"Found you," Zack sneered, charging forward. Seeing Zack approach, the leader's face contorted in panic—an expression almost human. It let out a high-pitched roar, one inaudible to human ears but understood perfectly by the surrounding mutants. In response, the nearby zombies surged forward, desperate to block Zack's advance.
"Getting nervous now, are we?" Zack muttered. With a smirk, he holstered his ion sword and broke into a full sprint. The ground shook under his feet as he barreled toward the leader, plowing through the undead like an unstoppable juggernaut. Bones cracked and splintered. Mutated zombies were sent flying, their bodies shattering like brittle clay against the Titan's unstoppable charge.
Overhead, more than twenty Avalons roared into the fray. Their bomb bays opened, and magnetic fluid cloud bombs descended, dispersing light orange mist across the battlefield. The firestorm that followed turned the horde into a writhing inferno. But Zack didn't stop. The explosions around him only spurred him forward, and soon, he stood face-to-face with the trembling leader. Its sunken, pale face reflected in the metallic sheen of Zack's blood-streaked armor. "End of the line," Zack growled.
He raised his massive iron fist, now coated in gore and glowing faintly from the heat of countless impacts. "Die!" With a thunderous roar, Zack brought the fist down.
Simultaneously, the Avalons released their remaining payloads. Mushroom clouds of fire erupted across the battlefield, each explosion sending shockwaves that rippled through the ground and air. The horde, once an endless tide of death, was consumed by the flames. Zombies disintegrated in the inferno, their twisted bodies reduced to ash. Amid the destruction, Zack straightened, his massive frame towering over a newly-formed crater. Inside the pit lay nothing but a viscous, charred pulp—the leader obliterated beyond recognition "It's over," Zack said quietly, his voice echoing in the cockpit.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the battlefield fell eerily silent, save for the crackling of flames. "Finally," Zack murmured, retracting his bloodied fist and staring out at the horizon. Behind him, the survivors began to cheer, their cries of triumph rising above the chaos.
Victory was theirs, but Zack's gaze remained cold and calculating. There would always be another wave, another leader. With the death of the leader, the zombie tide lost its cohesion, descending into chaos. What was once a unified, devastating force now became a scattered mass of wandering corpses, aimlessly lingering in place.
Above the scorched plains, more than twenty Avalons continued their relentless bombardment. Each magnetic fluid cloud bomb created mushroom clouds that blotted the horizon, while the number of zombies steadily dwindled. By the time over a hundred cloud bombs had been deployed, the northern plains were unrecognizable. The once-vast fields had become barren, charred land. Not a single blade of grass remained for miles. The oppressive heat radiating from the scorched earth even began to influence the weather itself.
The sky, which had been clear moments ago, turned a murky gray as layers of dust filled the air. Thick clouds formed overhead, thunder rumbled, and then it came—an unrelenting downpour. It was as if nature sought to wash away the blood-soaked land. The heavy rain fell in torrents, extinguishing the remnants of the fire. Yet, it wasn't the rain that smothered the flames entirely; it was the lack of anything left to burn.
As the infernos died down, the nuclear-induced dust clouds loomed ominously, their heights stretching thousands of meters into the sky. Radioactive ash mixed with the rain, falling back to earth, embedding itself into the barren plains. Millions of zombies, now leaderless, wandered aimlessly through the toxic storm. "This land is done for," Zack muttered as he hovered a thousand meters above ground in his Titan armor. His steely gaze scanned the desolate landscape below. "From now on, there will only be the undead here. It'll remain like this for centuries."
While Zack brooded, Lillian and the surviving Fearless Warriors boarded The Phoenix. Ava, piloting the second-generation Avalon, flew alongside them, heading back to the capital base. Fortunately, the fallout zone caused by the cloud bombs was localized. The rain, heavy with dust and radiation, would not yet reach the base hundreds of kilometers away. At least for now. "Ego, how's the weather looking?" Zack asked, his tone sharp and decisive.
"The northern climate will remain stable for the next several days," Ego replied. "Light eastward breezes are expected, and no major cold fronts will move south until mid-next month. The radiation dust will drift toward the Bohai Sea before then."
For once, a sliver of good news. "Good enough," Zack muttered. With a burst of thrusters, the massive Titan armor accelerated, leaving behind a blazing trail as it flew toward the Capital base.
The 100-kilometer journey took Zack nearly ten minutes—a painstaking eternity given the weight and aerodynamics of his eleven-ton armor. But when he arrived, the scene awaiting him at the base was unlike anything he'd witnessed before. The aftermath of the battle had left survivors in an eerie limbo. Some hugged each other, laughing hysterically or sobbing uncontrollably. Others knelt on the ground, overcome by the enormity of what they had endured. But as adrenaline faded, reality set in.
People began collapsing without warning. Exhaustion, blood loss, and overuse of abilities claimed many. Among them was Erza, who fainted mid-step. A mechanical dog caught her just in time, preventing her from falling into the blood-soaked mud. While those unconscious were spared from immediate despair, the ones still standing faced a much harsher reality.
On the battlefield littered with severed limbs and broken bodies, only a fraction of the 70,000 who had marched out to face the zombie tide remained. Five or six thousand survivors clung to life, many of them already showing signs of infection. Miraculously, Scott was among the survivors. Slumped on the ground, his body a canvas of cuts and bruises, he coughed weakly, his voice hoarse as he asked, "Is there anyone still moving?"
Silence. Then, a deafening roar broke the quiet—a sound of propulsion engines overhead.
Boom! A heavy object landed, shaking the earth. The massive Titan armor stood tall amidst the carnage, its towering frame an imposing silhouette against the rain-filled sky. Zack's voice boomed, cold and authoritative: "Fearless Warriors, descend and maintain order! Spiders, clear out the zombies and eliminate all infected!"
The six-meter-tall metal giant surveyed the battlefield, his glowing eyes exuding an unyielding dominance. "Mechanical Dogs, head into the base. Round up every survivor—young, old, it doesn't matter. Bring them here to clean up this mess!"
Zack's tone grew harsher, brooking no argument. "Any rebels? Kill them on the spot. No need to report." His commands were met with swift obedience. Spiders scuttled into the chaos, targeting both zombies and those showing signs of infection. Fearless Warriors began patrolling, their presence enough to quell any potential unrest among the survivors. The Mechanical Dogs marched toward the base, barking orders in synthesized tones, dragging reluctant survivors out to the bloodied field. Those who resisted were dealt with harshly.
It wasn't long before shouts echoed from the survivors' living quarters. Da-da-da-da! The shouting was swiftly drowned out by the relentless roar of heavy machine guns. Moments later, a sea of survivors, herded like livestock by the mechanical dogs, began pouring out of the high-wall of Washington DC gates.
"What are they doing?
Why are they pushing us out?"
"Clean the battlefield? Is the zombie wave really over?"
"This is madness! They're sending us to our deaths!"