DEAD CITY: A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE

CHAPTER 3 ~ SOLDIER UP

Riccardo pulled the overturned kitchen chair off the floor, set it upright, sat down, and stared at the holographic interface floating in the middle of his apartment as if it paid rent.

"Okay," he said as he took a deep breath to steady himself. "We are really doing this."

The interface pulsed gently before a small blinking prompt appeared at the bottom of the glowing screen.

[ MANUAL AVAILABLE: RECOMMENDED FOR NEW HOSTS ] Read now? Y/N

He reached out and tapped the affirmative option.

What unfolded in front of him was not a simple pamphlet or a quick-start guide, but rather the most comprehensive and exhaustively organized survival document he had ever seen in his life. It was structured with absolute military precision into tabbed sections where each one expanded into sub-sections containing incredibly detailed explanations, diagrams, and footnotes. Riccardo had written a forty-page thesis during his last semester of college, and that massive academic paper looked like a mere sticky note compared to this immense wealth of information.

"Of course," he muttered while scrolling through the endless text. "Of course the literal apocalypse comes with mandatory homework."

He read through the documentation anyway because the only alternative was sitting in his blood-stained kitchen while listening to the horrifying sounds of civilization ending fourteen floors below him, and focusing on the manual was vastly preferable to that reality.

MILITARY SURVIVAL SYSTEM: HOST MANUAL (ABRIDGED)

The System is a tactical survival interface designed specifically to maximize host survivability during classified-level extinction events. Essential assets such as resources, personnel, weapons, and vehicles are entirely accessible through mission completion, daily rewards, and the Fortune Rotation feature. Gold serves as the primary currency within this framework, so you are advised to spend it wisely in order to die slowly.

"Die slowly," Riccardo read aloud in disbelief. "That is just great and incredibly encouraging, so I really have to wonder exactly who wrote this terrible advice."

He scrolled over to the RESOURCES tab and discovered that the System's economy was quite straightforward. Gold could be earned in four distinct ways, which included completing story missions, finishing daily survival missions, killing high-value infected targets, and spinning the Fortune Wheel. This specific wheel reset every twenty-four hours and offered completely randomized rewards ranging from simple ammunition to advanced vehicles and specialized unit drops.

The WEAPONS tab immediately made him sit up much straighter in his chair because it was highly organized by ascending tiers. The equipment started at the Standard level and climbed steadily through Reinforced, Military Grade, and Heavy Ordinance categories until reaching a blacked-out tier at the very top labeled simply as [CLASSIFIED], which featured a heavy lock icon and an exorbitant gold cost that quite literally made his eyes water.

However, the TROOPS tab was the section where things genuinely started to get strange.

The System possessed the unbelievable ability to generate actual, physical, and fully deployable human soldiers that could be materialized directly through the digital interface in exchange for gold and troop tokens. These soldiers came in highly specialized categories such as Combat Infantry, Recon Specialists, Field Medics, Engineers, and Heavy Weapons Units. Each distinct unit type featured its own unique stat spreads, specific equipment loadouts, and strict loyalty ratings, and the manual was incredibly specific regarding how those loyalty ratings functioned.

"Troops generated by the System operate strictly under full host command. The base loyalty rating begins at one hundred percent for all System-generated units and absolutely does not degrade under any normal operational conditions. These units will never question your direct orders, they will certainly not retreat without explicit authorization, and they will surprisingly never complain about the quality of their food."

"They will not complain about the food," Riccardo repeated slowly as he looked up at the water-stained ceiling. "What has my life actually become?"

He eventually navigated over to the INVENTORY tab and immediately found a single item already waiting for him.

[ BEGINNER'S FIELD PACK: UNCLAIMED ]

Contains:

Combat Infantry Unit x10

Gold x500

Tactical Uniform Set x1 (auto-equip enabled)

M9 Service Pistol x1 + 3 magazines

Mossberg 590 Tactical Shotgun x1 + 12 shells

Combat Knife x1 (replaces current kitchen knife with a confirmed upgrade)

Field Ration Pack x5

Basic Medical Kit x2

A significantly smaller digital prompt blinked steadily directly beneath the impressive list of items.

Claim pack? Y/N

Riccardo found his trembling finger hovering cautiously over the affirmative option.

"Before I actually do this," he said directly to the glowing interface while feeling only slightly ridiculous about talking to a hologram, "I just want to make it perfectly clear that I fully understand how completely insane this entire situation is. I have clearly either developed a severe stress-induced psychotic break, or I am somehow actually living inside a literal system novel right now." He paused to consider the absurdity of his words before finally adding, "Either way, I am absolutely claiming this survival pack."

He confidently tapped the affirmative button.

The resulting effect was both entirely immediate and deeply weird.

The tactical uniform mysteriously appeared on his body in the brief span between one breath and the next. It did not slowly fade into existence or assemble itself piece by piece, but rather it was suddenly just there, completely replacing his wrinkled sleep shirt and casual jeans with clean military-grade clothing that fit exactly as if it had been tailored specifically for his precise measurements. He was suddenly wearing tactical pants with heavily reinforced knees, a perfectly fitted combat shirt in a dark gray color, a lightweight plate carrier vest containing actual ceramic inserts, durable gloves, and heavy combat boots that were miraculously already laced tight. He looked down at his newly armored body with a complex expression that simply could not decide between feeling profoundly impressed and deeply unsettled.

"Okay," he stammered while adjusting the unfamiliar vest. "That is certainly something else entirely."

The sleek M9 pistol smoothly materialized directly inside the secure holster resting on his right hip. The heavy shotgun simultaneously appeared against the wall right beside him, leaning there casually as if it had always lived right there in his tiny kitchen. The sharp combat knife materialized snugly inside the sturdy sheath strapped to his left thigh, and the bloody kitchen knife he had just used to kill Amanda Cruz simply vanished into thin air, which was a bizarre phenomenon that he consciously chose to regard as a profound mercy.

The digital gold counter glowing in the top corner of the holographic interface now read exactly five hundred.

He subsequently navigated his way over to the SKILLS tab to see what else the interface had to offer.

His starting skill tree was somewhat modest, but it was certainly better than having absolutely nothing. There were three distinct branches available, and each one featured a base level that was miraculously already unlocked based on whatever invasive metrics the System had silently assessed about him prior to its activation. That specific realization was quite alarming in its own unique right, but he logically decided to file that particular concern away to deal with at a much later time.

WEAPONS PROFICIENCY: Level 2 (This skill governs general firearms handling and currently provides an eight percent accuracy modifier along with a five percent increase in reload speed.)

MELEE COMBAT: Level 1 (This skill governs close-quarters physical engagements and provides a flat five percent damage modifier alongside a ten percent increase in basic grapple resistance.)

VEHICLE OPERATION: Level 2 (This skill applies to both standard and tactical vehicles while providing a twelve percent handling modifier. The system noted that this proficiency was acquired through three harrowing years of driving in chaotic Manila traffic, and an attached system note amusingly clarified that this specific background legitimately counts as verifiable combat experience.)

Riccardo actually laughed out loud at that final description with a real, short, and incredibly sharp burst of genuine amusement. "At least those terrible daily commutes are finally good for something useful."

Leveling up each individual skill heavily required experience points that could be actively earned through securing enemy kills, achieving full mission completion, and exhibiting what the manual vaguely referred to as demonstrated tactical competency, which the text frustratingly declined to define any further. Achieving higher skill levels officially unlocked crucial access to much better weapon tiers and highly advanced troop types. Furthermore, the highest skill ranges promised to eventually unlock mysterious abilities that the manual cryptically described only as being redacted pending further host level advancement, which was a vague promise that felt simultaneously very exciting and incredibly ominous.

It was most likely a combination of both of those extreme feelings.

He finally sat back in the wooden kitchen chair while feeling the reassuring weight of the new pistol resting on his hip, glancing at the heavy shotgun leaning safely against the wall, and observing the bright holographic interface glowing steadily right in front of him. He undeniably felt vastly different than he had just a few minutes ago. He did not necessarily feel invincible because he was still clear-eyed enough to logically know that a simple ceramic plate carrier and a basic handgun absolutely did not make him a powerful one-man army. However, the very specific flavor of total helpless panic that had been heavily sitting on his chest ever since he had first looked out the window three hours ago had finally changed into something with much more solid structure. It had effectively morphed into a tangible problem with definitive edges that he could actually grip and actively manipulate.

Only one single tab still remained entirely unexplored.

[ TROOPS: 10 COMBAT INFANTRY UNITS READY FOR IMMEDIATE DEPLOYMENT ]

He stood up from the table.

"Alright," he stated firmly while carefully straightening the heavy plate carrier on his chest. "Let us officially meet the new team."

He confidently reached out and tapped the button to deploy the units.

The soldiers instantly materialized directly inside his messy living room.

All ten of the heavily armed men materialized in the exact same instant-between-breaths manner that his tactical uniform had used. They were perfectly arranged in two neat rows of five with the automatic precision of disciplined people who had been rigorously trained to take up exactly the right amount of physical space in any given room. They were dressed completely identically to him in dark tactical gear, thick ceramic plate carriers, and heavy combat helmets with the clear visors pushed up. Every single one of them was standing perfectly still and looking directly at him with the specific kind of highly focused and entirely neutral attention that Riccardo strongly associated with dangerous people who were very good at executing very dangerous tasks.

The soldier positioned at the very front of the left row was a broad-shouldered man in his early thirties with a hardened jaw that looked exactly like a solid cinder block, and he smartly stepped forward exactly one precise pace before speaking first.

"I am Sergeant Tyler Hayes of System Infantry Unit One, and we are completely online and ready for duty, sir." His deep voice was incredibly calm and completely matter-of-fact, and he spoke as if magically materializing inside a high-rise condominium apartment right in the middle of a global zombie apocalypse was just a perfectly standard Tuesday afternoon occurrence. "We are currently awaiting your direct orders."

Riccardo looked silently at the imposing sergeant before slowly looking past him to evaluate the nine identical soldiers standing at attention right behind him. He finally looked around the rest of his apartment and realized with profound absurdity that his medium-sized one-bedroom living unit was now somehow actively containing eleven grown men, a tactical shotgun, and a glowing holographic military interface without instantly collapsing into chaos.

"Okay, Hayes," he began thoughtfully. "I have a very important first question for you. Speaking from a purely tactical perspective, what is the absolute best way to travel from Makati directly to Quezon City when the entire surrounding metropolitan area is completely full of aggressive zombies?"

Hayes did not even blink at the ridiculous question. "That completely depends on our current vehicle access, sir, so do we currently have any viable transport available?"

Riccardo quickly checked the digital inventory screen. "We do not have any vehicles just yet."

"Then we will simply have to move out on foot in a tight tactical formation while making sure to completely avoid all main roads and actively utilizing elevated pathways wherever they might be available. We will systematically eliminate any direct threats we encounter using highly controlled aggression." Hayes paused for a single stoic beat before adding a final assessment. "The mission is completely doable."

"My little sister is only fifteen years old, and she is currently trapped completely alone out there."

Something subtle shifted very slightly in the hardened expression of Sergeant Hayes. The subtle change was not entirely unprofessional, but it was surprisingly and comfortingly human. "Then we will simply have to move incredibly fast, sir."

Riccardo reached over and picked up the heavy Mossberg shotgun from where it rested against the wall. He smoothly checked the ammunition load in the exact expert manner that the System's integrated muscle memory had apparently already flawlessly taught his hands to execute. He finally looked back at his ten heavily armed soldiers standing at perfect attention in his cramped living room while the ruined city continued to violently burn right outside his windows.

"Alright," he declared with absolute conviction. "Here is exactly what we are going to do next."