The Black Hounds were no more.
In the grand scheme their overall power was nothing compared to the developing safe zone, only really capable of high raiding power.
The mall was silent, save for the groans of the dying and the crackling of torches as the Legion swept through the corridors, securing every inch of their new conquest.
The Legion's casualties were minimal—a handful of injured, a few Hastati lost in the first wave, but nothing compared to the total extermination of the enemy.
The mall's once-stronghold defences had been shattered within hours.
Weapons, ammunition, and supplies all it was seized by the victorious army.
Any Black Hound who still resisted was cut down where they stood bodies left where they lie, or tossed into the streets.
But not everyone here had been a fighter, all told there were only just over one hundred combatants within the mall, but the system had shown a size of more than three hundred.
And now?
The real test of Carter's rule would begin as he had to deal with the non-combatants.
Prisoners of War… or Slaves?
Carter stood at the center of the mall's atrium, the bodies of the Black Hound leaders still fresh in his mind.
His Praetorians formed a tight perimeter, keeping watch over the survivors that had been gathered after being dragged out of their shelters and hiding places.
Most of them… weren't Black Hounds at all but just normal people who'd been captured by the gang.
🔹 Women and children, malnourished and afraid, cowering at the sight of the iron-clad soldiers standing around them, most bearing signs of vicious abuse at the hands of their captors.
🔹 As for the men, there were barely any of them to be found among the survivors, they were dressed in ragged clothing, many of them injured, battered, and scarred—not from battle, but from beatings, their bodies showing the abuse and restraint marks as it was clear they were being forced to labor away like slaves for their overseers.
🔹 Some were even branded, their skin scorched with the mark of the Black Hounds like they were nothing but property.
These weren't soldiers.
These weren't gang members.
They were captives, and slaves.
The Black Hounds had built their empire off the backs of forced labor with the women existing simply to slave away in the kitchen or as a means to satisfy carnal desires.
Some of the women were kept as "property." having been found chained up in the personal quarters of the leadership.
While others were found in more common areas still chained up and left for public use so it seems.
What men opted to resist joining the gang and yet were not killed were enslaves, being forced to work, cleaning and fortifying their masters' home while being given only enough food to survive just barely.
Carter's hands clenched into fists.
Barbarians.
A tall, ragged-looking man stepped forward from the group, his eyes filled with cautious hope.
"Are you... here to enslave us too?"
Carter exhaled sharply.
"No."
The man's body visibly relaxed, though the trauma of his captivity was still evident.
"We... we were prisoners. We had no choice. Please—if you're taking this place, let us go. We don't want to fight."
Carter looked at the gathered masses, scanning their expressions.
None of them looked like warriors.
None of them had even fought back.
They had been trapped.
Broken.
And now, they were waiting for a new master to decide their fate.
Carter turned to Centurion Lucius, who stood at his side.
"They're not soldiers."
Lucius nodded grimly.
"They're victims."
Carter's next words were firm.
"You are free."
A collective gasp rippled through the survivors.
Some of them trembled as if they didn't believe it.
Others broke down in tears, unable to process their sudden liberation.
Carter turned to his men.
"Gather them. Any who wish to return to the safe zone, bring them back. If any wish to remain here, they will be given the choice. But no one will be forced into servitude again. But make sure they know that all must work, there is no welfare state in our territory, but their labour is not forced they just wont live well if they choose not to."
The Legion moved swiftly, treating the wounded as best they could in the field, while distributing rations of dried meats or fruits, and ensuring none of the former captives were left behind, save for those who opted to go it on their own rather than live under an unknown leader.
For the first time in weeks, these people were given a choice.
And for many, it was the first step toward something better.
And so of the survivors almost 80% accepted the offer to join the victorious colony, while the others either formed small groups with provided supplies before setting off into the city, or leaving all on their own having lost the ability to trust in humanity at all.
~
As the survivors who accepted the offer were processed, the engineers and survivor militia arrived to begin stripping the mall of everything valuable or useful returning it back to the colony.
The Black Hounds had been ruthless scavengers having used motorized methods many times a day to gather goods from all over the city, and hauling them behind motorbike driven carts—and it showed in the sheer amount of supplies they had hoarded.
🔺 Weapons Stockpile – Over 500 firearms, mostly civilian-grade, but enough military weapons to significantly reinforce the militia.
🔺 Ammunition Caches – Thousands of rounds, priceless in a world where bullets were finite, until the modern complex's could be restored to working order.
🔺 Food Reserves – Enough canned goods and dry rations to sustain the safe zone for another month even with their expanded numbers.
🔺 Medical Supplies – Bandages, antibiotics, and prescriptions having been looked from pharmacies and hospitals.
🔺 Fuel Drums – Hundreds of gallons of precious gasoline and diesel, while the colony was not lacking as of yet since capturing two gas stations that were full to the brim with fuel, this would help top off their reserves.
All of it was seized and loaded into wagons and vehicles, bound for the safe zone.
Sam, who had arrived with the logistics teams, watched the process with approval.
"We just doubled our total arsenal in a single day,"
he muttered.
Carter nodded.
"And the survivors?"
Sam exhaled, glancing toward the liberated captives.
"They're scared. Some of them don't even know how to live free anymore after stuffing the loss of the world, then being forced to live as they had been."
Carter clenched his jaw.
"We'll change that."
~
By the time Carter returned to the colony, the news of the Legion's victory had already spread across its entire breadth.
Survivors whispered in hushed tones.
Some with awe.
Others with fear.
The Legion hadn't just defeated the Black Hounds a ruthless gang that had been known since before the apocalypse for there vicious and lethal ability.
They had eradicated them such that none survived.
And now, the survivors themselves had a clear choice.
Obey the Imperator's laws…
Or risk sharing the Black Hounds' fate as you 'rebel' against his rule.
One modern force had already fallen and if they keep expanding could any manage to unthrone their self-proclaimed king?
~
As the weapons stockpile arrived, the first question was distribution.
The militia, made up of survivors, expected a large share of the firearms.
But Carter denied them.
Instead, the weapons were secured in the armoury, under lock and key, guarded day and night by the Praetorians.
When the militia captains voiced concerns, Carter's answer was simple.
"We are not arming the entire populace. If someone needs a weapon, they will be issued one for duty, and it will be returned when duty is complete."
As much as they wanted to argue the idea of having possible rebel elements running around within the safe zone was enough to silence their complaints for now.
Sam sighed.
"You really don't trust them, huh?"
Carter met his gaze.
"Would you?"
Sam didn't answer.
Because deep down, he knew Carter was right.
An armed, undisciplined population was a recipe for disaster, it wouldn't take long for guns to start disappearing, or unregistered militias forming, and once the power of attack was spread out the people would be more liable to revolt against the existing rule since the Ceasar only had power of numbers but not firepower.
And as much as Carter wanted to believe in the people his former countrymen, and now his citizens—
He trusted his Legions more since their loyalty was guaranteed by the system.
~
As night fell, Carter stood on the walls of the safe zone, gazing out at the untamed city.
The Black Hounds were gone.
The mall was theirs.
More survivors had been saved.
But something still bothered him.
The Death Knight.
It hadn't reappeared even now when the safe zone was at it's weakest having been emptied of most of its fighting force during the operation.
Had it been watching?
Waiting?
Or had something even worse begun to stir in the ruins?
Carter's grip on the railing tightened.
This was just the first battle.
More were coming as over the coming weeks they'd need to deal with other survivor groups as the city was reclaimed.
And the Legion had to be ready.
Because the real war had yet to begin when the city was fully reclaimed as they set off to begin reclaiming the country itself.