The gunfire in the eastern flank never stopped.

Kimmy and Yunera huddled inside one of the reinforced structures behind the lines.

“The battlefield,” Kimmy muttered. “It has become steady once more.”

She tilted her head slightly.

In her mind, the battlefield spread across like a living map. Hundreds of faint lights flickered across the plains.

Hans’s soldiers burned brightly—steady, organized, unyielding.

The infected were the opposite.

They moved like a tide of dull sparks, advancing forward only to disappear whenever explosions or gunfire landed near where they were.

At the center of that storm were the defensive lines—four layered arcs of resistance.

The unoccupied trenches were now buried beneath mountains of corpses.

The second line barely remained intact.

Infantry squads carefully picked their targets, shot controlled bursts, then reloaded when out of magazine rounds.

The third line burned brighter.

The Machine Gunners. Grenadiers. And Missile Infantries.

And farther behind them—the armored signatures of the tanks. Kimmy underestimated their compact aura.

Little did she know how devastating they were. Each time their cannons fired, clusters of infected vanished from her perception.

She exhaled a slow breath. “They are holding. Really, really holding.”

Yunera glanced at her, eyes wide.

“You can tell it from this distance?” she asked.

Kimmy nodded. “There are… dangerous presence within, but Hans’s soldiers always manage to… eliminate them in time.”

Yunera crossed her arms. “You’re praising him again.”

Kimmy smiled faintly. “You should see what I see.”

It’s not that simple, my dear sister, she retorted in her mind. If my brother saw this, he would be a fan…

The coordination of each unit was near-flawless. Though injuries were almost impossible to prevent, the rate of elimination far surpassed the rate of injuries.

Should this continue… won’t they run out of bullets?

Kimmy’s brow suddenly furrowed—not in distress, but because something has changed.

Across the battlefield, dozens of lights flickered at the same time.

Some of them dimmed. The Machine Gunners slowed down. The rifle flashes thinned in great numbers. For a moment, the defensive line weakened considerably.

“Their firepower has dropped,” Kimmy whispered, tightening her grasp on Yunera’s arm.

The latter stiffened. “Are they running out of ammo now?”

Before Kimmy could answer—the battlefield ignited again.

Shouts of joy reverberated; many praised something under their indistinct yells.

The rifles that stopped now resumed firing.

The machine guns that had gone silent for a while roared back to life.

And the missiles that had paused streaked high across the sky.

These soldiers, Kimmy jolted. What just happened right now?!

Hearing the loud gunfire once more, Yunera looked at Kimmy, suspicious.

“What happened? I thought they were running out of ammo?”

Kimmy hesitated, pursing her lips. “That… was strange.”

Normally, soldiers slowed down when their ammunition ran dry. They would retreat, reload, and reorganize.

But what she saw—it was completely different.

The entire line weakened at once. And then, just as suddenly, they recovered, as if someone flipped a switch.

Kimmy’s mind drifted toward the interior of the sector—toward the man who commanded it all.

“Hans…” she murmured.

Yunera raised an eyebrow. “What about him now?”

Kimmy didn’t answer. Deep down, the questions about Hans became more mysterious, more complicated than ever.

Is this the work of a god?

Whatever allowed these soldiers to fight like this was no simple thing.

…

“Achoo!” Hans rubbed his nose. Who’s talking to my back now?

He looked around the compound now cramped with the Construction Yard.

The infantry squads were busy patrolling each street. No single infected should go past by—if there were, they were the last line to stop it.

Hans turned eastward. The fighting is still ongoing for hours now. The system’s ammo refresh should have ticked by. I hope the soldiers are okay.

He glanced back the timer on his interface.

——

[ Gold: 50,020 (-8000) -> 42,020 ]

——

[ Power Plant enqueued for construction. ETA: 11 hours and 41 minutes. ]

——

“System, why must everything take so slow?!”

He said hurriedly. The system didn’t even reply.

Hans leaned over near the broken section of a wall. He looked at the humming Construction Yard in front of him.

Behind those locked doors, faint whirring sound rang endlessly.

Though unsure of what it was doing on the other side, he knew that it had something to do with his construction queue.

The Construction Yard has given me a 2.5 kilometer construction radius. Each building will extend this radius. As for the power—

His eyes shifted back to the panel.

According to the system, the energy provided by energy-producing structures would flow inside an invisible virtual grid.

When a Power Plant becomes operational, its energy output is transferred directly into the so-called System Energy Pool.

It will automatically distribute power to all connected structures, leaving Hans with less matters to complicate himself with.

The advantages were apparent.

Instant power distribution. No physical wiring required. Automatic load balancing. And automatic power rerouting in case if a power plant was destroyed.

The disadvantages were present as well.

He only had one building queue for each Construction Yard; it left him stuck in terms of progression in the short run.

On the other hand,

He couldn’t build outside of his construction radius. And any building that falls out will be disabled and powerless.

The only thing that comforted Hans was the fact that any structures cannot be captured nor used by the enemy.

It didn’t matter if it was inside or outside of the construction radius—all stood by the same principle.

He didn’t know how the system would implement it, but if his system tech couldn’t be used by others, he was all for it.

Just as he gestured his hand downward—gunfire roared on the western flank.

Two machine guns overlapped each other, hitting whatever may have appeared from the western road.

That should be the northwestern road along the large river, he frowned.

Amidst his thoughts, a missile was launched into the skies and headed downward not long after.

A huge explosion followed, painting the western skies in violent haze of fire.

“Iron Guardian Seven,” Hans tapped on his comms. “Check the situation on our western flank.”

“Understood, Commander,” the Guardian APC responded. “Oscar Mike to location.”

The tires rolled quickly, leaving a trail of tire track on the concrete.

Hans watched the Guardian APC vanish from his sight, tightening the curl on his hands.

This battle should be over soon.

Promotions rained down on his troops—one unit to another.

Each promotion refreshed their ammo, giving them a nearly infinite supply.

If it continued, this horde might just as well ramp up the promotions of his units to a whole new level.

The image of hundreds of three-star Army Soldiers and Conscripts flashed across his mind, rampaging through Grefort City’s streets.

Endless rifle fire echoed between the buildings.

Magazine after magazine emptied into the undead tide, only to be refilled again the moment another corpse dropped.

Ranks of soldiers advanced block by block, marching over cracked asphalt and broken glass.

The infected surged from every alley, every shattered building, every underground tunnel—but the line never stopped.

Three-star veterans moved, uncontested. Their rifles never faltered once. Their aim never shook twice.

Where one fell, ten more zombies collapsed beneath disciplined bursts.

Street after street turned into corridors of gunfire.

And in Hans’s imagination, the impossible slowly took shape—

An army that would not run out of ammunition. An army that would not tire. An army that would only grow stronger the longer it fought.

Until even a city drowning in a hundred million infected would be nothing more than a battlefield waiting to be cleared.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep