The blank monitor offered no answers. Riccardo stared at the dark screen, his reflection staring back at him. The image of the katana-wielding girl slicing through a mutated Hunter played on a continuous loop in his mind. Her raw physical power represented a staggering paradigm shift. He possessed the digital command interface, a tool that summoned elite soldiers, heavy transport vehicles, and advanced rotary cannons out of thin air. His arsenal was formidable, but it relied on conventional warfare. Bullets, missiles, and shrapnel obeyed the laws of physics.The mysterious survivor defied those very same laws. She moved with a speed that blurred camera lenses and exhibited strength sufficient to hurl heavy monsters across an intersection. If she ever decided to turn her blade against Blackwatch, his standard infantry would struggle to track her movements. She was a serious threat, a wildcard wandering the apocalyptic board.Riccardo needed answers. He needed to understand the biologic

The fourth day of the apocalypse brought a strange, rhythmic routine to the Avida Towers complex.Riccardo stood in the shadows of the sixth-floor parking garage, his arms folded across his chest, watching the volunteer militia undergo their ongoing combat training. The wide concrete expanse smelled thick with sulfur, spent brass, and the foul stench of decaying flesh. The heavy ventilation fans hummed in the background, working hard to cycle the contaminated air out into the ruined city.At the far end of the makeshift firing range, several mutated walkers strained against heavy steel chains bolted to the load-bearing pillars. The creatures snapped their rotting jaws and lunged at the empty air, oblivious to their role as target practice.Romano paced the firing line with the stern authority of a veteran drill instructor. He barked corrections at the civilian recruits, adjusting their stances and reminding them to focus on their front sights. Every few seconds, the sharp crack of a n

The glow of the city is gone. The Avida Towers stand as a black monolith against the night sky. The new power regulations took effect hours ago. Non-essential lights are off. Televisions and luxury appliances sit dead. From the outside, the luxury condominium blends into the shadowed ruins of Makati. This unintended camouflage provides a distinct advantage. Bright lights attract the infected, and hiding the building in darkness makes it less of a beacon.But darkness cannot hide sound. Down on the second floor, the three massive Caterpillar diesel engines hum with relentless mechanical force. The vibrations travel through the concrete pillars and echo out into the desolate streets. The noise is a dinner bell for the dead.Riccardo stands on a lower parking deck balcony, looking down at the street level. A steady trickle of infected walkers shuffles toward the source of the noise. They press their rotting hands against the heavy steel security gates, groaning and gnashing their teeth.

Two hours had passed since the ground forces initiated the third phase of Operation Reclamation.Inside the thirty-second-floor command center, the atmosphere felt tense and heavy. Riccardo stood near the main strategy table, his eyes fixed on the massive digital map projected across the center monitor. The map displayed the designated one-square-kilometer grid surrounding the Avida Towers. Sara sat at the primary intelligence console just a few feet away, her fingers moving rapidly over her keyboard as she updated the tactical overlay in real time.Large sections of the map glowed a steady, reassuring green. These were the areas the Blackwatch infantry had swept and secured. The remaining uncleared zones pulsed in a vibrant, warning red."We are holding at fifty-five percent coverage," Sara reported. She pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and pointed at the screen. "The breach teams have secured the primary residential blocks and the outer commercial perimeters. The barricade

The command center on the thirty-second floor fell into a breathless hush. Riccardo stared at the monitor, his mind racing to connect the impossible dots. Cubao was roughly ten kilometers away from the Ayala North Exchange. Even without the streets being choked with abandoned vehicles and roaming hordes of infected, traversing that distance on foot within such a short timeframe defied logic. Yet, there she stood, captured in high-definition clarity by Gravina’s helmet camera. The white gown. The long, jet-black hair. The dripping katana."It is her," Riccardo murmured, the weight of the realization settling over the room. He leaned forward, pressing the transmission button on the console. "Gravina, listen to me. That is the same individual we spotted on the surveillance feeds yesterday. Do not provoke her, but do not let your guard down.""Understood, Actual," Gravina's voice came back,