He weighed the cost in his head. The Blood Coin reserves were infinite at this point as they would do sorties to exterminate Bloom Nest, destroy congregations of zombies, basically, every extermination mission that would keep his bank gaining blood coins. One C-17 would eliminate the need for staggered flights. It would let him haul the full Phase II package in a single mission. And once Japan was connected, it would serve as a persistent long-haul transport for future recon bases. Thomas''s hand hovered over the invisible interface. Then he pressed it. Confirm Purchase ¨C C-17 Globemaster III Confirmed. The blueprint details vanished. The aircraft was now in his summon queue. But he didn''t summon it yet. He had no intention of dropping an eight-story-high monster onto a live base at midday. He would wait. Wait until the sun was down. Wait until the yard was clear. And then... it would arrive. November 17, 2025 ¡ª 10:29 PM MOA Complex ¨C Maintenance Hangar 4 The sky outside was moonless. Just a blanket of clouds drifting over Manila Bay and the dim flicker of solar floodlights humming across the complex. Most of the personnel had retired for the night. A few guards stood patrol. The rooftop recon teams were on standby rotation. But the hangars? They were empty. Specifically, Hangar 4¡ªone of the larger maintenance bays cleared during the last equipment reshuffle. The space was big enough to hold multiple supply trucks or even a gunship. Tonight, it held nothing. And that made it perfect. Thomas stood in the middle of the hangar, alone. The doors were sealed. No cameras pointed inward. No active comms. He looked up at the high, arched ceiling. "Let''s do this." He triggered the summon. A magic circle appeared before him. And then, without ceremony, the C-17 Globemaster was there. Materialized out of thin air like it had always existed. It filled the hangar with its massive form¡ªgray body, swept-back wings, twin vertical stabilizers, and a wide loading ramp. Its tail nearly brushed the reinforced roof. The lights along its undercarriage blinked into life, humming low as systems came online. Thomas stepped back to take it all in. The aircraft was pristine. Not a scratch on its hull. The engines were cold, but ready. The cockpit windows gleamed under the overhead lights. The landing gear sat flush against the deck. It was real. It was his. And it was ready. He circled the fuselage, checking the side hatches, the auxiliary compartments, and the rear loading ramp. Everything was locked. Functional. Authentic to the last rivet. He reached the crew ladder near the cockpit and climbed. Inside, the pilot''s seat greeted him like an old friend. He ran his hand over the throttle quadrant, then powered on the internal systems. A soft hum vibrated through the cabin as the avionics came online¡ªaltimeters, radar, digital diagnostics. The plane ran a self-check. All systems: Green. He didn''t need to test the engines tonight. That would come later¡ªonly when they were ready to depart. He sat back in the seat for a moment, letting the silence settle. Everything was aligning. The Japanese connection. The equipment prep. Now the transport solution. They had built something out of nothing. And it was starting to move. November 18, 2025 ¡ª 12:12 AM MOA Complex ¨C Inner Hallway, Restricted Sector Thomas exited the hangar quietly. No one had seen the summon. No one needed to. In the logs, Hangar 4 would remain listed as "equipment staging," just like it had been the last few days. As he walked down the corridor, his boots echoing faintly, his mind was already working through the logistics. He would assign Marcus to oversee the C-17''s loading over the next week. They would prepare four modular relay towers, six autonomous drones, three weeks of fuel, and basic survival kits. Enough to make Phase II self-sufficient. And on December 15, just before dawn... They would take off. Back across the sea. Back to the Japanese mountains. And this time, they wouldn''t just be arriving with words. They''d be arriving with a bang. Chapter 210: Loadmaster Briefing November 18, 2025 ¡ª 8:04 AM MOA Complex ¨C Command Deck, Briefing Room B The hum of the base''s morning operations carried faintly through the walls. Outside, the hangar crew had already begun their rotation, shuffling supply pallets, refueling ground vehicles, and prepping drone batteries. Inside Briefing Room B¡ªone of the smaller but secure rooms adjacent to the command floor¡ªThomas Estaris stood at the head of the table with a thick tablet in his left hand and a thermos of black coffee in his right. He glanced toward the door just as Marcus, his Deputy Chief of Staff, stepped in. Two other key personnel followed: Chief Warrant Officer Lina Ortega, the Logistics Quartermaster, and Lieutenant Enzo Ramirez, their primary airfield controller. "Morning," Marcus said, setting down his own pad. "What''s this about? Madel said you pulled a second hangar offline." Thomas set the thermos down and tapped the screen. The wall display blinked on, revealing a profile image of the C-17 Globemaster III. Fully modeled, complete with weight distribution readouts, cargo bay specs, and maintenance tolerances. Ortega blinked. "Wait... that''s not from our inventory." "It is now," Thomas replied. Marcus furrowed his brow. "You bought a Globemaster?" Thomas nodded. "Last night. It''s real. Parked inside Hangar 4 right now." "Since when do we have Globemasters available in inventory?" Ramirez asked, leaning forward. "You''re asking the wrong question," Thomas said, tapping the screen to bring up a logistics chart. "The question is how we''re going to load it." The room quieted. Then Marcus slowly leaned forward on his elbows. "You planning on flying that to Japan?" "That''s right. The Stratotanker won''t cut it for Phase II. We''ve got six drone relays, modular comms towers, medical gear, weather antennae, and base starter packs. We need heavy lift. This gets it all there in one run." Ortega whistled softly. "What''s the payload limit?" "Seventy-seven thousand kilograms. That''s almost four times what Valkyrie One can manage." Ramirez was still blinking at the display. "And where did you...?" Thomas cut him off. "Doesn''t matter. What matters now is that we''ve got five weeks to get that plane ready to fly¡ªwith a full loadout¡ªand keep it quiet until we''re ready to move." Marcus exhaled. "Alright. Walk us through it." Thomas tapped again. A new screen displayed a manifest breakdown. C-17 Phase II Deployment Loadout Proposal 6x Solar Drone Relay Towers (9,000 kg) 3x Portable Communications Rigs (5,000 kg) 1x Mobile Relay Command Shelter (3,500 kg) 4x Power Conversion Units (2,000 kg) 12x Weather-Resistant Drone Packs (4,200 kg) 8x Reinforced Crate Pallets (general supplies ¨C 8,000 kg) 20x Portable Rations Crates (6,000 kg) 4x Fuel Bladder Pods (Jet A-1 ¨C 12,000 kg) Reserve space: Personnel seating + Survival equipment "Total target weight: 49,700 kilos," Thomas said. "Gives us a margin for additional gear, maybe some reserve weapons and emergency supplies." Marcus studied it. "That''s a lot of fuel. You planning on giving them reserves?" "Not just for them. For the flight home too. We can''t rely on refueling options once we land." Ortega raised a hand. "Do we have the loading gear?" "Negative," Thomas said. "We''ll use the tail ramp. But we''ll need to retrofit two of the cargo sleds and reinforce the hangar floor plating. Which is why I''m calling this meeting now." Ramirez tapped on his own pad. "We''ll need a skeleton crew to start loading under cover. Nothing gets logged digitally. I can lock out the cameras in Hangar 4." "Do it," Thomas said. "And I want your most trusted loaders. No whispers, no leaks." Marcus leaned back in his chair. "So you''re not publicizing this?" "Not yet." "Why?" "Because I don''t want to explain where it came from." That hung in the air for a moment. But everyone in the room understood. Thomas didn''t elaborate further. Ortega sat forward. "I''ll need at least three days to start prepping the load. I''ll reassign staff from the southern depot." "Do it," Thomas said. "And start calibrating the weight distribution. This bird isn''t just going to take off, it''s going to land in a forested mountain region." Marcus asked, "And who''s flying it?" Thomas didn''t hesitate. "Me. Madel. And Sergeant Li as loadmaster. All three of us are already qualified. We''ll do a test taxi run by the end of next week." Ramirez nodded. "We''ll prep runway 1. I''ll make sure the northern guards aren''t on shift when we roll it out." Thomas turned toward the entire group. "We don''t talk about this plane outside this room. Not until it''s loaded, fueled, and ready for takeoff. When the time comes, we move at night. Silent. Fast." The team nodded. Then Marcus gave a small smirk. "I gotta ask though... how the hell did you get a Globemaster?" Thomas gave a flat look. "Same way I got the AC-130." Ortega chuckled. "You found it in a cave, right?" Thomas didn''t answer. But the silence said enough. 9:16 AM ¨C MOA Complex, Hangar 4 (Exterior) After the briefing, Marcus walked beside Thomas as they crossed the tarmac toward Hangar 4. The sun was higher now, casting a glare across the concrete and glinting off the windshields of parked JLTVs. "No one''s seen it yet?" Marcus asked. "No," Thomas replied. "The hangar''s sealed. Night patrols are under strict orders not to open the doors." Marcus frowned. "What happens when someone eventually does ask where it came from?" Thomas slowed. "They''ll ask. Eventually." "And?" Thomas stopped and looked at him. "By then, it won''t matter." He keyed open the side entrance to Hangar 4. Inside, the C-17 sat in the shadows, its presence looming like a sleeping giant. Marcus whistled. "Well... I''ll be damned." Thomas walked toward the nose, placing a hand gently on the metal. "This is how we move the future," he said. "Quietly. Deliberately. With force, when needed." He turned to Marcus. "Get the loaders started tomorrow night. First crate rolls in at 2300." Marcus nodded. They both stared at the aircraft for a while longer, then stepped back into the light. There were five weeks left. And now they had the wings. Chapter 211: Lets Load This MF November 19, 2025 ¡ª 11:38 PMMOA Complex ¨C Hangar 4 The hangar was dark, lit only by soft red work lights clipped along the walls. Their glow cast long shadows across the floor, bathing the massive gray frame of the C-17 Globemaster III in a muted hue. Engines cold, wings still, the aircraft waited like a beast in slumber¡ªtoo large to ignore, too quiet to announce itself. At the side entrance, the heavy steel door opened with a hydraulic hiss. Marcus stepped in first, followed by Chief Warrant Officer Ortega and a four-man loading crew handpicked from the Quartermaster division. All of them wore plain gear¡ªno identifiers, no name tags. Just black fatigues, work gloves, and headsets on a secure comm loop. No one spoke. They had their orders. Behind them rolled in the first two supply sleds¡ªheavy steel carts loaded with reinforced crates. Ortega tapped her tablet, checking the manifest as she walked briskly beside the pallets. "Payload one: four relay towers, broken into modular frame packs. One-point-eight tons total," she muttered. "Secure to port wall, row two." Two loaders moved to the C-17''s rear ramp and activated the hydraulic lift. The ramp hissed as it lowered to the floor. Ortega looked at Marcus. "Once this goes in, there''s no hiding it anymore." "We''re not hiding it," Marcus said flatly. "We''re moving quiet. There''s a difference." One by one, the sleds were wheeled up the ramp and into the aircraft''s belly. The interior lights of the C-17 came to life in a soft blue, illuminating the cavernous cargo bay. Tie-down points lined the deck. The overhead straps hung neatly from support beams. Everything was ready. As the first crates were bolted in place, Ortega gestured to the loadmaster on her crew. "Double-check balance. I don''t want this thing yawing left when we''re two hundred kilometers off the Luzon coast." The crew responded with nods and clipped radio confirmations. Marcus crossed his arms as he watched it all move like clockwork. "How long until the full set is secured?" "Three nights," Ortega said. "We''ll roll in new sleds every night at 2300 and have the bay cleared before sunrise. By next week, this bird will be carrying the backbone of a remote command network." Marcus looked around, then back at the towering shadow of the aircraft. "She''s the biggest thing we''ve ever flown." Ortega gave a half-smile. "Biggest thing we''ve ever summoned." November 20, 2025 ¡ª 11:52 PMHangar 4, Night Two The second night brought heavier equipment¡ªsolar-tuned fuel pods, autonomous drone crates, and emergency rations sealed in long-term storage barrels. The loaders worked in silence. One by one, the containers were moved up the ramp and slotted into the cargo hold. Ortega stood beside the cargo netting, checking the ballast figures. "We''re within weight tolerance," she said into her headset. "Stabilizers don''t need adjustment." From the side of the bay, Sergeant Li emerged, his hands behind his back. A veteran of the Stratotanker crew, Li had now been reassigned as the mission loadmaster for the Japan flight. "Balance feels good," he said, giving the loaded sidewalls a once-over. "Tail section''s clean. Emergency gear''s next, then we begin the sensor crates." Marcus arrived ten minutes later with Thomas in tow. The moment Thomas entered, all work stopped for a second. He raised a hand. "Carry on." Then he moved up the ramp and inside the C-17. He paced slowly along the hold, observing the tied-down equipment, noting the precision of every lock, strap, and secured hook. Nothing rattled. Nothing loose. He looked at Ortega. "Good work." She gave a curt nod. "By the end of night three, we''ll be ready to fly." Thomas turned to Li. "You have flight experience with the C-17 profile?" Li nodded once. "Simulator-trained. Transitioned from C-130 two years before the outbreak. I''ve flown heavy-lift operations in flood zones and contested airfields. This aircraft is a dream compared to what we used to get." Thomas smiled faintly. "You''ll be in the seat behind me when we lift off. Make sure the crew knows you''re calling the loading orders until we hit Japanese airspace." "Understood." He walked back toward Marcus. "Anyone asking questions yet?" "Not yet. The ops team thinks we''re staging a mock deployment for internal drills. The night cycle helps. No one''s seeing the crates roll in." Thomas nodded. "Keep it that way." November 21, 2025 ¡ª 11:43 PMMOA Complex ¨C Logistics Control, Upper Level The third night was the heaviest lift yet. Three modular command tents, fuel reserves, and two auxiliary comms towers¡ªall fitted and secured before sunrise. Inside the adjacent logistics control room, Thomas and Marcus stood beside the viewing window, watching the final sled roll into the hangar. Below them, the full silhouette of the Globemaster was now covered in strategic markings and placeholder mission flags¡ªjust generic Overwatch emblems. No insignia. No identifiers. Clean and neutral. Marcus turned. "Do you want to go public with this bird before the mission?" Thomas shook his head. "No point. This isn''t about appearances. The people don''t need to know what we''re flying over the sea. They just need to know the mission succeeded." He took a deep breath. "One more week of prep. Then the crew boards. Then we go." Marcus watched him for a moment. "You really believe Japan will link up with us long-term?" Thomas didn''t answer immediately. Then: "They''re soldiers. Like us. They''ve lost everything. But they haven''t lost their will to hold ground. That''s enough for now." Marcus looked back at the massive cargo hold below them, where Ortega and her crew locked down the last pallet for the night. "It''s gonna be one hell of a flight." Thomas turned and walked toward the door. "That''s why we''re flying it. After all...it is calling me like I am destined to fly it. You know the moment I flew aircrafts that I summoned the more I want to fo fly." "Is that so sir?" "Yes it is. And I can''t wait to fly it." Chapter 212: They Are Going to Bring What? November 22, 2025 ¡ª 4:18 PM Japanese Self-Defense Forces Enclave ¨C Mountain Command Bunker The mountain air outside was crisp, a little drier than usual. Clouds hung low over the ridge, casting long shadows over the pine forests surrounding the enclave. Inside the reinforced command bunker, a meeting had just concluded. Captain Hiroshi was finishing a routine supply update, while Warrant Officer Nishimura was reorganizing the patrol charts on the magnetic wall board. Sergeant Sato sat reviewing field reports with Ensign Morita. Nearby, Chief Kobayashi scrolled through a hardcopy civilian census, checking rations against updated headcounts. Lieutenant Takeda entered the room briskly, a sealed folder tucked under one arm. "Message from Overwatch," he said, holding it up. That got everyone''s attention. Hiroshi turned. "Already?" Takeda nodded and handed him the envelope. "Just received via burst packet. They attached an encryption key we already had from last week''s relay test." "Anything on the relay uptime?" "Operational. Stable ping across three nodes. It''s officially linked." Morita looked up from her station. "Then we''re fully connected?" "As of an hour ago," Takeda said. "They pushed this message right after." Hiroshi broke the seal and opened the folder. Inside were printed flight plans, weather projections, cargo breakdowns, and one short cover letter, typed in flawless Japanese. He scanned it silently. Then again, slower. When he was done, he placed the paper on the table and looked around. "...They''re not sending a Stratotanker this time." Sato raised an eyebrow. "Then what are they sending?" Hiroshi tapped the top page with his knuckle. "A C-17 Globemaster." The room went still. Kobayashi blinked. "Come again?" "A Globemaster," Hiroshi repeated. "As in the heavy-lift transport. Four engines. U.S. Air Force-grade. Capable of hauling tanks." Morita leaned forward. "That''s not even... That''s not something you just fly around. You don''t just keep one of those in a garage." Nishimura stepped closer to the table and pulled the flight manifest toward him. He flipped through the pages¡ªfuel loads, altitudes, landing vector approximations, cargo balance spreadsheets, and equipment codes he hadn''t seen since before the outbreak. "This can''t be real," he muttered. "Even major air forces were struggling to keep these operational before things fell apart." "Where would they even find one?" Sato asked. "That plane''s not civilian. It''s not a cargo freighter. It''s military hardware." Takeda remained silent for a moment, then said quietly, "Thomas did say Overwatch had been... creative with its recovery efforts." "Creative?" Nishimura scoffed. "That''s not creative. That''s absurd." Morita chimed in, "If they really have a Globemaster, and they''re landing it here¡ªthat''s not a survivor camp. That''s an air force." Hiroshi stayed quiet. He flipped another page and read aloud. "Estimated Arrival: December 15th, 0400 hours local time. Cargo includes communications towers, solar relay gear, emergency supplies, reserve fuel, and autonomous recon drones." Sato scratched his chin. "And they''re landing it here?" Takeda nodded. "That''s what it says. Right on our plateau." Nishimura shook his head. "That strip was made for supply helicopters and tiltrotors. Barely enough clearance for an C-130, much less a Globemaster." "They''re bringing their own ground crew," Takeda replied. "They said they''ll do a soft approach. They''ve already modeled the terrain." Hiroshi leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "You''re all missing the real point." Everyone looked at him. "This is bigger than just a delivery." Kobayashi frowned. "How so?" Hiroshi gestured at the document. "No paramilitary group flies a Globemaster. No survivor network moves cargo at this scale. If Overwatch is fielding something like this, it means they''re more organized than we thought. More advanced. And far more dangerous¡ªif they wanted to be." The words settled into the room like the chill of early frost. Takeda broke the silence. "I don''t think they''re a threat. Thomas has had opportunities to show force. He didn''t. He brought supplies. Drones. Help." Nishimura crossed his arms. "I don''t doubt his intentions. But I''m concerned about the implications. We''re looking at someone with access to top-tier systems, multiple aircraft, and now this. He''s not just surviving. He''s building something." Morita hesitated. "You think they''re building a new state?" "No," Hiroshi said calmly. "I think they''re building a new model¡ªone that doesn''t rely on governments. One that skips the politics." Sato nodded slowly. "That''s what he said, didn''t he? That the old nations are dead." "Yeah," Takeda muttered. "He meant it." Kobayashi stood from her seat. "Then the question is, where do we stand? Are we just a waypoint? A staging area? Or are we part of something larger?" For a moment, no one spoke. Then Hiroshi tapped the folder again. "If they''re willing to bring a Globemaster here, they''re not treating us like a project. They''re treating us like partners." Japanese Enclave ¨C Upper Plateau Landing Strip A thick fog hung over the mountains. Soldiers moved in small teams across the length of the dirt-and-gravel airstrip, measuring distances and marking hazard zones. Yellow flags were staked along both edges, and reflective panels had been added to guide incoming aircraft visually. At the end of the strip, Nishimura stood with a rangefinder, scanning the horizon. "This runway''s going to be tight," he muttered. Takeda stood beside him, holding a fresh mug of tea. "Thomas says his team''s already flown simulations. They''ll make it." "You sound confident." Takeda didn''t answer. Down the slope, engineers were reinforcing the loose dirt with foamcrete mixtures. It wasn''t ideal, but it would be enough for one landing. Maybe two. "If this works," Nishimura said, "we''re not just connecting to the outside world. We''re becoming a hub." Takeda took a slow sip. "Then we''d better act like one." November 23, 2025 ¡ª 8:00 AM Japanese Enclave ¨C Command Bunker The leadership council reconvened to finalize preparations. "The tower relays will require space and stable power," Morita reported. "We''ve identified two flat zones on the south ridge that can host antenna arrays. We''ll route solar panels through existing cabling from the old fuel depot." "The command tent module will go here," Sato said, pointing at a map. "Close to the bunker. Minimal exposure. Fast access." "We''ll shift food storage to the lower valley bunker," Kobayashi added. "Make room for the cargo crates they''re bringing in." Hiroshi closed the folder in front of him. "Then it''s settled. We prepare for their landing. And when they come¡ªwe welcome them not as guests, but as allies." No one objected. They were no longer waiting for rescue. They were building something new. Chapter 213: Flight Briefing November 24, 2025 ¡ª 7:10 PM MOA Complex ¨C Briefing Hall B The lights in the room hummed softly overhead. At the center stood a rectangular table surrounded by five Overwatch personnel. They were quiet, attentive, their black field uniforms unmarked except for role tags on the shoulder¡ªPilot, Co-Pilot, Loadmaster, Systems Tech, and Drone Ops. At the head of the room, Thomas Estaris stood with a tablet in hand, facing the team. Behind him, a screen displayed the silhouette of a C-17 Globemaster III, its broad wingspan stretched across the projection like a shadow over the world. Along the sides of the image were columns of specifications¡ªfuel capacity, operational range, payload volume. Technical data that, to the untrained, meant nothing. But to this team, it was the foundation of the mission ahead. Thomas didn''t raise his voice. He didn''t need to. They were already listening. "We depart in twenty days. Wheels up at zero-three-thirty, December fifteenth." He looked at each of them one by one. "Callsign will be Atlas One. Primary destination is a secure highland enclave in northern Japan. Approximate flight time: four hours and thirty minutes. One trip. No stops. We''re not hauling in drops¡ªwe''re hauling in infrastructure." He tapped the tablet once. The display behind him changed. Now the map of East Asia filled the screen, a red path arcing across the sea from Manila to a small plateau nestled among the mountains of Hokkaido. "You''ve all seen the terrain report. That ridge is short, uneven, and doesn''t meet any traditional airstrip standards. We''ll be bringing down a Globemaster on it anyway." He turned to Madel, seated second from the left. "You''ll be in the co-pilot seat. Your job is to manage descent telemetry and monitor lateral drift during final approach. If we''re off by more than ten meters on touchdown, we don''t land¡ªwe crash." Madel gave a crisp nod. "Understood." "Sergeant Li," Thomas continued, turning to the man beside her, "you''re loadmaster. We''re carrying close to fifty thousand kilograms of relay towers, hardened shelters, and recon kits. The landing must not shift a single crate. You will personally inspect every tie-down before we take off." Li responded without delay. "Affirmative." "Tech Operator Mira," Thomas said, looking next at the woman with short-cropped hair and a calm expression. "You''re handling flight systems mid-air. Power routing, diagnostics, and backup comms. If anything goes offline, you''ll know it first." "Yes, sir," she replied. Finally, Thomas turned to the last in the row. "Velez. You''ll be launching the primary drone the moment we land. You have ten minutes to deploy it and sync to the local comms relay. No wide-band pings until you confirm that ridge is secure." The drone operator gave a quiet "Copy." Thomas stepped away from the table and circled around to face the display again. "This mission is bigger than supplies. Bigger than recon. We''re about to create the first real cross-border Overwatch link. Until now, we''ve been isolated. We''ve had no confirmation that anyone outside the Philippines survived¡ªat least, not in a structured form. That ends with this mission." He tapped the screen again. The Globemaster image reappeared¡ªthis time surrounded by overlays of labeled crates, equipment manifests, and modular cargo bay sections. "You''re not just a flight crew. You''re the bridge. You''re bringing the systems that will let Japan link to us permanently. That includes three hardened drone relays, two modular antenna towers, solar grids, and twenty sealed supply packs for long-term fallback." He paused, letting the silence settle. "No one else in this world can do what we''re doing." He returned to his side of the table and picked up a thick folder. Inside were mission assignments, printed backups of the manifest, and sealed ID tags. He handed them out one by one. "This is your packet. Study it. Learn the cargo list. Know where every crate is positioned. If the situation on the ground changes, we may need to adjust drop procedures manually." Madel looked through her papers, flipping to the contingency landing page. "Site Bravo still good?" "It is," Thomas said. "If the main ridge is compromised, we fall back to Bravo¡ªtwo kilometers east, flatbed clearing near an abandoned radio tower. It''s tight and unconfirmed. If we have to go there, we dump the gear and evac immediately." Mira asked, "What about enemy presence?" "Low to none," Thomas said. "Japanese enclave confirmed no infected activity within thirty klicks. Still, once we land, engines stay warm. If something moves, we don''t play hero. We lift off." He looked at all five again. "You are not to split up once we''re on the ground. No side excursions. No venturing into the enclave without clearance. Madel and I will handle coordination with their leadership. Everyone else stays with the bird." There were no objections. Thomas continued. "There will be no escort aircraft. No backup. We''re flying solo." He tapped the screen one final time. The mission name appeared at the center: PHASE II: RISING ARC "If this works, we''ll establish a long-term foothold in Japan. From there, maybe Korea. Maybe Taiwan. This flight is the beginning of that chain. So don''t treat it like just another haul." He turned off the screen. "That''s all for now. Next engine test is in forty-eight hours. Madel, Li¡ªyou''ll join me for the simulator run tonight. Everyone else, review your packets and be at Hangar 4 by 0600 tomorrow for crate verification." The team stood and saluted in unison¡ªan Overwatch custom, not by tradition, but by protocol. No one spoke. They simply left the room with their assignments in hand. Only Marcus remained, watching from the side of the room. Thomas glanced at him. "Thoughts?" "They''re solid," Marcus said. "No doubts. But I noticed something." "What?" "You''re not delegating this one. You''re flying it yourself." Thomas nodded. "Because if we''re going to deliver a message to Japan, it has to come from the one who sent it." Marcus crossed his arms. "Then let''s make sure that plane lands. Let''s go!" Chapter 214: Whispers Engine November 26, 2025 ¡ª 4:42 AM MOA Complex ¨C Hangar 4 The air inside the hangar was cold and still. Only the soft hum of power tools and the occasional click of boots echoed through the vast space. Overhead lights glowed in dim red to avoid attracting attention from the outer watchtowers. At the center of it all sat the C-17 Globemaster III, silent, grounded, and fully loaded. The aircraft loomed in the dark like a sleeping beast. Its belly was full¡ªrelay towers, solar conversion kits, surveillance drones, and tactical supplies all secured and double-checked. But tonight wasn''t for cargo. Tonight was about the engines. Thomas Estaris stood just outside the side hatch in his black Overwatch flight uniform, visor clipped to his vest, headset hanging loosely around his neck. The control tablet in his hand displayed the four engine modules and their diagnostics¡ªcold, nominal, prepped. Beside him stood Madel, arms folded, her own headset already on. She wore a focused expression, eyes watching the hangar doors like they might burst open at any moment, even though they both knew the protocols were airtight. "Pre-flight complete," she said, glancing at her interface. "All systems green." Behind them, Sergeant Li and Tech Operator Mira were finalizing bay lock confirmations while Velez ran a silent checklist on the primary drone launch bracket inside the cargo hold. Thomas exhaled, then nodded. "Let''s bring her to life." They entered the cockpit. 4:55 AM ¨C C-17 Cockpit Inside, the cockpit was bathed in cool blue light from the powered displays. Rows of switches, levers, and status monitors hummed softly. Everything was clean. Ready. Thomas sat in the left seat, Madel on the right. Mira''s voice came through the comms from the systems bay. "Fuel lines connected. Auxiliary power online. External cooling pump set." Thomas flicked a toggle overhead. The engine control lights blinked to green. "Starting Engine One," he said calmly. A low whir began beneath them¡ªa slow buildup of power, then the deep, rising churn of turbofan ignition. The hangar vibrated gently as the first of four massive engines spun to life. "Engine One stable," Madel reported. "Thrust idle. Temp holding." "Starting Engine Two." The second engine came online faster, the two now harmonizing in a low, rumbling chorus. Outside the hangar, ground crews remained still. Ortega stood near the wall with a portable terminal, watching from the shadows. Only a handful of staff were even aware a plane was being powered, much less prepped to fly. "Engines Three and Four coming up." Thomas flipped the final pair of toggles. The aircraft shuddered slightly as all four engines reached synchronized idle. Inside the cockpit, the ambient noise was louder now¡ªno longer the silence of a sleeping giant, but the growl of a war machine that had awoken. "All engines stable," Madel confirmed. "No fuel pressure anomalies. Heat dispersion green." Thomas tapped the throttle slowly, inching it forward a centimeter. The Globemaster moved. Just a nudge. Enough to feel the wheels shift against the reinforced floor plates. Not enough to move far. Just enough to confirm: she was ready. "Run the taxi protocol," he ordered. Madel complied. "Tire pressure stable. Left gear showing minor bounce, within acceptable limits." "Forward sensor array?" "Operational." From the cargo hold, Li''s voice crackled in. "All cargo secure. Ramp sealed. No movement." Mira followed a beat later. "Power routing optimal. Flight control hydraulics reading 99% response." Thomas allowed himself a breath. "Alright. Taxi to Point Echo. Then full stop and shutdown." 5:06 AM ¨C MOA Runway Alpha, Echo Position The hangar doors had been opened just enough to allow the aircraft through¡ªwide enough to move, narrow enough not to catch attention from drones watching the outer perimeters. The C-17 emerged slowly, like a shadow rolling out into the early morning dark. Its lights were off. Only the faint strobe under its wing pulsed every few seconds. Ground teams cleared the taxi lane in total silence. Inside the cockpit, Thomas and Madel coordinated the move. "Left brake gentle," she said. "Copy. Rolling to Echo. Full stop in one hundred." As the massive aircraft crept forward, the tension in the air was palpable. If anyone outside the complex had satellite surveillance¡ªor an air-to-ground listener¡ªthis would be the moment to spot them. But they had planned for this. Pre-dawn. Weather interference. Radio silence. "Ten meters... five..." The plane slowed to a crawl. "Stop." Thomas eased the throttle down. The C-17 coasted to a complete halt at Point Echo, the designated shutdown zone for this test. The nose pointed east, directly aligned with the direction they would take on the real launch. "Engines idle," Madel confirmed. Thomas gave a final nod. "Shutdown sequence." One by one, the turbines spooled down. The roar faded to a growl, then to a low hum, then to nothing at all. And once again, silence returned. The aircraft sat there, a steel colossus under the fading stars. 5:24 AM ¨C C-17 Exterior, Runway Echo Outside, Ortega approached the left wing with her tablet. Her crew followed in silence, inspecting landing gear components and stress indicators. No cracks. No warping. No signs of strain on the repaved section of the runway. She walked up to Thomas and gave a simple nod. "She''s good." "Flight-grade?" he asked. "If you told me this came from Yokota last week, I''d believe you." He looked back at the plane. "Then it''s time." Madel joined them. "No leaks. No imbalance. If we needed to take off in ten minutes, I''d be confident." "We won''t need ten," Thomas said. "But we''ll be wheels up in twenty days. And when we do, everything rides on her." Marcus arrived moments later, flanked by two technicians. He glanced at the engine logs Madel handed him, then looked up at the aircraft. "So she flies." "She flies," Thomas confirmed. Marcus crossed his arms. "Still surreal. We''re in the middle of a world-ending crisis and somehow we''re flying missions that''d make pre-collapse air forces jealous." Thomas didn''t reply. He just watched the silent C-17 as the crew began rolling it back toward the hangar. They would keep it under wraps for another few weeks. But in the quiet, pre-dawn dark... They all knew. Something was coming. And now, they had the wings to carry it. Chapter 215: Final Preparations November 27, 2025 ¡ª 8:46 AM Northern Japan ¨C JSDF Enclave Ridge Airstrip The cold wind blew through the pine-covered ridgeline, sharp and biting as it slipped through the cracks in the hastily reinforced tents and concrete outposts surrounding the mountaintop. At the edge of the plateau, a stretch of hard-packed earth extended outward like a defiant scar¡ªthe airstrip. Still uneven in places, partially covered in makeshift mesh, and far from regulation, it was the best they had. And it would have to be enough. Sergeant Sato knelt beside one of the runway marker poles, hammering it deeper into the ground with a handheld mallet. The yellow fabric tied to the pole whipped violently in the wind. Behind him, a small group of workers¡ªJSDF holdouts and enclave volunteers alike¡ªwere spreading another layer of crushed gravel across the western edge of the strip. He stood, stretching his back as Warrant Officer Nishimura approached with a tablet. "They confirmed it?" Sato asked without turning. "Yeah," Nishimura said. "Overwatch sent the final signal last night. They''re locked in for December 15th, 0400 hours, our local time." Sato gave a soft whistle. "They''re really doing it." "They''re really bringing a Globemaster," Nishimura replied, still half in disbelief. Sato looked up toward the cloudy morning sky. "I''ve never seen one in person." "Neither have I," Nishimura admitted. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the volunteers struggle with an overloaded wheelbarrow as it slipped sideways into the gravel. "Think they''ll make it down in one piece?" Sato finally asked. "We''ve done what we can," Nishimura said. "Terrain''s stable. Wind forecast looks good. But this isn''t exactly a paved runway." Sato chuckled under his breath. "It''s a miracle we even have something to land on." 9:20 AM ¡ª Enclave Central Command Bunker The meeting room was warmer than the air outside, thanks to two electric heaters buzzing quietly in opposite corners. At the center table, Captain Hiroshi sat reviewing a printed copy of the landing schematic. Beside him were Chief Kobayashi, Lieutenant Takeda, and Ensign Morita. A radio scanner pulsed quietly in the background, cycling through empty frequencies. "This map was made for helicopters and tiltrotors," Hiroshi said, tapping the paper. "We''ve never had to plan for something with a 50-meter wingspan." "They said they''ve simulated the approach multiple times," Takeda replied. "They''ve even sent terrain data and altitude markers to their pilots." Kobayashi frowned. "How accurate is their simulation?" "Knowing Overwatch?" Hiroshi said, "Probably better than our live equipment." Morita leaned in. "What about the ground crew? Do they need assistance?" Takeda shook his head. "They''re flying with their own. Five-person flight team. They said they''ll handle the offload as well." "That includes the drone relays?" Kobayashi asked. "Yes." She took a breath. "Alright. Then we need to clear that south ridge for the antenna towers. And get the solar pallets unloaded the moment the ramp drops." Hiroshi stood. "We have less than three weeks. Let''s not waste a single day." 11:08 AM ¡ª South Ridge Plateau Takeda oversaw a small work crew clearing rocks and felling thin trees from the ridge. "Cut it flush," he instructed one man operating a compact electric saw. "We need as flat a surface as possible. That tower''s going to need balance." Off to the side, a woman in a torn JSDF jacket operated a gravel spreader over the soil. She wasn''t a soldier¡ªjust one of the civilian volunteers from the village ruins they''d recovered last spring. No training, no gear. Just grit. Another pair of crewmen stacked four solar panels in a sheltered corner, prepping a temporary mounting frame using rebar and scrap beams from an old transmission post. Takeda knelt down beside one of the relay foundation markers, pressing his hand to the dirt. It was still cold¡ªbut it held. If the terrain stayed dry, this would work. 12:40 PM ¡ª Ridge Supply Bunker Kobayashi moved through the cramped underground space with a clipboard in hand. Two soldiers were dragging sealed storage crates into position near the back wall. "Make sure the ones marked ''SURVIVAL'' are closest to the exit," she called out. "That''s emergency fallback gear. If we''re compromised, we''ll need it mobile." "Copy," one of the men said. Behind her, an older woman¡ªmid-fifties, gray hair pulled tight¡ªstood holding a small metal cylinder. "What''s this one?" the woman asked. Kobayashi checked her clipboard. "Oxygen scrubber. Air purification backup for the relay tent. Set it aside, it''s going up with the antenna." The woman nodded and walked off, cylinder in hand. Kobayashi paused. She looked around at the supply shelves, the bundled ration crates, the medical boxes packed into the corners. Every label, every box, every item¡ªthey were planning for a future again. And that hadn''t happened in years. 3:30 PM ¡ª Perimeter Outpost 2 Ensign Morita stood beside the spotting scope on the outpost roof, recording Bloom migration movement along the valley below. "Still no activity," she said into her recorder. "No thermal bursts. No large-scale movement. Ridgeline approach remains uncontested." The wind picked up. A gust of snow blew down the mountain pass, rattling the observation shutters. Behind her, a young soldier leaned against the doorway with a canteen. "They''re really coming, huh?" he asked. "Yeah," Morita said. "And they''re bringing gear?" "Gear. Drones. Towers. Food." The soldier smiled faintly. "Maybe even hope." Morita didn''t smile back. She kept watching the mountains. "Hope is what gets you killed," she said. Then, softer, "But maybe this time it won''t." 5:14 PM ¡ª JSDF Enclave, Command Bunker The leadership reconvened for the evening status update. Wind howled softly beyond the bunker walls. "The airstrip is 86% cleared," Nishimura reported. "Remaining gravel will be laid tomorrow. Sato''s crew is reinforcing the southern shoulder in case of wind shear." "Solar panel framework is being set tonight," Kobayashi added. "We''ve moved three pallets into forward staging." Hiroshi looked at Takeda. "Have they updated their approach vector?" Takeda nodded. "Yes. Final approach is eastern sweep, tight turn over the valley, straight onto the ridge. They want complete radio silence until touchdown. After that, they''ll activate short-range encrypted signals." "Good," Hiroshi said. "We don''t light a signal until they''re above us. We don''t take chances." Morita leaned forward. "And once they''re on the ground?" "Then we find out what Overwatch really is," Hiroshi said. "Not just from a message. But from their presence." A silence followed. Then, Kobayashi spoke quietly. "I still can''t believe it." Hiroshi didn''t answer. But in his heart, neither could he. Chapter 216: Atlas One December 15, 2025 ¡ª 02:48 AMMOA Complex ¨C Hangar 4 The MOA Complex was silent, cloaked in darkness. Most of the base slept, save for the scattered perimeter patrols and rotating rooftop snipers scanning the distant coastline for movement. But at Hangar 4, something massive stirred. The lights were off inside. Only the amber glow of the overhead hazard strips lit the hangar floor. At the center sat the C-17 Globemaster III¡ªdesignated for this mission as Atlas One. Fully loaded. Engines cold. Ramp closed. Standing just outside the lowered crew ladder was Thomas Estaris, dressed in full Overwatch flight gear. His helmet was clipped to his side, gloves already on. Beside him, Reyes checked over the last of her navigation data, flicking through the map tablet by the faint red light of her visor. "Final pre-flight status?" Thomas asked. "All green," she replied. "Fuel at 100%. Wind vectors are stable. No radio traffic. We''re clear all the way to Japan." "Good, I don''t want any mishaps during the flight." From the cargo side, Sergeant Li and Tech Mira secured the final crate straps with magnetic locks. Velez, the drone tech, moved into the crew seating module carrying a sealed black case that held the primary uplink drone. Everything was in place. Everything had been rehearsed. Thomas stepped back and looked at the aircraft. She was ready. "Load up," he said. 03:02 AM ¨C MOA Runway Alpha The hangar doors rolled open in near silence, revealing the dark runway lit only by faint taxi lights embedded into the concrete. The C-17 taxied out slowly, its wheels whispering across the hardened surface, guided by auxiliary ground lights and handheld signals from a stealth-marked Overwatch marshal. There were no sirens, no floodlights. Just calm, smooth motion. Inside the cockpit, Thomas took the left seat. Reyes was already running final checks. "Comms offline. Switching to beacon-only," she said. "Copy," Thomas replied. "Navigation locked. Slope factor confirmed. Engine sync green." "Throttle?" He slid it forward an inch. The engines came alive¡ªnot in a roar, but in a low, powerful hum that vibrated through the cabin. The Globemaster began its slow roll to the runway. Back in the hold, Li checked straps again and radioed forward. "Cargo secured. All systems nominal." "Confirmed," Thomas answered. "Mira, prep for initial sensor sweep." "Aye." "Velez?" "Drone ready for deployment," he said. "Powering containment lock." The runway loomed ahead. Reyes checked the time. "Zero-three-thirty." "Perfect." Thomas took a breath and eased the throttle forward. "Let''s go." 03:30 AM ¨C MOA Complex, Runway The C-17 Globemaster III accelerated with surprising smoothness for its size. The tires hissed. The wings flexed slightly under lift stress. The heavy airframe surged forward like a beast uncaged. "Throttle up," Thomas said. "Full burn," Reyes confirmed. Speed increased. Wind rushed against the fuselage. Inside the cargo hold, the gear didn''t rattle¡ªeverything was strapped and bolted. Li and Mira braced. "V1," Reyes called. "Rotate." Thomas pulled back on the yoke. The nose lifted. Wheels lifted. Ground fell away. And the Globemaster soared. "Gear up," he said. "Gear up," Reyes repeated, toggling the switch. They were airborne. And just like that, Overwatch was in the sky. 04:12 AM ¨C 9,800 meters above Luzon Strait The sea below was black and silent. The sky above cloudless. The moon shone over the C-17''s wings like a faint silver halo. Thomas kept one hand on the controls, the other resting beside the auto-stabilizer. "All systems holding," Reyes said. "Course stable. ETA to Japanese airspace in one hour and forty-seven minutes." "No signs of Bloom movement?" "None. We''re well outside tracked zones." He nodded. In the back, Mira monitored pressure gauges and flight temps, fingers moving across the touchscreen panel. "Engine readings normal. Hull pressure holding." Li added, "No vibration from the pallet mounts. She''s flying clean." Thomas looked out the side window. There was no traffic. No radio noise. Just sky and silence. "You ever think we''d be flying across an ocean again?" Reyes asked, voice softer. Thomas kept his gaze forward. "No. Not like this." 05:48 AM ¨C Nearing Japanese Airspace "Crossing into Hokkaido air corridor," Reyes said. "Time to drop to approach altitude." "Bring us down to five thousand," Thomas replied. The aircraft descended gradually. Clouds rushed past the cockpit windows. Frost kissed the edges of the canopy. Below, mountains stretched like frozen waves¡ªwhite, jagged, and endless. In the hold, Velez secured the drone launch panel. "Signal burst loaded. Drone set for activation on command." "Standby for touchdown," Thomas said over the comms. "Final check. Everyone strap in." One by one, they confirmed. "Cargo secure.""Diagnostics stable.""Drone locked." Reyes tapped her console. "Visual on the ridge. Beginning final vector." On the screen ahead, the Japanese mountain airstrip came into view¡ªa flat, narrow ridge marked by soft glows and small blinking beacons. Primitive, but present. Thomas adjusted their descent angle. "She''s narrow," Reyes muttered. "We''ll make it." The wind buffeted them lightly. Not enough to throw them off, but enough to remind them that this was no airbase. This was a mountainside. "Flaps down," Thomas said."Flaps set.""Gear down.""Gear deploying." The ridge loomed closer. Then¡ª "Touchdown." 06:01 AM ¨C JSDF Enclave Ridge Airstrip The C-17 Globemaster touched down hard, tires biting into the gravel-covered soil with a thump that echoed across the mountain. The airbrakes deployed. Dust shot up in long trails. The aircraft rumbled, slowed, then came to a full stop just a few meters from the edge of the strip. Inside the command bunker, Japanese officers scrambled to their feet. "They landed, they landed that big plane in our airstrip." Outside, soldiers ran from dugouts and observation posts toward the aircraft. It sat in the early dawn like a metal titan, its hull glinting silver under the rising sun. The rear ramp lowered. Steam hissed from the exhausts. And then Thomas Estaris stepped out onto foreign soil, flanked by Reyes and Li. The Japanese soldiers froze. He raised a hand in greeting. "Overwatch. We''re here." Chapter 217: Delivery December 15, 2025 ¡ª 06:07 AM JSDF Enclave ¨C Ridge Airstrip Steam still hissed from the undercarriage of the C-17 Globemaster III, fogging the chill mountain air as soldiers in worn JSDF uniforms circled the aircraft cautiously. Their boots crunched gravel and frost, eyes wide at the sight of the hulking machine that had somehow landed on their crude runway. It didn''t look like it belonged here. Not on this forgotten ridge. Not after everything the world had lost. Yet here it was. The engines wound down to a low hum before finally cutting off. The roar disappeared. Silence returned¡ªbut it wasn''t the same kind of silence. This one carried weight. The silence of realization. Of awe. Then, with a sharp hiss and mechanical groan, the rear ramp of the aircraft dropped. Out stepped Thomas Estaris, flanked by Reyes and Sergeant Li. Their boots thudded onto Japanese soil for the first time. Thomas didn''t speak. He simply walked forward with calm, purposeful steps. The JSDF leadership approached. Captain Hiroshi arrived first, coat flapping in the wind. He was flanked by Takeda, Nishimura, and Chief Kobayashi. None of them spoke until they stood a few feet away, eyes still scanning the massive transport behind Thomas. "You weren''t exaggerating," Hiroshi finally said. "You actually brought one." Thomas nodded once. "Atlas One, Overwatch designation. Fully operational. She held up fine." Kobayashi blinked. "We didn''t believe it. Even when we saw it coming in." "Didn''t expect you to," Thomas said plainly. "Belief is earned." Nishimura stepped forward, still visibly stunned. "That''s a Globemaster. It''s not just hardware. It''s a statement." "No," Thomas corrected. "It''s a beginning." Behind him, the bay crew was already at work. Mira and Velez rolled the first drone crate to the edge of the ramp while Li coordinated the offload sequence via wrist terminal. Thomas turned to Hiroshi. "Where''s your uplink point?" Takeda pointed toward a ridgeline about 150 meters east, where a cleared patch of earth stood bare, framed with rebar anchors and temporary scaffolding. "That''s your drone site," he said. Thomas nodded. "Let''s get it online." 06:30 AM ¨C Relay Ridge The terrain was cold, hard, and uneven, but it had just enough space to host a drone relay tower and control terminal. Velez knelt in the center of the space, pulling open the top of the black crate. Inside sat a sealed drone¡ªthe Overwatch Sparrow-Class Uplink Unit. Compact, matte-gray, with a folding solar panel on its back and four stubby legs for terrain balancing. He activated it with a coded thumbprint. The drone whirred softly, rising a few inches on self-stabilizing gyros before planting itself in the center of the ridge. Small anchors fired from its feet and dug into the ground, locking it in place. Velez tapped a sequence into his wrist terminal. "Drone online. Booting signal capture node." A soft blue glow flickered from the top of the drone. Mira stepped beside him with the secondary panel. "Signal integrity holding... syncing to Japanese relay format... done. Signal up." Below, inside the JSDF bunker, a comms officer jumped from his chair. "Sir, new node just lit up on Channel 5!" Morita leaned over his shoulder. "Trace it." "Origin is... the ridge. It''s ours." Kobayashi turned to Hiroshi. "They''ve done in ten minutes what we couldn''t manage in a month." 07:10 AM ¨C JSDF Command Bunker The briefing room was warmer now, the heaters running at full capacity to keep the cold mountain air at bay. Thomas stood at the same table he had sat at during his last visit¡ªthis time, not as a guest, but as the one delivering change. Beside him, Reyes and Mira remained quiet while the JSDF council reviewed the data Velez had just transmitted through the newly activated relay. "Live feed of our valley. Drone is fully autonomous," Takeda explained, showing the thermal scan to Kobayashi. "We can see Bloom signatures forming within thirty clicks¡ªmovement trends, swarm density, even sleep cycles." Hiroshi nodded. "And this feed is routed through their systems?" "For now, yes," Thomas said. "But we''ve pre-installed a terminal package. You can break connection if you ever need to. It''s yours." Nishimura leaned forward, arms crossed. "Why? Why give us all this without conditions?" Thomas looked at him. "Because you''re alive," he said simply. "And so are we." He gestured to the satellite scan on the table. "We can keep pretending we''re alone. That everyone else failed. That survival means hiding in a valley and waiting to die slower than everyone else. Or¡ªwe can make the map mean something again." Hiroshi didn''t smile. But he nodded. "I read your relay logs. You''ve got farming operations. Manufacturing nodes. Electricity." "Correct." "And now... aircraft." "Also correct." Kobayashi looked up from the screen. "You''re building something." "We are," Thomas said. "It''s not a government. It''s not a flag. It''s a network." He stepped forward and placed a small metal case on the table. Inside: four encrypted Overwatch relay keys. "You use those, and you''ll have secure comms with us anytime. If you lose the ridge, you break the keys. That''s your line. No strings." The room went quiet. Then Hiroshi spoke. "Fine. Let''s say we accept this. What happens next?" Thomas nodded. "Next is simple. You log Bloom migration data and share anything useful from patrols. We''ll do the same. In two months, we''ll rotate another drone set through here. You keep the equipment. We keep the connection." Nishimura raised an eyebrow. "And the plane?" Thomas smirked. "She flies home once we''re done offloading. You don''t have the fuel or the runway to house her permanently. But she''ll be back." Kobayashi studied him. "You really think something new can rise from all this?" "I don''t think," Thomas said. "I know. Because it already has." 08:00 AM ¨C Ridge Airstrip, Cargo Bay The last pallet rolled down the ramp¡ªfour crates of reinforced ration packs and a power converter module for the enclave''s failing battery station. Sergeant Li checked off the manifest one final time. "Full drop complete. All systems green." Velez stowed the drone controller into its padded case. Reyes approached Thomas at the foot of the ramp. "We''re ready when you are." Thomas looked over the ridge one more time¡ªthe soldiers clearing gravel, the teams connecting antenna wires, the bunker''s emergency light still flickering slightly in the snow-covered breeze. Then he turned to Hiroshi. "We''ll be wheels up in twenty. This ridge''ll be cold again by nightfall." Hiroshi gave a short nod. "And we''ll be watching the skies next time." "You won''t have to," Thomas replied. "Next time, we''ll call ahead." They shook hands. No signatures. No flags. Just an agreement among survivors. Then Thomas turned, boarded the C-17, and the ramp began to rise. As the engines roared back to life, the JSDF enclave stood quietly on the ridgeline, watching the steel bird prepare for takeoff. And for the first time in a long time, they felt like the world beyond their valley wasn''t gone. It was returning. Chapter 218: Sudden Attack December 15, 2025 ¡ª 09:23 AM En Route to Philippines ¨C 28,000 Feet Over East China Sea The C-17 Globemaster III soared high above the clouds, its four engines humming with steady purpose. The ridgelines of northern Japan had long faded behind them, swallowed by a blanket of fog and ocean haze. Below, endless blue stretched in all directions. No ships. No land. Only water, horizon to horizon. Inside the cockpit, Thomas Estaris sat in the left seat, visor half-lowered over his eyes as he reviewed the return telemetry on the navigation screen. They were cruising at altitude, halfway home. Madel, seated beside him, sipped from a thermos of hot water. Her eyes flicked across the control panel. "All systems nominal," she said, glancing at the digital fuel gauge. "Remaining flight time: two hours, twelve minutes." Thomas gave a tired nod. "Smooth ride so far." "Too smooth," she replied under her breath. In the cargo hold, Li, Mira, and Velez were seated in their restraints, discussing next steps once they returned to MOA Complex. The drop to Japan had gone perfectly. Relay was up. The ridge was operational. Everything had gone exactly according to plan. That should have been the first warning sign. Thomas leaned back and looked out the cockpit window. The sky was crystal clear¡ªjust light streaks of cirrus drifting overhead. The sea below glittered under the late-morning sun. No turbulence. No storm. Then the console beeped. "Altitude pressure fluctuation," Madel said, frowning. Thomas leaned forward. "Where?" She pointed at the HUD. "Rear-left pressure drop¡ªminimal, but sudden." "Cargo bay locked tight?" "It was." Thomas toggled the rear cam. The screen went static for a moment. Then¡ª "Wait," Madel whispered. There was... movement. High above, something passed the tail camera''s edge. Just a blur at first. And then the radar blinked. Unidentified airborne contact. Close proximity. Altitude matched. Speed¡ªaccelerating. "Shit," Thomas muttered, flicking the exterior sensors to thermal. A blotch of red appeared on the upper-left quadrant. Big. Too big. Madel stared at the screen. "That''s not a plane." "No," Thomas said grimly. "That''s a damn creature." Outside the glass, a shadow streaked past. It was massive. Wings like torn leather, wider than the C-17 itself. The shape of it was impossible to mistake¡ªa Bloom-mutated bird the size of a small jet, but its feathers had fused with bony armor. Its eyes glowed amber, intelligent and burning. Its talons could rip steel. Madel snapped her headset back on. "Everyone brace! Bird-class Bloom inbound!" In the hold, Li barely had time to shout before the creature made its pass. The sound was thunder. Not from the engines¡ªbut from the impact. The left wing jolted violently as the monster''s talons slammed into the trailing edge, shredding the flap. "Left wing damaged!" Madel shouted. "Losing lift!" Thomas yanked the control stick. "Countering with thrust!" The C-17 banked hard to the right, listing unevenly as the autopilot screamed and disengaged. The monster didn''t give them a moment to recover¡ªit came back around and slashed at the cockpit with its claws, cracking the upper right panel and rocking the nose. "We have to descend!" Madel shouted, punching emergency stabilization. "We''re not staying in the air with this thing chewing on us!" "No mayday," Thomas said sharply. "We''re over dead waters. No one''s listening." Another hit. This time it wasn''t claws¡ªit was its mass. The thing slammed its body onto the tail, crushing the rear fuselage. In the hold, Mira screamed as she was thrown against the wall. Velez hit the floor hard. Cargo straps snapped. A drone crate burst loose, rolling across the bay like a cannonball. "Hydraulics failing!" Li shouted. "We''re going down!" Inside the cockpit, alarms blared. Altitude dropped fast. "Prepare for ditching!" Thomas called over the crew comms. Madel looked at him. "We''re still too high." "We won''t be for long." Below them, the ocean rushed upward. Thomas gritted his teeth. "Full nose-up trim. We glide. We hit the water with the belly¡ªnot the cockpit." Madel nodded, strapping herself in tighter. In the back, Mira crawled to the crash harness. Velez was unconscious. Li held onto the straps, bracing. The monster circled one last time... and then it vanished. Not retreating. Just watching. Thomas didn''t care. They were too low to stay airborne. Engines sputtered. The C-17 descended like a wounded hawk. Then came the impact. CRASH The fuselage slammed into the ocean, the nose catching the first wave like a hammer to stone. The world jerked, the wings snapped sideways, and the cockpit windshield spidered with cracks. Water surged in from ruptures. The sound of ripping metal filled the air as the hull split behind the wing root. Darkness. Cold. Screaming metal. And then¡ªnothing. December 15, 2025 ¡ª 11:39 AM Somewhere in the East China Sea Salt. That was the first thing Thomas felt. His throat burned with it. His skin was soaked in it. His head throbbed, and his vision blurred as he blinked against the sun. He was floating, half-lashed to a seat cushion, adrift on a slab of aircraft fuselage. The remains of Atlas One were nowhere in sight¡ªonly pieces of her. Shattered plating. Scorched wires. A floating seat harness. A half-submerged drone casing. And then silence. No Velez. No Madel. No Li. They were gone. He coughed, rolled onto his back, and stared at the sky. It was the same sky they had flown through just hours earlier. Empty. Beautiful. And now completely indifferent. He was alone. Alive. But alone. Thomas clenched his jaw, blood trickling from his temple as he reached into the pocket of his torn vest. The waterproof terminal still flickered. One blinking light. Active Uplink: 1 bar Beacon Code: Standby He stared at it. Then pressed the emergency beacon. A small red dot blinked once. Then again. Then again. Then again. Somewhere, somehow, maybe someone would see it, his Overwatch team. But judging the distance between the MOA Complex and his position, they have no way of reaching him. For now, Thomas Estaris was a man adrift in the sea. No wings. No crew. Only a mission that still wasn''t done. Chapter 219: First Time Summoning a Naval Asset December 15, 2025 ¡ª 12:22 PM East China Sea ¡ª Open Ocean, Drifting The sun hung high above the rolling waves, white-hot against the slate-colored sky. The debris field from the C-17 had thinned now, scattered across kilometers of saltwater. Whatever hadn''t sunk was either drifting further away or bobbing aimlessly in the current. Thomas Estaris lay sprawled on a torn aluminum panel¡ªthe flattened belly skin of the Globemaster, barely floating. His body ached. Dried blood clung to his left temple. His right leg throbbed from the impact, but nothing felt broken. Not yet. The emergency beacon on his wrist-mounted device continued to blink. Still no signal lock. Still no one coming. He gritted his teeth and sat up, squinting against the glare of sunlight bouncing off the water. In the distance¡ªnothing. No ships. No birds. No land. Just the hiss of the wind and the roll of endless sea. He had maybe a few hours before dehydration set in properly. A few more before the elements claimed him. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, sat cross-legged on the panel, and reached into his vest for the system interface key. He hadn''t intended to use it. Not now. Not like this. But desperate men did desperate things. He flicked the switch. The system booted to life with a faint pulse of blue against his wrist screen. He tapped the tab for Ground Logistics first. Nothing useful. All he could deploy here would sink in seconds. He swiped sideways to Aviation¡ªpointless now. Then he hesitated... and opened a tab he had never touched before. Naval ¡ú Small Craft ¡ú Emergency/Recon The list was short. Thomas squinted at the options, filtering by criteria. Deployable at sea? Operable by one crew? No crane or drydock required? Fuel capacity: 3+ days Speed: minimum 15 knots The results narrowed down to just one. [SP-32R "Sea Phantom" Recon Boat] Cost: 180,000 Blood Coins Type: High-speed naval recon craft Length: 9.2 meters Hull: Reinforced carbon fiber with waterline armor inserts Propulsion: Twin inboard diesel-electric hybrids Top Speed: 40 knots Cruising Speed: 22 knots Range: 1,100 nautical miles (extended tank) Crew: 1¨C2 AI Integration: Optional autonomous navigation Systems: ¨C Encrypted comms suite ¨C Radar + thermal scope ¨C Medical cabinet (sealed) ¨C Desalination unit (solar-assisted) ¨C Emergency shelter canopy ¨C Folding solar recharge cells ¨C Rear tow capability up to 2,000kg ¨C Internal cargo bay (1.2 tons capacity) Status: Deployable on open water within 60 seconds Summon Type: Maritime Projection (auto-placement within 15m radius) Thomas stared at the display. This wasn''t a military patrol boat or a coastal cutter. This was a survival vessel, disguised as a recon tool. Small, fast, durable. And more importantly¡ªhe could pilot it alone. He hovered his finger over the CONFIRM icon. "180,000..." he muttered. That was a massive cost for something he hadn''t planned to use. But what good were Blood Coins if he was dead? He hit CONFIRM. The display pulsed. The interface chimed faintly. The device grew warm against his wrist. [DEPLOYMENT: SP-32R Sea Phantom ¡ª LOCATION VERIFIED] Stand clear. Deployment within 15 meters. Thomas scrambled upright, nearly slipping off the panel as the water around him began to churn. Fifteen meters to his right, a blue light shimmered beneath the surface¡ªglowing just below the waves like a submerged engine warming up. Then, with a sudden splash, the water parted. The hull of a sleek black boat emerged, rising from nothing. Its bow cut through the water like a dagger. The dark frame gleamed in the sunlight, water sluicing off its armored surfaces. Twin ducts at the rear churned softly as the engines initialized in idle. Thomas stared. It was real. He paddled toward it, hands slapping the water as he swam across the short distance, ignoring the ache in his limbs. Reaching the boat''s side, he grabbed onto the textured grip rail and hauled himself up onto the narrow boarding ladder. The deck was warm beneath his palms. The smell of new electronics, fuel, and dry metal hit him like comfort food. The cockpit canopy was open. Inside, a single leather-padded pilot seat faced a curved instrument panel. A small control yoke. Dual throttle sliders. Multi-function displays. All alive, waiting. A soft voice pinged from the speaker. "Sea Phantom online. Awaiting command input." Thomas climbed in and dropped into the pilot seat. It was tight but comfortable. He pulled the canopy down, sealed it, and exhaled deeply. The cabin sealed with a hiss. A light vibration tickled his boots as the engines spun quietly. He accessed the nav panel. Current Position: Approx. 240 nautical miles northwest of Luzon No GPS lock Passive radar: minimal clutter Weather: Stable. Low wind. Mild currents. He pressed a button labeled AUTO-TRIM. The vessel adjusted itself to optimal trim for cruise mode. He tapped the throttle forward. The boat lurched gently into motion, gliding forward at a steady 12 knots. Thomas turned on the desalination pump, noted the onboard water reserves climbing. He checked the med kit¡ªsealed, stocked. Solar panels? Folded beneath the aft deck, ready for deployment when stopped. Everything was here. It was as if the system had known he''d need it eventually. He pulled off his gloves and leaned back in the seat, skin still clammy from salt and cold. For the first time in hours, he let himself breathe. He was still alone. But he wasn''t dead. Not yet. December 15, 2025 ¡ª 1:47 PM Open Sea ¨C Southbound The Sea Phantom hummed across the water, slicing through the waves like it had always belonged there. Inside the cockpit, Thomas sat with one hand on the yoke and one eye on the horizon. The auto-navigation pinged softly as it recalculated their position using solar drift and wind current algorithms. He still couldn''t call MOA. But he was moving. Toward home. The Sea Phantom surged forward with purpose, leaving a trail of foam in its wake. Thomas reached for the manual override, just to feel the throttle in his grip. He didn''t smile, but something in his chest settled. He wasn''t waiting anymore. He was returning. Chapter 220: Something Fishy Part 1 December 15, 2025 ¡ª 2:41 PM Southbound, East China Sea ¡ª 190 Nautical Miles from Luzon The sea stretched on forever¡ªcalm, deceptively peaceful, glittering under the weight of the afternoon sun. Inside the Sea Phantom, Thomas Estaris kept both hands on the control yoke as the craft cruised smoothly over low, rolling swells at a steady twenty-two knots. The hum of the hybrid diesel-electric engines was the only sound besides the occasional faint chirp of the nav system recalculating drift corrections. He hadn''t spoken in an hour. Not out loud. Not even to himself. The silence was beginning to feel like a second skin. The cockpit was tight, but comfortable¡ªdesigned for long stretches of solo operation. The padding on the pilot seat had molded to the shape of his body. The filtered air system kept the humidity down. The tinted canopy glass shielded his eyes from the glare. Everything in the Sea Phantom was as it should be. But he wasn''t. The salt on his skin still itched. The wound on his temple had stopped bleeding, but the bruising around it pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat. He hadn''t slept. He hadn''t eaten since the C-17''s crash¡ªjust a single ration bar and a few sips of desalinated water. His mind was sharp. His body was wearing down. He tapped the panel again, checking his heading. ETA: 6h 13m Distance to MOA Complex: ~185 nm Fuel: 73% Internal temp: 24.3¡ãC Desalinated water: 4.8 liters Beacon Status: Weak Lock ¨C Low Priority Response Still no signal return from Overwatch. The comms suite had synced briefly with a low-altitude satellite at sunrise, but nothing solid since. It wasn''t unusual¡ªat this distance, signal reception was patchy even for aircraft. But the silence gnawed at him. He leaned back slightly and let go of the yoke. The Sea Phantom stayed on course, held in place by AI-controlled micro-adjustments. Its bow sliced through the water like a surgeon''s scalpel¡ªprecise, unerring, silent. Thomas turned his attention to the sonar panel. Just routine. Ping. Pause. Ping. Pause. The readout was clean. No wreckage. No terrain spikes. No marine life large enough to be tracked. He sighed. "Too quiet." He tapped the speaker control and cycled through the available recordings¡ªOverwatch logs, basic radio chatter, even old music files. He picked one¡ªinstrumental acoustic, low tempo¡ªand let it play through the cabin. The soft notes didn''t ease the tension. If anything, they made the silence more obvious. Time passed. The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting golden slants across the cockpit. The water looked like silk stretched across the world. Almost beautiful. He took another sip from the water reservoir and forced down a bite of ration bar. Ping. He glanced at the sonar again. This time, the return was... faint. Unusual. Object Detected Depth: 25m Signature: Inconclusive Movement: None Thomas frowned and tapped for detail. The object was roughly three meters in size¡ªrounded on one end, tapered on the other. Could''ve been a container. Maybe part of a wreck. He adjusted heading two degrees to the west, just enough to get a visual when they passed by. The Sea Phantom glided closer. Ten minutes later, the object breached the edge of the visual range. He slowed to a crawl¡ªthrottle dropped to eight knots. The object was drifting near the surface, caught in a slow current. And it was not a crate. It was a corpse. Floating belly-up. At first, Thomas assumed it was human. It had a humanoid torso. Arms. A head. But as the Sea Phantom passed closer¡ªwithin twenty meters¡ªit became horrifically clear that it was anything but. The lower body wasn''t legs¡ªit was a long, slick, scaled tail, like something between a fish and a serpent. The flesh was patchy, some of it peeling away like burned rubber. The arms were webbed between the elbows and fingers. The jaw had split down the middle into two hanging slabs of meat. Gills lined the neck. And its eyes were open. Yellow. Cloudy. Unblinking. He felt the hairs rise on his neck. "Bloom infection in marine species," he muttered. "Shit..." He throttled back up and resumed course, keeping the boat steady. A moment later, he shut off the music. The water was still again. But the silence had changed. It felt... wrong now. He glanced over his shoulder. The corpse had disappeared beneath the waves. Had it sunk? He ran a thermal sweep. No reading. He tapped sonar again. Ping. Pause. Ping. Object Detected Depth: 18m Speed: Slow movement Direction: Parallel to vessel He exhaled slowly. One was creepy. Two was something else. He narrowed his eyes. Maybe a current dragged it. Maybe it was harmless drift. Then the panel blinked again. Second Object Detected Depth: 19m Size: ~4m Speed: Intermittent acceleration Thomas reached forward and tapped the evasion route subroutine, highlighting emergency turns, safe-speed options, and hull integrity overlays. Then a third object appeared. And a fourth. Multiple contacts. Subsurface movement increasing. Recommend attention. Thomas gripped the throttle, cold sweat now trailing down his spine. He''d seen strange things since the collapse. But the Bloom adapting to water? That was new. And if the water wasn''t safe... Then nothing was. He didn''t speed up. Not yet. He didn''t want to panic too soon. Not without knowing what was below. But his hand hovered over the defensive protocol button, and for the first time since crashing in the middle of the East China Sea, he truly felt hunted. Not by hunger. Not by time. But by something old. Something primal. And it was coming up from underneath. Thomas''s hand remained frozen above the defensive panel, his breath shallow. Ping. More blips. Each one closer. They weren''t moving like fish. Not like sharks either. These things were slow, deliberate¡ªstrategic. As if they were measuring him. Waiting for a mistake. His instincts screamed louder than the alarms ever could. He reached up, flipped the safety cover off the stunner circuit, and whispered to himself¡ª Outside the hull, something brushed the boat. Something big. The Sea Phantom rocked gently, and for the first time since the ocean swallowed the sky, Thomas whispered, "I need to survive this." Chapter 221: Something Fishy Part 2 December 15, 2025 ¡ª 3:03 PM East China Sea ¨C 178 Nautical Miles from Luzon The Sea Phantom was quiet, its engines dropped to a whisper as it drifted at twelve knots, cutting a slow curve across the now-darker waters of the East China Sea. Inside the sealed cockpit, Thomas Estaris sat tense, his eyes scanning the sonar return like a man watching an old fuse burning down. The ocean was beginning to change. The light outside dimmed, not from the sun¡ªstill well above the horizon¡ªbut from the water itself. The glow had gone dull. More blips appeared on the sonar. Contact 1: Depth 17.5m Contact 2: Depth 16.9m Contact 3: Depth 19.2m Contact 4: Depth 18.0m Movement Pattern: Irregular convergence Classification: Unknown They were rising. "They''re tracking me," Thomas muttered under his breath. "No way this is coincidence." He scanned for escape vectors¡ªno nearby landmasses, no islands, no friendly units. The only thing he had was ocean. And a hull. The Sea Phantom was fast¡ªbut it wasn''t armored for prolonged engagement. It was a recon boat. Agile. Smart. But not built for combat against monsters. Thomas reached under the instrument panel and unlocked the emergency toolkit. Inside were a flare gun, the impact stunner, a carbon baton, and two explosive charges used for breaching emergency floats. He clipped the stunner to his belt. "Just in case." A heavy thump jolted the craft. He whipped around. Another thump¡ªlower, stronger. This time it scraped along the underside. A long dragging sound followed, like claws on metal. The system chirped. Hull Integrity: 95% External abrasion detected Automated anti-fouling active Thomas toggled the external camera feed. The water was murky now. Visibility had dropped to just a few meters. But through the gloom, he saw shapes. Long. Fast. Some were serpentine. Others humanoid but warped, like divers with their limbs stretched too far. And then one of them turned¡ªjust slightly¡ªand the glow of its eye reflected through the current. Yellow. Burning. Alive. Thomas activated the acoustic deterrent¡ªa low-frequency sonar pulse designed to scatter small pods of aggressive marine life. The speakers embedded in the hull pulsed once¡ªdeep and resonant. The creatures flinched. One darted away. Another reeled back in a writhing motion. But two more kept approaching. And then¡ªanother impact. This time, directly beneath the cockpit. The Sea Phantom rocked sharply. Thomas grabbed the console for balance. Hull Integrity: 91% Forward stabilizer panel stress: moderate His jaw clenched. "Alright, time to move." He slapped the throttle forward. The Sea Phantom surged ahead, twin jets pushing the craft toward open water at 32 knots. Behind him, a trail of disturbed water and surface turbulence spread like a broken wake. The sonar pinged again¡ªsome of the contacts faded, but two still followed. Fast. Thomas toggled the rear camera. He saw them. One of the creatures was skimming just under the surface. Its elongated body twisted like a mutated eel, with protruding bone spikes along its dorsal side. The other was more humanoid¡ªlike a swimmer, except its arms ended in long fins, and its spine arched with unnatural elasticity. Thomas cursed. "They''re adapting to speed..." He engaged the rear flare launcher and fired. A series of flares deployed into the water¡ªone by one¡ªeach set to release high-heat pulses meant to confuse heat-seeking wildlife. The creatures peeled away¡ªtemporarily blinded or disrupted. Thomas cut speed to twenty knots and made a wide turn¡ªa decoy loop, designed to draw them wide while he pivoted back into a more direct escape route. But he knew that trick wouldn''t work again. He switched to active sonar and expanded the scan radius. Additional contacts: 3 Approximate depth: 14¨C22m Estimated cluster movement: Coordinated spread Coordinated. His stomach sank. These weren''t just infected sea creatures. These were learning. A heavy crash slammed into the stern. One of the creatures launched itself onto the rear deck, sliding across the hull, screeching as it latched onto the corner handle rail. Its upper half looked vaguely human¡ªsunken chest, ribcage exposed, bloated skin sloughing off like kelp. Its face was stretched and jawless, with long black teeth curling upward. Its lower body¡ªsome fusion of eel, fin, and whip-like tail¡ªdragged behind. It began clawing at the canopy glass, trying to pull itself forward. Thomas didn''t hesitate. He grabbed the impact stunner, turned to the left-side access panel, flipped open the emergency port, and jammed the stunner into the conduit. BZZZAKK! A bolt of concentrated current surged through the hull. The creature spasmed, shrieked, and released its grip¡ªslamming backward into the water in a cloud of smoke and steam. The screen showed: Hull Shock Deployed ¨C Cooldown: 3 minutes He leaned back, panting. Another ping. Two more shapes¡ªthis time rising directly ahead. Thomas scanned the nav. "Enough," he muttered. He yanked the throttle again, this time locking into maximum burn. The Sea Phantom jolted forward at 40 knots, slicing the water with a sharp bow wave. The wind pushed against the canopy. The contacts behind him began to vanish¡ªtoo slow to keep up. The ones in front moved to intercept¡ªbut he weaved around them, skipping over a low wave, turning hard to port and swinging wide before straightening course southward again. Ten minutes passed before the radar cleared. Fifteen more before he dared breathe normally. By then, the sun was dipping. He ran diagnostics. Hull Integrity: 86% No leaks Fuel: 62% Estimated Distance: 140 nm to MOA Complex Threat status: Dormant He let out a slow, shaking breath. The sea had changed. This was no longer just open water. It was hunting ground. And now he had one message burned into his mind: The Bloom wasn''t just spreading across the land. It had reached the ocean. And it had learned to swim. He gripped the yoke, his knuckles turning white. The Sea Phantom had settled back into steady motion, but the quiet seemed wrong. He wasn''t sure whether the creatures had left or if they were simply waiting, tracking his every move. One thing was certain¡ªthere was more out there now. The sea was no longer just an obstacle to cross. It had become a hunter''s den. Chapter 222: Something Fishy Part 3 The sun was dipping lower into the horizon, casting a warm, amber glow across the open water. The Sea Phantom hummed steadily, but the tension inside the cockpit had only intensified. The strange sense of being hunted never fully left him¡ªan unease gnawing at his thoughts. The creatures hadn''t returned after the stunner had knocked the first one back. They hadn''t made any immediate strikes since, but he could still feel their presence, lurking beneath the surface. Waiting. Thomas sat in silence for a while, eyes on the radar screen. The readout was clear now. No contacts. No immediate threats. Just the endless ocean, the familiar hum of the engines, and his own thoughts. A soft ping broke the quiet. Sonar¡ªnew return. He glanced at the sonar panel. Depth: 16m Speed: Increasing Direction: Parallel to vessel Thomas''s heart rate kicked up a notch. He didn''t wait for the full scan. "Time to move," he muttered to himself. His hands tightened around the controls, and he pushed the throttle forward, boosting the speed to 35 knots. The Sea Phantom surged forward, cutting through the water with the agility of a predator on the hunt. The creatures were getting closer. Another ping. Depth: 12m Speed: Accelerating This wasn''t just a few isolated targets now. There were multiple. And they weren''t dispersing. They were forming a pack. "Damn it," he whispered, his eyes scanning the horizon. He toggled the rear camera feed. The images flickered. Out of the murky water, the first shape broke the surface again¡ªa long, sinuous body, gleaming in the last vestiges of sunlight. Its fin sliced through the water with deadly precision, pulling it closer to the Sea Phantom. But this time, there was more than one. Thomas saw them. Two, then three more. They were getting too close. The rear camera showed the nearest one launching itself out of the water, aiming directly for the stern. He gritted his teeth and turned hard to port. The Sea Phantom pitched sideways, narrowly avoiding the gnashing teeth of the creature, which collided with the water behind him in a burst of foam and spray. "Not today, you bastards." His voice was rough as he slammed the throttle forward. Another thump¡ªthis time the creature''s tail slammed into the side, sending a tremor through the hull. The boat jerked, and the sonar beeped erratically as the wave cascaded along its length. Hull Integrity: 82% External stress: Severe He cursed, his knuckles white on the control yoke. The Sea Phantom was agile, but it wasn''t built to withstand this kind of abuse. The creatures weren''t just testing his defenses¡ªthey were coordinating, working together to trap him. He gripped the stunner at his side, but he knew it wouldn''t stop the entire pack. He needed to outrun them. Thomas increased speed, pushing the boat to its maximum¡ª40 knots. The Sea Phantom surged forward, cutting through the water like a missile. But the creatures didn''t relent. They followed, staying within close range, almost anticipating every turn. He glanced at the radar¡ªthree new contacts appeared, closing in from the west. Fast. The creatures were positioning themselves for a full encirclement. This time, there were no evasive maneuvers left to try. The horizon ahead darkened as storm clouds began to gather, the light starting to fade faster than it should. Wind picked up, making the water churn beneath the hull. The Sea Phantom tilted, struggling to stay steady in the growing swell. "Come on," Thomas muttered, teeth clenched. His knuckles were sore from gripping the controls. Sweat trickled down his brow. Then¡ª Wham! The next strike hit hard. A creature''s clawed tail slashed across the stern, tearing into the hull like a hot knife through butter. The impact rattled the entire boat. Warning: Hull breach detected. The rear panel lit up with a cascade of red warning lights. Hull Integrity: 65% Major stress fractures detected. Immediate evasive action required. His vision blurred for a moment. It was happening faster than he could keep up with. In the distance, something bigger broke the surface¡ªan elongated, serpentine shape, with rows of exposed teeth and six-foot-long spines jutting from its back. The creature''s large dorsal fin pierced the water like a knife, trailing a long wake behind it. A boss-class Bloomspawn. The sheer size of it made Thomas''s stomach drop. He slammed the throttle into reverse and twisted the steering hard to port. The Sea Phantom groaned under the strain but managed to break free from the encroaching mass of fish-zombies. But it wasn''t enough. The serpent-like creature lunged. A long, whip-like tail shot forward with devastating speed, catching the side of the Sea Phantom. The hull screamed, bending under the force as the boat pitched wildly. Thomas''s breath caught in his throat. He was thrown forward, nearly slamming into the control panel. Hull Integrity: 45% Structural damage: Severe "Shit, shit, shit!" He gripped the throttle again, forcing the boat to shift hard to starboard, just enough to break the tail''s hold. The Sea Phantom surged forward with a violent lurch, but the sound of scraping metal echoed in his ears. The creatures were circling him again. More were joining the fray, cutting through the water like vicious predators. A few more seconds, and they''d have him completely. His gaze flicked between the radar and the rear camera feed. He could see the serpent now, closing in with eerie precision, its jaws gaping wider, revealing rows of sharp, jagged teeth. It wasn''t just after him¡ªit was after prey. Thomas''s mind raced, calculating, scanning for anything that could give him the edge. The stunner wouldn''t work against something that big. Neither would the flares. But he had one trick left. He swerved sharply to the left again, into a shallow wave. The Sea Phantom surged forward, skimming across the crest. The serpent missed, slamming into the water next to him. Thomas hit the emergency flood valves and released the rear flares, this time activating the depth charges he had tucked into the rear compartment. He slapped the button to deploy them, watching as the floating charges tumbled into the water behind him. The sonar lit up. Massive impact detected. Depth charges activated. The first charge hit a few seconds later, sending out a shockwave of kinetic force and acoustic disruption. The larger creature stopped in its tracks, twitching violently before sinking beneath the waves. The others scattered, momentarily confused. Thomas didn''t wait. He kicked the throttle back to max speed, watching as the sonar returned to green¡ªdisturbances clearing. For the first time in an hour, the Sea Phantom was out of danger. But he wasn''t safe yet. Chapter 223 223: Exhausted December 15, 2025 ¡ª 6:15 PM Southbound ¨C 105 Nautical Miles from Luzon The ocean had finally calmed. Gone were the thrashing waves and the shrieking chaos. The bloom-mutated sea creatures had vanished beneath the surface, driven off or disrupted by the last of the depth charges. But their presence lingered¡ªlike rot in the air, like oil in the water. Inside the Sea Phantom, Thomas Estaris sat stiffly in his seat, one hand still gripping the control yoke though there was no longer immediate threat. The hum of the boat''s engines was steady, but underneath that noise, he could feel the subtle vibration¡ªuneven, irregular. Something wasn''t right. He checked the diagnostics panel. Hull Integrity: 45% Left-side Stabilizer Panel: Misaligned Stern Underside Armor: Cracked Engine Cooling Loop (Auxiliary): Functional but Compromised Canopy Seal: 90% Integrity Internal Pressure: Stable Electronics: Minor fluctuations Structural Fatigue Index: Elevated (Red Status) The Sea Phantom had held up¡ªbarely. "She held the line," Thomas muttered under his breath, reaching for the water bottle clipped to the side panel. His wrist ached. His jaw felt like it had been clenched for an hour straight. As the boat cruised forward, the fading light outside bathed the sea in bruised purple and cold gray. The sun had set, and the first signs of night crept over the waves. He switched the forward lights on. Twin beams cast pale white arcs across the surface ahead. The sea had grown glassy again, but not in a peaceful way. More like a mirror that could crack at any moment. Thomas engaged low-level auto-nav, giving the AI temporary control so he could unclip from his harness and move. His legs were stiff when he stood. Every step in the narrow cabin sent a creak through the ship''s frame. He opened the side access panel that led to the internal engineering bay, a small crawlspace-like compartment where toolkits and maintenance modules were stored. The scent hit him first¡ªburnt insulation and seawater. He squatted down and shone his headlamp. The rear cooling conduit had split, probably from the glancing blow during the serpent''s tail strike. Saltwater had breached one of the thermal vent seals, but the electronics remained dry. He opened the toolbox, pulled out a roll of marine-grade patch tape, and began a crude seal job. "You''re lucky this thing''s modular," he muttered. Next, he moved to the stern hull junction. The damage here was worse. A large hairline crack ran from just beneath the external tow loop down toward the underside hull plating. The carbon-fiber composite hadn''t shattered, but the structural bonds had delaminated, meaning it was only a matter of time before the stress tore the crack open wider¡ªespecially if another encounter happened. He marked it with red chalk and wrote on the checklist board: Stern Hull ¨C Patch ASAP ¨C Priority Level: 1 Next, he checked the stunner conduit. The last electric pulse he had fired had overloaded one of the current regulators. The panel still smelled like fried copper. He could rewire it with spare fuses¡ªbut not in open water. That would have to wait until he got back to the MOA Complex. Returning to the cockpit, Thomas slumped back into the pilot''s chair and stared ahead through the canopy. He couldn''t see land yet. But he knew it was coming. With luck¡ªby sunrise. He activated the long-range encrypted comm line, now that atmospheric interference had dropped. Attempting uplink to MOA Relay Grid... The light blinked. Then blinked again. And then: Connection Established MOA Tower Response Signal: Active Bandwidth: Low A small relief passed through him. He opened a voice channel. "Overwatch MOA Complex, this is Sea Phantom One, broadcasting on long-range band Gamma-One. Do you read?" The signal buzzed. Static cracked through. Then a voice returned. Male. Familiar. "Sea Phantom One, this is MOA Tower. Marcus speaking. Is that you, Thomas?" He let out a breath. "Affirmative. Alive. On approach. Hull integrity compromised. ETA ten hours, slower speed. Tell Engineering to prep a berth. I''m coming in battered." A pause. Then Marcus again: "Understood. We''ll keep the runway clear and the lights on. Welcome back." Thomas leaned back and closed his eyes. Not home yet. But close. December 15, 2025 ¡ª 9:12 PM Sea Phantom ¨C 60 Nautical Miles from Luzon The sea was pitch black now. The stars overhead shimmered faintly between cloud breaks. The glow from the Sea Phantom''s forward beams carved narrow lines across the surface, reflecting ripples and foam in stark white. Inside the cabin, Thomas kept watch. Every thirty minutes, he ran sonar scans¡ªparanoid now. But there were no more blips. No more movement. Even the sea itself seemed... wary. He reviewed the full damage log: Port stabilizer was hanging on by a few brackets. Emergency comms relay panel had warped. Thermal processor for the AI co-processor had been overloaded and was throttling performance. A second hull crack had appeared in the underside during the last sharp turn, likely from flex stress. He''d make it. But barely. He rubbed his forehead. "First naval encounter... and we nearly went under." Then he tapped the interface and opened the system diagnostics screen. He was already considering upgrades. A proper patrol boat. Hull armor reinforcements. Advanced sonar. Something better than a stunner and a flare. Because the Bloom wasn''t staying on land anymore. And if the seas were infected, then Overwatch would have to adapt¡ªfast. December 16, 2025 ¡ª 2:32 AM MOA Complex ¡ª Southern Approach, 15 Nautical Miles Out On the far edge of Manila Bay, the city lights shimmered like a dream through the fog. Faint. Dim. But visible. Thomas sat straighter. He recognized the curvature of the sea walls. The faint outline of the MOA Tower, silhouetted behind the line of rooftop solar panels. The radar pings returned full, clear echoes. No anomalies. No interference. Overwatch was awake. They were waiting. He activated the docking beacon and began final approach. The Sea Phantom shuddered¡ªtired, wounded, but alive. Just like its pilot. He was exhausted from the fight earlier. But luckily in that encounter, he learned something. It''s not only in the land where monsters exist, but also in the ocean. If he plans on reclaiming the entire planet, he would have to have naval assets. Chapter 224 224: The Return December 16, 2025 ¡ª 3:02 AM Southbound ¡ª 12 Nautical Miles from MOA Complex The lights of the MOA Complex twinkled against the low-hanging mist like scattered stars fallen to earth. From a distance, the walled arc of Manila Bay shimmered with flickers of red, blue, and amber¡ªsecurity towers, navigation markers, and solar towers reflecting against water. Inside the Sea Phantom, Thomas Estaris leaned forward in his seat, one hand resting lightly on the yoke while the other adjusted the comms frequency. His muscles ached from hours of strain. The suit under his vest was damp with sweat and salt. The boat groaned softly beneath him¡ªevery kilometer a reminder of the punishment it had taken. But it was still moving. And so was he. He flicked the long-range band again and keyed his mic. "Sea Phantom One to Overwatch Command Center. Ten nautical miles and closing. Confirm status." A few seconds of static passed. Then¡ª "Sea Phantom One, this is Overwatch Command." The voice was unmistakable. Marcus. Sharp. Professional. But this time¡ªedged with concern. "You''re coming in cold, Thomas. We picked you up on radar fifteen minutes ago but couldn''t raise you. What''s your status? You''re late." Thomas managed a small, tired smile. "Got tangled up with the locals." A pause. "Clarify." He toggled the main screen, sending over a compressed version of his log. A few sonar files. A copy of the hull status. Partial footage from the rear cameras. The thermal bloom anomalies. A timestamped account of the encounter. He didn''t say anything while the data uploaded. When Marcus finally responded, his voice had changed. "Are you telling me the Bloom is in the water now?" "That''s right, and I''m already considering that we establish a new department, a naval force that will counter the threat living in the ocean." Marcus didn''t speak for a moment. In the silence, Thomas could hear the faint hiss of the comm line and the quiet beep of the Sea Phantom''s navigation console adjusting course toward the southern inlet. Then, finally: "You think it''s that bad already?" "I know it is," Thomas replied. "These weren''t just drifting husks. They were coordinated, fast, precise. And one of them¡ªbig. Bigger than anything I''ve seen in water. It had mass, awareness, and tactics." He paused, then added, "We''re not just looking at evolution. This was engineered. The Bloom''s adapting to the sea like it was waiting for it." Marcus muttered something under his breath on the other end. Probably a curse. "I''ll brief the others," he said finally. "We''ll need to expand our doctrine if that''s the case. And you are really right about us needing a navy." "I know," Thomas said. "That''s why I''m proposing a full division. Naval strike. Fast-response teams, seaborne drones, deep-sea sonar arrays. We''ll need to rethink everything." He glanced down at the console as the shore came into full view. The sea walls around the MOA Complex stood tall against the night, floodlights washing across the defensive towers. "First step," Thomas added, "is upgrading everything that floats. The Sea Phantom barely survived. We''ll need something bigger. Heavier. Long-haul capable." "You thinking about tapping the system again?" Marcus asked. Thomas exhaled. "Already did. Reviewing possible hull classes. I''ll meet with Engineering after I get patched up." Another pause. Marcus''s voice softened just a touch. "You sure you''re okay?" Thomas looked at his reflection in the dark canopy glass. Blood along his temple. Bruising across his jaw. Sleepless eyes. "No," he said honestly. "But I''m not dead. That''s enough for now." December 16, 2025 ¡ª 3:26 AM MOA Complex ¨C South Dock Entry The Sea Phantom entered the final approach vector. Twin pylons on either side of the channel began pulsing a soft green, recognizing the vessel''s transponder. A boarding crew was already waiting on the dock, spotlights trained on the water. The boat slowed to a crawl. Thomas tapped the console. Auto-docking initialized. Hydraulic arms extended from beneath the surface, guiding the battered recon craft into place with mechanical precision. As it eased into the cradle, Thomas reached for the emergency locker. He pulled out his sidearm, a folded data slate, and the blood-slicked impact stunner. The canopy hissed open. Cool night air rushed into the cabin. He stood, blinking into the lights, and climbed down the side ladder. Two Overwatch engineers jogged forward. One carried a diagnostic wand, the other a sealed trauma kit. "Sir, hull breach on port stern confirmed," one of them called. "Looks like multiple structural impacts." "Can you fix it?" "We will need specialized tools, which don''t exist in our inventory." "Then don''t mind fixing it. We are going to scrap it anyway." "But for now, we are going to keep it," Thomas said, his voice low but firm. "No one touches the underhull until we''ve done a full contaminant scan. If there''s Bloom residue in the intake, I want to know." "Yes, sir. We will move it." Behind him, the Sea Phantom was towed down the dock, the worn jet trails still steaming faintly in the night air. Thomas turned toward the Command Access Tunnel. Marcus was already there, waiting at the base of the stairs, arms crossed. "You really look like hell," Marcus said, stepping aside as Thomas passed. Thomas didn''t smile. "I matched the boat this time. Anyways, I am going to get myself checked." "The doctor is already here so...the medics will take you to the infirmary first," Marcus said, gesturing toward a pair of Overwatch personnel waiting by the blast doors in white-tagged vests. "I figured you''d refuse if I said anything earlier, so I told them to intercept you here." Thomas gave a quiet grunt but didn''t protest. His legs were starting to feel heavier with every step. "You know me too well." Marcus shrugged. "I just didn''t want you bleeding out in a hallway before giving that naval proposal." Thomas followed the medics without argument. As he stepped past the security threshold, the hall lights dimmed slightly¡ªOverwatch''s power-saving protocol kicking in. And as Thomas walked toward the medical wing, one thought stayed rooted in his mind: If the sea wasn''t safe anymore, then there was no place left to run. Only places left to fight. Chapter 225: But First, What Exactly Happened? December 16, 2025 ¡ª 4:12 AM MOA Complex ¨C Executive Offices, Conrad Tower. The elevator doors opened with a soft hiss, revealing the quiet corridors of Conrad Tower''s upper floors. Unlike the operational wings or the barracks below, this level was silent¡ªreserved for Overwatch''s core command structure. No idle chatter. No bootsteps. Just the dull hum of powerlines and the low thrum of air recyclers. Thomas Estaris stepped out, still in his battered field gear. A fresh bandage ran across his temple. His vest was half-zipped, stained with salt and blood. His boots left wet prints across the polished floor. Marcus stood waiting by the glass door to his office, hands tucked behind his back. His uniform was pressed, collar sharp, but the worry on his face was obvious. "You sure you''re fit for this?" he asked quietly. Thomas didn''t slow. "I''ll sleep after the war." Marcus sighed and keyed the door open. The office was spartan, like everything else they used. A matte black desk. Two chairs. A reinforced glass window overlooking the southern docks. A pair of digital boards displayed real-time telemetry from radar stations and airspace grids. No personal photos. No decorations. Just work. Thomas dropped into the nearest chair without ceremony. His body moved like it had aged five years in a day. Marcus took the seat across from him and activated the tabletop projector. "All right," Marcus said. "Start from the beginning." Thomas leaned forward and clasped his hands together, letting the silence settle for a second. "We left Japanese airspace on schedule. Stratotanker was in stable condition. Clear skies, calm current, and no radar anomalies for the first four hours." "Then?" "Something hit us mid-transit. Altitude twenty-one thousand. Radar picked up a massive contact just seconds before it happened. Not a missile. Not a bird. Bigger." Marcus narrowed his eyes. "You''re saying the plane was intercepted mid-air?" Thomas nodded. "It was a flying organism. Bloom-adapted. Massive wingspan. Speed estimate¡ªMach 0.6, maybe faster. It collided with the port side fuel compartment. Ripped right through the skin." Marcus muttered a curse under his breath. Thomas continued. "Fuel loss. Engine fire. Hydraulics gone. We didn''t have time to reroute. Only enough time to try and slow descent. We crashed somewhere in the East China Sea." "And you were the only one that survived?" Thomas nodded. "Madel''s fate... unknown. I got blown clear. Landed on a floating debris panel. No signal. No backup. I activated the system." "The Sea Phantom," Marcus said, catching on. "Right. Emergency recon boat. Single-seat. It deployed near me. I used it to stay afloat and navigate toward Luzon." Marcus leaned back in his chair, arms crossed now. "And that''s when the Bloom attacked?" Thomas shook his head. "No. Not right away. I was in open water for nearly two hours before I encountered the first one. At first, I thought it was a drifting corpse. Human torso. Fish tail. Gills. Bloom-mutated. I thought it was just another dead variant." He paused. "But then it moved." Marcus didn''t interrupt. "It dived back under. I ran sonar. Got pings. Multiple. They weren''t drifting¡ªthey were tracking me. By the time I was seventy nautical miles out, they were attacking in waves. I counted at least seven different aquatic forms. All Bloom. All coordinated." He pulled a data slate from his side pocket and slid it across the table. Marcus tapped it once¡ªthe screen flickered to life with sonar logs, images, and audio clips. Screeches underwater. Dragging sounds against hull plating. Snapshots from the Sea Phantom''s rear camera showing glimpses of twisted, eel-like creatures and humanoid swimmers with elongated arms. "They weren''t just swimming," Thomas said. "They were ambushing. One tried to crawl into the cockpit. Another used its tail to slam the stern. I had to use the onboard stunner, emergency depth charges, and flares. Even then, the boat''s hull integrity dropped to forty-five percent before I shook them." Marcus stared at the footage. One clip showed a creature breaching the surface, jaws gaping wide, dorsal spines glinting under moonlight before vanishing beneath a wall of spray. "These things... they were coordinated?" Thomas nodded. "The sonar tracks show them moving in parallel patterns. One would herd while another attacked. Some would feint from below. They weren''t just acting on instinct. They were... tactical." "And the size of the largest?" Thomas tapped the table. "Twelve meters minimum. Possibly more." Marcus leaned forward now, resting his elbows on the desk. "This confirms it then," he said grimly. "The Bloom isn''t confined to land anymore. It''s spreading through marine ecosystems. Coastal. Deep-sea. Maybe even through ballast water or submerged spores." "That''s the working theory," Thomas said. "And I don''t think the waters around Luzon are clean either. We''ve never had long-range sonar or enough naval patrols to prove it. The sea''s been too quiet." Marcus exhaled, rubbing his temples. "And now we know why." They sat in silence for a long moment, the ambient hum of the command tower surrounding them. Finally, Marcus asked, "What''s our play?" Thomas didn''t hesitate. "We stand up a naval division," he said. "Full spectrum. Patrol, recon, interdiction, and coastal defense. Start with drones and fast-response skiffs. Scale into mid-size cutters, sonar platforms, and gunboats." "We don''t have a drydock," Marcus said flatly. "We can build one," Thomas replied. "Or summon it piece by piece and assemble it under cover." "You already checked the system?" Marcus asked. Thomas nodded. "C-17 was a heavy lift solution. We can get modular shipyard sections. Hull stockpiles. Even offshore support platforms. But I''ll need at least two weeks to build the framework and two more for integration." Marcus processed that. "What about personnel?" "We don''t train sailors. We train operators. AI-assisted navigation. Minimal crew. If it floats and shoots, we make it work. Besides, we won''t need a navy in the traditional sense. No carrier groups. No fleets. Just mobile platforms that don''t sink when a Bloom decides to crawl on board." Marcus cracked a thin smile. "That''s the most optimistic description I''ve heard all week." "I''m too tired to be poetic," Thomas said. "But I am serious. The next phase of this war isn''t going to be fought in farmland or ruins. It''ll be out in the open water. On trade lanes. Near rivers. Around island corridors. And we can''t let the Bloom turn the sea into its next breeding ground." Chapter 226: Naval Outlook The windowless room had once been a high-end conference suite inside Conrad''s executive wing. Now, it served as the nerve center for Overwatch''s long-term threat analysis division. Rows of terminals lined the walls. Holographic overlays pulsed with live satellite feeds, Reaper drone telemetry, and recently updated naval route scans. Thomas Estaris sat alone at the central console. The lights were dimmed. A mug of black coffee steamed quietly beside him¡ªforgotten. His eyes were fixed on the glowing interface projected from his left wrist. He was back in the system again. But this time, he wasn''t looking for rifles. Or recon boats. This time, he was thinking bigger. He tapped the Naval tab. The menu expanded, sections branching like the hull of a warship. NAVAL ASSETS CATALOG Small Craft Patrol Vessels Corvettes Frigates Destroyers Submarines Amphibious Assault Ships Aircraft Carriers Support & Logistics His finger hovered over Destroyers. He selected it. The list populated, real-time. [DDG-51 Arleigh Burke-Class Destroyer] Origin: United States Navy Cost: 12,000,000 Blood Coins Length: 155 m Displacement: 9,000+ tons Speed: 31+ knots Range: 4,400 nautical miles at 20 knots Crew: 280 Key Features: Aegis Combat System AN/SPY-1D Radar 96-cell VLS (Tomahawk, ESSM, SM-2, ASROC) Phalanx CIWS Torpedo tubes and ASW sonar Helicopter hangar for SH-60R Seahawk Operational Use: Long-range anti-air, anti-submarine, and surface warfare. Capable of independently deploying or operating within strike groups. Thomas whistled low. "Twelve million..." But he didn''t close the tab. Instead, he opened the next listing. [Horizon-Class Destroyer] Origin: France / Italy Cost: 9,500,000 Blood Coins Length: 153 m Displacement: 7,050 tons Speed: 29 knots Range: 7,000 nautical miles at 18 knots Crew: 190 Key Features: EMPAR Radar System Aster 15/30 SAMs 8 MM40 Exocet Anti-Ship Missiles Dual torpedo launchers Multi-layered CBRN protection Operational Use: European high-seas escort destroyer with emphasis on air defense and limited surface attack. Thomas marked it. Lower crew requirement. Advanced defenses. But it lacked the teeth of the Arleigh Burke. He backed out and entered the Submarine category. [Virginia-Class Fast Attack Submarine (SSN-774)] Origin: United States Cost: 15,000,000 Blood Coins Length: 115 m Displacement: 7,800 tons submerged Speed: 25+ knots submerged Range: Unlimited (nuclear) Crew: 132 Key Features: 12 VLS Tomahawk launchers Advanced sonar suite Torpedo tubes (Mk-48 ADCAP) Special Forces deployment module Low acoustic signature Operational Use: Covert strike missions, intelligence gathering, undersea warfare. Extremely difficult to detect or intercept. He lingered. That kind of platform could give Overwatch eyes beneath the waves¡ªdeep, silent, and lethal. But the price... He tapped the Aircraft Carrier tab, just to see. [CVN-78 Gerald R. Ford-Class Supercarrier] Origin: United States Cost: 45,000,000 Blood Coins Length: 337 m Displacement: 100,000+ tons Speed: 30+ knots Crew: 2,600 ship / 2,480 air wing Flight Deck: Electromagnetic catapults (EMALS), advanced arresting gear Capacity: 75+ aircraft Key Features: Dual nuclear reactors AN/SPY-6 radar Integrated Warfare System Operational Use: Full spectrum maritime dominance. Requires massive logistical support. Strategic asset for global force projection. Thomas stared at the price. Forty-five million. It wasn''t impossible. But it would come at the cost of every other project for months. He swiped again. [Queen Elizabeth-Class Aircraft Carrier] Origin: United Kingdom Cost: 26,000,000 Blood Coins Length: 280 m Displacement: 65,000 tons Speed: 25 knots Crew: 700 (air wing: 900) Flight Deck: STOVL (Short Take-Off and Vertical Landing) Capacity: Up to 40 aircraft Key Features: Radar cross-section reduction Automated systems to reduce manpower Amphibious and humanitarian support Operational Use: Versatile carrier for strike and aid missions. Less logistical strain than USN supercarriers. Still out of reach, but more practical. He bookmarked it, then returned to the Frigates tab. [FREMM Multipurpose Frigate (Aquitaine Class)] Origin: France / Italy Cost: 6,800,000 Blood Coins Length: 142 m Displacement: 6,700 tons Speed: 27 knots Range: 6,000 nautical miles at 15 knots Crew: 145 Key Features: Anti-submarine warfare suite 16-cell A70 VLS Exocet anti-ship missiles Helicopter hangar Operational Use: Balance of offense and defense. Ideal for coastal defense and regional deterrence. "This one''s tempting," Thomas murmured. "Affordable. Versatile. Can cover both land and sea threats." His finger hovered over the Wishlist icon. He tapped it. The FREMM frigate was added to his purchase queue. But he wasn''t done. [Type 212A Submarine] Origin: Germany Cost: 5,200,000 Blood Coins Length: 56 m Displacement: 1,800 tons submerged Speed: 20 knots Crew: 27 Key Features: Air-independent propulsion (AIP) Near-zero noise signature Heavy torpedoes Lightweight operational cost Operational Use: Ideal for shallow-water ops, Baltic-style missions. Perfect for ambush and denial tactics. Thomas bookmarked it too. A sub fleet didn''t have to be nuclear. Sometimes stealth mattered more. After nearly an hour scrolling through hull profiles, radar systems, and torpedo configurations, Thomas leaned back in his chair, eyes heavy but mind racing. He had enough intel to plan the framework for Overwatch Naval Command. But resources were still tight. Blood Coin income had been steady¡ªbut just barely. Most of it went to recon drones, munitions, suit upkeep, and infrastructure. Diverting several million for a single ship wouldn''t just be a financial strain¡ªit would be a strategic risk. He needed a procurement phase. Tiered deployment. Start with the FREMM. Pair it with a Sea Hunter drone. Later¡ªmaybe¡ªhe''d add a submarine. Or two. The carriers? Pipe dreams. Not now. Not until they had full control of the Philippine coast. He opened a new project file and titled it: Project Blue Wake: Phase One 1x FREMM Frigate 2x Sea Phantom II Patrol Boats 1x Command Platform Barge Deployment ETA: 21 Days Total Cost: 8.6M Blood Coins Funding Source: Zombie Extermination Raids Thru Airstrikes. Thomas reviewed the list one final time, then saved the procurement file to a restricted-access drive synced to his command ID. He rubbed his eyes, dry and burning from lack of rest, and stood slowly from the console. Outside the tower''s reinforced windows, the first hints of dawn crept over the bay. The sea glistened like oil. Silent. Unknowing. He wasn''t just preparing for another deployment. He was preparing for a new theater of war. Land, air, and now¡ªsea. The Bloom thought it owned the oceans. Overwatch was about to prove it wrong. And they would start with steel. Chapter 227: Didnt Expect the Numbers December 17, 2025 ¡ª 5:42 AM Overwatch Command ¨C MOA Complex, BGC. The air inside the command center was taut with tension. Monitors buzzed, terminals flickered, and voices whispered over encrypted radio nets as Overwatch operators loaded the day''s mission data. The early morning haze outside the reinforced windows barely colored the sky¡ªdawn still struggling to rise. Thomas Estaris stood in the center of the Situation Room, this was it, his fundraising campaign. A full wall of holographic maps glowed in front of him¡ªterrain models of Luzon, target overlays, grid references from drone patrols. Red clusters dotted the landscape like heat blooms on a battlefield: confirmed zombie concentrations. Most were outside NCR limits¡ªNueva Ecija, Pampanga, Zambales, and the outskirts of Bulacan. Thomas pointed to the first red zone¡ªa bloated ring of data centered over the collapsed cityscape of San Fernando. "Group A¡ªthis is your first run," he said. "Target area is three klicks west of the old provincial capitol. Dense formation. Estimated count between 800 and 1,200 infected. Let''s get this fundraising started." The team standing at the perimeter of the table¡ªpilots, techs, and aircrew¡ªnodded. Each wore matte-black flight suits bearing the Overwatch insignia. "No civilians?" asked Marcus, standing beside Thomas. "No heat returns in the buildings. Recon sweep showed zero movement not matching infected patterns. So we are clear for bombardment." "Confirmed," added a drone operator nearby. "Thermal feed confirms mass grouping near the collapsed train overpass. Classic horde behavior¡ªdormant in the shade, clustering under concrete. They''re ripe for harvest." "Then let''s not waste time," Thomas said. "Fire up the birds." 06:15 AM ¡ª MOA Airfield. Twin F-16V Viper+ jets sat parked at the edge of the runway, their canopies lifted as ground crew scrambled around them, checking flaps, fueling pods, and calibrating smart munitions. Overhead, the low rumble of an AC-130 Spectre buzzed through the clouds, circling on standby. Farther down the line, two Warthogs¡ªA-10 Thunderbolt IIs¡ªhad just completed pre-flight and began to taxi toward the southern runway, their nose art still visible beneath the armor plating. Both bore shark-tooth smiles beneath their cannon ports. Thomas, helmet under one arm, walked the tarmac with Marcus as they approached the lead Warthog. "They''re loaded with GAU-8s, incendiary clusters, and HE rockets," the pilot reported. "Primary fire lanes will follow the trench vectors. You''ll have top-down and side sweep coverage." "And the F-16s?" "JDAMs for high altitude drops, then they''ll switch to gun runs if needed." Thomas nodded. "Good. No mistakes. We want maximum body count. Precision matters¡ªevery confirmed kill is Blood Coin income. So let''s maximize this campaign!" Marcus leaned in. "We''ll sweep the northern rail zone after San Fernando. That''ll put us on track for Tarlac before sundown." Thomas looked to the sky. "Good. Let them burn." 07:03 AM ¡ª Above San Fernando, Pampanga The F-16s broke cloud cover first, slicing across the sky in tandem, their contrails streaking white behind them. They angled downward, targeting pods locking onto coordinates fed directly from Reaper drones circling above. A voice cracked over the radio: "Eagle One to Overwatch, target acquired. JDAMs armed. Releasing in three¡ªtwo¡ªone¡ª" Below, on the ruined streets of San Fernando, the horde never saw it coming. The first explosion dropped between two collapsed buildings, sending a blast of heat and debris skyward. Concrete shattered. Infected were torn apart instantly¡ªhundreds vaporized or thrown like rag dolls across ruined intersections. The second hit seconds later¡ªprecise, narrow corridor¡ªstraight through the overpass. "Splash confirmed," Eagle Two called in. "Zero collateral, maximum spread." The AC-130 moved next. Spooky One''s orbit stabilized at 10,000 feet, and then its side guns lit up the sky. A 105mm howitzer shell struck the cluster near the open mall complex. An entire column of zombies disappeared in a flash of white light and smoke. "Reaper feed shows clear lane," the gunner confirmed. Next came the Warthogs. Like iron angels of death, they swooped low over the crumbling streets, GAU-8 Avenger cannons spinning up. BRRRRT. The sound echoed for kilometers. Each burst sent tracer rounds slamming into the horde from above, ripping through flesh, shattering bones, turning twisted, mutated bodies into meat slurry. Thomas watched from the mobile command trailer, eyes fixed on the feed. "Status?" he asked. "Zone Alpha neutralized. Over 900 kills confirmed. Coin return updated. Drone scans show two more hotspots inbound." "Move to Zone Bravo," Thomas said. 08:21 AM ¡ª Tarlac City, Zone Bravo The city''s old business district had become a nest¡ªdozens of high-rises warped by time, Bloom growth, and collapsed infrastructure. Streets were filled with wrecked vehicles. A former bus terminal had become a writhing mass of the infected¡ªthousands clumped together, feeding on nothing, dormant, waiting. It was perfect. "Angle in from the northeast," Thomas said. "Let the Vipers soften the roof clusters. The gunship will cover the street-level sweep." This time, he gave the green light personally. "Strike it." JDAMs fell first¡ªtwo into the terminal roof, one through the adjacent parking garage. Then the Warthogs dropped low. Their cannons opened fire, and the AC-130 rotated fire control to a second crewman, targeting deeper within the blocks. A 40mm Bofors tore through the entryway of a Bloom hive¡ªorange growths ruptured like overripe tumors, releasing gas, gore, and screeching infected that were instantly shredded by follow-up fire. By the time the run was complete, the drone readouts were already counting: 1,500+ infected neutralized. Blood Coin total: climbing fast. About 61,875,000 blood coins. The amount was something that Thomas didn''t expect. There were still a lot of zombies in just Luzon alone and the fact that he had lowballed himself, expecting a less cluster of zombies, was a regretful feeling. 09:37 AM ¡ª Central Luzon Airspace Back inside the command trailer, Thomas reviewed the mission map with Marcus and the operations crew. Five zones hit. Four cleared. Two more planned before midday. Total kills: over 1,235,700+ Minimal ammo loss. Zero pilot casualties. It was working. "Send the drones north," Thomas ordered. "Scout the Ilocos ridge towns. We''ll burn them out by nightfall." "Yes, sir." He looked down at the map again. Looking for the places to mine. Per every zombie killed, he would get 50 blood coins. He is going to amend the plan, he would acquire powerful naval ships with this. Chapter 228: Brimming with Anticipation December 17, 2025 ¡ª 10:14 AM Ilocos Sur ¨C Recon Ingress Zone, Northern Sector The whir of Reaper One-Nine''s rotors barely registered against the soundproofed interior of the command trailer, but its live footage fed directly to Thomas''s console. He sat with elbows on the edge of the desk, chin in one hand, eyes trained on the thermal and visual overlays. The drone hovered over Vigan¡ªonce a UNESCO heritage city, now a collapsed husk of colonial architecture and rot-claimed stone roads. Bloom growths festered in alleyways. Market stalls sat untouched. Bones cluttered sidewalks. Every few seconds, something would shift¡ªsomething not human. The horde here wasn''t moving. But it was there. "Cluster estimate?" Thomas asked without looking up. "1,050 to 1,300," replied the recon officer. "More if the basements are packed. Thermal signatures suggest subterranean movement." Thomas exhaled through his nose. "Alright. This one''s going to be tricky." He opened the map. The narrow streets and dense layout meant standard JDAMs would be overkill¡ªtoo much collateral, not enough precision. He needed something tighter. "Tell the Warthogs to hang back. We''re going to lead with the Vipers. Use SDBs¡ªsmart diameter bombs. Paint the roof tiles, stagger drops between buildings. Then we''ll bring in Spooky One for surgical sweeps." Marcus looked up from the secondary console. "We want to preserve the shell structures?" "For now," Thomas said. "If this works out, we might reuse the foundations. Maybe even rebuild the northern road corridors." A tech handed him a tablet¡ªfinalized targeting data and projected wind patterns. "Do it," Thomas confirmed. At 10:39 AM, the first F-16 swooped low from the east, silent as a ghost until its afterburners flashed in the distance. It released three smart munitions¡ªeach one gliding mid-air before steering itself down between the narrow corridors of ruined stone buildings. Precision kills. The zombies never even looked up. Seconds later, the AC-130 rumbled into position. Its 30mm autocannons fired in controlled bursts¡ªclearing main road junctions and Bloom growths near municipal structures. Then came the howitzer. Thomas leaned forward as the 105mm shell dropped into the city square. The blast flattened the Bloom core feeding into the southern half of the horde. Flames rose. The square became an inferno of tumbling infected. Another pass. Spooky One wheeled wide, rotated to the right side gun crew, and raked fire along the museum district''s main hall. Bricks collapsed. Bodies burned. "Visuals confirm," one of the gunners said. "Main core ruptured. Bloom structures down." "Begin clean-up," Thomas ordered. "Circle back and clear remnants." Blood Coin tally ticked upward. Ilocos Sur: +68,000 confirmed kills. Total Blood Coin revenue for the day: 3,400,000 It was staggering. And yet, Thomas didn''t celebrate. Not yet. 12:30 PM ¡ª Command Trailer, MOA Complex Lunch came and went in the form of a ration bar and another cup of black coffee. The air inside the trailer had warmed with the number of crew now on rotation¡ªpilots coming in and out, operations officers swapping shifts, drone techs reviewing targeting footage. Thomas stood, arms crossed, as the updated operations map projected onto the center table. Northern Luzon was blinking yellow¡ªzones in review. Pampanga and Tarlac were already listed green. Cleared. "Reaper scan just confirmed a mega-cluster north of San Jose," Marcus said, stepping up beside him. "Old housing development near a rice granary. You''re going to love the numbers." "How many?" Thomas asked. "Best guess? Somewhere between 9,000 to 11,000 infected. That''s not counting the ones hiding underground." Thomas raised an eyebrow. "That''s almost half a million Blood Coins in one run." Marcus nodded. "And we''ve got enough fuel for two full shifts left." "Then we go in hard," Thomas said. "I want the Vipers, Warthogs, and both gunships in rotation. We are going to bleed this region dry." He turned to the crew. "Rotate out the Vipers after their first strike. Let them refuel and rearm with bunker busters. Warthogs cover the road exits. AC-130s sweep Bloom clusters. Use incendiaries on anything with color. Priority target: anything that pulses or glows." The team nodded. He stepped back toward his seat but stopped short. "Also," he said, voice low but firm, "mark the terrain east of San Jose. That''s where I want our first naval depot. We''re going to need a place to anchor the frigate when it arrives." Marcus gave him a look. "You''re really going through with that?" Thomas nodded once. "It''s not a campaign if we can''t hold what we clean. And we''re not building another outpost without a fleet to back it." 2:47 PM ¡ª San Jose Corridor The drone footage was hard to watch¡ªbut satisfying. The infected near the granary complex had been dormant for months. Thousands packed into tight corridors between rice silos and gutted bunkhouses. It was an ecosystem of death¡ªand perfect for an aerial kill zone. The F-16s came first¡ªbombing runs with 500-pound bunker busters dropped into the silos themselves. Bloom gas vented like smoke from ruptured wounds. Infected burst out, confused and staggering into open roads. Then came the Warthogs. Low and relentless. BRRRRT. Whole lines of infected were shredded like tissue paper. The GAU-8s fired until the air shimmered with smoke and lead. Spooky One finished the job¡ªhowitzers first, then the 40mm autocannons to sweep the remaining crawlers trying to escape into nearby trees. By the end of the hour, the entire compound was smoldering wreckage. Kill confirmed: 11,462. Thomas barely blinked. 4:30 PM ¡ª Mobile Command Trailer, MOA Complex The map had turned mostly green. From morning until now, Overwatch air forces had conducted 31 sorties, cleared eight major zombie nests, and brought in a staggering total of 1,463,900 Blood Coins. Enough to fund Project Blue Wake. And then some. Thomas tapped his wrist console, opened the procurement queue, and added more naval assets. 1x FREMM Frigate 1x Virginia Class Submarine 1x Ticonderoga Class Cruiser 2x Sea Phantom II 1x Mobile Logistics Barge "Do we rest tomorrow?" Marcus asked behind him. Thomas shook his head. "No. We are going to farm so that we can get more military hardware from the system. You know, summoning the ships is just one of our many future problems. We have maintenance and operational expenses for that." "Understood." Thomas exhaled. "I can''t wait to see my fleet." Chapter 229: They Have a Navy January 7, 2026 ¡ª 06:14 AM Overwatch Command Center ¨C MOA Complex, Manila The sea fog lingered along the edges of the city like a stubborn veil. Dew clung to the reinforced windows of the MOA Complex''s western wing, painting ghostly streaks across the panoramic view of Manila Bay. Inside the command center, the usual low hum of screens and conversations was drowned by one steady sound: The methodical clacking of Thomas Estaris''s boots. He paced behind the elevated operations table, eyes locked on the procurement screen. The digital interface flickered before him in soft blue light, illuminating the darkened war room. Marcus stood nearby, arms folded, face unreadable. "Final tally?" Thomas asked without looking up. A junior officer¡ªlogistics, recently promoted¡ªglanced from his slate. "Blood Coin reserve has cleared 96 million, sir. Zombie airstrike operations have averaged just over 4.5 million coins per day over the last three weeks. The kill ratios were higher in Ilocos and Quezon. Densely packed horde pockets." Thomas nodded. Twenty-one days of uninterrupted air raids had done more than simply thin the infected population¡ªthey had funded the next phase of Overwatch. The naval phase. He tapped the console. A familiar blue holographic tab opened: NAVAL ASSETS CATALOG. He scrolled past the small craft and corvettes, past the frigates he''d once considered "enough." No, this time he wasn''t just preparing to patrol shorelines or play defense along the reefs. He was building the cornerstone of a fleet. He opened the Destroyers section. The entry glowed: [DDG-51 Arleigh Burke-Class Destroyer] Cost: 12,000,000 Blood Coins Role: Multimission Destroyer (Air, Surface, Sub-Surface) Armament: ¨C 96-cell Vertical Launch System ¨C Tomahawk Cruise Missiles ¨C SM-2 and SM-6 SAMs ¨C ASROC (Anti-submarine rockets) ¨C Dual Phalanx CIWS ¨C Torpedo launchers ¨C Naval gun system (5"/62 cal) Systems: ¨C Aegis Combat System ¨C AN/SPY-1D Radar ¨C SQQ-89 ASW suite Crew Requirement: 280 Displacement: 9,200 tons Speed: 31+ knots Range: 4,400 nm at 20 knots Marcus leaned in. "You''re really doing this." "Two of them," Thomas said. Marcus blinked. "Two?" "I want redundancy. One on patrol, the other can rotate for refit or long-range support." Thomas didn''t pause. He tapped the CONFIRM icon. A soft pulse followed, and the screen updated. [Transaction Complete ¨C 24,000,000 Blood Coins Deducted] [Summon Queue Updated ¨C Awaiting Deployment Coordinates] Marcus raised an eyebrow. "That''s almost a third of our total reserves." "Which is why I''m being careful with the rest," Thomas said. He swiped into the Support & Logistics tab. There, he selected a Command Support Barge¡ªa massive seaborne platform designed as a mobile HQ and dockyard. It wouldn''t fight, but it could house nearly 500 personnel, carry small craft, repair minor hull damage, and maintain helicopters. [Cost: 6,500,000 Blood Coins] ¨C Confirmed] Next, the Submarines tab. He skipped the nuclear-powered monsters like the Virginia-class and instead hovered on the German Type 212A. Air-independent propulsion, small crew, excellent stealth profile. Ideal for ambush scenarios or covert intelligence gathering. [Cost: 5,200,000 Blood Coins ¨C Confirmed] "That''s thirty-five million gone in under five minutes," Marcus said flatly. Thomas didn''t respond. He was reading specifications, already deep in operational theory. Two Arleigh Burkes. One command barge. One submarine. That was enough to project power across the Philippine archipelago. Enough to hit hostile elements at sea or land strikes on any coastal hive. Enough to counter Bloom in the ocean. For now. He stepped back from the screen and closed the interface. "Start prepping a ceremony," he said. "Not for the press. Just us. I want the dock team and naval crew present when the first destroyer is summoned." "You''re not doing it now?" Marcus asked. "Tonight," Thomas replied. "Moonrise. Fewer eyes. Less chaos. We can control the flow better." Marcus nodded. "We''ve already cleared Pier Four. The drydock scaffolds are in place. You sure the summon won''t crush them?" "The system calculates structural displacement," Thomas said. "If I mark the coordinates right, it''ll land clean." There was a pause. Then Marcus asked, "What are you going to call the flagship?" Thomas glanced over. A quiet breath escaped his lips. "She''ll be called the OWS Bulwark." Marcus cracked a grin. "Fitting." Thomas looked back at the darkened room, at the calm sea behind the fogged glass, at the people outside who didn''t know yet how much their world was about to change. Because this wasn''t just a war against the infected anymore. It was a full-spectrum campaign. And now, they had a navy. January 8, 2026 ¡ª 02:35 AM Manila Port ¨C Pier Four The harbor lights were dimmed. The sea was still. Only the low clatter of dock chains and the hum of generators broke the silence. A cleared concrete pad stood empty near the edge of the bay, reinforced by steel pylons and wide enough to house a small sports stadium. Thomas stood at the center, a beacon in one hand, his wrist unit in the other. Crew stood at attention nearby¡ªdock teams, engineers, several handpicked officers trained for ship operations. Marcus stood just behind him. "You ready?" Marcus asked. Thomas exhaled slowly and looked at the clear starless sky above. "As I''ll ever be." He tapped the screen. [Deploy Naval Asset ¨C Arleigh Burke-Class ¨C OWS Bulwark] Status: Calculating Displacement Zone... Coordinates Locked. Summon in T-minus 10 seconds. A low hum vibrated through the pier. The water near the deployment zone began to glow blue from beneath, like light from a sunken star. And then, like a great beast rising from the depths, the destroyer appeared. Steel. Power. Mass. The OWS Bulwark phased into place, her hull shimmering as it fully formed, her anchor cables already sliding into place. The sound of creaking metal echoed like thunder. Waves swelled around her bow. Her radar tower blinked to life, and the hull number "DDG-281" was etched into her side. The entire dock crew stood frozen. She was magnificent. Her 5-inch gun faced forward, her VLS cells lined like the teeth of a sleeping dragon. The bridge windows reflected the moonlight. Her sonar dome breached water level. She sat perfectly balanced in the bay. Marcus muttered, "She''s real..." Thomas didn''t speak. He stepped forward, hand on the railing. The bridge crew saluted from the upper deck. He raised a hand in return. Tonight, they didn''t just summon a ship. They summoned a future. Chapter 230: Theyre Here January 8, 2026 ¡ª 02:39 AMManila Port ¨C Pier Four The echo of the summoning still lingered in the air. Steam hissed softly from beneath the hull as the newly materialized destroyer adjusted to the seawater, settling into position like it had always belonged there. Thomas remained near the edge of the platform, staring at the Bulwark with silent calculation. His hand hadn''t left the railing. His jaw was set, his eyes still tracking the blinking lights climbing the mast tower. Beside him, Marcus stood a few paces back, still trying to process what he was seeing. Finally, Marcus spoke. "You know, this one''s going to be harder to explain to people." Thomas glanced sideways. "Because it''s not a drone or a suit?" Marcus gestured at the ship. "Because it''s a goddamn destroyer. A full-sized American guided missile destroyer. This isn''t a quiet Reaper launch from a secured hangar. This is 9,000 tons of steel, radar, and VLS cells docked in our harbor. Survivors are going to ask questions." Thomas exhaled through his nose. "Then we give them answers." Marcus waited. Thomas didn''t look away from the ship. "We tell them she came from the U.S. Pacific Fleet. Abandoned after the collapse. Crewless. Systems intact. Overwatch found it drifting near Guam during our long-range drone expeditions. We salvaged what we could, repaired what we had to, and now she flies under our flag." Marcus stared at him, unreadable. "That''s a stretch." "It''s not a lie," Thomas replied evenly. "It''s a narrative." "People will ask how we manned her. Where the sailors came from." Thomas finally turned to face him. "We''ve been recruiting. Training. Quietly. Most civilians won''t recognize a sonar specialist from a diesel mechanic. And the ones that do are smart enough not to poke too deep." "And the Type 212A sub?" "That one we say came from Germany. Same story. Their navy collapsed during the outbreak. International cooperation. Leftover assets. Overwatch moved in." Marcus ran a hand through his hair, nodding slowly. "Right. Strategic cleanup force." Thomas smirked faintly. "Exactly. And if anyone asks why Germany or America hasn''t followed up?" "They''ll assume those countries are gone." "Which isn''t far from the truth." They both looked at the Bulwark again. Crewmembers had started to disembark via the side ladder. Officers in dark Overwatch naval uniforms moved with purpose, checking moorings and running cable to the terminal cranes. "I want weapons tests," Thomas said suddenly. Marcus blinked. "What?" "Tomorrow morning. I want every system verified. CIWS, radar tracking, fire-control drills, dummy Tomahawk launch. The whole package. If this ship is going to defend our shores, we need to know she works. Not just on paper." Marcus nodded. "You want to test that here?" Thomas shook his head. "No. We''re not firing a five-inch gun in the middle of Manila Bay. Move her out to deep water. Forty nautical miles west of Bataan. Schedule it for sunrise. Minimal traffic. No civilian exposure." "I''ll make the calls." "Bring in the second Arleigh Burke too. I want Sentinel summoned and prepped by dawn." "Another midnight miracle?" Thomas glanced at the water. "We''re not hiding it anymore, Marcus. We are the navy now." January 8, 2026 ¡ª 04:12 AMManila Port ¨C Naval Operations Tower Inside the newly converted naval control center on the upper floors of the west pier, Thomas sat at a reinforced operations desk, screens arrayed in front of him. The console displayed real-time feeds from the Bulwark''s bridge: navigation data, readiness reports, propulsion test results. Chief Engineer Rosario''s voice came through the comms, crackling but clear. "Main turbine spooled to 90 percent. Aegis console green across the board. No sensor faults." Thomas toggled his mic. "Understood. Begin prep for open-water transit. We''ll rendezvous with Strike Group Bravo west of Bataan. Weapons testing commences at 0600 hours. All systems must be cold-tested by then." Rosario acknowledged, then cut the line. Marcus entered the room, wiping his hands on a cloth. "Support Barge''s on final approach. We''ll tie her down at Dock Two by midday." Thomas nodded, eyes still on the screens. "That gives us repair access and maintenance float. Good." He paused, then leaned back slightly. "How are the naval crews adjusting?" "Fast," Marcus replied. "They''re not like infantry. Everything''s by the numbers with them. They train hard and follow orders without flinching. We assigned AI-assist modules to the fire-control and sonar teams. It''s working." "Good. That means the CIWS can actually shoot back if we''re boarded at sea." Marcus folded his arms. "You think we''ll get hit like that?" Thomas stared at a blinking sonar overlay. "I think the ocean''s going to throw things at us that we haven''t seen on land. I want our ships to shoot faster than I can blink." January 8, 2026 ¡ª 06:41 AMWest Philippine Sea ¨C 42 Nautical Miles from Bataan The sky above was pale orange now, sunlight bleeding across the water like spilled gold. The OWS Bulwark cut through the waves with calm authority. Her radar array rotated smoothly atop the tower. Deck crew ran cables and safety tethers. The gun crews stood by at the five-inch turret, helmets on, visors down. In the combat information center, green light bathed the room. Sonar pings echoed faintly through the walls. Thomas stood near the bridge console, flanked by two naval officers. "CIWS power cycle?" he asked. "Confirmed, sir. Both systems synced. Optical tracking engaged." "Good. Drone targets?" The comms officer gestured to the monitor. "Four fast movers inbound. Overwatch drones set to 250 knots. Training profile delta-four." Thomas tapped the intercom. "Begin CIWS trial run. Dummy rounds only. Confirm sensor lock and suppression accuracy." From the port side of the Bulwark, the Phalanx CIWS whirred to life. Its multi-barrelled turret turned and locked onto the first drone just as it came into visual range. The drone banked sharply, dipping low across the water. The CIWS opened fire. A roar of metal and sound burst across the ocean as the 20mm shells shredded the dummy drone. Pieces scattered into the surf. The second turret on the starboard side picked off the next drone. Two for two. Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Efficient." "Training profile confirmed. CIWS coverage optimal within forty-degree arc." "Good. Next, load virtual Tomahawk. I want to walk the fire-control software through an over-the-horizon strike." "Target coordinates?" Thomas keyed in a test point: a non-occupied atoll 120 nautical miles west. "Simulate coastal interdiction. Launch profile bravo-six." The system chirped as the ship''s VLS rotated in virtual alignment. "Target locked. Firing simulation now." From the VLS bank, a sealed cell opened with a hiss¡ªbut no projectile emerged. Instead, on the console, a simulated flight path lit up in real-time. A virtual Tomahawk cut across the horizon, tracked via satellite overlay. "Hit registered." Thomas stared at the feed and nodded once. "Good. That''ll be enough for today." The bridge crew exhaled. Marcus leaned closer. "Well?" Thomas stepped back, watching the morning sun reflect off the waves. "Now we know she works." January 8, 2026 ¡ª 09:07 AMMOA Complex ¨C War Room Back inside the command center, Thomas sat with his back straight, coffee in hand, and a new strategy document forming on his console. The Navy was no longer hypothetical. The Bloom wouldn''t expect a response from sea. Now they would learn. And Overwatch was done reacting. It was time to shape the waters ahead. Chapter 231: Trying the Naval Assets in Combat Part 1 January 9, 2026 ¡ª 04:45 AM West Philippine Sea ¨C Combat Patrol, 87 Nautical Miles West of Palawan The ocean before dawn was vast, black, and heavy with mist. Beneath the rolling gray swells, sonar pings echoed through layers of saltwater like distant, muted thunder. On the bridge of the OWS Bulwark, Thomas Estaris stood beside the captain''s chair, arms crossed, eyes locked onto the large digital display hovering in front of him. The destroyer cruised at 22 knots, a low, steady hum vibrating through the deck under his boots. Off to starboard, her sister ship¡ªthe OWS Sentinel¡ªcut through the sea in parallel, separated by 1,500 meters of open water. Their twin wakes traced glowing lines under the moonlight. To the rear, the Support Barge Hephaestus maintained its slower pace, flanked by two Sea Phantom II patrol boats acting as close escorts. The sea was calm. Too calm. "This sector was clean two days ago," Marcus said, stepping up beside him with a tablet in hand. "But we''re getting anomalies now. Deep sonar sweeps picked up contact at 160 meters. Multiple readings. Moving in formation." Thomas narrowed his eyes. "Any surface breach?" "None yet. But the thermal scatter looks like a Bloom pocket. Water''s warmer over the contacts by five degrees." He said nothing for a moment. Then: "Deploy sonar drones. I want live returns." The comms officer nodded and relayed the order. Moments later, from the aft deck of the Bulwark, a pair of autonomous underwater vehicles slid into the sea, trailing lines of green light as they descended. Sonar feeds updated. Blips appeared. Then more. "Jesus," the operator murmured. The screen lit up with shapes¡ªelongated, jagged, serpentine. Some moved erratically, others in perfect arcs. All too deep to be casual sea life. "Count?" Thomas asked. "Twenty-three confirmed, spread over a five-kilometer cone," the sonar tech replied. "We''ve tagged five as high-threat size index. One of them is... really big." "How big?" "Whale class. Maybe larger." Thomas felt it in his gut. "They''re testing us." "Looks that way," Marcus said grimly. "What do you want to do?" "Let them come up," Thomas replied. "Arm all forward batteries. Set CIWS to auto-track. And tell the Sentinel to hold tight¡ªwe''ll bait them first." He keyed the command system open and flagged the drone network. "Begin patrol intercept." The two sonar drones changed course and headed straight for the underwater contacts. 04:59 AM OPAREA BLUE ¨C 85 Nautical Miles from Palawan From beneath the calm water, the ocean erupted. The first creature exploded upward in a burst of froth and scale¡ªits body twisted like a giant eel, plated with bone armor and dripping thick black fluid from its gills. Its mouth was a spiral of teeth, flaring open as it lunged toward the midsection of the Bulwark. "CONTACT!" the radar officer shouted. "Surface breach¡ªport side¡ªrange 800 meters!" The five-inch gun rotated. CIWS auto-tracked. "Engage!" Thomas ordered. The Phalanx CIWS spat fire. Twin bursts of 20mm shells sliced through the air in a buzzsaw roar. The creature shrieked¡ªa wet, gurgling sound¡ªas rounds punched through its upper body, shredding muscle and cartilage. It crashed back into the water, thrashing wildly. Another emerged behind it¡ªsmaller but faster¡ªskimming the surface like a torpedo with limbs. BRRRRT. A second CIWS burst ended that one before it got within 500 meters. "Three more surfacing!" shouted a deck gunner. "Starboard side, mid-range!" The Sentinel opened fire. Her five-inch gun let loose a thunderous roar, and a bloom of whitewater detonated against one of the targets, launching it skyward in pieces. Tracer rounds followed¡ªher deck guns stitching fire across the surface as two more targets submerged again. "They''re circling," Marcus said. "They''re not just attacking¡ªthis is tactical." "They''re not beasts anymore," Thomas muttered. "They''re hunters." 05:11 AM Combat Information Center ¨C OWS Bulwark "All weapon systems green," reported the fire control chief. "CIWS ammo at 86 percent. VLS on standby. Awaiting strike package confirmation." Thomas tapped the console and keyed in a preloaded scenario. "Load VLS: ASROC. Target package: Contact Cluster Four, depth 90 meters." A pair of vertical launch cells hissed open. Inside, the ASROC (Anti-Submarine Rocket) systems activated. The ship''s sonar locked onto the precise coordinates of the deepest cluster¡ªfour distinct shapes huddled together in what looked like a sunken reef. "Fire." WHOOMP. The ASROC launched into the sky, arcing high before separating mid-air and plunging into the sea with a sharp splash. A second later¡ªdetonation. The blast ripped a shockwave through the water. On sonar, the returns spiked¡ªthen faded. "Confirmed hits on two," the operator said. "Third contact retreating." Thomas didn''t smile. "Let them run." "More surfacing!" someone called out. From the bridge, the crew watched as a trio of silhouettes surged toward the ship. These ones were bigger¡ªheavily mutated, their upper halves armored like crustaceans, limbs lined with thick bone blades. They propelled themselves using thick muscular tails, their jaws clicking and opening wide like deep-sea anglerfish. "CIWS reload!" the tech shouted. "Too close for the five-inch!" "Ready stunners!" Thomas barked. At the starboard railing, two Overwatch sailors swung open access hatches and deployed electrical lances directly into the sea. They fired. High-voltage arcs lashed across the water. The closest creature screamed¡ªits body spasming violently before flipping belly-up, gills flaring. The second kept coming. The Bulwark''s deck gun rotated. KA-THOOM. A single point-blank blast from the naval cannon sent shockwaves across the water. When the smoke cleared, the monster was gone¡ªjust scattered bits of chitin and blood staining the waves. The third retreated. "New sonar update!" shouted a tech. "Something''s approaching¡ªlarge displacement¡ª400 meters out¡ªdead ahead!" Thomas narrowed his eyes. "Main screen." The image flicked on. There, beneath the surface, a shadow moved. Slow. Deliberate. Massive. It wasn''t just swimming¡ªit was crawling. The sonar return showed protrusions¡ªlong, anchor-like limbs digging into the seabed and dragging itself forward. "How deep?" Marcus asked. "Forty meters," the tech said. "It''s climbing. Coming up." "Ready VLS¡ªload all forward Tomahawks. Fire as soon as it breaches." "Thomas¡ª" Marcus started. But he held up a hand. "It''s testing us. Let''s give it a lesson." 05:20 AM West Philippine Sea ¨C Battle Zone Alpha The surface broke. A massive, armored creature emerged¡ªits body like a fusion of whale and sea scorpion. Its carapace shimmered with Bloom-tinted crystal patches. Spines curled from its back, and its head¡ªvaguely humanoid¡ªtwisted with too many eyes. It opened its mouth. A shriek blasted across the sea¡ªlike a whale song warped by rage. "Target acquired!" the fire control officer shouted. "FIRE!" The VLS roared. Four Tomahawks burst skyward¡ªspiraling, then plunging down toward the beast. The creature tried to dive¡ªbut too late. The missiles struck center mass. BOOM¡ªBOOM¡ªBOOM¡ªBOOM. The explosions lit the sea with fire. A geyser of water and blood rose twenty meters into the air. The shockwave rocked the Bulwark, but her hull held. The creature collapsed backward, floating belly-up. Dead. No movement on sonar. Silence. Thomas stepped forward to the bridge railing. Only foamy, bloodied water remained. And the smell of burning salt. "Battle report," he said calmly. "Seventeen contacts neutralized. Four retreated. No hull damage. Minor ammo expenditure. No casualties." Thomas nodded once. Then looked west¡ªtoward the deeper waters where the sonar had yet to scan. "Signal the fleet," he said. "Phase Two begins at dusk." Marcus glanced over. "We hunting again?" "No," Thomas replied. "We''re sending a message." Chapter 232: Trying the Naval Assets in Combat Part 2 January 9, 2026 ¡ª 06:31 AM West Philippine Sea ¨C OWS Bulwark, On Patrol The sea was quiet again. But it wasn''t the kind of silence that brought peace. It was the eerie, lingering stillness that came after something immense had stirred¡ªthen died. Thomas Estaris stood alone near the bridge''s starboard viewport, looking out at the crimson-tinted swells. Burnt oil, shredded muscle, and crystalline Bloom fragments floated on the surface like driftwood. The remains of the leviathan they''d just slain were still sinking, trailing black ichor behind it. The rest of the bridge was abuzz, but Thomas was still. Not frozen. Not stunned. Just thinking. Behind him, Marcus entered, helmet tucked under one arm. "No more sonar returns. Nothing within fifty nautical miles. They''re either dead or they''re hiding." "They''ll be back," Thomas said quietly. Marcus nodded. "You were right. It wasn''t a rogue mutation. That thing was organized. It had escort behavior. Defensive coordination." "Exactly," Thomas muttered. "They''re evolving with purpose." He turned back to the console. "Status on the Sentinel?" "Nominal. Minor damage from shrapnel spray, but nothing critical. Crew''s cycling shifts now." "And the barge?" "Hephaestus is still intact. No direct engagements. Support boats are conducting cleanup and sonar sweep." Thomas moved toward the center table and called up the tactical map. A wide stretch of ocean lit up between Palawan and the deeper western trench. "We secure this stretch, we get control of the Sulu approach," he said. "That puts us in range of Mindoro, then down to Basilan. If the Bloom''s nesting in the archipelago, we choke their lanes here." Marcus frowned. "That''s a wide net to cast." "We''re not doing it all at once." Thomas tapped a section of the map near a scattered reef zone. "Here. Next operation area. We''ll set sonar buoys, deploy recon drones, and dispatch the Sentinel for perimeter patrol. The Bulwark and I will move west." Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You want to head deeper?" Thomas looked at him. "If we want dominance, we push forward. No more waiting for them to come to us." Marcus hesitated. Then nodded. "Alright. I''ll get the prep teams ready. ETA for full armament reload is four hours." "Good," Thomas said. "Tell Rosario I want combat diagnostics from every fire-control module before we sortie again. Especially VLS seals and sonar integration." He paused, then added, "And deploy the Type 212A. Quiet recon. Let it run deep current tracking while we press outward." Marcus froze slightly. "You''re activating the submarine?" Thomas nodded. "Time to test its stealth. If anything is hiding under the trench, it''s going to hear us coming. I want something watching from below while we''re making noise up top." Marcus didn''t argue. "I''ll notify the sub crew. They''ll launch by 1100." 09:28 AM ¡ª Support Barge Hephaestus, Rear Docking Platform Below deck, a curved bay door hissed open, and the waters parted for a moment as the Type 212A slid into the sea. Sleek, dark, and nearly silent, the German-engineered sub slipped beneath the waves without splash or fanfare. Its sail-mounted periscope retracted, and its air-independent propulsion kicked in a moment later, pushing it gently westward into the trench''s shadow. Inside, the two-man command crew adjusted bearings and set course. "Submarine Call Sign: OWS Ghost," came the report across the secure channel. Thomas heard it through his wrist mic. "Confirmed. Begin operations. Maintain radio silence after final ping. We''ll reconnect at 1900 hours." "Understood, Ghost out." He closed the channel and turned back toward the sea. They were ready. 12:41 PM ¡ª Open Waters, 106 Nautical Miles West of Palawan The sun was now high above, beating down hard on the glistening deck of the Bulwark. Standing on the upper command deck, Thomas reviewed his wrist console and watched the final updates stream in from the Sentinel''s forward scout drones. "Multiple sonar buoys deployed," Marcus reported. "They''re forming a net around the forward combat zone. Anything breaches, we''ll get a ping." "What about the Ghost?" "No contact since scheduled silence. They''re submerged, holding depth at 300 meters. No anomalies so far." Thomas narrowed his eyes at the horizon. "They''re watching us again. They''re learning. I want that learning to stop today." He pulled open a side panel and keyed into the new operation file. Operation Name: Steel Warden Phase Two: Suppression through Naval Firepower Target: Suspected Bloom nest hidden beneath reef structures and trench overhangs Objective: Complete eradication of all marine Bloom variants within mapped radius Assets: OWS Bulwark, OWS Sentinel, Ghost (sub), 2x Sea Phantom II patrols, drone air support Duration: 8 hours Priority: Total elimination He tapped the green confirmation. "Broadcast to the fleet," he said. "Weapons free." 01:03 PM ¡ª Steel Warden Begins The destroyers peeled into a V-formation, their hulls cutting deep through the water. Overhead, a Reaper drone buzzed low, scanning surface anomalies. Beneath the surface, sonar pulses echoed¡ªlistening, always listening. The first signs came quick. "Contact," the sonar tech on the Bulwark called out. "Seven deep targets moving laterally¡ªpattern spread. Same signatures as earlier." "Intercept package loaded," fire control confirmed. "Tomahawks?" Thomas nodded. "Fire in pairs. Followed by ASROCs on staggered timers." WHOOSH. Four Tomahawks launched in perfect sync, arching through the sky before diving back down in tight arcs. A moment later, the surface of the water erupted in synchronized detonations¡ªfour bright columns of spray and fire. Then came the second wave. Underwater ASROCs plunged deep and detonated at pre-calculated depths. The sea shuddered. Sonar returns scattered. "Two down. Five still circling. One changing depth¡ªrising fast!" "Which direction?" "Dead ahead!" Then it surfaced¡ªa grotesque mass, broader than the last. Its back was lined with hardened plates, and its arms had fused into long blades like oars made of bone. The Bulwark''s five-inch gun didn''t wait for orders. KA-THOOM. The deck shook as the turret fired. The round struck the creature''s torso, blowing open a hole big enough to shove a truck through. The creature convulsed¡ªthen twisted around and dove again. "Finish it," Thomas said. CIWS guns roared, one after another. Chained fire raked the sea, and the creature surfaced only once more¡ªlong enough for the Sentinel''s main gun to put a second shell straight through its skull. Silence again. Then the sonar lit up. Ten more. Faster. Smarter. Coordinated. 1:45 PM ¡ª Steel Warden Escalates The sea boiled with movement. And Overwatch answered with steel. Chapter 233 233: Continued Campaign on Sea January 9, 2026 ¡ª 01:47 PM The sea had turned violent. Not from weather¡ªthere wasn''t a storm in sight¡ªbut from the churning force of battle. Shells cracked the air. Explosions sent plumes of seawater high into the sky. Bloom-mutated sea creatures moved in coordinated swarms, not unlike a wolf pack encircling a herd. But Overwatch was no herd. On the deck of the OWS Bulwark, Thomas Estaris gripped the railing near the upper starboard wing. Below, sailors worked in synchronized tempo, loading and coordinating fire control protocols. Above, the sky thundered with the sound of F-16s streaking overhead, diverted to assist in strafing the more agile Bloomspawn now appearing in fast-moving pods. "Targets regrouping," one of the CIC officers called out from below. "Sonar indicates spiral convergence pattern. They''re forming up for another charge." "ETA?" Thomas barked. "Thirty seconds. Twelve confirmed, multiple unknowns following deep trails." He turned toward Marcus. "CIWS status?" "Cooling loop recharged. 87% ammo remaining across the forward arc." "Time to put it to work." The Sentinel, holding the left flank of the V-formation, fired first. Her five-inch gun lobbed a high-explosive shell into the waterline of a mid-sized creature breaching ahead of the rest. The hit was solid¡ªclean and brutal¡ªsending fragments of black armor and bright red mist into the air. Then came the others. Like torpedoes, they rose in fast, zigzagging bursts, water parting violently behind them. Some swam beneath the ships, using sonar interference from Bloom residue to hide. Others skipped across the surface, their long tails acting as stabilizers. Mutated dorsal fins had turned into bony paddles. "CIWS tracking three¡ªfour¡ªno, five!" shouted the fire control chief. The Bulwark''s twin Phalanx turrets lit up. Twin BRRRRTs cut through the sky, sending streams of tungsten shells into the incoming wave. The sea turned red and black as bodies were ripped apart mid-leap. "Two slipped past!" came a warning. "One headed toward the barge!" "Redirect Sea Phantoms!" Marcus ordered. "Intercept and repel!" On cue, the two patrol boats peeled off, engines screaming across the waves. They skidded into position near the Hephaestus, launching flares and mini-torpedoes. One creature was hit in the flank and exploded like a burst of gelatin. The other slammed into the barge''s hull¡ªbut bounced off, dazed, before being riddled with fire from its mounted guns. "Status on Ghost?" Thomas asked. The response came from below deck¡ªan encrypted pulse from the Type 212A, now deep beneath the main fleet. "Ghost reporting underwater hostiles pursuing from trench edge," Marcus read aloud. "No engagement yet. Holding stealth. Awaiting permission to fire." Thomas didn''t hesitate. "Grant it." In the darkness below, the Ghost came alive. Near-silent propulsion carried it through the trench walls as torpedo tubes opened like the jaws of a beast. Two Bloom constructs followed it¡ªfish-like, with glowing red ridges along their backs and tails like blade fins. "Tube 1, fire." A single torpedo launched silently. It locked onto heat and movement and struck one target in the side. The creature never saw it coming. The other turned to flee¡ªbut the Ghost turned sharper. "Tube 2, fire." A direct hit. No remains. "Two kills confirmed. Holding depth," came the message. Above, the battle was still raging. On the Sentinel, one of the Bloomspawn reached the hull¡ªlatching onto the stern railings with sickle-like claws. Crew rushed to repel it. A deck-mounted stunner was discharged directly into the creature''s spine, electrocuting it until it fell limp and slid back into the sea. "Thomas," Marcus said through the radio, "we''re holding¡ªbut we need to end this. These things are stalling us." Thomas stared at the tactical overlay. The Bloom wasn''t just reacting anymore. It was feinting, probing. Holding their attention while something else moved deeper. He made his decision. "Pull Sentinel back to mid-range. Keep CIWS hot. I want Bulwark to move forward alone." Marcus hesitated. "You want to isolate?" "Yes. Draw them to me. I want to see what they''re protecting." At 2:12 PM, the OWS Bulwark accelerated. Thirty knots. Alone. She pushed forward through the broken waters, radar sweeping ahead. The sea grew darker. The sonar pinged more slowly now. Then it happened. The display lit up with a spike. A massive heat source. It wasn''t moving. "Dead ahead," said the sonar tech. "One hundred meters below. Massive structure. Stationary. Organic signature, but... it''s not swimming." Thomas narrowed his eyes. "Drop payload. VLS strike pattern¡ªAlpha Ten. Two Tomahawks. Let''s wake it up." Two missiles launched into the sky. They arced, then dove. Impact. The sea erupted in a shockwave. And from below, the nightmare came. It didn''t rise¡ªit emerged. Like the top of a sunken tower lifting from the abyss, the massive Bloom structure cracked the surface. It wasn''t a single creature. It was a hive. Covered in mutated coral, webbing, and half-submerged corpses, the thing reeked of bile and rot. Tendrils extended outward, like feeding tubes or sensory whips. And embedded inside its translucent body... Were eggs. Hundreds. "No," Thomas muttered. "That''s a spawning nest." "Orders?" the weapons chief asked. "Kill it." All batteries opened fire. CIWS, five-inch guns, drone strikes from overhead Reapers. It was like a naval fireworks display¡ªbut every explosion had intent, fury, and judgment. The hive shrieked. A psychic wail echoed across the water, like a chorus of dying whales and screaming humans all at once. But Thomas didn''t flinch. "Reload VLS. Full salvo. I want this thing gone." They fired again. And again. Until the sea was filled with nothing but ash and twisted Bloom wreckage. By 3:12 PM, it was over. The sonar was quiet. No more pings. Just silence. And burning light on the horizon. January 9, 2026 ¡ª 03:30 PM West Philippine Sea ¡ª Operation Steel Warden: Complete Back on the bridge, Marcus exhaled as he read the last updates. "Confirmed kills: 34. One major hive destroyed. Ghost is surfacing with no damage. Barge recovered patrol teams. No Overwatch casualties." Thomas nodded. "Log it," he said. "Call it a victory." And quietly, to himself, he added: "But this sea belongs to no one yet." Chapter 234 234: Return to Port January 9, 2026 ¡ª 04:22 PM The sky was turning a dull amber by the time the Overwatch naval strike group began to reassemble. The OWS Bulwark now cruised at a slower, more measured pace. Her hull, once gleaming with fresh paint and ceremony, now bore scorch marks, shrapnel dents, and streaks of black ichor that had not yet been scrubbed away. She was bloodied¡ªbut proud. Behind her, the Sentinel maintained a staggered escort position. The Hephaestus followed at the rear, slower but steady. Drones circled overhead like silent guardians, scanning for any anomalies, though for now, the ocean remained still. Inside the CIC of the Bulwark, Thomas Estaris leaned over the central operations table. The soft light of the displays glowed across his tired face. Every screen showed green, and every crewmember around him moved with professional discipline¡ªbut the adrenaline was gone. The high of battle had passed, replaced by exhaustion, relief, and the silence of survivors. "We''ll make port before midnight," Marcus said, stepping into the room and handing Thomas a sealed water bottle. "Weather''s holding. Manila Bay is clear." Thomas nodded slowly, then took the bottle without a word. He didn''t drink. Just held it loosely. "How''s the crew?" he asked after a pause. Marcus gave a short sigh. "Tired. But no casualties. Damage control is underway. Gun crews are already doing maintenance checks. Deck''s a mess, but functional." "And Ghost?" "Surfaced twenty minutes ago. They''ll maintain a stealth path home, hugging deeper current lines. We''ve scheduled radio syncs every ninety minutes until they''re under port radar." Thomas finally took a sip. The water was warm, but it helped. "Debrief will have to wait until tomorrow," he said, eyes still on the screen. "I want them to rest. We''ll run diagnostics and log fire sequences after we dock." "You got it." The CIC dimmed slightly as the overhead lights shifted to early-evening cycle. Thomas looked up at the curved glass port above them¡ªfaint outlines of clouds smeared the sky like bruises. "Marcus," he said. "Yeah?" "That hive wasn''t just a spawning point. It was waiting." Marcus frowned. "You think it knew we''d come?" "I think it knew someone would. And the Bloom didn''t just throw creatures at us this time. It tried to wear us down. Distract us. Scatter our formation. The hive didn''t move until we provoked it." Marcus folded his arms. "Like a trap." Thomas nodded. "And we just told it that our guns reach this far." A long silence passed between them. Then Thomas straightened and tapped his wrist console. "Send word to the MOA Complex. Flag us green for return. And request an aerial sweep of Scarborough Shoal and the Mindoro Strait. If they''re hiding another nest, that''s where it''ll be." "Already on it," Marcus said, turning toward the comms station. 07:48 PM ¡ª Manila Bay Airspace The glow of the capital came into view just as the final edge of daylight slipped below the western horizon. From the skies above, the city looked strangely peaceful¡ªrows of solar streetlights pulsing in coordinated rhythm, Overwatch''s defensive towers blinking steadily in organized patterns. The city had become a fortress. Not indestructible. But no longer helpless. Two escort drones from MOA Air Command swept in to join the returning fleet, confirming identity and providing early recon clearance. In the distance, the gray sprawl of the MOA Complex extended into the bay like a spearhead, its towers lit with faint amber and white lighting. The Bulwark and Sentinel reduced speed. The Hephaestus slowed further, giving the destroyers time to dock first. Inside the bridge, Thomas stood once again. This time, helmet off, gloves tucked into his belt. The fatigue was deeper now. Not just in his body¡ªbut in his thoughts. Victory came at a cost, even if not in blood. "You want a full reception?" Marcus asked. Thomas shook his head. "No ceremony. No announcements. Let the dock crews handle it. Just get us inside." "You got it." 08:17 PM ¡ª MOA Naval Dockyard, Pier Seven As the Bulwark entered the fortified bay, dock crews lined the piers in silence. Some saluted. Others stood with tools in hand, waiting for the cables to drop. Hydraulic cranes hummed quietly in the background, ready to begin inspection and repair. The destroyer settled into position with the elegance of a seasoned vessel, guided by automated berths and tethers. The main gangway extended. Thomas was the first down. Boots hit the metal platform with a thud. He didn''t speak. Just nodded once at the dock chief and walked past him toward the secured entrance to the command complex. Marcus followed a few paces behind. "Any word from the civilians?" Thomas asked without turning. "None yet. We kept the operation quiet. Only internal personnel were updated. Still debating whether to disclose the hive." Thomas stopped at the base of the stairwell and looked at Marcus. "We don''t tell them what it was," he said. "Not yet. Just that a major threat was neutralized. Say it was a defensive engagement. They''re not ready for what we found." "You think it''ll scare them?" "No. I think they''ll want to see more blood. And we''re not ready to give it yet." Marcus gave a slight nod. Thomas exhaled and continued climbing the steps. 08:42 PM ¡ª Conrad Command Floor, Debriefing Hall Inside the converted luxury hotel turned operations hub, Thomas entered the debriefing room with a quiet nod. Several officers were already waiting¡ªair crews, recon analysts, logistics heads. The holographic table at the center of the room flickered to life as soon as he entered, cycling through mission footage, sonar data, and satellite overlays. He didn''t sit. "Steel Warden is complete," he said without preamble. "You''ve all seen the numbers. Zero casualties. Major Hive terminated. Dozens of Bloomspawn eliminated." He walked slowly around the table, letting the silence build. "But this wasn''t just a success," he continued. "It was a warning." The officers listened closely. "The Bloom''s adapting faster than we anticipated. They''re using the ocean now. Deep routes. Biological camouflage. Layered attacks." He pointed at the 3D model of the hive structure. "That thing wasn''t just growing more of them¡ªit was controlling them. Coordinating strikes. Faking behavior to split our lines. If we hadn''t isolated it, it could''ve spawned dozens more within weeks." He let that sit before finishing. "This wasn''t a battle. It was a test. And we passed. But next time, they''ll be ready too." No one spoke. Then Thomas nodded once and tapped the console. "Rest tonight. Tomorrow, we plan Phase Three." 10:09 PM ¡ª Conrad Tower, Thomas''s Quarters The lights were low. The room was spartan. Just a cot, a desk, a private console, and a sealed locker. Thomas sat on the edge of the bed... And then lay flat on the bed. He was exhausted and would check the gain tomorrow. Chapter 235: Commanders Respite Part 1 January 12, 2026 ¡ª 10:04 AM MOA Complex ¡ª Executive Wing, Thomas''s Suite The morning sun filtered in through the armored glass panels of the suite, casting angled rays across polished marble and steel. For once, there were no sirens blaring, no tactical alerts on the overhead screens. Just silence¡ªsoft, tranquil silence. Thomas Estaris exhaled and let his back sink into the leather couch. His wrist console flickered with a soft chime. The screen displayed his current status once again: [User: Thomas Estaris] [Level: 50] [Experience Points: 123,808,218 /134,758,442] [Blood Coins: 5,234,512,445] More than enough to launch another campaign. But for the first time in months, he didn''t feel like launching anything. He stood up and grabbed his Overwatch utility jacket¡ªnot because he needed it, but because habit was a hard thing to kill. The hallways were quiet. His elite guards nodded as he passed, but none spoke unless spoken to. Even they knew their commander needed this. 10:31 AM ¡ª MOA Digital Mall Sector B, Electronics Hub Rows of untouched shelves stood frozen in time¡ªrows of consoles, game discs, and untouched plasma TVs. The air was clean now, thanks to the filtration and life-support teams who''d spent weeks sanitizing every part of the complex. Everything was powered, maintained, and guarded. The first console Thomas laid eyes on was a classic: a black and red PlayBox Elite X, still wrapped in its transparent case. A dusty title sticker caught his attention: "Steel Horizon: Remastered" He smiled. That game. He played it years ago¡ªback when the world still made sense. Naval strategy, unit construction, fleet battles against alien forces... ironic how much of it had become his actual life. He slid the disc into the console, grabbed a controller, and lowered himself onto a padded chair before the mounted 60-inch screen. Startup screen. Studio logo. Then the menu. The music played¡ªa soft piano tune that stirred an unexpected pang in his chest. Start New Game Load Save Data Multiplayer Mode (Offline Only) "New game it is," he muttered. For the next hour, Thomas lost himself to nostalgia. He built up a base on a Pacific island, formed a carrier group, launched bombing runs. He laughed as he failed to protect his fuel tankers and cussed when his destroyer was sunk by a stealth submarine. It was bliss. No politics. No pressure. No monstrous Bloom hives. Just numbers, icons, and a satisfying power fantasy. 11:44 AM ¡ª MOA Complex, Command Center (Live Feed Room) Marcus entered cautiously, carrying two thermal mugs of brewed coffee. He peeked through the glass doors into the adjoining entertainment hub. There, seated like a teenager on his day off, was Thomas Estaris¡ªCommander of Overwatch, the system-enhanced tactician who held the Philippine archipelago together by sheer will and weaponry¡ªmashing buttons like a casual gamer. "He''s been at it for over an hour," a technician whispered. "Hasn''t issued a single order. We didn''t interrupt." Marcus smiled faintly. "Good. Let him breathe." He placed one coffee on the console desk and sipped the other, watching the screen as Thomas''s digital fleet launched another airstrike across a virtual ocean. 12:23 PM ¡ª MOA Complex, Recreation Lounge Game paused. Thomas leaned back with a yawn and rubbed his eyes. His head felt light¡ªnot from fatigue, but from the lack of stress. This... this was nice. A knock came at the glass door. He turned. Rebecca. "I''m not bringing you a report," she said before he could react. "Marcus told me you''re in ''downtime mode.'' I brought food." She placed two trays on the side table. Real food. Hot, fresh rice, fried bangus, salted eggs, tomatoes, brewed barako coffee. Comfort food. His expression warmed. "God, I missed this." "You could have asked for it days ago. The kitchen''s been restored." "I didn''t want to waste resources." Rebecca gave him a look. "Thomas. You have a major food source. I think you can afford one breakfast." He laughed. "Point taken." They ate together quietly, with only the distant hum of servers and ventilation fans filling the silence. After a while, Rebecca asked, "What are you going to do next?" He leaned back, chewing thoughtfully. "I am thinking of clearing the entirety of Luzon of zombies, so that we can no longer be contained in this complex. The West Philippine Sea is under partial control... but I think I''m tired of reacting." She looked at him. "I want to build now. Not just survive. Actually build something for the people." Rebecca smiled. "Then maybe rest isn''t a waste. Maybe it''s the first step." 1:15 PM ¡ª Private Balcony, East Wing Overlooking Manila Bay Thomas stood alone, sipping the last of his coffee. The sky was clear. The horizon sparkled. But even in the distance, he could see the faint speck of a sonar buoy blinking red out near the bay''s edge. The world was still dangerous. But it was no longer out of control. And for the first time in what felt like a year, he didn''t feel like a soldier. He felt... human. And what do humans need? A companion. Well truth be told, he had enjoyed some of his time as a commander in this complex as he managed to have fun with the Koreans and P-pop idols. But that was just temporary pleasure. He wanted a real one. A girlfriend¡ªin a time like this. Despite his past, he still deserved to have someone as a girlfriend and possibly a wife. He had a dream of building a family before this apocalypse started, and it would not change even if the apocalypse had broken the world. That dream¡ªquiet, personal, and stubborn¡ªclung to his heart like an ember refusing to go out. It was easy to forget it sometimes, drowned in operations, war councils, system upgrades, and the roar of CIWS guns. But when everything quieted down, when the world stopped screaming for a moment¡ªlike now¡ªhe could hear it again. He didn''t want to die just a commander. He wanted to die a man who had lived. Chapter 236: Commanders Respite Part 2 January 13, 2026 ¡ª 4:15 PM MOA Complex ¡ª South Sector, Seaside Boulevard The sun was just beginning to dip into the horizon, casting soft golds and ambers over the seawall as the breeze carried the briny scent of the bay into the heart of the MOA Complex. The lights of the amusement park flickered to life one by one¡ªan echo of a world that used to be, a reminder that despite the apocalypse, there were still places left to smile. Thomas Estaris stood at the edge of the boardwalk, his hands tucked into the pockets of his long Overwatch jacket. He wasn''t wearing his usual armor or command gear today¡ªjust a black shirt, slacks, and his signature wrist console. A quiet look sat on his face. For once, the complex didn''t need his orders. The Bloom nests were cleared, the West Philippine Sea patrolled, and Metro Manila secure¡ªfor now. He exhaled slowly, watching as the Ferris wheel lit up in hues of violet and blue. Then he heard the soft steps behind him. "Thought you''d stand me up," said a voice¡ªclear, amused, and familiar. He turned and smiled. Rebecca Langley stood there with her arms crossed, dressed in something rare: a light blue blouse and a pair of dark jeans, civilian clothes not touched by command insignia or tactical belts. Her long brown hair was tied into a practical braid that brushed her shoulder. "I''m twenty seconds early," Thomas said, glancing at his wrist console. Rebecca tilted her head. "And already counting. That''s not very civilian of you." He shrugged with a faint smirk. "Old habits." The boardwalk behind them was coming alive¡ªnot crowded, but no longer desolate either. Families that had chosen to remain in the MOA Complex had slowly begun to emerge, bringing life back to the once-abandoned zones. Children chased each other with glowing sticks, teens loitered near reopened food stalls, and soldiers stood watch in discreet formations near ride entrances. "Didn''t think we''d ever get to do this," Thomas murmured. Rebecca raised a brow. "You mean a date?" He blinked. "I was going to say a walk." She laughed, a light sound that startled a pair of nearby doves into flight. "Come on, Commander. Let''s take that walk, then." They started down the boardwalk together, side by side, the distant hum of the rides mingling with the rhythm of the waves crashing softly against the sea barrier. The first attraction they came across was the carousel, its painted horses and carriages slowly turning to the tune of a soft waltz. Most would expect children to be on it, but the operator¡ªan Overwatch technician moonlighting for morale duty¡ªwaved them on. "I dare you," Rebecca said. Thomas raised an eyebrow. "What?" "Ride the carousel." "I command nuclear warheads." "And yet you''re afraid of a spinning horse." He snorted. "Fine." A few moments later, Thomas Estaris, Supreme Commander of Overwatch, sat atop a white-and-gold carousel horse while Rebecca, one seat ahead, giggled as she rode a lion. Around them, the slow-turning carousel glowed with warm lights. For a few precious minutes, they weren''t leaders¡ªthey were just people. When the ride ended, they got off with a kind of bashful amusement that neither tried to hide. "Next stop?" he asked. Rebecca pointed. "Roller coaster." Thomas followed her to the entrance of the refurbished Wave Reaper, a coastal-themed ride that dipped and twisted above the sea barrier. Engineers had recently tested it and declared it structurally safe. The guards waved them through, and they strapped in. The ride began with a clack-clack-clack as the chain hauled the cars up the first incline. Thomas glanced sideways. "Nervous?" he asked. "I eat budget reports for breakfast. This is nothing," she replied, but her grip on the bar tightened. Then came the drop. They plummeted together, laughter and curses whipped away by the wind. The track twisted left, right, then soared over a loop. When they slowed to a halt, Rebecca had her hair blown loose, and Thomas was grinning. "That was... unnecessary," she said, breathless. "And amazing," he replied. They stopped next by a small ice cream kiosk run by a group of volunteers who had restarted civilian businesses within the zone. A young girl in a vendor cap handed them two cones¡ªchocolate for Thomas, ube for Rebecca. He took a bite and sighed. "Haven''t had this since... I can''t even remember." Rebecca glanced at him between licks of her own cone. "You''re good at pretending everything''s under control." Thomas looked out at the water. "Most days, it isn''t." She didn''t press him. Just walked beside him until they reached the Ferris wheel, its enormous steel frame now painted with reinforced white coating and rimmed in colored LED lights. They stepped into a private gondola, which creaked gently as it rose into the sky. As the cabin climbed higher, the world shrank below them. From above, the MOA Complex looked peaceful. The seawalls encircled the base like a protective ring. The satellite towers blinked steadily. The reclaimed city lay still beneath the golden sun, no longer just a fortress¡ªbut maybe, slowly, a home. "I used to want a family," Thomas said, breaking the silence. Rebecca turned toward him. "Before all of this," he continued. "I wanted something quiet. A house. A wife. Maybe a kid. Someone to come home to after work." She was quiet for a long moment. "You never told me that." He smiled weakly. "Never thought it was important. We were too busy fighting for survival. But now... I don''t know. I think I still want it." Rebecca studied his face. "You still can, you know." "Even now?" "Especially now. We rebuild, remember? It''s not just cities and systems we''re restoring¡ªit''s people." The gondola reached its peak. The whole of Manila stretched out before them¡ªruins, hope, firelights, and all. A thousand stories below the sky. Thomas looked at her then, really looked. "I like you, Rebecca. Not just as my director. Or my ally. I like you." She blinked. A slight smile crept onto her face. "Took you long enough to say that," she replied softly. The gondola began its descent. The rest of the ride passed in silence¡ªbut it wasn''t awkward. It was warm. Hopeful. By the time they stepped off the ride, the night had deepened. The amusement park lights shimmered on the water. Civilians laughed in the distance. Someone had started playing music from an old speaker¡ªan upbeat pop song that clashed with the quiet, but somehow fit anyway. They walked back toward the command wing, steps unhurried, silence companionable. At the elevator, Thomas paused. "Would you like to have dinner tomorrow?" he asked. Rebecca tilted her head. "You mean... like a date?" He nodded. She grinned. "I thought this was the date." They both laughed. Then the doors slid shut, and she was gone. Thomas stood alone for a moment, staring at the reflection in the polished metal. His face looked different¡ªless hardened. Less tired. He tapped his console. No mission alerts. No emergencies. Just a quiet notification. He smiled to himself. "Good," he whispered. "Let''s keep it that way." Chapter 237: The Spark January 14, 2026 MOA Complex ¨C 6:05 PM The evening wind had cooled the air by the time Thomas Estaris stepped out of the Executive Wing, dressed in a lightweight jacket and clean slacks. His boots, shined just enough to suggest effort without vanity, clacked lightly against the tiled walkway that led to the open-air leisure deck on the third floor of the MOA South Tower. Unlike the first date filled with rides and youthful thrills, tonight was something more grounded. A slower pace. A real talk. Rebecca Langley was already there¡ªseated beneath a hanging garden of white fairy lights, sipping something from a ceramic mug as she gazed out over the bay. The area had once been a rooftop cafe?. Now it was an Overwatch-operated bistro, repurposed to feed civilians and staff with a view. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps and smiled. "No rollercoaster this time?" she teased. "Not tonight," Thomas said, taking the seat across from her. "I thought we''d try something quieter." She raised an eyebrow playfully. "Afraid you couldn''t top our first date?" He chuckled. "Afraid I''d vomit after my third ice cream if we rode another drop tower." The server¡ªa young man in his early twenties wearing the blue apron of the Civilian Affairs Kitchen¡ªappeared with a tray of mushroom soup, grilled fish, and roasted root vegetables. Clean, simple food. "You''ve got influence," Rebecca said, eyeing the plate. "This is the command staff ration menu." Thomas smiled. "I pulled some strings." They ate quietly for a while. The noise from below drifted up¡ªdistant laughter, the honk of a repurposed electric jeep, the low thrum of generator-fed music. Life was returning to Manila, slowly. Midway through the meal, Thomas leaned back. "Rebecca. Do you ever think about leaving?" She looked at him. "Leaving Overwatch? Or this place?" "Both." She thought for a moment. "Sometimes. But only in the abstract. I mean... where would I go? The world outside is still broken. And here, I can at least help fix a piece of it." He nodded. "Same." There was a silence that felt neither awkward nor forced¡ªjust a quiet understanding that they had both given up a lot for what they had now. Thomas took a breath. "Before all this... before the apocalypse, I had someone. We weren''t married, but we were close. I lost her on Day One. Didn''t even get to say goodbye." Rebecca reached across the table and placed a hand over his. "I''m sorry." "It''s okay. I don''t talk about her much anymore. But... I think I carried that weight longer than I thought. Maybe that''s why I kept everyone at a distance." Her hand lingered. "And now?" He looked at her. "Now I want something new. With you." Her eyes didn''t waver. "I''m scared too, you know. Every time I feel like I''m starting to live again... I hear the sirens. I read another field report. I wonder if it''ll all be ripped away." "Then let''s build something worth protecting." They sat there for a while longer, hands still touching, food growing cold on their plates. The stars blinked awake overhead. Down below, MOA''s southern gate lights shimmered like a beacon in the post-apocalyptic night. At around 8:00 PM, Thomas stood. "Walk with me?" Rebecca rose. "Always." They walked down the spiral stairwell that led to the promenade. Along the way, they passed murals painted by survivors¡ªscenes of hope, resilience, unity. Children''s handprints. Names of the dead. Stories etched into concrete. They reached the edge of the seawall. Waves crashed gently against the barrier, as if the ocean itself was humming a lullaby. Then Thomas turned to her. "I''ve been thinking of starting a civilian council. Something beyond just chain-of-command. Maybe even elections one day." She looked surprised¡ªand impressed. "That''s a big step." "It is. But so is this." He leaned in. Their kiss wasn''t urgent. It wasn''t rushed. It was quiet, like the wind, like the stars, like the promise of rebuilding not just a city, but a future. The kiss lingered like a warm ember in the night air¡ªgentle, deliberate, human. When they pulled away, Rebecca smiled faintly, her fingers still looped around the collar of Thomas''s jacket. He didn''t say anything right away. Neither did she. The silence between them was enough¡ªfor now. Waves splashed softly against the seawall. Out in the distance, a faint silhouette of an anchored patrol boat swayed under a watchful Reaper drone that blinked red in the sky. "This feels... surreal," Rebecca finally said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Like I forgot we were allowed to have moments like this." Thomas exhaled slowly, his voice quiet. "We are. Even if it''s just for tonight." They turned and walked again¡ªthis time along the path that circled the mall''s outer edge, between broken storefronts and lantern-lit archways. The survivors had converted the abandoned corridor into a kind of garden walkway. Potted plants grew in recycled steel drums. Solar lamps lined the path, casting gold and amber light. Somewhere, a string quartet recording played from a salvaged speaker, adding a dreamlike quality to the atmosphere. Rebecca slipped her arm into his. "So, Commander Estaris," she said teasingly, "what''s next for our date?" Thomas smirked. "Well, I was thinking we head over to the carousel." She laughed. "You''re not serious." "I''m entirely serious. That carousel still works. It''s been reinforced and restored by some of the engineers. Part of a public morale project." A few minutes later, they arrived at the once-abandoned ride¡ªnow repainted and lit up with flickering bulbs. The horses and chariots had been cleaned, polished, and remounted. A lone technician stood nearby, lazily sipping from a metal thermos. "Commander," the man said, standing straighter when he saw them. "You wanna take it for a spin?" Thomas nodded. "Just a few rounds." The man smiled and flipped a switch. As the gears began to turn and music sputtered to life, Thomas and Rebecca stepped aboard. He climbed onto a black armored steed with silver trim¡ªfitting for someone like him. Rebecca chose a simple white horse with a gold saddle, giggling slightly as the ride began to move. They circled slowly, watching the city''s edge blur behind the glow of carousel lights. "I used to love these as a kid," Rebecca said, her voice light. "There was a park near my house. I''d ride every weekend until I was too tall to fit comfortably." "Same," Thomas replied. "Except I never really stopped riding. Even as a teenager. Something about carousels makes you forget the world for a bit." As they circled, Thomas caught glimpses of his people¡ªcivilians, guards, and aid workers nearby, many pausing to watch. None interrupted. A few smiled. Some nodded in quiet approval. They understood. He wasn''t just their commander tonight. He was a man reclaiming something lost. After the third turn, the ride slowed. They dismounted in silence. Neither one wanted to break the spell. From there, they wandered again. Past empty restaurants converted into common kitchens. Past mural walls still half-painted by survivors with charcoal and faded paint. Past old security rooms that now housed radio operators and youth volunteers. They reached the old MOA amphitheater¡ªonce used for concerts and events. Now it was an open-air seating area, mostly dark save for two solar floodlights. A makeshift projector stood at one end, guarded by two sleepy technicians sipping tea. "We show movies here sometimes," Rebecca said, tugging him toward the rows of wooden benches. "Mostly old Filipino rom-coms or animated stuff for the kids." Thomas sat down with her on the top row. The screen flickered on¡ªperhaps someone had seen them and decided to play something. A silent film began. Black and white, foreign, likely salvaged from an old DVD collection. They watched for a while, neither focused on the story, just enjoying the closeness. "I used to hate being idle," Thomas said after a time. "Back before the world ended, I couldn''t sit still. I always felt like time was slipping past me if I wasn''t working." "And now?" Rebecca asked. He looked at her. "Now I realize I missed the point. Life isn''t measured by output. It''s measured by moments like this." She leaned her head on his shoulder. The screen flickered. Somewhere, a few children chased each other down the corridor below the amphitheater, their laughter echoing like bells. "I was never the kind of person who thought I''d find love in a world like this," Rebecca whispered. "I figured I''d bury myself in work until someone put a medal on my grave." Thomas tilted his head gently against hers. "I''m glad you didn''t." Another silence followed. But this one felt different¡ªfull, like a page written in shared ink. At around 9:15 PM, the film ended. The projector dimmed. They rose together, neither needing to say much. They made their way back toward the main executive wing, this time taking the long route along the baywalk. The water glittered under starlight. The night breeze rolled in soft and cool. "Rebecca," Thomas said suddenly. "After all this... when we''ve won... what do you want to do?" She thought about it for a long moment. "I want to open a real school. Not just a survival program or a war-time curriculum. A real school¡ªwhere kids can learn math and history and art without needing to carry a sidearm." He smiled. "That sounds beautiful." "And you?" He looked out over the water. "I want a house by the coast. Not too big. Just... something quiet. Somewhere I can wake up and hear the waves and not worry about the sonar buoys. And maybe have a dog." Rebecca grinned. "That''s surprisingly wholesome." "I want to live," he said, turning to her. "Really live. With someone. With you." She looked at him again. There was no hesitation in her voice when she answered. "Then let''s make it happen." By the time they returned to the executive elevator, it was almost 10 PM. They stood outside the lift, neither wanting to break the spell. Rebecca stepped in first. Thomas hesitated. She turned and held out her hand. "Come on, soldier. We''re not done yet." He took her hand. The elevator doors slid closed. And in the silence that followed, there were no alerts. No alarms. Just two hearts, finally beating in time with each other. Chapter 238: I Got a Girl Guys Chapter: January 15, 2026 ¡ª 8:45 AM MOA Complex ¡ª Command Center, Operations Briefing Room The morning sun filtered through the reinforced glass panels of the MOA Complex, casting a golden hue over the bustling Command Center. The usual hum of activity filled the air¡ªtechnicians monitoring surveillance feeds, officers reviewing tactical reports, and the soft murmur of conversations about supply lines and patrol schedules. Thomas Estaris, Commander of Overwatch, entered the Operations Briefing Room with a purposeful stride. His presence commanded attention, and conversations paused as eyes turned toward him. Following closely were Marcus and Phillip. "Morning, gentlemen," Thomas greeted, his voice steady. "Morning, Commander," Marcus replied, nodding. "Sir," Phillip acknowledged. Thomas took his seat at the head of the conference table, and the others followed suit. A large digital display illuminated the room, showcasing maps of the Philippine archipelago, marked with various indicators representing Overwatch''s operations. Before diving into the day''s agenda, Thomas leaned back slightly, a subtle smile playing on his lips. "Before we proceed, I have an announcement," he began, his tone lighter than usual. Marcus and Phillip exchanged curious glances. "I''ve started a relationship," Thomas stated, his eyes meeting theirs. A moment of silence ensued, followed by Marcus''s raised eyebrows and Phillip''s surprised expression. "With Rebecca Langley," Thomas added, referring to the Director of Civilian Affairs. Marcus was the first to break the momentary quiet that followed Thomas''s announcement. He leaned back in his chair with a mock-serious expression. "Well, damn," he said, rubbing his chin. "I thought you were married to the war, Commander." "Turns out," Thomas said, lifting an eyebrow, "I can multitask." Phillip, who rarely commented outside mission reports, actually gave a short laugh. "That''s one way to breach the no-fraternization protocol. Well there was none." "Oh please," Marcus added, snorting. "It''s not fraternization if you''re both running the entire damn post-apocalyptic archipelago." Thomas shrugged. "Fair enough." Marcus leaned forward again, his eyes glinting. "So what''s she see in you? Is it the cold authoritarian glare, which you don''t have, or you''re just being cool?" Thomas chuckled. "Maybe it''s the fact I didn''t treat her like a subordinate." Phillip opened a can of Overwatch-issued energy drink and took a sip. "Or maybe it''s the fact that you stopped getting shot at long enough for someone to notice you had a face." "Now that''s cold," Marcus said, grinning as he elbowed Phillip lightly. Thomas shook his head, smiling as he reached for the small fridge tucked into the corner of the room. With a metallic clunk, he opened it and pulled out three cold bottles of beer¡ªthe kind salvaged from a shipment dated sometime before society collapsed. "No agenda for the next thirty," he said, placing a bottle in front of each of them. "We''re going to celebrate like civilians." Phillip raised a brow. "You''re breaking out the stash?" "I figured I''d either drink it alone or share it with you guys. Besides, we have a lot of stocks." "Damn," Marcus said, twisting his cap off. "If I''d known confessing to a girlfriend would get me beer, I''d have faked it one week ago. But I don''t have a girlfriend, not right now." "Cheers to that," Thomas said, and they clinked bottles. "You will have one soon." A long, comfortable silence fell over them as they took their first sips. The beer was just cold enough, just bitter enough to feel like a proper indulgence. For a moment, none of them were thinking about Bloom Nests, sonar buoys, or civilian rationing protocols. "Wasn''t expecting this when I woke up," Phillip said after a moment. "Commander cracking open a cold one in the middle of a war." "Not just any war," Marcus added. "The most batshit insane war in history." Thomas took another sip. "Which is exactly why it matters. We forget what we''re fighting for, we forget what it means to live." Marcus pointed his bottle at him. "That sounded like it belonged on a bronze plaque." "Maybe it will," Thomas said with a smirk. "Right under the MOA statue of liberty we''ll build someday." "You gonna put your face on it?" Marcus asked. "Hell no," Thomas replied. "Put Rebecca''s. She''s the one keeping this place sane. Her work as a civilian director proved that she is essential on people''s sanity." Phillip nodded. "She has been getting good feedback from the civilians." Marcus leaned back again, tipping his chair just enough to balance dangerously. "You know what I think?" "No," Thomas and Phillip replied in unison. "I think it''s about time someone around here had something good going for them. We''ve lost so many damn people. Half of us are running on caffeine and survivor''s guilt. But you¡ª" Marcus gestured with his bottle. "You went and reminded everyone we''re still human." Thomas gave a half smile. "That wasn''t the plan." "Doesn''t need to be," Marcus said. "People are watching, Commander. They see you smiling for once, holding hands with someone. Gives them hope. Makes them think they can smile too." "I didn''t do it for them," Thomas said honestly. "I did it because I didn''t want to die alone." Marcus''s smile faded into something gentler. "That''s the most human reason of all." They sat in silence again, each lost in his own thoughts. The hum of the overhead displays and the quiet clicking of background staff filled in the gaps. Then Phillip cleared his throat. "So... does this mean you''re gonna start dressing better?" Marcus nearly choked on his drink. "Oh my God¡ªthank you." Thomas groaned. "What''s wrong with the way I dress?" "You wear the same jacket every day," Marcus said. "Same black shirt, same boots. I swear I''ve seen that exact outfit in five different drone ops clips." "Because it works," Thomas said dryly. "Rebecca''s gonna make you change," Phillip said matter-of-factly. "Give it a month. You''ll be wearing civilian shirts with buttons. You can''t be looking like a soldier all the time." "I''m not wearing linen," Thomas declared. "You will," Marcus said. "One date in a plaza garden and next thing we know, you''re shopping for matching mugs." Thomas squinted at him. "I liked you better when you didn''t talk during meetings." Marcus raised his bottle. "Cheers to character development." Phillip, quiet as always, raised his in agreement. "Seriously though," Marcus said. "What was it? When did you know she was... you know, the one?" Thomas exhaled through his nose. He looked down at his half-finished drink, then toward the large screen showing a satellite image of the Luzon coastline. "I think it was the second time we sat in silence," he said finally. Marcus blinked. "Come again?" "Silence," Thomas repeated. "Most people try to fill it. With jokes, small talk, anything. But her? She sat beside me, said nothing, and I didn''t feel like I had to either. That was the first time I didn''t feel like I was performing. I was just... me." Phillip nodded slowly. "That makes sense." Marcus raised his eyebrows. "Damn. That''s kind of poetic. I thought it was her legs." Thomas threw a pen at him. Marcus dodged it with a grin. "Hey, I''m just saying¡ªlegs get you in the door, but silence keeps you there. You found both. Good on you." They drank more, the tension slowly draining from their shoulders like poison being drawn from a wound. "I haven''t had this much peace in months," Thomas muttered. "You earned it," Marcus said. "We all have." They sat there for a while longer, finishing their beers. The noise of the Command Center continued, but it stayed outside the glass doors. For once, Thomas wasn''t looking at screens. He wasn''t flipping through field reports or calculating resource distribution ratios. He was just drinking a beer with his two most trusted men. Laughing. Talking. Living. Phillip eventually stood. "I''ll get us a second round. I think we''ve got some German imports in the back. Thank the mall for it as they have stocks before the apocalypse." "You''re a hero," Marcus said. As Phillip left, Marcus leaned closer to Thomas. "For what it''s worth," he said, lowering his voice, "I''m happy for you. Genuinely." Thomas looked at him, the edge of his mouth twitching. "Thanks." "You know," Marcus added, "we might not get a third date if the Bloom in Laguna keeps expanding." Thomas raised an eyebrow. "You read that report already?" Marcus scoffed. "I read everything. I just chose not to bring it up because for once, I wanted to let you have your moment." Thomas gave a small nod. "Appreciated." "But seriously," Marcus added. "Take care of her. She''s a good one." "I know," Thomas said softly. Phillip returned moments later with three more bottles¡ªthis time with imported labels and a faint hiss of freshness when opened. They clinked again. "To survival," Phillip said. "To second chances," Marcus added. Thomas raised his bottle last. "To rebuilding. Not just the world... but ourselves." And with that, they drank, the morning sun warming the edges of the command glass as if blessing the moment. Chapter 239: Prelude to Conquering Whole of Luzon January 15, 2026 ¡ª 8:02 PM MOA Complex ¡ª Executive Wing, Conrad Hotel. The sky over Manila Bay was painted in deep purples and smudged oranges, the last rays of daylight slipping past the towers of the MOA Complex as evening settled. The sea breeze rolled in cool and salt-sweet, brushing over the rooftop gardens of the hotel. Thomas Estaris sat on a wrought-iron bench near the edge of the terrace, overlooking the bay. His Overwatch jacket was draped casually over the backrest, leaving him in a dark-gray shirt with rolled-up sleeves and civilian slacks. He looked every bit the man taking a break from command¡ªthough his wrist console still glowed faintly, ever vigilant. He checked the time. 8:03 PM. Then the door behind him slid open. Rebecca Langley stepped out into the terrace, dressed in a light off-shoulder blouse and fitted black pants. Her hair was untied tonight, let loose in soft waves that caught the light of the terrace lanterns. She carried a covered dish in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other. "Evening," she said with a small smile. Thomas stood. "You''re late." "By one minute. I stopped to confiscate this from the medbay''s private stash," she said, holding up the bottle. "I had to promise not to tell the pharmacists." He chuckled. "You really do know where all the good stuff is." She raised a brow. "Director of Civilian Affairs. It comes with secrets." He gestured toward the small garden table set under the terrace lights. A clean cloth had been laid out, courtesy of the Executive kitchen staff, along with two plates, utensils, and a pair of wine glasses. "I didn''t know if you''d want to eat out here," he said. Rebecca set the dish down. "Out here is perfect. You can almost pretend the world didn''t end." They sat together, and she removed the lid with a small flourish. Inside were garlic butter shrimp, fresh greens with mango slices, and warm pandesal wrapped in a cloth napkin. "You cooked?" he asked. "No, but I threatened the kitchen staff into taking their time." He smiled. "That works too." She poured the wine, deep red and fragrant, into the glasses and handed him one. They clinked. "To pretending," she said. "To pretending," he echoed. For a while, they ate quietly. Not out of awkwardness, but comfort. The hum of the city below was different now. Softer. There was laughter again, and music in the air¡ªsomeone was strumming a guitar somewhere down in Sector D. "I spoke to Marcus and Phillip this morning," Thomas said after a while. "Oh? About us?" He nodded. Rebecca raised an eyebrow, chewing her shrimp thoughtfully. "And?" "Marcus was surprised I wasn''t already married to the war. Phillip thinks you''ll make me change my wardrobe." She laughed, eyes crinkling. "They''re not wrong. That jacket''s seen more action than the entire garrison." He feigned offense. "It''s a symbol." "It''s a relic." They shared another drink, and the conversation drifted. They talked about the garden restoration efforts, about how someone had rigged a solar-powered irrigation system using old water purifiers. About how the theater are all functioning optimally showing previous movies that were released prior to the apocalypse. Then the mood shifted a little, softened by the glow of lanterns and the weight of words unspoken. "Rebecca," Thomas said, his voice lower now. "Do you think it''s selfish? Wanting this?" She paused. "What do you mean?" He stared at the bay. "Us. This moment. Wanting to feel human again." She leaned back in her chair, turning her wineglass slowly in her hand. "No," she said after a while. "I think it''s brave. Wanting something more when the world tries to take everything from you? That''s not selfish. That''s surviving." He looked at her. "I''m scared it won''t last." She reached across the table and took his hand. "That''s why we make it count." A breeze passed, and her fingers tightened around his. "You remember what you said that night at the Ferris wheel?" she asked. "Which part?" "That you wanted a house by the sea. A dog. Peace." He smiled faintly. "Still do." "Then we build it. Brick by brick, day by day." He nodded. The wine was getting to him a little now, but not in a bad way. Just enough to make him feel warm and steady. They rose from the table after finishing the last of their food, walking to the edge of the terrace where a low glass railing overlooked the entire southern coast. "Laguna''s getting worse," he murmured. "Bloom nests are sprouting faster there than in northern Manila." Rebecca sighed. "How bad?" "We''ll lose Calamba and Los Ban?os in a month if it keeps up." "Do we have the manpower?" "Yes. Why are you asking me that?" "Don''t know, standard response." "I''ll just summon men and conquer the whole of Luzon." She glanced at him. "I see, that''s what we always do in this kind of situation." "Yeah." Rebecca leaned on the railing. "I will help in any way I can. But as a director of human affairs, I can only handle our civilians." "Yes." He paused. "But today, I want a pause button. Nights like this. Reminders that the world''s not all loss." She reached for his hand again. "Then let''s have that." They stood like that for a long time, gazing out at the endless ocean. Then, somewhere below, the faint chime of a restored bell echoed through the MOA plaza¡ªa tradition someone had started a few weeks ago. One ring at 9 PM to mark curfew, to call the children back indoors. Thomas turned to her. "Stay the night?" Rebecca blinked. "Not like that," he added quickly. "Just stay. On the couch if you want. I just... I don''t want to sleep alone tonight." She studied him for a moment. Then nodded. "Okay." They made their way back through the terrace doors and into the hallway, past quiet guards and idle terminals, past sealed storage rooms and supply manifests. Back to the suite that he called his command post, his home, his burden. Inside, Thomas tossed his jacket aside and poured her a glass of water. Rebecca kicked off her shoes and settled into the couch like she''d done it a hundred times. "This place always felt too cold before," she said. "And now?" "Now it feels... lived in." He sat beside her, elbow brushing hers. The screens were off. The lights were low. Outside, the city slept. And for the first time in weeks, Thomas Estaris didn''t feel like a commander. He felt like a man. And in the heart of a broken world, that was enough. But it wasn''t quite the end of the night. Rebecca stood up from the couch and wandered over to the wide-paneled window, gazing out at the moonlight casting its reflection over Manila Bay. Her silhouette, framed against the soft blue hue of the night, looked almost too peaceful for this broken world. "I don''t think I''ve ever felt this calm," she said quietly. Thomas joined her, leaning beside her on the wall. "Feels like we''re standing in a dream." "No," she replied. "Dreams fade. This feels... real. Fragile, but real." They stood in silence again, the way they always did when words weren''t enough. Then Rebecca turned, leaned her head slightly against his shoulder. He didn''t move. Didn''t dare. "Thomas," she said softly, "can I ask you something?" "Anything." She looked up at him, searching his face. "Are you sure you''re ready? For all of this. For more than just the job... for us." He met her eyes. There was no hesitation in his voice. "I am." Her hand reached up to trace his jaw, fingers brushing along the edge of his cheek. "I am too." There was a shift in the air¡ªnot sudden, but natural. As if the weight of their shared silence, their trust, their grief, had finally crystallized into something tender and undeniable. Thomas took a step back¡ªnot away, but inward. Toward her. He reached for her hand and guided her gently toward the private hallway that led to the attached Conrad quarters. A separate suite. Not where war was waged. Where peace might be allowed in. Rebecca didn''t resist. Her fingers stayed laced with his. The door slid open with a soft mechanical hiss, the interior dimly lit by overhead LEDs set to low. It was warm in here¡ªsofter than the command suite. No holo-maps or blinking alerts. Just bookshelves, polished wood floors, and a wide bed that had been unused for far too long. Thomas closed the door behind them and locked it¡ªnot out of secrecy, but sanctuary. No alarms. No interruptions. Just this moment. Rebecca stepped inside slowly, running her fingers along the edge of the bed''s headboard. Her voice was low, almost playful. "So this is where the Commander hides his civilian self." He smiled faintly. "It hasn''t seen much use." "Then maybe it''s time it did." He approached her slowly, not rushing the moment. They kissed¡ªnot out of desperation, not from the urgency of war, but something more grounded. Intimate. Steady. Human. When she slipped her arms around his neck and leaned into him fully, he held her there for a long time. Neither of them spoke again. Words would only interrupt. The lights dimmed further. Time, for once, didn''t matter. January 16, 2026 ¡ª 6:27 AM MOA Complex ¡ª Executive Wing, Conrad Suite The early morning sun spilled through the half-drawn curtains of the Conrad suite, painting golden light across the edge of the bed. Thomas stirred first. He was on his side, head resting on one arm, the other draped loosely across the sheets. The room was silent, peaceful in a way few places ever were anymore. For a moment, he didn''t remember why he felt so calm¡ªuntil his eyes adjusted and settled on the figure beside him. Rebecca lay there, half-covered by the blanket, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, the other stretched toward him across the bed. Her breathing was slow, deep, the kind of sleep earned only when one''s walls finally came down. He didn''t move. Didn''t want to break the spell. Something in his chest, long dormant, swelled gently. She was here. They were here. He knew that outside this room, operations would begin in thirty minutes. Reports would pile in. Bloom Nests would spread. Patrols would mobilize. The world would demand his attention. But not yet. Not for a few more precious minutes. He reached over and gently brushed a strand of hair from Rebecca''s face. Her eyes opened a little, sleepy but aware. "Hey," she whispered. "Hey," he whispered back. She smiled, just barely. "I stayed." "I know." Chapter 240: Operation Sunfire Part 1 Chapter: January 16, 2026 ¡ª 7:48 AMAbove Laguna Province ¡ª Operation Sunfire, Phase One The morning light stretched thin across the rolling hills of southern Luzon, filtered through wisps of cloud and ash. From above, the once-green sprawl of Laguna looked scarred and wrong. Patches of blackened ground radiated out from grotesque, pulsating Bloom Nests¡ªbiological tumors of flesh and vine rooted deep into the earth. They were spreading¡ªtoo fast. "Overwatch Command to Sunfire Group. You are clear for engagement. Repeat: weapons free." The command echoed through encrypted radio channels as three squadrons streaked through the sky, slicing past clouds with jet-roaring defiance. The vanguard: four F-16 Fighting Falcons, sleek and fast, flown by Overwatch''s top air-interceptors. Behind them, a tight wedge of three A-10 Thunderbolt IIs¡ªslower, heavier, armed to the teeth. And flanking the operation from altitude was a lone shadow: the AC-130U gunship Spooky One, high above the battlezone like a reaper in the sky. Inside the lead Falcon, Captain Rivera gripped the stick with steady fingers. His helmet HUD displayed topography, threat markers, and coordinates from Reaper One-One, which had mapped the largest nests overnight. "This is Viper-One," Rivera radioed in. "Visual on objective Alpha. Massive bloom cluster. Looks... alive." "Copy that, Viper-One," came the voice of Phillip from MOA Command. "Target confirmed. You''re go for ordinance." "Fox Three," Rivera called out. His F-16 bucked slightly as two guided JDAMs released from his belly hardpoints. The smart munitions screamed downward, riding laser designations from Reaper One-One''s uplink. The moment before impact, the ground seemed to ripple¡ªlike the Bloom sensed danger. The explosion was immediate. Dirt, viscera, and black sludge erupted into the air as the bomb cratered the central nest. But even as the dust cleared, thick red tendrils burst from the crater''s edge, regrowing, curling upward like meat-colored vines. "Jesus Christ¡ªthing''s regenerating!" Rivera called. "That''s not regeneration," another pilot barked over the comms. "That''s birthing." Below, humanoid shapes emerged from the nest''s base¡ªBloomspawn, twisted monsters birthed from the pod''s ruptured membrane. Their limbs were wrong. Skin translucent in places, glowing faintly with infected bioluminescence. A screeching cry went up like a signal. "Ground contact. Bloomspawn confirmed," Phillip radioed in. "A-10s, you''re up." "Copy, Vulture Group engaging," came the grim reply from Major Sandoval, the A-10 flight lead. The Warthogs descended into the fray, their unmistakable profile gliding slow and low. The lead A-10 nosed down gently, its pilot toggling the master arm switch. "Guns, guns, guns!" The GAU-8/A Avenger rotary cannon spun to life with its terrifying brrrrrrrrrrrt, spitting 30mm depleted uranium rounds at 3,900 rounds per minute. The slugs tore through the Bloomspawn like wet paper. Blood, bone, and spores misted into the air. A second A-10 laid down a line of AGM-65 Maverick missiles into a secondary nest sprouting near a farmland cluster. The explosion lit up the fields in a rolling fireball that sent Bloom creatures scattering. "Kill confirmed," Sandoval called. "Nest Bravo neutralized." But even as the Warthogs banked, new contacts appeared on radar¡ªdozens of fast-moving airborne targets. "Spooky One to all units," the AC-130''s sensor operator called. "We have Reapers in the air. Repeat: airborne infected confirmed. Engaging." From the heavens, the AC-130 lit up the sky like a wrathful god. A 105mm howitzer boomed from its side, pulverizing a hillside nest in one strike. Then the 40mm Bofors opened up in rhythmic bursts, hammering airborne targets before they could close in. Infrared cameras painted a grim picture¡ªdozens of Reapers, the winged infected type, soaring in from Mount Makiling''s southern ridge like a flock of nightmares. "This is getting hot," Rivera gritted. "Too many bogeys, not enough firepower." "Maintain formation," Phillip ordered. "We''ve got reinforcements scrambled, ETA twelve minutes. Hold the line." On the ground, what had once been Los Ban?os was a battlefield. Civilian evac had cleared out most of the town weeks ago, but now the roads were shredded and overgrown. Bloom tendrils wrapped around lamp posts. Crashed buses served as makeshift nest husks. And out of one such overturned vehicle burst a new threat¡ª "Eyes on a Mawbeast! Big one! Repeat, target is armored, four-limbed crawler. Heavy contact!" A-10 Three wheeled around, lining up for a strafing run. The pilot depressed the trigger. BRRRRRRRRRRT. Rounds hammered the creature''s back¡ªbut it didn''t fall. The Mawbeast surged forward, leaping like a toad with the weight of a wrecking ball. It slammed into a supply depot just west of the airfield ruins and vanished in a blast of concrete and smoke. "Negative effect! Target''s still active!" "Spooky One, this is Vulture Three¡ªwe need a 105mm strike on my mark!" "Roger, paint the target." A laser designated the impact zone as the beast crawled up over broken asphalt toward a fallback perimeter lined with automated turrets. Then¡ªBOOM. The 105mm shell struck the Mawbeast dead center, obliterating it in a fiery cloud of smoke and black blood. Cheers rang out through the comms. The turrets survived. But they weren''t out of it yet. From the forests east of Calamba, more nests ignited with internal pulses¡ªthree, four, five of them at once. Bloom expansion was accelerating beyond prediction. "Thomas, this is Phillip," came a voice through the encrypted channel. "We''ve got a serious problem." Thomas Estaris stood back in the MOA Command Center, watching the aerial feed in grim silence. The command room lights dimmed automatically to emphasize the dozens of red markers now populating the tactical screen. "I''m seeing it," Thomas said. "They''re learning. Responding to attacks. This isn''t a scatter defense. This is coordination." "They''re converging," Phillip added. "We hit two nests, and now seven more are waking up." Thomas''s jaw clenched. "Divert Spooky One''s fire to the eastern flank. Have the A-10s focus on cutting off movement toward San Pablo. And prep the F-16s to intercept airbornes near the ridge." "Copy all," Phillip replied. In the air, Rivera pulled hard left as one Reaper nearly clipped his tail. His F-16 rolled inverted and climbed before unleashing a short burst from his cannon. "Splash one," he muttered. But even as the Reaper fell in a spin of shredded wings, two more took its place. "Too many," Sandoval radioed. "We''ll thin ''em, but we''re getting swarmed." Down below, the Bloom nests were now pulsing in a synchronized rhythm¡ªlike a heartbeat. Pheromonal signals, electromagnetic waves¡ªwhatever this virus used to communicate, it was doing it now. Loud. Fast. With purpose. And then, as if summoned by that call, a tremor shook the hillside. Not from an explosion. But from something massive... moving. Thomas watched it appear on the feed from Reaper One-Three¡ªa heat signature the size of a five-story building emerging from the mountainside near the dormant geothermal plant east of Bay. A Goliath. "God help us," Thomas breathed. Phillip''s voice came through with quiet dread. "Command, we have visual confirmation. A Goliath-class infected. East of the Los Ban?os sector." The monster''s silhouette¡ªhumanoid, hulking, with thick vines for limbs and a torso that pulsated like an exposed heart¡ªlumbered into the clearing. Every man and woman in the air fell silent. Until Thomas''s voice cut through. "All air units: prepare for Phase Two. We''re not retreating. Not yet." Chapter 241: Operation Sunfire Part 2 January 16, 2026 ¡ª 8:17 AM Above Laguna Province ¡ª Operation Sunfire, Phase Two The Goliath''s roar didn''t carry through microphones¡ªit ruptured them. Reaper One-Three''s feed burst into static for three seconds before re-stabilizing, revealing the monstrous figure emerging from the jungle east of Los Ban?os. Trees collapsed beneath its massive, root-covered feet. Its chest was a cavity of pulsating red sinew, and from its shoulders extended fleshy tendrils that whipped violently with each step. Standing nearly ten stories tall, it towered over the landscape like an ancient god reawakened. Thomas Estaris leaned closer to the command screen inside the MOA Complex''s Operations Room. The digital map showed the creature''s slow advance¡ªdeliberate, unstoppable. "We have a Goliath-class on the field," Phillip said into the command net. "All air units: initiate staggered bombardment pattern. Do not engage directly. Maintain altitude advantage. Spooky One, you''re up first." "Affirmative, Command," the AC-130 gunship''s pilot replied. "Spooling up the 105. Target painted." High above the battle, Spooky One adjusted its orbit and trained its cannon. A targeting laser, invisible to the naked eye, locked onto the Goliath''s core. Then¡ªBOOM. The 105mm howitzer shell punched into the Goliath''s chest, erupting in a bright flash. For a second, the beast staggered. "Hit confirmed," the gunship operator called. But it didn''t fall. Instead, the Goliath shrieked¡ªan unholy, thunderous cry¡ªand slammed both of its arms into the ground. The earth buckled. A shockwave rippled out from the impact site, sending debris¡ªand infected¡ªflying in all directions. "Woah¡ªturbulence!" Sandoval called out. His A-10 rattled as the blast of force slammed into it. "Goliath''s got seismic capability!" Below, Reapers began flocking to the Goliath, swarming around its limbs like insects. A defensive screen. Then, horrifyingly, the Bloom tendrils from the surrounding nests began slithering toward it¡ªfusing into its frame. "It''s absorbing biomass," Phillip reported grimly. "It''s... evolving." "Maintain pressure!" Thomas ordered. "We lose this sector, we lose all of South Luzon." "Viper-One, Fox Three!" Rivera shouted. His F-16 loosed two more JDAMs from altitude, the bombs screaming downward toward the base of the Goliath. They struck dead-on, kicking up a twin set of eruptions that blanketed the target in fire. "No visual confirmation," Rivera radioed in. "Smoke obscuring target." Spooky One swept back around, its IR camera cutting through the smoke¡ªrevealing the Goliath still standing. Wounded, burning in parts, but alive. "Not enough," Phillip muttered. "We need to pull back. We don''t have the firepower for this." "No," Thomas said firmly. "We''re buying time. The more damage we inflict now, the longer it takes this thing to reach Tagaytay Ridge." Crack. Suddenly, Reaper One-One''s feed cut out¡ªits signal lost as a Reaper-type Bloomspawn collided with it mid-air. The drone spiraled into the forest canopy. "Reaper One-One is down," a tech confirmed in the Ops Center. "Shit," Phillip muttered. The Goliath raised one of its arms and flung a burning chunk of a destroyed truck into the air. It arced up¡ªtoo high, too fast¡ªheading straight for Spooky One. "Evasive maneuver!" the AC-130 pilot yelled. Too late. The flaming projectile smashed through the gunship''s starboard wing. One of the engines tore free, spiraling behind it in a plume of smoke and flame. "We''re hit! Losing control!" "Command, Spooky One is going down!" the co-pilot shouted. Inside the MOA Complex, every screen went red. An entire corner of the map flashed: AC-130 DOWN ¡ª LAST TELEMETRY LOCKED. "Jesus," one of the younger techs whispered. Thomas''s jaw tightened. "Get a QRF ready for crash recovery." Phillip turned. "We pulling out?" Thomas was quiet for a second. Then nodded once. "Relay the order." 8:21 AM ¡ª Laguna Airspace"Evac and Extraction Protocol: Sunfire Phase Two" "Viper Squadron, fall back to rally point Delta-Five. Vulture Squadron, begin rear cover. Burn what you can on the way out." Captain Rivera pulled hard on the stick, banking his F-16 sharply as a Reaper clawed at his wingtip. "Roger, command. Viper-One disengaging." "Copy that," Sandoval added. "Vultures providing rear suppress." The remaining A-10s turned slow circles over the battlefield, unleashing their final payloads. AGM-65s slammed into rising Bloom growths. 30mm rounds pounded the creatures surging from the nests. One Warthog trailed smoke as it limped skyward. "We''re hit! Losing pressure in engine one!" "Get altitude. Don''t try to be a hero," Sandoval barked. "We''ve done our part." On the ground, the Goliath bellowed once more, ripping free a slab of earth and hurling it into the jungle. The remaining nests quivered, then detonated of their own accord, releasing spores into the sky¡ªblack clouds that drifted like poison. "Bloom spores in the air!" Phillip called. "Seal all cockpit vents. Ascent vectors now!" The fighters broke upward, afterburners blazing as they punched through the infected air. Behind them, the sky above Laguna burned with the glow of explosions, tracer fire, and plumes of rising smoke. The AC-130, its wreckage now aflame in a rice field near Victoria, was marked for immediate drone survey. There''d be no rescue just yet¡ªnot while the Goliath still stood. Inside the command center, Thomas exhaled through his nose. "We didn''t win," Marcus said beside him, arms crossed. "No," Thomas replied. "But we didn''t lose, either. Not yet." 8:49 AM ¡ª MOA Complex, Hangar 3 The F-16s screamed in one by one, tires screeching against the reinforced tarmac. The A-10s followed, battered, scorched, but still in one piece. Ground crews rushed in with refueling hoses and medics. Rivera popped his canopy and slumped back, drenched in sweat. "We''re back," he radioed. "But it''s coming. That thing... it''s coming." Thomas stood just outside the debrief room, listening to the static fade. He looked to Phillip. "Prep the heavy SAMs. If the Goliath moves north again... I want it erased." Phillip nodded, silent. Thomas turned, headed for the elevator. Behind him, the hangar buzzed with shouted orders, the clatter of tools, and the hiss of coolant lines. But in his ears, there was only silence¡ªpregnant with dread. He didn''t need confirmation. Laguna was lost. The real war was about to begin. Chapter 242: Nuke It January 16, 2026 ¡ª 10:12 AM South Luzon, West of Los Ban?os The earth trembled with each step. From a distance, it sounded like distant thunder¡ªdull, rhythmic, unrelenting. But as it drew closer, the sound evolved into something primal. The cracking of tree trunks, the squelch of moist earth under colossal weight, and the occasional bone-deep roar that made even the bravest soldiers flinch. Birds had long fled this forest. Even the usual infected stragglers had vanished¡ªcleared out by the Goliath''s mere presence. The monster was moving north. The Goliath towered over the treeline, its hulking mass covered in sinew, vine, and a bark-like layer of hardened flesh. The remnants of nests it had absorbed pulsed beneath its skin like malignant veins. Glowing pustules littered its spine and shoulders, some still dripping acidic sap that hissed against the leaves. With each step, it crushed boulders, uprooted decades-old trees, and sent shockwaves rippling outward. Reaper Two-One hovered far above, trailing the Goliath with long-range cameras and LIDAR. "Command, Goliath is maintaining heading¡ªvector due north. Speed: ten kilometers per hour and increasing. Estimated time to Tagaytay Ridge: four hours," reported the drone operator inside the MOA Complex. Thomas Estaris stood beside the main strategy table, arms crossed, eyes locked on the tactical screen. He hadn''t spoken since entering the room. Phillip adjusted the satellite overlay. "It''s not just heading north¡ªit''s avoiding the highways. That thing''s using forest cover and terrain. It''s... aware." "Which means we can''t just carpet bomb it," Marcus said from across the room. "We''d vaporize half the countryside and still might not stop it." "We could try to ambush it at the ridgeline," offered one junior officer. "Lay charges along the old bridge near the crater trail, slow it down." Phillip shook his head. "It would shrug off explosives. We''d need armor-piercing payloads the size of shipping containers to breach its central core." Thomas finally spoke. "We''re not trying to slow it down. We''re going to reroute it." Heads turned. Thomas pointed to the digital elevation overlay. "Here. The old geothermal reservoir east of Silang. If we can detonate the pressure chambers at the right time¡ª" "¡ªwe can trigger a collapse," Phillip finished. "Turn the terrain into a sinkhole and bury it alive." "Exactly." Marcus leaned in. "That''s risky. You''d have to lure it there, time the detonation down to the second, and hope it doesn''t just climb out of the pit." Thomas nodded. "Which is why we''re not going to rely on just one plan." 11:07 AM ¡ª Highway 1, South of Tagaytay Ridge Rapid Deployment Convoy: Overwatch Fireteam Echo The JLTVs kicked up plumes of dust as they rumbled up the broken road toward the forward ambush site. In the lead vehicle, Lieutenant Rosales squinted through dust-streaked goggles, his gloved hands gripping the wheel tightly. Next to him, Corporal Mendez adjusted the fuse timers on two seismic disruptor charges¡ªan Overwatch invention cobbled together from mining equipment and artillery cores. "I can''t believe we''re doing this," Mendez muttered. "We''re fighting a mountain made of meat." Rosales chuckled grimly. "And we''re about to dig it a grave." Behind them, flatbeds carried stacked canisters of thermobaric fuel, remote-controlled turrets, and five pallet-mounted heavy mortars¡ªevery bit of firepower the MOA Complex could scrape together on short notice. Overwatch wasn''t just going to sit back and watch the Goliath roll through Luzon. 11:29 AM ¡ª Forest Outskirts, Near Sta. Rosa Reaper Two-One zoomed in again. The Goliath''s advance had not slowed. But something had changed. It had begun to howl. Every twenty minutes, like clockwork, the creature paused¡ªraised its arms to the sky¡ªand let out a cry so loud it distorted nearby radios and caused leaves to shudder. Phillip furrowed his brow. "It''s calling for something." "Reinforcements?" Marcus asked. "Maybe," Thomas replied. "Or maybe it''s just broadcasting dominance. Like a predator." "Either way," Phillip said, "whatever hears it won''t want to fight back." 12:02 PM ¡ª Ambush Ridge Alpha, Tagaytay Sector Fireteam Echo was halfway through preparing their fallback trench when Rosales''s radio crackled. "Echo Lead, this is Command. Goliath is redirecting course. Estimated path now leads directly through your sector." Rosales froze. "Say again?" "Goliath changed heading. It''s climbing the southern slope." From the treetops a kilometer away, the creature''s head crested the rise¡ªglowing eyes burning like furnace coals beneath a jagged crown of bark and bone. Rosales turned to his men. "You heard the man. Defensive lines now! Get those mortars up!" A chorus of "yes, sir!" echoed across the ridge as soldiers scrambled. The plan had been to trap it. Now it was about surviving the next hour. 12:27 PM ¡ª Ambush Ridge Alpha, Tagaytay Sector The Goliath thundered into the clearing. The ground shook as its feet landed, one after another, like war drums from hell. "Range: 800 meters," the mortar operator reported. "Fire!" The ridge lit up. Five heavy mortars belched fire as 120mm shells screamed through the air. They exploded in a staggered pattern¡ªimpacting near the Goliath''s legs and chest. Smoke and fire billowed. Rosales saw the creature stumble¡ªbut not fall. "Reload!" From the brush, turrets sprang to life¡ªautomated .50 cals firing in synchronized bursts. Then the Bloomspawn arrived. Scores of them¡ªdozens of malformed, sinewy beasts screeching as they spilled from the Goliath''s flanks like parasites clinging to a titan. "Contact left!" one soldier yelled. Rosales swung his rifle and dropped three in quick succession. "Don''t let them breach the mortars!" he barked. Explosions continued to thunder as the creature pressed forward, roaring so loud the air trembled. Behind the ridge, Corporal Mendez crouched near the seismic disruptor rig. The gauge blinked red. "Sir!" he shouted into the radio. "Disruptor''s set, but we need thirty more seconds!" Rosales ducked as a Bloomspawn leapt past him, tackled a turret, and shredded it in a spray of sparks. "You have twenty!" he roared back. 12:41 PM ¡ª MOA Complex, Command Center Thomas watched the ridge''s drone feed intently. Fire, smoke, and blood. Soldiers fighting for every inch. Then a blinking icon on the map. Disruptor Ready. "Trigger it," he said. Phillip nodded. "Command to Echo. Detonate now." 12:42 PM ¡ª Ambush Ridge Mendez slammed the activation switch. The earth groaned. Then, like a dying lung, the entire ridge gave way¡ªimploding as if pulled from beneath. The terrain fell inward in a cascading collapse, a sinkhole swallowing trees, mud, mortars, and the Goliath''s leading foot. It tried to pull back¡ªbut momentum carried it forward. The beast roared and tumbled, slamming into the pit as half its body vanished into the earth. A massive column of dust and debris erupted skyward. "Target in the hole!" Rosales yelled. For a moment... silence. Then¡ªmovement. The Goliath''s arm burst from the sinkhole''s edge, claws slamming into the rocks as it dragged its upper body out, piece by piece. "It''s climbing out!" someone screamed. Thomas clenched his fists. "Fall back," he ordered. "Echo Team, disengage." Rosales didn''t argue. "Move, move, move!" The ridge was no longer a battlefield. It was a deathtrap. 1:02 PM ¡ª MOA Complex, Executive Wing Thomas stood by the glass window of the war room, watching the dark smoke rise on the horizon. He didn''t need confirmation from the drone. The Goliath had survived. Injured. Slowed. But still marching. Marcus entered quietly. "Sir... we hit it with everything. It''s still coming." Thomas didn''t reply for a moment. Then: "Then we find something bigger." He turned to Phillip. "I am going to drop a nuke at it." Phillip blinked. "A nuke sir?" "Small yield, should take care of that thing. I can buy it from my weapon system. It will cost 500,000 blood coins, and it won''t even hurt my balance." "Very well sir, but how are we going to deliver the payload?" "Through missile," Thomas replied. Chapter 243: Taste of Freedom A glowing translucent screen floated into view in front of his eyes. It projected no light to the room. No sound. Just the calm silence of the Weapon System he had come to rely on since Day One of the outbreak. He mentally navigated the main menu. [Tactical Armaments] > [Strategic-Class Weaponry] Immediately, a long list unfolded¡ªreal-world warheads, all with nation-of-origin flags beside them. RS-24 Yars (Russia) ¨C 500kt, MIRV Trident II D5 (USA) ¨C 475kt SLBM B61 Mod 12 (USA) ¨C Adjustable yield: 0.3¨C50kt AGM-86B ALCM (USA) ¨C 150kt Air-Launched Cruise Missile W76-2 (USA) ¨C Low-yield, 6¨C8kt SLBM warhead WE.177 (UK) ¨C Decommissioned, 10kt He scrolled past the Russian ones, skipping anything too large. A megaton-range warhead was overkill¡ªit would glass the entire region. Civilians lived less than thirty kilometers from the expected detonation zone. He paused on one entry. [W76-2 Tactical Nuclear Warhead ¡ª USA] Type: Low-Yield, Thermonuclear Estimated Yield: 6¨C8 kilotons Deployment Method: SLBM, Retrofit-Compatible for Cruise Delivery Cost: 500,000 Blood Coins Thomas focused on it. A 3D model of the warhead rotated in front of his screen. Stats blinked beside it¡ªblast radius, effective damage zone, radiation spread, ideal altitude for airburst. Everything he needed. [Confirm Purchase?] He pressed YES. [500,000 Blood Coins deducted.] [W76-2 added to Inventory.] Then the system asked him how to deliver it. [Compatible Delivery Methods] AGM-158 JASSM-ER (U.S. Air-Launched Stealth Missile ¨C 926km range) Tomahawk Block IV (Ship- or Ground-Launched Cruise Missile ¨C 1,600km) Modified HIMARS MLRS Pod (Ground-Launched, Short Range ¨C Experimental) He picked the AGM-158 JASSM-ER. It was stealthy, precise, and more importantly¡ªOverwatch had reverse-engineered parts for it months ago when they raided Clark Air Base. [JASSM-ER selected. 300,000 Blood Coins deducted.] [Warhead installed: W76-2] [Final System: JASSM-ER (Nuclear Payload) ¨C Status: READY] Thomas took a breath. The nuke was now real. Assembled. Stored somewhere in his private system-bound inventory¡ªa physical, summonable weapon. The interface faded with a final prompt. [Deploy? Y/N] Not yet. He still needed ground clearance. 1:47 PM ¡ª MOA Complex, War Room Thomas returned to the command center, expression unreadable. Phillip and Marcus turned to him immediately. "We just got new drone footage. The Goliath''s slowed, but it''s still moving. Tagaytay Ridge in two hours¡ªmax," Phillip reported. "We have fallback units digging in behind Cavite," Marcus added. "But they won''t hold long." Thomas nodded slowly, then faced them. "I''ve authorized the use of a nuclear strike." Both men went still. Phillip''s eyes widened. "Okay, we are getting serious now." "Hail to the System." Marcus looked between them. "You finally acquired one huh." Thomas nodded. "I purchased a W76-2 tactical nuke¡ªlow yield. No larger than Hiroshima. Precision target. Clean airburst. It''ll destroy the Goliath without leveling Tagaytay." Phillip processed that for a moment. "Delivery?" "AGM-158. I can deploy it from here. It''ll cruise low, pop up, detonate above the Goliath. It''s fast and quiet. No way the thing sees it coming." "You''ve run projections?" Marcus asked. "Yes. Blast radius will be lethal to anything in a two-kilometer bubble. The Goliath''s vitals are exposed. If we center the burst 300 meters above the creature¡ªno debris, no contamination. Just heat and shock." Phillip stepped forward. "And civilians?" Thomas pointed at the map. "Everyone within the hot zone already evacuated. Forward scouts confirmed no non-combatants remain. Echo Team''s 14 clicks outside the fire line." Marcus looked impressed. "You''ve had this planned." "I hoped I''d never need it," Thomas admitted. "But here we are." 2:13 PM ¡ª MOA Launch Control Deck Thomas stood before a reinforced firing console built deep in Hangar 3. The missile had been materialized¡ªsummoned from the System¡ªinside an Overwatch launch platform modified for multi-purpose deployment. A separate team of Overwatch engineers, oblivious to the true origin of the payload, had calibrated it as a "deep-strike payload." Only Thomas knew what was inside. He inserted a biometric keycard. [COMMAND OVERRIDE ¡ª ESTARIS ALPHA] [MISSILE: JASSM-ER] [PAYLOAD: W76-2 Tactical Nuclear Device] [Status: Locked On Target] A drone hovering above Tagaytay fed live coordinates. Target Lock: Goliath Entity Coordinates: 14.0861¡ã N, 121.0230¡ã E "Final confirmations, Commander," said the operator beside him. Thomas stared at the screen. "This ends now." He flipped the red cover. Pressed the button. [MISSILE LAUNCHED] 2:14 PM ¡ª Above Southern Luzon The missile erupted from its cradle, roaring skyward like a black spearhead. Once at altitude, its wings unfolded and engine cooled¡ªits stealth systems activating. At 1,000 meters, it banked and flew nap-of-the-earth across the forested region, invisible to radar, skimming less than 30 meters above terrain. Its final climb began just outside the caldera of Tagaytay Ridge. 2:17 PM ¡ª Detonation The Goliath, now halfway through a broken rice paddy near the ridge, froze. Its head turned slowly. Then the missile struck. Not on it¡ªbut above. The warhead detonated 300 meters over its chest. A silent flash. Blinding white. The air split. Thunder cracked. A pressure wave roared out like the scream of a thousand cannons. A column of energy vaporized everything below it¡ªleaves, Bloom growths, dirt, even stone. The Goliath didn''t scream. It simply... ceased. Its upper half vaporized. Its lower half crumpled, burning. The shockwave rolled for kilometers, flattening trees and rupturing nearby nests. The Bloom infection in the soil blackened instantly¡ªlifeless. Then came silence. 2:25 PM ¡ª MOA Command Reaper drone feeds stabilized. The crater was deep, perfectly round, and white-hot at the center. No movement. "Confirmed kill," Phillip said. "Goliath''s gone." Thomas exhaled. Marcus clapped his shoulder. "That''s one hell of a final answer." Thomas smiled as it was also confirmed by the system. [Target Terminated: Goliath Alpha] [+750,000 Blood Coins Awarded] "Prep the cleanup crews," he said calmly. "And reroute Echo Team to verify ground zero¡ªno contamination, no spores." Phillip nodded and relayed the orders. Marcus leaned back in his chair, arms folded, eyes still glued to the screen. "You think that''s the last of ''em?" he asked quietly. Thomas didn''t answer right away. He turned to the map¡ªscanning the quiet zones around Luzon. "No," he finally said. "There will be more, but I already know the effective way of clearing the zombies out." "Which is?" "Nuking them of course." Chapter 244: Fire from the Sky Part I Location: MOA Complex, Strategic Command Deck Date: January 21, 2026 ¡ª 8:04 AM Thomas stood alone on the observation deck above Hangar 3, watching as a new payload was sealed into a reinforced missile cradle. Below, engineers in radiation suits worked methodically, unaware of the true magnitude of what they were handling. He had made the call. The world had changed. The Goliath was only the beginning. Now, it was time to cleanse the infected cities. Across the Philippines, entire metropolitan zones had fallen¡ªbloated, hollowed-out shells swarming with the dead. Quezon City, once the most populous urban center in the country, had become a silent hive of movement and rot. Night vision drone footage revealed masses upon masses of infected, bloated and aimless, some fused into Bloom Nests, others wandering in endless loops. And for every one of them, the System awarded 50 Blood Coins. Thomas narrowed his eyes. He opened the translucent menu again. [Tactical Armaments] > [Strategic-Class Weaponry] He didn''t hesitate this time. He selected another W76-2 Tactical Nuclear Warhead. [500,000 Blood Coins deducted.] [W76-2 added to Inventory.] [Delivery Method?] Same as before. AGM-158 JASSM-ER ¡ª air-launched, stealthy, long-range. [300,000 Blood Coins deducted.] [System: JASSM-ER (Nuclear Payload) ¨C READY] He summoned the missile. It materialized inside Launch Cradle Bravo. This one was headed for Quezon City. 10:13 AM ¨C MOA War Room The map was lit in red. Phillip stood beside him, arms crossed, watching the drone feeds. "That many?" Thomas gave a slow nod. "Thermal imaging estimates three to five million infected in Metro Manila. Most concentrated near the old Commonwealth area." "Jesus." "No other way. Firebombing won''t do it. Airstrikes are too shallow. And our men would be eaten alive clearing it block by block." Phillip didn''t argue. Marcus entered moments later, holding a tablet. "Coordinates locked. Wind shear''s minimal. No civilians in the drop zone. You''re good to go." Thomas walked to the firing console. [Target Lock: Quezon City ¨C Central Bloom Core] Coordinates: 14.6760¡ã N, 121.0437¡ã E Estimated Yield Radius: 1.8 km airburst Projected Zombie Kill Count: 1.2¨C1.6 million He slid the biometric keycard in. [COMMAND OVERRIDE ¡ª ESTARIS ALPHA] [MISSILE: JASSM-ER] [WARHEAD: W76-2 Tactical Nuclear Device] [STATUS: LOCKED ON TARGET] He pressed the button. 10:14 AM ¨C Over Luzon Skies The missile launched with a low hiss, climbing, banking, then racing across low terrain. Its onboard terrain-matching radar adjusted for altitude shifts. It slipped under satellite coverage. Unseen. Unheard. Below it, the corpse-city of Quezon sprawled across valleys and highways. Malls overrun. Schools overgrown. Entire expressways now throbbing with Bloom filth. The missile soared toward the heart. 10:16 AM ¡ª Detonation A white flash cut the clouds. For 0.4 seconds, it looked like the sun had been born again. A single airburst¡ª300 meters above ground. The shockwave that followed smashed through the city in concentric rings. The thermal pulse incinerated everything in a 2-kilometer diameter. Bloom matter blackened and turned to ash. Zombies¡ªmillions of them¡ªvaporized or shredded instantly. Thomas stared at the live thermal feed. It was hell. It was effective. 10:22 AM ¡ª System Notification [Zombies Eliminated: 1,538,702] [+76,935,100 Blood Coins] [Total Bloom Growth Destroyed: 17.4 hectares] [Area Cleared: Quezon Zone Alpha ¨C Status: Sterile] The number made even Marcus go quiet. Thomas didn''t blink. "One more city," he said softly. 11:11 AM ¡ª Next Target: Bacoor, Cavite Thomas walked through the halls of the MOA Complex, silent, eyes fixed ahead. Beside him, Rebecca fell into step. She said nothing at first, then broke the silence. "You dropped one." "I did." She didn''t chastise him. She had seen the footage. "How many?" "Over one and a half million." "You killed them all." "They were already dead." Another silence. Then Thomas spoke again. "There are twenty-three more hotspots just like it across Luzon. If we don''t erase them, they''ll keep growing. One Bloom Nest can produce thousands a week. We''re not fighting zombies anymore. We''re fighting biomass replication." Rebecca nodded, subdued. "And you''ll nuke all of them?" "I''ll nuke what needs to be nuked." 12:38 PM ¡ª Next Launch Bacoor, Cavite. Once a growing urban area. Now a pit. Bloom had overtaken the roads, forming enormous fungal bridges between buildings. It was more hive than city. Estimated infected population: 600,000 Estimated Bloom biomass: 9 hectares He summoned a new payload. Another W76-2. Another JASSM-ER. [Total Cost: 800,000 Blood Coins] He inserted the launch key. [Target Lock: Bacoor Sector Gamma] Coordinates: 14.4600¡ã N, 120.9500¡ã E [Launch Confirmed] 12:42 PM ¡ª Detonation Another flash. Another scream of thunder across the bay. Rebecca watched this one from the upper tower. The blast rippled through her chest, though she stood miles away. The cloud didn''t rise high¡ªit wasn''t a full-scale nuke. But it was enough. Enough to turn everything inside the zone into dust and memory. 12:55 PM ¡ª System Notification [Zombies Eliminated: 612,401] [+30,620,050 Blood Coins] [Bloom Biomass: Cleared] [Contamination Risk: None Detected] [Sector Status: Sterile] Thomas now had over additional 100 million Blood Coins in his account. 1:10 PM ¨C War Room Marcus leaned over the console. "I''m running models. If we keep this pace¡ªthree a day¡ªwe could clear all high-infestation urban centers in the next two weeks." Thomas nodded. "Then do it. Start planning tomorrow''s targets. Marikina. Calamba. Angeles. I want options." "What about international fallout?" Marcus asked. "These are nukes. Even if they''re low-yield, satellite agencies will start noticing." Thomas replied without emotion. "There are no functioning governments left to protest. And even if there were... would they rather I let the cities fester?" Marcus had no answer. Phillip shrugged. "The world died last year. We''re just managing the infection now." Thomas turned away from the screens, walking toward the elevator. He paused before entering and looked over his shoulder. "Let history judge me later. For now, I''ll be the fire." Thomas turned away from the screens, walking toward the elevator. He paused before entering and looked over his shoulder. "Let history judge me later. For now, I''ll be the fire." Chapter 245: Fire From the Sky Part 2 3 Days Later ¡ª Overwatch Strategic Map Room The war map of Luzon was no longer red. It was scarred. Cratered circles bloomed across the landscape like burn marks on skin¡ªClark, Lucena, Calamba, Olongapo. Each site marked with a thin white ring labeled "N-ZONE." Former cities, now sterilized zones of heat, silence, and death. But no movement. No Bloom activity. No more Goliaths. No more hordes. Just cold ashes. Thomas stood at the head of the holographic table, arms folded. His jaw was tight. Sleepless. Focused. He didn''t look away as new feeds streamed in from Reaper One-One and Two-Three, flying high over San Fernando. A black mass had begun moving again. Tens of thousands. A Bloom crawler nest, grown from the ruins of old government buildings. Civilian evacuation had failed days ago. The northern corridor was gone. "Ready another package," Thomas said. Phillip blinked. "You''re sure? That close to Pangasinan?" "I''ve already seen the projections. Winds are favorable. Fallout will disperse west over the mountains, not toward population centers. The city''s lost. If we don''t act now, we''ll have another Goliath-scale threat in a week." Marcus entered with a fresh tablet in hand. "Logistics confirm another W76-2 available. One cruise-capable stealth missile ready. Launch window: 26 minutes. Optimal detonation height: 280 meters." Thomas swiped to the targeting interface. The target zone glowed red, saturated with heat signatures. No humans. Just infected. He focused on the crosshair. [Confirm Target Lock ¨C San Fernando Nest (Bloom Class C)] [Estimated Yield Effect: 1.8km Primary Kill Zone / 3.2km Radiation Scatter] [Cost: 500,000 Blood Coins] [Deploy? Y/N] He pressed YES. 2:51 PM ¡ª Luzon Airspace The second JASSM-ER howled into the sky. Like a ghost it climbed, invisible to radar, hugging the terrain as it sliced through the mountain air. As it neared the city outskirts, it rose silently, banks turning, wings adjusting. Reaper drones tracked every movement. Below, the Bloom nest roiled like a sea of flesh, tendrils pulsing through ruined malls and hospital buildings. The missile reached apex. The screen read: [Detonation in 3... 2... 1...] A new sun rose over San Fernando. White-hot. Blinding. The bloom died before it could scream. Everything in a radius of two kilometers ceased to exist¡ªconverted into a flash of energy, vapor, shock, and wind. Cars melted. Walls crumbled. Creatures burned alive mid-step. A black stem of smoke followed. Then silence again. 3:11 PM ¡ª MOA Complex Thomas stood with both hands on the table, watching the thermal feed fade to grayscale. [+1,384,000 Blood Coins Gained] Phillip whistled. "That''s a lot of dead Bloom." Marcus leaned in. "Still no retaliation. No screamers. No counter-signals." "They''re learning we can bite back," Thomas muttered. "And I want them afraid." He turned to the system screen. [Tactical Armaments] > [Strategic-Class Weaponry] [Stored Inventory: 2x W76-2 | 1x AGM-86B | 1x Modified HIMARS Pod] At this pace, every nuke paid for itself. Fifty coins per infected. That meant every city held wealth buried beneath its streets. Not in gold. Not in supplies. But in kill counts. System-confirmed eliminations. And Thomas was the only one with access to the Weapon System. The fire, indeed. 5 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Nueva Ecija The convoy moved at midnight. Shadow Teams Echo and Delta rode fast in four JLTVs along the ghost roads of Central Luzon. Their mission: confirm drone readings of a Hive variant in the ruins of Cabanatuan. The last Overwatch patrol in the area never checked back in. At 12:43 AM, they arrived at the designated perimeter. Phillip''s voice crackled in through live relay. "What are you seeing?" Lieutenant Velez responded. "Jesus... it''s a graveyard. Buildings covered in bloom matter. The whole damn plaza''s crawling. Easily over a hundred thousand infected." The drone confirmed his count. Hive tendrils curled out from the ground and rooftops, like veins reaching for the moon. Inside the command center, Thomas was already preparing the screen. This was no longer isolated. This was an infestation vector. He opened the weapon list. [W76-2 Tactical Warhead] [Install on Delivery System: Tomahawk Block IV ¨C Ground-Based Launcher] [Estimated Range: 1,600km | CEP: 10m] [Deploy From: Mobile Pad Bravo ¨C Zambales Ridge] He selected the launcher. Paid the cost. The screen blinked. [Missile Deployed: ETA to Target: 12 Minutes] In the dark hills of Zambales, a mobile launcher locked into position. The Tomahawk burst from its tube and disappeared into the sky. The troops in Cabanatuan had already pulled out by then¡ªretreating twenty clicks south to safe terrain. 1:03 AM ¡ª Cabanatuan The warhead dropped like divine wrath. The bloom-covered church, the mall, the infected that had gathered for some unspeakable mass¡ªerased. No warning. No mercy. Just cleansing flame. The impact crater was wider than the plaza, and hot enough to glass pavement. What little remained of the Hive''s strange towers evaporated. Organic material instantly carbonized. The air itself caught fire. By the time the pressure wave reached the jungle beyond, nothing living was left within three kilometers. 1:14 AM ¡ª MOA Command [+2,218,000 Blood Coins Gained] Phillip leaned back, stunned. "That many? Just in one city?" Thomas nodded. "They''re nesting faster than we thought. We''re behind. But this helps." Marcus added, "We''ve got at least three more critical zones to clear. Tuguegarao, Naga, and Iligan are all showing similar massing behavior. Probably another Hive network." Thomas didn''t hesitate. "We schedule back-to-back strikes. No breathing room." He turned again to the system. [Weapon Queue ¡ª Batch Loadout Selected] W76-2 (Naga Nest) ¨C Cruise Missile W76-2 (Tuguegarao Cluster) ¨C Cruise Missile W76-2 (Iligan Shore Hive) ¨C Stealth ALCM Estimated Cost: 1.5M Blood Coins Expected Return: 3¨C5M Blood Coins (Kill Est.) Confirm Strike Sequence? [YES] 7 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Global Fallout Above the stratosphere, dead satellites from a world that no longer mattered still blinked. NORAD ghost stations auto-logged the unregistered nuclear detonations. AI protocols flagged the patterns. Old war programs ticked alive again in dark bunkers far away. But no generals remained. No presidents. No nuclear briefings. Only automatic warnings. Only echoes. Back on Earth, Thomas stood before a map that had begun to change. Not just because of nukes. But because of what came after. Where once red bled across the screen, now there were white zones¡ªcold, sterilized, quiet. No activity. No survivors. But also no threats. He tapped the map softly. "We take back one city at a time." Phillip looked at him. "And then what?" Thomas''s eyes narrowed. "Then we build." Chapter 246: Advisor 9 Days Since First Strike ¡ª MOA Complex, Command Level The war map had changed again. It no longer pulsed with red. The old infected zones¡ªManila, Clark, Lucena, Cabanatuan, San Fernando¡ªnow glowed pale white. Not from heat, but from silence. A total absence of Bloom activity. Drone after drone confirmed it. No motion. No bio-signature. No nests. Just ruins. Dead ruins. Thomas stood alone in the Strategic Map Room. Behind him, the soft hum of the room''s cooling system was the only noise. The others had been dismissed. This was a moment of reckoning. He had done what no one else dared. But the cost...? He closed his eyes briefly, before opening the translucent interface that hovered beside the map''s console. [System Notice: New Role Available ¨C Strategic Advisor (Nuclear)] [Unlock Cost: 25,000 Blood Coins] [Accept? Y/N] He didn''t hesitate. [Confirmed.] [Summoning Advisor...] [Designation: Dr. Harold Keplar, Ph.D. Nuclear Engineering.] [System Override: Digital Reconstruction Successful] A flicker of blue light swirled in front of him¡ªand then a man appeared. Mid-fifties, balding, with wire-rimmed glasses, a sharp nose, and a worn-out lab coat that looked like it had seen a few too many stress tests. Dr. Keplar blinked and adjusted his glasses. "Well. That was a strange nap," he muttered. "Commander Estaris, I presume?" Thomas nodded. "I assume you''re my new advisor." "Indeed." Keplar looked around. "Let me guess... you''ve used several tactical thermonuclear warheads in densely populated zones to exterminate large-scale biological infestations?" "Yes." Keplar nodded, unfazed. "Good. That means we''re past the stupid phase." Thomas crossed his arms. "People are already questioning me¡ªeven within my ranks. They''re afraid of radiation. Of fallout. Some think I''ve just made those cities permanently uninhabitable." Keplar snorted. "Hollywood rot. Let''s fix that." He stepped forward, projecting a map overlay above the war table. It split into radiation zones, plume projections, and decay timelines. "Here''s the truth," Keplar began, speaking with precision. "The W76-2 is a low-yield thermonuclear warhead designed for minimal collateral damage. Yield: six to eight kilotons. Airburst detonation." He pointed to the diagram. "Airburst, Commander. That''s critical. When a nuclear device detonates in the air, you avoid cratering the earth. No ground debris is pulled into the mushroom cloud. That''s what causes the long-term fallout in surface detonations¡ªirradiated particles raining back down. Hiroshima and Nagasaki? They were surface-based with heavier payloads, and still, both cities were rebuilt." Thomas narrowed his eyes. "So, the white zones..." Keplar gestured again. "Are safer than people think. Immediate radiation¡ªyes. Lethal within the core radius. But radioactive decay drops rapidly. Within 48 hours, the gamma radiation levels in airburst zones fall to survivable thresholds for brief exposure. Within 7¨C10 days, most of these zones are safe for extended operations with light shielding." Thomas turned toward the screen. "And long-term habitation?" Keplar raised a brow. "You''ll want to decontaminate surface layers¡ªash, soot, some metal fragments. But soil contamination is shallow. You can rebuild within months. Radiation levels will be lower than most hospitals'' X-ray wings." Thomas said nothing at first. Just stared at the now-silent map. "So the cities aren''t lost," he muttered. "Not if you plan properly. You''ve done the impossible¡ªcleared biohazards no conventional army could''ve touched. But now you have to win the peace. Rebuilding, repopulating, reconnecting supply lines. And doing it fast¡ªbefore nature or Bloom tries again." Thomas looked up at the advisor. "You''re not just a scientist. You''re a strategist." Keplar smiled faintly. Thomas turned to the comms terminal. "Marcus. Assemble the Infrastructure Core. We''re starting reclamation plans." 10 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Overwatch Engineering Bay Inside the massive reinforced hall, dozens of engineers and logistics planners gathered as Thomas, Marcus, and Phillip stood at the front beside the glowing holographic projector. A digital layout of Calamba City rotated above them. "We begin with Calamba," Thomas said. "Population before the outbreak was nearly 600,000. It served as a southern transport hub, water-rich, and had surviving geothermal energy sites. It''s also one of the cleanest N-Zones post-detonation." Phillip zoomed in on the center. "The Bloom infestation was rooted in the commercial zone. Our strike eliminated it completely. Structural damage is extensive but not beyond reclamation." Marcus chimed in, pointing at projected markers. "We''ll need three teams: one for decontamination, one for debris clearing, and one for core infrastructure recovery. Priority is water, roads, and local power." Keplar stepped forward. "Don''t waste time hunting for old survivors in that zone. You won''t find them. Focus instead on preparing it for repopulation. Shelters, clinics, food depots. Treat this like a forward operating base." Thomas nodded. "Calamba becomes our first Phoenix City. From its ashes, we rebuild." Someone in the back raised a hand. "But who''ll live there?" Thomas turned. "Families we''ve rescued. Volunteers. Survivors who want to start again. We are getting cramped here inside Overwatch. I figure we should expand now." "But will it be safe?" Keplar raised his voice. "Safer than walking into a hospital without gloves. These sites are cleaner now than they''ve been in months. The Bloom is gone. It can''t regrow in sterilized ground." Thomas added, "And every inch we rebuild is one less for the enemy to retake." The room quieted. There was resolve now. Uncertainty remained, but it no longer ruled them. That afternoon, construction crews were mobilized. Heavy-lift drones dropped prefabricated modules. Bulldozers rumbled to life. Solar arrays were planted in rows. Roads were re-cleared. Rail lines from the south were examined for repair. Each day that followed, a new city was added to the list. Clark. San Fernando. Lucena. One by one, the ashes became foundations. 11 Days Since First Strike ¡ª MOA Complex Rooftop The sun set slowly over Manila Bay. From the top of the MOA tower, Thomas stood with a pair of binoculars, scanning the horizon. A faint column of smoke rose far in the distance¡ªpart of the debris-clearing effort in San Fernando. It was a hopeful kind of smoke. Controlled. Intentional. Human. Keplar walked up behind him. "Once, during the Cold War, we thought nuclear fire would be the end of the world." Thomas didn''t respond. "But in the right hands," Keplar continued, "fire is rebirth." Thomas lowered the binoculars. "That''s the second time I''ve heard that." "Then maybe it''s worth believing." Below them, the lights flickered on in the MOA Complex¡ªsolar-powered, grid-stable, self-sufficient. The last capital of mankind still stood. And Thomas was ready to build again. Chapter 247: The Path to Reconstruction The convoy arrived at dawn. Twelve Overwatch JLTVs rolled in from the southern ridge, followed by a fleet of armored construction trucks, bulldozers, and supply carriers. Above them, cargo drones buzzed low like worker bees, towing suspended crates of steel plates, modular shelters, and food canisters. The sun glinted off their hulls as they soared past the edge of the former blast radius. Calamba City no longer stank of rot. The Bloom was gone, and in its place was a scorched landscape of ghostly silence. Tower skeletons still stood, windows gone, facades melted from nuclear heat. Blackened cars littered the streets like burnt bones. But the roads were clear of flesh. No movement. No screams. No nest matter. Just dust, ash, and silence. But for Thomas, it was the perfect blank slate. "Bring out the drones," he ordered over comms. From their trailers, six-foot-long terraforming drones unfolded and lifted into the air. Their nozzles released controlled mists of potassium hydroxide to neutralize surface radiation hotspots. Others used bristle rollers to sweep aside irradiated debris, loading it into containment bins lined with lead polymer. Automated dosimeters tracked every square meter cleared, rendering the area safe for human boots. Marcus approached beside him, wearing a newly issued gray Overwatch engineering vest. "Four rad pockets along the northeast quadrant. Minor. Nothing above 0.7 microsieverts per hour. Keplar says we can live with that." Thomas nodded. "We''ll deploy heavy shielding on those structures and fence them off. Focus crews on the commercial plaza and old government building." Phillip walked up with a tablet. "Modules one through four are ready for deployment. Clinic, shelter dome, power relay, and comms tower." Thomas swiped through the interface and selected landing coordinates. Within moments, skyhooks descended from the lead transport aircraft, lowering the first dome shelter into the city square. It touched down with a low thud¡ªwhite, prefab alloy frame, insulated walls, eight bunks, solar strips mounted overhead. Then the others followed. Clinic pods with fold-out beds and sterilization units. Power relays that hooked into buried geothermal vents. Comms towers that reconnected Calamba to Overwatch''s grid. The modules were sterile, functional, and unglamorous¡ªbut they worked. And more importantly, they gave people hope. 13 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Clark N-Zone Thomas arrived by drone shuttle to inspect progress in the Central Luzon reclamation zone. Clark had once been an international airport and airbase. The skeleton of Terminal 2 still stood, its roof half-collapsed, glass windows melted into warped puddles. Bloom had turned the old tarmac into a feeding ground months ago. Now, that same tarmac hosted construction yards. Steel pillars were being anchored into the concrete. Power cables were run underground. Massive water tanks were installed by crane. A civilian repop team was already present¡ªdoctors, teachers, and volunteers eager to return to land that once belonged to them. "They''re rebuilding the school first," the project manager explained. "Old one collapsed. So we''re using the hybrid shelter units¡ªcomms, cooling, solar¡ªconverted into classrooms." Thomas watched from a distance as children helped unload crates of books. Laughing. Running through ash. He nodded. "Send them another generator. And boost their medical supplies. I want that school to have the best clinic on-site. Kids get priority." 14 Days Since First Strike ¡ª San Fernando San Fernando''s streets were wider than most cities¡ªonce designed for suburban flow. Now, they made perfect staging zones for convoys. Dozens of Overwatch logistics trucks arrived that morning, carrying concrete mixers, steel rebar, mobile command containers, and armored earthmovers. A skeletal church lay at the heart of the zone¡ªhalf-melted from the W76-2''s blast. Thomas ordered it reinforced rather than demolished. "We preserve what remains," he told the team. "People need to see continuity." Keplar arrived via drone VTOL and stepped out in a modified environmental suit. "Radiation levels here are lower than expected. You''ve got clearance to start permanent housing development." "Good," Thomas replied. "We''ll trial our first hybrid-residency blocks here. One hundred units. Modular. Stackable. Bulletproof. Each with their own waste recycling system and solar panel array." Marcus handed him the construction schematics. "Timeline?" "Seventeen days to get the first 20 units up. Forty if we want a full neighborhood." Thomas nodded. "We''ll do it in twelve." He turned to the crews. "We''re not building camps. We''re building cities. Homes. Streets. Parks. Let the survivors see more than just tents." One of the workers shouted from above a scaffold. "What do we call this one, sir?" Thomas looked up. "Fort Renewal." 15 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Lucena Lucena had been one of the worst nests. But now, it was a miracle. The air was clean. The Bloom had burned away, never regrowing. The city''s proximity to the sea gave it favorable winds, sweeping away radiation within days. Drones confirmed the zone was safer than most open fields outside the N-Zones. So Thomas made a decision. "Lucena becomes our first full-spectrum reclamation site. Not just housing or clinics¡ªbut markets, trade centers, courthouses. A new city-state." Phillip blinked. "You''re serious?" Thomas smiled faintly. "I''m always serious." He stood at the base of a makeshift podium erected on the old city plaza. Civilians¡ªmore than five hundred of them¡ªgathered. Refugees from Overwatch and nearby camps. All of them had been screened, cleared, and were willing to return. Thomas raised a hand. "This is the first of many," he said. "Cities once consumed by monsters, now cleansed by fire and reclaimed by the living. We are not ghosts. We are not fugitives. We are human. And we take our home back." The people clapped. Some cried. Others looked around in disbelief. To them, it was surreal. To Thomas, it was only the beginning. 16 Days Since First Strike ¡ª MOA Complex Back in the heart of Overwatch, the Command Deck had changed. Monitors now showed not just red threat zones, but green dots¡ªreclamation sites. Cities once marked "Lost" were being reclassified. Clark ¨C Status: Stabilizing Calamba ¨C Status: Partial Restoration San Fernando ¨C Status: Rehousing Lucena ¨C Status: Urban Development Initiated Dr. Keplar stood beside Thomas, arms crossed. "You''ve done what a dozen old-world presidents could never accomplish with armies." Thomas didn''t reply. Instead, he opened the system screen. [Unlocked Roles: Nuclear Advisor, Engineering Officer, City Planner] [New Role Available: Chief Architect (Urban Design and Social Stability)] [Unlock Cost: 75,000 Blood Coins] [Accept? Y/N] He accepted. Another blue light shimmered into being. This time, a woman materialized¡ªtall, dark-skinned, hair in a tight bun, wearing a smart formal uniform. She looked around with a sharp gaze. "Dr. Evelyn Sato. Architect. Planner. You summoned me?" Thomas nodded. "Welcome to the end of the world." She smiled tightly. "I prefer to think of it as the beginning of a new one." Thomas pointed to the map. "I need cities. Not just shelters. Cities with water, order, culture. Cities that remind people we haven''t lost everything." Sato folded her arms. "Then we''ll do it by the blueprint. Transit grids, decentralized power, vertical farming, civil centers. Everything from scratch." Keplar smirked. "I like her already." Thomas stepped back. And for the first time in weeks, he didn''t issue a command. He simply watched. As engineers, planners, and civilians began rebuilding a world where the dead had ruled. Now, the living returned. And the cities would rise. Chapter 248: Bastions 17 Days Since First Strike ¡ª MOA Complex, Central Command The lights flickered across the main strategy room as the war map updated¡ªzones once marked in blood-red now gleamed with soft green overlays. Clark, Lucena, Calamba, and San Fernando each pulsed with activity lines, coded with tags like "Water Stabilized," "Reconstruction Ongoing," and "Population Transit Approved." Thomas stood at the central console with arms crossed. Around him, engineers, logisticians, and civilians bustled in organized chaos. It felt... alive. Not just survival¡ªbut growth. Dr. Evelyn Sato tapped her datapad, casting a 3D layout above the table. It showed a modular urban zone, designed like a grid with soft curves and a ring road network. "This is Phoenix Sector-1," she said. "Designed to fit within Lucena''s least-irradiated district. We''ll start with seventy-two housing units, three vertical farm towers, one medical node, and a compact education zone." Phillip whistled. "All that in a single looped layout?" "Self-contained," she confirmed. "Solar canopy above the main avenue. Underground greywater recycling. Each block has a community armory and lockdown protocol in case of renewed Bloom activity." Thomas nodded once. "You''ve planned for defense." "We build in layers," Sato replied. "Housing, then food, then trade. But we defend all three." Dr. Keplar joined them, still in his upgraded radiation-rated lab coat. "The soil samples are consistent. Lucena''s wind patterns kept deposition minimal. You''re safe to excavate, lay foundation, and operate machinery with no hazard suits needed." Thomas glanced across the room and issued his command. "Deploy Team Atlas to Lucena. I want the first structures grounded by nightfall." 18 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Clark Zone Logistics Yard The once-ruined airbase now throbbed with mechanical life. Clark had become the beating heart of Overwatch''s supply lines. Dozens of tracked haulers came and went through makeshift customs lanes. A temporary rail loop was restored and connected to southern nodes by automated cargo rail. Steel trusses, copper cabling, food containers, and construction polymers were stacked in shipping towers. Above it all, a high-frequency drone station coordinated incoming flights. Thomas toured the site with Marcus, who pointed toward a towering steel scaffolding being raised in the center of the yard. "That''s the Clarke Spire," Marcus said. "Fifty meters tall. Command and radar post. It''ll serve as our main trans-Luzon broadcast hub." "How''s fuel holding up?" Thomas asked. "Diesel''s tight," Marcus admitted. "But we''re converting the base''s old hangars into algae biofuel distilleries. Keplar''s team says we''ll be 40% self-sufficient within the month." "Good," Thomas replied. "This city''s not just a yard. It''s the spine. If Clark breaks, the rest fall behind." He looked to the east, where civilian tents were rising beside machine yards. Former refugees¡ªnow workers. For the first time in months, many of them had jobs again. 19 Days Since First Strike ¡ª San Fernando The reconstruction team had renamed it "Fort Renewal." Concrete mixers worked overtime under floodlights. Tower cranes rotated in sequence, dropping prefabricated walls into place. Roads had been swept and re-laid with compacted stonecrete, making them walkable. Children kicked a soccer ball around the edge of a cleared boulevard, their laughter echoing between half-built shelters. Inside the church ruins, Thomas stood behind a repurposed pulpit. Before him sat over 200 civilians¡ªformer evacuees, construction volunteers, and early settlers. This wasn''t a press conference. It was the first "citizen assembly" of a reclaimed city. A woman with a clipboard stood up. "Mr. Estaris¡ªwhat happens if the Bloom comes back?" Thomas didn''t sugarcoat. "Then we fight it again. But this time, from walls. With protocols. With order. We won''t be caught sleeping again." A man near the back raised his hand. "And food? Water? What about our kids?" Thomas turned to the wall behind him where a cloth banner now hung, printed hastily but bold: "From Ashes, Order. From Fire, Life." "We''re not building camps," Thomas said. "We''re building cities. Cities that feed their people, treat their sick, and protect their future. We''ll stumble. But we will rise." 20 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Lucena Core At sunrise, the first vertical farm was completed. Its white shell glimmered in the ocean breeze. Inside, LED growth trays were already humming. Automated mist sprayers deployed nutrients into stacked beds of kale, beans, and cabbage. The tower could feed five hundred mouths per week. Four more were planned within the month. Sato surveyed the site proudly. "This is how we avoid dependency," she said. "No convoys. No ration drops. Just engineered ecosystems." Beside the farm stood a half-built trade plaza. Open modular stalls, shade cloths, and a planned open-air auction space. Phillip was inspecting the layouts. "Market days," he said, almost in disbelief. "Like it''s 2019 again." "We need culture as much as calories," Sato replied. "If all we offer is survival, people won''t stay. But if we offer them a life... they''ll fight for it." Thomas watched a child holding a plastic broom sweep an already-clean street. He said nothing¡ªbut the corners of his mouth twitched slightly. 21 Days Since First Strike ¡ª MOA Complex Back in the nerve center, Thomas reviewed updated projections. Overwatch''s data streams showed stabilized biosigns. No new hives. No Goliath-class readings. Drone strikes now confirmed the Bloom was not reforming in the glassed zones. "Population density at San Fernando: 1,100. Clark: 840. Calamba: 520. Lucena: 1,700," Marcus reported. Thomas stared at the numbers. "We''re spreading thin. Risk of reinfection rises if we can''t coordinate faster." Dr. Sato spoke up. "That''s why we begin grid planning. Transit lines. Unified ID systems. Radio relay towers. If these are cities, they need to talk to each other." Keplar added, "And they''ll need governance eventually. Law, patrols, dispute systems." Thomas frowned. "And who''s going to run those?" Silence followed. Then Phillip shrugged. "You''ve already got people treating you like a president. Might as well start acting like one." Thomas ignored the joke. "No crowns. No parades. We''re building merit. Not monarchy." He turned back to the screen. New alerts flashed¡ªdozens of civilian groups inquiring about joining reclamation efforts. Thomas opened the channel and sent a blanket message: "Overwatch is now accepting skilled laborers, teachers, engineers, and medics. Priority to families. Our cities are growing. Join us in the rebuilding of the world." 22 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Lucena Rooftop The night was calm. Wind rustled through the still-bare rooftops of Lucena''s growing skyline. The stars above were clearer than they had been in years¡ªno light pollution. No global noise. Thomas stood alone on a scaffold above Phoenix Sector-1. Below him, hundreds of lights twinkled. Quiet laughter drifted upward from the plaza where families gathered around campfires, some cooking. Some just sharing stories. Keplar joined him with a data tablet. "You should get sleep." "Later." "They''ll be ready for more tomorrow. Tuguegarao. Iligan. Baguio. Everyone wants a city now." Thomas didn''t look away from the lights. "Then we''ll give them cities." He took a deep breath, the first one that didn''t taste like smoke or ash. And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself a moment of silence. Not dread. Not pressure. Just... silence. And in that silence, the world started again. Chapter 249: The Next Horizon 23 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Central Command, MOA Complex The command center hummed with a quiet intensity. Gone were the frantic alarms and emergency dispatches that once defined Overwatch''s heartbeat. Now, every blinking light on the main board represented forward movement¡ªzones turning from red to yellow, then to green. Lucena was becoming a model. Clark had become a rail and logistics hub. Fort Renewal was expanding. And Thomas knew what came next. Expansion. But not just on land. "Pull up aerial scans of Visayas and Mindanao," Thomas ordered. The main screen flickered. Satellite overlays and drone feeds lit up with static points. Most major cities were still blacked out¡ªno power, no communication. Davao, Cebu, Iloilo, and Tacloban remained dormant. But faint signals flickered near Tagbilaran and Dumaguete. A few heat signatures. Vehicle movement. Handheld radios broadcasting on old municipal bands. Thomas leaned forward. "They''re alive out there." "Barely," Keplar replied, arms crossed. "And whatever''s out there... they''re isolated. If they''ve survived this long without help, they''re either hardened or on the verge of collapse." Phillip entered, soaked from field drills. "Evac teams are ready. Give us the flight paths, we''ll do the rest." Thomas nodded, his mind already racing through deployment schedules. "Then we start Operation Bridgefall." Sato looked up from her desk. "Another military name?" He smirked. "Not this time. It''s not about war anymore. We''re bridging islands. We''re going to reclaim the whole archipelago." 24 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Aboard Valkyrie One (Modified KC-135 Stratotanker) The massive aerial recon ship banked southwest, flying just above cloud cover. It was quiet inside¡ªno cargo, no personnel aside from the flight crew and two Overwatch recon teams. From the reinforced windows, the islands below looked like blotches of green stitched into the sea. Beautiful... and silent. Thomas stood at the nose viewport. Bohol. Negros. Cebu. Once rich, vibrant centers of life¡ªnow darkened relics. The onboard AI pinged a proximity alert. A faint radio signal was detected¡ªshort-range. Civilian frequency. Manual Morse code. "... ¨C.- . . .¨C. / .... ¡ª .¨C. . / .-.. .. ...- . / -.- . . .¨C. / .... ¡ª .¨C. . / .-.. .. ...- ." Phillip looked up. "That''s SOS. Over and over again. On loop." Thomas''s jaw clenched. "Mark it. That''s our landing zone." He tapped into the comms network. "Notify Angel. I want a supply drone ready to deploy with basic rations, medkits, and a solar relay. No contact, just airdrop. Let them know we''re coming." 25 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Engineering Wing, MOA Complex Evelyn Sato''s new layout plan stretched the length of the drafting table. Each region now had its own sub-grid: Luzon, Visayas, Mindanao. They weren''t just building cities anymore. They were planning regional capitals¡ª"Bastions," she called them. Each bastion would follow a three-ring design: Inner Core: Hospitals, government, armories, and communication nodes. Mid-Ring: Vertical farms, education centers, utility systems. Outer Ring: Residential units, public markets, and motorpool lots. They would all connect via Overwatch''s new initiative¡ªProject Sentinel Rail. A maglev-inspired hybrid track using pre-apocalypse tunnels and new prefabricated bridges. Power would be supplied by regional microgrids: geothermal, solar, wind depending on location. "I''ve submitted requisitions for three naval transport barges," Sato added. "We''ll need them to move prefab kits and drones across the straits. You want Cebu up and running within sixty days, right?" Thomas nodded. "Thirty." Sato blinked. "That''s not humanly¡ª" "It''s not," he said calmly. "That''s why we''re not doing it the old way." 26 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Lucena, Phoenix Sector-3 The plaza fountain finally activated. Filtered seawater, drawn from underground pipelines, rose in a thin arc over the sculpture in the center¡ªa phoenix with wings spread wide. Children screamed in joy as they splashed beneath it. Vendors were already setting up stalls. Bread. Fish. Soap made from reclaimed animal fat. Lucena had a soul now. Thomas arrived on foot, dressed plainly, no armed escort. An elderly woman stopped him mid-step. "You''re him, aren''t you?" He smiled faintly. "One of many." She placed a small loaf of bread in his hand. "For all you''ve done. Thank you." Thomas accepted it in silence. Nearby, Keplar and a field officer debriefed the new sanitation crew about bloom reemergence protocols¡ªstill no sign of recurrence. Soil was fertile. Children had even started planting flower beds around the shelters. "This is working," Marcus said beside him. "For now," Thomas replied. "You always say that." "Because it''s true." 27 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Overwatch Intelligence Vault Inside the secure vault, deep beneath the MOA Complex, AI systems analyzed old satellite archives and new recon footage. Thomas, Keplar, and Sato were reviewing a growing concern: mutation patterns. Keplar pointed to a time-lapse map. "The Bloom spores adapt rapidly to fire-based sterilization. We''ve confirmed their retreat from irradiated zones, but in two outlying sectors¡ªnorth of Tarlac and near Davao Gulf¡ªthey''ve shifted underground." "Like roots?" Sato asked. "Exactly. They burrow. Avoid surface scans. Then resurge." "And if they adapt to radiation next?" Keplar''s voice grew cold. "Then even the nukes won''t be enough." Thomas didn''t flinch. "Then we need a new weapon." He accessed the system interface and opened the Research Directive tab. [New Tech Branch Available: Bloom Suppression via Biochemical Warfare][Unlock Cost: 100,000 Blood Coins][Confirm Y/N] He tapped Y. A new screen appeared. Project Aegis ¡ª "If fire won''t kill it, biology will." 28 Days Since First Strike ¡ª MOA Assembly Hall For the first time since Overwatch''s founding, they held a general assembly. Civilians. Officers. Engineers. Medics. Farmers. Schoolteachers. All seated. Thomas stepped to the front with no military formality. No titles. Just a voice. "We''re twenty-eight days removed from fire," he began. "And in those twenty-eight days, we''ve built four cities. Created power grids. Farms. Homes. We''ve restored communication. Trade. Trust." Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. "But we''ve also uncovered the truth¡ªthat the Bloom isn''t done. It changes. It hides. And it will return." The room fell silent. "That''s why we build more than cities. We build systems. Defense grids. Firewalls. Food chains. Patrol lines. Not just to restore the world¡ªbut to protect what we''ve rebuilt." He paused, meeting their eyes. "I will not pretend we are safe. But I promise you this¡ªwe will never be helpless again." The room erupted in applause. 29 Days Since First Strike ¡ª MOA Command, Personal Quarters Late at night, Thomas sat at his desk. In front of him: three photos. The world before the Fall. A satellite view of Manila. A child''s drawing from Lucena. And a black box marked "For When the World Is Ready." He didn''t open it. Not yet. Instead, he stood and looked out the window at the Complex. The airstrips glowed with takeoff lights. The drone factories buzzed at 60% output. The city beyond was alive. Then the monitor blinked. Incoming Transmission ¡ª Unknown Origin ¡ª Quezon Province Thomas narrowed his eyes and clicked Accept. A face appeared¡ªgrizzled, scarred, but unmistakably human. "We''ve been watching," the man said. "You lit up the sky. Nukes, drones, cities. You''re not the only ones who survived." Thomas leaned in. "Then let''s talk." Chapter 250: Hidden Settlements 31 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Southern Quezon Province, Perimeter Recon A thin fog clung to the treetops as the Overwatch tiltrotor swept low over the canopy. Below, dense jungle stretched for miles¡ªendless green broken only by the bones of old logging roads and the occasional ruined watchtower swallowed by foliage. This was one of the last unscouted regions on Luzon''s southern interior. Thomas Estaris leaned forward in his seat, visor down, eyes locked on the real-time topographic feed projected on his datapad. "We''ve never surveyed this area?" Phillip, seated across from him, shook his head. "Pre-Fall charts mark this as low-priority terrain. Too mountainous, too remote. No functioning roads." "And ground?" "None," Phillip confirmed. "Not since the old world." The pilot''s voice crackled over comms. "Commander, picking up thermal anomalies¡ªlow and steady. It''s not a fire. Looks like controlled heat sources. Possibly chimneys. There''s more than one." Thomas raised a brow. "Coordinates?" "Southern ridge. Just past the river basin. We''re circling now." He turned to Phillip. "Put us down. Not close enough to spook them, but within reach on foot." Deep Forest ¡ª Thirty Minutes Later The jungle was still. No distant groans of infected. No birdsong either. Just the crunch of boots through wet undergrowth and the low hum of the Overwatch recon drone floating ahead of the squad. Shadow Team 3 moved with practiced silence, clearing the path through thick bamboo and creeper vines. Thomas and Phillip followed behind, both wearing light armor under their coats. "Look at this," one of the soldiers whispered, pointing to a broken path of old stones half-buried in moss. "These weren''t laid by nature." Thomas crouched, brushing aside leaves. The stones formed a faded trail¡ªpossibly a decades-old footpath, long forgotten. The drone paused ahead, hovering. Then its camera feed shifted¡ªrevealing smoke trails, wooden structures, and solar panels poking above the treeline. Thomas narrowed his eyes. "That''s not ruins." It was a village. A hidden one. They approached slowly, weapons holstered but ready. From behind a barricade made of sharpened logs and scavenged rebar, a figure emerged¡ªa man in a dusty cloak, holding a long hunting rifle. He didn''t raise it, but he didn''t lower it either. "You''re not infected," the man said. His voice was calm, but guarded. "You''re not bandits either." "No," Thomas replied. "We''re from Overwatch." The name had weight. The man blinked, glancing over their equipment. He waved once, and two more guards emerged from the trees, lowering makeshift crossbows and converted shotguns. "I''m Raul," he said. "We''ve been out here... a long time." "How long?" Phillip asked. Raul''s face was sun-worn. "Thirtheen months." Thomas exhaled quietly. Raul turned. "Follow me. You''ll want to see this for yourselves." They descended into a shallow basin, hidden from aerial view by the slope of the terrain. It was larger than expected¡ªdozens of huts, some built from salvaged materials, others woven from forest resources. Small wind turbines spun lazily, connected to repurposed batteries. Bucket gardens hung from railings. A few solar panels blinked with weak light. Smoke curled from brick chimneys. Children played barefoot in the dirt while a woman stirred a large pot over an open fire. Guards patrolled the ridge above, scanning the horizon with binoculars and home-built spotting scopes. But what caught Thomas''s eye was a canvas banner strung across the central post: "Redsand ¡ª 17 Months of Survival" Raul led them into a circular hut near the center. "We didn''t think anyone else made it," he said. "We stayed quiet. Hiding worked. But recently... the sky changed." "The strikes," Thomas said. "You saw them." Raul nodded. "We thought the end had already come. Then it came again¡ªwith fire." Around the room sat a group of leaders¡ªthough none carried formal ranks. A medic with faded scrubs. A carpenter. A young scout with a radio strapped to his chest. A woman who introduced herself as Mira, former schoolteacher, now overseeing their resource storage. "We live off what we can grow, trap, or scavenge," Mira explained. "No electricity beyond what the sun gives. No contact outside. Our old radios died last year." "And no Bloom?" Phillip asked. Raul shook his head. "Not here. Something about the winds or maybe the terrain. We saw them in the valleys, sure¡ªbut they never came this deep." Thomas folded his hands. "We''re rebuilding. Cities. Trade lines. Defense zones. The infected are thinning, but they''re not gone. What you have here is... remarkable. But it won''t last forever." "You''re asking us to leave," the medic said quietly. "No," Thomas said. "I''m asking you to join. Stay here if you must. But link to us. Send people. Let us help." The scout spoke up. "And what do we give you?" "Knowledge," Thomas said. "Experience. Medics. Growers. People who know how to live when systems collapse." "And if we say no?" Raul asked. Thomas didn''t blink. "Then we leave. But the next variant might not knock." Thomas stood near the edge of the compound, watching a group of children chase a wheel down a path, their laughter cutting through the night like a warm breeze. Lanterns swayed gently. A young woman strummed a guitar missing its high E string. Across the basin, an old generator thumped, powering a single lamppost beside the storage shed. Phillip joined him, offering a plate of roasted root and salted meat. "They''ve got more order than most cities we''ve seen." Thomas nodded. "Seventeen months. Hidden. No external supply. That''s not luck. That''s leadership." "You think they''ll vote yes?" "They wouldn''t have opened the gate if they didn''t want something more." A bell rang. Dozens gathered under the starlit sky. Raul stood at the center, speaking without notes. "Seventeen months ago, the world ended. But we didn''t. We held on. We adapted. But now the fire''s back¡ªnot to burn us¡ªbut to clean the rot. Overwatch found us. And now we decide. Do we stay ghosts? Or do we rejoin the living?" No shouting. No grand speeches. Just quiet votes cast into a woven basket. Thirty minutes later, Raul returned. "Sixty-eight in favor. Twenty-three against. We''ll send delegates. Medics. Builders. Redsand joins the effort." Thomas offered his hand. Raul took it. "We''ll be part of something again." Back in the control room, the digital map of Luzon updated. A new sector¡ªpreviously blank¡ªglowed faint green. [NEW CONTACT ESTABLISHED: REDSAND COLLECTIVE] Status: Integrated Population Gained: 141 Profession Tags: Medic, Carpenter, Farmer, Scout Dr. Sato reviewed the data. "Their designs are crude but functional. If we install just two relays, we can link them to Lucena''s grid. That opens the southern access corridor." Keplar added, "And their scout''s drone tech¡ªit''s cobbled together, but adaptive. Could help extend our recon range without risking pilots." Phillip sat back. "One more piece in the puzzle." Thomas didn''t say anything for a moment. Then he stepped forward and pointed at the untouched regions on the map. "Prep another survey run," he said. "This wasn''t the last." Chapter 251: The Reach Expands 33 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Lucena Command Hub The rain had stopped just an hour ago, leaving the streets of Phoenix Sector-1 glistening under the rising sun. Water dripped from solar awnings above every walkway, and the scent of wet concrete mixed with the earthy perfume of new crops. Children splashed in shallow puddles, their laughter bouncing between half-finished structures. The city was still raw, but alive. Inside the Command Hub, Thomas stood over a wide planning table. A digital map of southern Luzon displayed in full detail¡ªeach known settlement flickering with soft green markers, and swaths of unexplored land glowing amber. To his right, Dr. Sato was adjusting the live biosignal feed. To his left, Phillip scrolled through the latest updates from the Redsand integration. "They''ve sent their first medics," Phillip reported. "Two of them. Plus a carpenter and three scouts. They''ll arrive in San Fernando by tomorrow." "Good," Thomas replied, eyes locked on the map. "Redsand proves it. We''re not alone out here." "Think there are more?" Phillip asked. "There''s always more," Sato answered. "Humans are stubborn like that." Keplar entered the room, coat still damp from his inspection rounds. "I''ve been reviewing thermal imaging from the tiltrotor logs. We found another cluster of anomalies east of Naga. No smoke, but consistent grid-like heat signatures." Thomas looked up. "Another possible settlement?" "Could be," Keplar said. "Or something worse. Could be a hive." Sato frowned. "That far south?" "It''s unconfirmed," Keplar admitted. "But the readings match early patterns from Calamba, just before the Bloom erupted in full." Thomas leaned over the map. "Then it''s time to expand our reach. Naga''s always been a crossroads. If we can secure it, we can open a southern corridor to Bicol and eventually Samar." Phillip nodded. "You want a recon sweep?" "Not just recon," Thomas said. "I want a forward base. A place we can hold if things go wrong." Sato tapped the screen, highlighting a highland pass leading into Naga. "There''s an old hydroelectric station near here¡ªabandoned before the Fall. Elevation is good. Natural choke points. Could be fortified." Thomas didn''t hesitate. "Deploy Shadow Team 2. Give them drones, mobile relays, and a forward engineering unit. This isn''t just a search anymore. It''s expansion." 34 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Highland Approach, Camarines Sur The tiltrotor kicked up dirt and leaves as it touched down on the edge of the highland pass. Six operators disembarked, followed by two engineers and a pair of logistics drones. The air was cooler here, the sky tinted with haze. Shadow Team 2''s leader, Ramirez, scanned the ridge through his scope. "No motion. Terrain''s rough. But we''ve got visibility all the way to the basin below." The engineers began unloading supplies¡ªlightweight solar panels, modular walls, collapsible towers. Everything needed to establish a forward presence. Overwatch called it "Site Echo." By sundown, they had secured the perimeter and activated a relay link to Lucena. Echo was online. 35 Days Since First Strike ¡ª MOA Complex Inside the war room, Site Echo''s feed streamed across a corner display. Low-resolution, but functional. Keplar reviewed the environmental readings while Thomas stood by. "No Bloom traces in the soil. Air quality is stable. And no high radiation hotspots. It''s viable," Keplar confirmed. "And the heat signatures near Naga?" Thomas asked. "Still there," Phillip replied. "We''re dispatching the drones tomorrow. Should have visuals within 48 hours." Thomas rubbed the back of his neck. "If it''s another survivor group, we do what we did with Redsand. But if it''s a nest..." "Then we burn it," Keplar said grimly. 36 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Site Echo, Field Perimeter The recon drones buzzed low over the tree canopy, their IR sensors sweeping for activity. Below them, the jungle thinned into terraced slopes¡ªonce rice paddies, now overgrown. Ramirez called it in. "We''ve got movement. Several heat sources. Civilian scale. No erratic patterns. They''re not infected." The drone zoomed in. Crude huts, corrugated roofing, open fires. Figures tending to small gardens. Thomas received the feed at MOA. "That''s another settlement." "They look isolated," Sato said. "No roads. No comms. Likely no contact since the Fall." Thomas made the call. "Approach carefully. No weapons drawn unless provoked. Offer them trade and medical checks." 37 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Southern Basin Hamlet The Overwatch team approached with caution¡ªthree scouts, no armor, no visible weapons. A woman with a bow met them first, flanked by a group of tired-looking men. "We don''t want trouble," she said. "Neither do we," the lead scout replied. "We''re with Overwatch." The woman blinked. "That name means something?" The scout offered a ration pack. "It will." After tense moments, the villagers allowed them in. Thirty-seven people. Most elderly or children. One diesel generator barely coughing. They lived on tubers and boiled river water. They had no real defense. And they were sick. "We''ve had coughs. Fevers," said one of the elders. "Sometimes... seizures." The medic knelt by a child with sunken eyes. "This isn''t just flu," he said. "This could be early-stage spore exposure." Back at Echo, Thomas received the report. His jaw tightened. "They''re too close to something," Keplar muttered. "Either spores drifted in... or something''s nearby." Thomas gave the order: "Evacuate the village. Decon protocols. And get drones sweeping west. We might have missed a hidden hive." 38 Days Since First Strike ¡ª MOA Complex, Command Deck Thomas stood over the updated grid. Two new settlements found. One integrated, one evacuated. "We''re seeing a pattern," Sato said. "The deeper we push, the more we uncover. Survivors. Remnants. Risks." "And it''ll only grow harder," Phillip added. "We''ll spread thinner. We''ll miss something eventually." "We don''t stop," Thomas replied. "We organize better. Layer our reach. Build scout outposts like Echo at every jump point. Create a living perimeter." Sato hesitated. "You''re turning Overwatch into a nation." Thomas looked her in the eye. "No. Into a lifeline." Later That Night ¡ª Lucena Core Thomas sat alone on the rooftop garden above Command Hub. Below, lights flickered across the district like stars fallen to earth. Each one a life rebuilt. Each one a promise kept. Phillip joined him, handing over a tin mug of lukewarm coffee. "You know we''re going to hit resistance soon, right?" Thomas nodded slowly. "Not everyone wants to be found. Some groups will have different laws. Different truths. We''ll lose people." "And if the next place we knock on the door pulls a trigger instead of opening it?" Thomas sipped the coffee. "Then we knock smarter next time." He looked out over the lights. "We''re not restoring the old world, Phillip. We''re carving a new one." The stars above were quiet. But below¡ªamid the jungles and ruins of Luzon¡ªOverwatch reached ever farther. And the world answered, one flicker at a time. Chapter 252: Smoke Beyond the Ridge 39 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Forward Operating Post Echo, Camarines Sur Dawn had not yet broken, but the jungle was already alive. Chirping insects, creaking bamboo, and the low hum of Echo''s generators blended into a constant drone of life¡ªnatural and mechanical. Lieutenant Ramirez stood near the observation platform, his eyes locked on a thermal feed from the drone patrol that had gone up an hour earlier. Behind him, the engineers were finalizing the last segment of Echo''s wall¡ªa modular, lightweight barricade reinforced with metal salvaged from a collapsed cell tower. Phillip''s voice came through on comms. "Any signs of the source?" "Negative," Ramirez replied. "But the southern ridge lit up five minutes ago. Controlled burns. Not wildfire. Someone''s clearing land." Phillip didn''t answer right away. Then: "We''ll need Eagle." Same Time ¡ª MOA Complex, Command Center Thomas Estaris entered the control room just as the first live feed displayed on the main screen. It showed a wide stretch of jungle rising into a high slope. Thick smoke curled from a dozen fires¡ªorderly, methodical, and likely man-made. Keplar pointed to one screen. "See the symmetry? They''re cutting forest. Could be for agriculture. Could be defensive." "Or industrial," Sato added. "It''s too early to tell." Thomas narrowed his eyes. "What are the odds this is a rebel group?" Keplar hesitated. "Fifty-fifty. No flag, no emblems. Just activity. But they''re organized. That''s not just survival. That''s strategy." "We need to know who they are before we move in." Phillip nodded. "Then let''s do it the old way. Shadow scouts. Long-range recon. No contact." 40 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Jungle South of Site Echo Shadow Scout Elias crept through the underbrush, his camo netting streaked with jungle mud. His drone hovered low, only ten feet above the canopy, its rotor blades nearly silent. The feed it transmitted flickered for a second¡ªthen came into focus. An elevated village. Not huts, but structures. Two-story buildings made of reclaimed concrete, sheet metal, and what looked like salvaged construction scaffolding. Solar panels. Rain catchers. Wind turbines. A large clearing surrounded it¡ªburned clean, likely for farming or visibility. Defensive trenches lined the outer perimeter. Watchtowers. Elias whispered into his mic. "Definitely not a random settlement. They''re fortified. Disciplined patrol patterns. Some guards are wearing uniforms¡ªmix of military fatigues and improvised armor." He paused, zooming in. "Also... I count at least three spotters. They''re using field binoculars, maybe even scopes. They know the terrain." Back at Echo, Thomas listened in through the secure relay line. "This could be former AFP," Phillip muttered. "Or a breakaway military enclave." Thomas folded his arms. "Or worse¡ªmercenaries." Later That Night ¡ª MOA Complex, Command Hall The images from Elias''s recon were displayed on the projector. Dozens of photos¡ªguards with rifles, crates marked with faded logistics codes, power relays, even a radio tower with a blinking red light. "They''re broadcasting," Sato observed. "Shortwave, most likely. Encrypted loops." "Can we break it?" Thomas asked. Keplar shook his head. "Not yet. But we''ve picked up similar signals from the Zambales mountains two weeks ago. That could mean they''re connected." "Or the same group." Phillip leaned forward. "You''re thinking a network." Thomas nodded. "It''s not just pockets of survivors anymore. We''re looking at entire power blocs. Some will want peace. Others might see us as a threat." "And if they''re armed?" Keplar asked. "Then we don''t lead with weapons. We lead with water, power, and medicine." Phillip raised an eyebrow. "You really think goodwill will get through to a faction that''s been off the grid since the Fall?" Thomas turned to him, voice even. "If they''re sane, they''ll want to survive. And if they''re not... then we have other methods." 41 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Jungle Clearing, Observation Ridge The next recon team had set up a semi-permanent overwatch station camouflaged under a blanket of vines. With their equipment trained on the fortified village below, they observed for nearly eight hours. The report that came back confirmed Elias''s initial findings¡ªabout 120 to 150 people. At least 30 were fighters, armed and patrolling regularly. The rest seemed to be builders, technicians, farmers. No signs of infected. No corpses. No prisoners. They were a functioning community. But what stood out most was a single flag raised atop the tallest structure¡ªa dark red cloth bearing a faded symbol: a clenched fist inside a broken circle. Keplar examined it on screen. "That''s not random. It''s deliberate. Might be a warlord faction. Might be a resistance cell." "Or a new order," Sato said. Thomas studied the emblem. "They haven''t attacked anyone. No raids, no broadcasts, no forced displacements. They''re focused inward." "And that makes them dangerous," Phillip added. Thomas didn''t disagree. 42 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Temporary Conference, Lucena A new planning council had been assembled. Raul from Redsand joined via secure feed. Captain Rosario from the northern enclaves was patched in from Cabanatuan. Even Dr. Sato''s assistant was present¡ªrepresenting the southern basin evacuees. Thomas stood before them all. "We have reason to believe another organized faction exists in southern Luzon," he began. "They are disciplined, armed, and self-sufficient. We do not yet know their ideology or intent. But we have to prepare for three possibilities." He raised one finger. "First, they''re friendly. Isolationist, but open to diplomacy." A second. "Second, they''re indifferent. Neutral. Willing to exist, but not interact." A third. "Or third... they''re hostile. And they''ve just been waiting for someone to approach." Silence followed. Raul was the first to speak. "We hid to survive. If they did the same, they may be as scared of us as we are of them." Captain Rosario added, "But if they''re armed with old-world hardware and the will to use it... diplomacy must come with eyes open and shields ready." Thomas nodded. "Agreed. Which is why we won''t send a delegation unarmed. Phillip and I will go ourselves¡ªwith backup on standby." Sato frowned. "That''s reckless." "It''s necessary," Thomas said. "We don''t just expand territory. We expand trust. Or we''re no better than warlords." 43 Days Since First Strike ¡ª En Route to Fortified Village The tiltrotor passed over the highland jungle in near silence, carrying Thomas, Phillip, two scouts, and a medic. As they approached the coordinates, the pilot radioed: "Contact made. The settlement acknowledged our presence. They''ve sent a team to meet at the southern landing field. No shots fired." Thomas looked out the window. "Let''s see who they are." The aircraft set down in a burned clearing. A reception party was already waiting¡ªfive individuals, all armed but weapons slung low. In the center was a woman¡ªtall, dark hair in a braid, and eyes sharp as knives. She spoke first. "You''re Overwatch," she said. Thomas nodded. "And you are?" "Commander Lira Morales. You''re standing on the edge of Fort Calinog. We''ve held this ground for twenty months. Welcome." Chapter 253: Fort Calinog 44 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Perimeter of Fort Calinog, Camarines Sur The wind swept over the burned clearing where the tiltrotor had landed, sending dust into the air and rustling the treetops beyond. Thomas Estaris stepped down from the aircraft, boots crunching against hardened soil. Behind him came Phillip, a medic named Reyes, and two armed scouts in Overwatch colors. Each carried a sidearm, but they kept their hands well away from their holsters. Facing them were five individuals. Uniforms mismatched but clean, weapons holstered, and movements disciplined. At their center stood Commander Lira Morales¡ªtall, lean, and composed. She carried herself like a woman who had survived hell and made hell regret it. "You''re Overwatch," Lira repeated, voice sharp but level. Thomas nodded. "Thomas Estaris, acting commander. This is Phillip Cortez, my second." She glanced at each man carefully. "We received your approach notice. That''s rare¡ªsomeone who knocks first." "We''ve learned it goes a long way," Thomas replied. "Most days." Lira gestured toward a worn path leading into the trees. "Walk with me. You''ll want to see the perimeter before we talk politics." They walked through the southern gate¡ªsteel salvaged from highway guardrails¡ªand into Fort Calinog proper. It wasn''t just a settlement. It was a fortress. Reinforced watchtowers stood at each corner of the compound, and between them ran a high wall of corrugated iron and concrete slabs. Inside, the community thrived with surprising order. Rows of hydroponic beds lined the main courtyard. Battery stacks hummed quietly near a converted bunker. A radio tower blinked above a command building at the far end. "We''ve been here since before the Fall," Lira said, leading the group toward the main plaza. "We were a disaster-prep team. Ex-military, engineers, and some corporate types with doomsday fantasies. Turns out they were right." Phillip scanned the area. "You have solar, comms, power distribution¡ªthis is one of the most advanced enclaves we''ve seen." "We planned for decades. When Manila burned, we sealed off access and started cutting trees for visibility. Burn scars make the infected think twice." "And that flag?" Thomas asked. Lira glanced at him. "You mean the fist inside the broken ring?" He nodded. "It''s ours. It doesn''t mean war. It means survival at all costs. You have your colors. We have ours." They arrived at a shaded bench under a camouflaged awning. She motioned for them to sit. "I''m not going to ask how you''re organized or how many you''ve got. I already know," Lira said. "You''ve taken Lucena. You''ve established Site Echo. You''ve got drones and tiltrotors. You''re building something." Thomas didn''t deny it. "We are. Not a country. Not a government. Just something that works." Lira folded her arms. "Then here''s the question. Why come to us? What do you want?" "We want to link enclaves," Thomas said. "Your people are safe here, but they''re isolated. We have medical networks, trade routes, supply chains forming. You don''t have to join, just open lines. Let your sick come to us. Let our data come to you." "And in return?" she asked. "We offer what we can. Diesel. Medicine. High-caliber ammunition if you need it. Agricultural engineers. Solar tech. And protection if needed." Lira''s gaze sharpened. "So this is an alliance?" "It''s a lifeline," Phillip said. "For both sides." She didn''t respond immediately. Instead, she stood and led them toward a narrow catwalk that overlooked the village farms. Below, dozens of people worked in silence¡ªplanting, inspecting, tending goats and rabbits. "I lost forty people in the first month," Lira said quietly. "They called it the Bloom. I call it betrayal. No warning. No help. We buried children in trenches while we watched the rest of the country burn on satellite feeds." "I understand," Thomas replied. "We lost thousands in the capital." "I''m not eager to trust," she said. "I wouldn''t expect you to." They returned to the command building¡ªa reinforced structure with concrete walls, armored windows, and solar-fed lighting. Inside, a large screen displayed maps of the surrounding terrain. Static buzzed from a secure radio link. A bearded man in his forties stood up as they entered. "Commander. The broadcasts from the Bicol corridor are still repeating. Shortwave, encrypted, on a loop." Lira waved him off. "Keep monitoring." She turned to Thomas. "We picked those signals up about three weeks ago. Haven''t broken them yet. But it sounds like military code." "Could be one of ours," Phillip said. "Could be someone else entirely," she countered. Lira led them to a map board with red pins scattered across southern Luzon. "We''ve scouted twelve zones," she said. "Seven are infected. Three are irradiated. One''s dead-flat desert now from firebombing. And one¡ªeast of Iriga¡ªis silent. No movement. No life. No corpses. Just... absence." Thomas exchanged a look with Phillip. "Could be the epicenter of another Bloom." "Or worse," Lira said. Back outside, dusk was falling. Lights flickered on across Fort Calinog. Children played near the southern wall, while armed scouts patrolled in slow, deliberate rotations. A water pump hissed in the distance, drawing from a deep-well system built into the old hilltop bunker beneath them. "I''ll need time to discuss your offer with my council," Lira said. "Take it," Thomas replied. "But know this¡ªsomething is moving in the south. We''ve seen spores in Quezon Province. We evacuated an entire village two days ago. This isn''t just about survival anymore. We need to outpace the next wave." "I believe you," she said. Thomas and his team boarded the tiltrotor again an hour later. As the engines spun to life, Lira watched them lift off¡ªexpression unreadable. Back at MOA Complex ¡ª That Night Thomas stood before the planning council again. He reported what he''d seen¡ªFort Calinog''s structure, their strength, their leader. Sato processed the data while Keplar compiled it into Overwatch''s growing enclave registry. "No agreement yet," Thomas said. "But they''re listening." "Do you think they''ll join?" Dr. Sato asked. Thomas didn''t answer right away. "I think they will¡ªif they see us survive the next battle." Keplar zoomed in on the region east of Iriga. "We''ve got nothing here. No heat. No comms. No wind drift either. It''s like the land just... stopped breathing." Phillip frowned. "Could be underground. Could be dormant infection." Thomas pointed to the grid. "Then we find out. And we bring Fort Calinog into the fold before they find themselves cut off." Outside the command center, storm clouds gathered again over the mountains. The jungle whispered of things moving in the dark. But Overwatch moved faster. And they weren''t done yet. Chapter 254: Iriga Silence 45 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Recon Flight Over Iriga Region The tiltrotor''s engines hummed in steady rhythm, blades slicing through dense, humid air. Clouds drifted over the volcanic ridges of southern Luzon as the aircraft banked southwest. Inside, Thomas sat strapped in beside Phillip and two new recon specialists¡ªCallahan, a quiet sniper with three confirmed kills on Bloomspawn, and Cruz, a sensor tech recruited from the Redsand enclave. Everyone''s eyes were glued to the main display screen mounted to the cabin wall. "We''re five minutes out from the Iriga dead zone," the pilot reported over comms. "No civilian chatter. No birdsong. No power sources pinged. We''re flying into a black box." Thomas leaned forward, glancing at the screen. The map showed a blot of blankness. No EM signals. No heat signatures. Just an unsettling lack of data. "Keep us steady at 500 feet. Minimize our signature," he ordered. The pilot acknowledged, tilting the craft into a gentle glide as they crossed over the tree line. What unfolded beneath them wasn''t destruction. It was erasure. The jungle abruptly ended, replaced by cracked earth and ash. A perfect radius of dead soil extended several kilometers in all directions, like a scorched brand on the landscape. Buildings at the outer edge stood half-melted or collapsed¡ªhouses, transmission towers, abandoned vehicles. But there were no bodies. No fires. No insects. Nothing alive. "Dear God," Phillip whispered. Cruz adjusted his scanner. "I''m detecting trace radiation. Very low levels. Consistent with tactical fuel-air bombs or containment burns. But no fallout drift. It''s like... the zone absorbed everything." Thomas felt his stomach twist. "No wind either," Callahan added, peering through the window. "Even the air''s dead." As they circled the outer rim, something flickered near the edge of the screen¡ªa faint blue pulse, barely visible against the grey. "Hold on," Cruz said. "I''ve got a signal. Brief, low-band, encrypted. It repeated twice, then went dark." "Source?" Thomas asked. "Somewhere near the old geothermal plant. Could be underground." Thomas looked at Phillip. "Suit up. We''re going down." Same Time ¡ª Fort Calinog, Command Room Lira Morales stood over a map littered with markers. The council sat in tense silence around her¡ªher second-in-command, Ferrer, leaned back with a rifle across his lap, while their comms officer tracked nearby drone telemetry. "They landed on the ridge east of Iriga. They''re moving on foot now," the officer reported. "No contact. Just ambient static and visual confirmation of terrain." Ferrer exhaled slowly. "They''re risking a lot." "They''re proving a point," Lira replied. "We hide behind our walls. They walk into the unknown." "You think we should follow?" Lira didn''t answer. Her gaze stayed locked on the flickering screen. She wasn''t ready to trust Overwatch. But if they came back from this with answers... maybe she''d stop being a skeptic and start being a commander again. 45 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Geothermal Plant Ruins Thomas adjusted his mask and stepped onto the cracked concrete steps of the abandoned power station. His boots left imprints in a thin layer of ash. The wind was unnaturally still. They moved in silence¡ªPhillip taking point, Cruz watching their six. The interior of the building was scorched. What remained of the walls were blackened by heat, but not one sign of a firefight. Just... abandonment. "Signal came from the lower levels," Cruz whispered. "There should be a control room sub-basement." Thomas flicked on his flashlight. The beam cut through the dark, catching bits of glass and steel. They moved in carefully, descending the rusted stairwell. At the bottom, a blast door hung slightly open. Thomas froze. "Someone forced this open from the inside." Phillip knelt beside it. "Signs of welding. Controlled retreat. Not a breach." They entered the sub-level control room. The terminals were shattered, wires cut clean. A large generator lay gutted in the corner. But on the wall¡ªbarely lit¡ªwas a message painted in red: "WE SEALED IT BUT IT BREATHES." Cruz swallowed hard. "What the hell does that mean?" Phillip tapped the wall with his knuckle. "This whole facility might''ve been converted into a bunker. But what did they seal in?" Thomas stared at the painted words. Then at a nearby hatch leading deeper into the plant. He didn''t like it. But they came here for answers. "Let''s open it," he said. Same Time ¡ª MOA Complex, Command Center Keplar monitored the recon feed from the safety of the command center. The biometric vitals of Thomas''s team pulsed on-screen¡ªheart rates elevated, ambient temperatures climbing. "They''re entering sublevel two," Keplar said to Sato, who leaned in beside him. "Still no radio bounce. It''s like the walls are eating the signal." Sato''s eyes narrowed. "We pulled old DOE maps of the area. That station was part of a two-layer geothermal tap into volcanic rock. If something mutated down there¡ªspores, bio-agents¡ªit might''ve turned the underground into a cocoon." "Do we warn them?" Keplar hesitated. "No uplink. They''re on their own." Sublevel Two ¡ª Iriga Ruins The hatch creaked open, revealing a dim hallway littered with broken gear. Biohazard signs, decontamination doors, emergency cots¡ªwhatever this was, it had been a last stand. And then something worse. "Smell that?" Phillip muttered, gagging slightly. "Rot, but chemical too." Cruz swept the scanner left and right. "No spores. But something else... electromagnetic spikes. Unstable." Then came the noise. A low groan¡ªmetal on metal? No. Deeper. Like something breathing through fractured lungs. They rounded the corridor and came upon it. A single figure. It was human once¡ªbarely. Its flesh was desiccated, twisted by heat and blight. Tubes snaked from its back into a wall-mounted life support rig. Its chest rose faintly. It was alive. And beside it... a console, blinking faintly, with a green light reading: "CONTAINMENT FAILURE - OVERRIDE LOCKED." Cruz backed away. "That''s not a survivor. That''s a host." Thomas approached slowly. The thing¡ªno, the person¡ªopened one eye. "Don''t..." it rasped. "Don''t let it out. We... we locked it... the Bloom... it thinks." Thomas felt ice crawl down his spine. Phillip reached for his radio. "We need an evac team with containment gear. Now." The figure coughed¡ªand died. The console beeped once. Then the generator hummed to life. And something stirred below. Later That Night ¡ª MOA Complex Debriefing The team made it back just before nightfall. Thomas stood in front of the main table, pale and silent. Cruz had already entered quarantine. Phillip was scrubbing blood from his gloves. Sato was the first to speak. "Was it alive?" Thomas nodded. "Barely. Enough to warn us. They sealed something underground." Keplar''s expression darkened. "The Iriga zone wasn''t bombed from outside. They did it themselves. From within." Thomas looked around the table. "We''ve been assuming the Bloom is a virus. Or a fungus. Something natural. But that man said it thinks." "You''re suggesting intelligence?" Keplar asked. Thomas''s voice was cold. "I''m suggesting it learns." A heavy silence fell. Phillip finally spoke. "So what do we do?" Thomas exhaled. "We seal the zone. Fortify Fort Calinog. And tell every enclave in Luzon to prepare. We''re not dealing with a pandemic anymore." Sato whispered, "We''re dealing with a war." Outside, the Iriga wind began to blow again for the first time in weeks. But it wasn''t the wind. Not really. It was the exhale of something that had been waiting. Watching. And now, waking. Chapter 255: Encirclement Protocol 46 Days Since First Strike ¡ª MOA Complex, War Room The power flickered twice before the lights stabilized, casting the MOA Complex''s war room in an eerie yellow hue. Rain lashed at the reinforced windows as Thomas stood before a massive digital map of Southern Luzon. The Iriga dead zone pulsed red at the center, and Fort Calinog blinked just west of it. "Status update," Thomas said, voice hoarse from hours of debriefings. Keplar tapped through multiple overlays on the holo-table. "We''re tracking residual energy surges from the geothermal plant¡ªpulsing at irregular intervals. Whatever came online after you left is still running, but we don''t know what it''s powering." "Containment breached," Sato added grimly. "The host didn''t survive, but his message was clear. Something is conscious. And it''s learning. We''re assuming it''s a variant strain of the Bloom." Thomas didn''t respond right away. He stared at the blinking lights¡ªrepresenting enclaves, outposts, possible allies. "If Iriga falls to whatever''s beneath that facility," he finally said, "it won''t stop at the crater." Phillip, still seated beside the map, looked up. "We need to surround it. Not just seal it¡ªencircle it. Smother it before it spreads." Thomas nodded. "I want a permanent no-go zone drawn around Iriga. Thirty kilometers in all directions. Tell Fort Calinog we''re setting up listening posts." "Already working on it," Keplar said, dragging icons into position. "But we need boots on the ground. Fort Calinog''s the closest. But... they haven''t committed yet." Thomas exhaled. "Then we give them a reason to." Same Time ¡ª Fort Calinog, Camarines Sur The meeting room at Fort Calinog smelled faintly of wood smoke and oil. Lira Morales leaned over a hand-drawn map as her senior council debated the Overwatch proposal. "They want to use our eastern ridge as a forward station," Ferrer muttered. "That''s one step from annexation." "No, it''s strategic sense," said the enclave''s agricultural chief. "You saw what came out of Iriga¡ªnothing. That''s what''s terrifying. We''re blind out there." "They''re not asking for our submission," Lira said, folding her arms. "They''re asking for our cooperation." Ferrer still looked unconvinced. "And if they decide they don''t need us anymore?" "Then we make sure they always do." Lira turned toward the windows. In the distance, the outline of Iriga''s scorched horizon stood stark against the setting sun. "Prep our signal dishes," she said. "I''ll speak with Thomas myself." Later ¡ª Secure Uplink to MOA Complex Lira appeared on-screen in the MOA command center, her voice crisp but composed. "Commander Estaris," she said. "Fort Calinog is willing to assist in your containment ring¡ªunder certain terms." Thomas leaned closer to the console. "Name them." "We maintain local autonomy. We''ll share recon feeds, provide manpower, and allow supply lines through our sector. But your patrols stay out of our core perimeter unless invited." "Agreed," Thomas said immediately. "Second," she added. "We want access to your Bloom research. All of it. Including what you''ve recovered from Iriga." That made Sato stir. But Thomas answered without flinching. "You''ll get it. We need you in this fight." Lira''s eyes narrowed. "Then we have an understanding. I''ll dispatch a forward recon detachment by morning." The feed cut. Phillip turned toward Thomas. "You trust her that fast?" "No," Thomas said. "But I trust that she saw what I saw. And that changes people." 47 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Outskirts of Iriga Dead Zone The first mobile listening post was dropped via tiltrotor onto a flat clearing roughly twelve kilometers west of the geothermal ruins. The container unfolded into a modular structure equipped with thermal sensors, seismic detectors, and a low-frequency radar dish capable of mapping sub-surface anomalies. Fort Calinog engineers and Overwatch operators worked side by side under floodlights. Callahan, the sniper from the recon team, now led the security detail. He stood atop the nearest ridge, rifle in hand, watching the horizon. Cruz, still shaken from Iriga, stayed near the sensors. "It''s twitching again," he murmured. "Every three hours. Just a pulse, like it''s checking." "Checking what?" asked a Calinog tech. "If we''re still here." The wind shifted, blowing a strange scent¡ªmetallic and damp¡ªacross the clearing. Callahan radioed in. "Command, we''ve got wind drift coming directly from the crater. No visual yet, but instruments are showing a minor pressure drop." Back at MOA, Keplar confirmed. "Satellite thermal sweep just showed a heat spike underground. Something''s building up." 48 Days Since First Strike ¡ª MOA Complex Briefing By now, three more listening posts had been installed, forming the early bones of the containment ring. But the data was disturbing. "Something''s tunneling," Keplar said, projecting a 3D topographical scan of the region. "It''s not spores. It''s something bigger. We believe it''s creating an underground nest or artery network. Iriga isn''t the hive. It''s the mouth." Thomas nodded slowly. "Then we seal the throat." Sato stepped forward. "We''ve been experimenting with thermobaric charges. If we can detonate them in a chain at specific tunnel junctions, we might collapse the sub-terrain before it spreads farther." "How big?" Phillip asked. "Big enough to shatter a mountain." Thomas looked around the table. "We''ll need clearance from every enclave in the perimeter." "Already in progress," Sato replied. 48 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Recon South of the Ring An Overwatch patrol led by Lt. Marin was sent to investigate a nearby water treatment plant reported by satellite to still be structurally intact. What they found made their blood run cold. The building was sealed. Pristine. But the interior was filled with hundreds of preserved bodies¡ªstacked, clean, bagged. Cameras were still rolling. The logs indicated the facility had once been a triage hub for infected patients. But none of the patients showed signs of the Bloom. They were killed preemptively. Euthanized. Thomas received the report in silence. "They knew what was coming," he muttered. "They chose death over transformation." Evening, Same Day ¡ª MOA Complex Roof Phillip stood beside Thomas, both men watching the stars¡ªwhat little remained behind polluted clouds. "You think it started in Iriga?" Phillip asked. "No," Thomas replied. "I think it woke up there. Someone dug too deep. Or contained it too long. Either way, the clock''s ticking." "You scared?" Thomas paused, then nodded. "Yeah. Because this time, it''s not about surviving the dead. It''s about fighting something alive." "Then we hit it first." Thomas looked at him. "We will. But not just with guns. With ideas. With alliances. With resolve." Phillip smirked. "Sounds like you''re running for president of the apocalypse." Thomas chuckled bitterly. "No. Just trying to be the last man standing." 49 Days Since First Strike ¡ª Pre-Dawn Mobilization Overwatch command issued a high-alert bulletin to every allied outpost: ?? REGIONAL QUARANTINE ORDER ¡ª ZONE IRIGA ALPHAAll units are to observe the 30-kilometer exclusion boundary.Any anomalous sightings¡ªno matter how small¡ªmust be reported.Civilian approach to the crater is now considered hostile protocol.All underground access points are to be collapsed. At Fort Calinog, Lira read the order silently. Then passed it to Ferrer. "Get the teams ready. If this turns into a siege, I want every wall reinforced." Same Time ¡ª Unknown Depth Below Iriga Something massive shifted below layers of stone and ash. A pulsing root-like tendril undulated against reinforced steel. It had memory. It had shape. It had learned. It no longer needed the geothermal station. It needed only time. And time, it was learning... could be stolen.