It is indeed an epoch-making invention of the pre-war Federation. After the power armor and the Gatling gun took down the leading looters, the rest quickly scattered. However, the sound of gunfire from the intense battle attracted an even more dangerous enemy. A Death Claw, towering over three to four meters high, was drawn to the noise. It charged out from the end of the road, striking down a predator several meters away with a single swipe. Overton saw the predator's upper body deform instantly before collapsing motionless onto the road.
"His—" Overton gasped, realizing that the Death Claw was far stronger than he had anticipated. Fortunately, he wasn't alone this time.
Just as this thought crossed his mind, Cummins, clad in power armor, leaped off the rooftop. Overton watched in astonishment. The lengths people go to protect their own are truly terrifying. Determined to keep the Death Claw away from the museum, Cummins chose to leave the safety of the rooftop and confront the monster head-on.
With no other choice, Overton cast a slow descent spell on himself and jumped down as well. Upon landing on the street, he noticed that the Death Claw had fully focused on Cummins. Seizing the opportunity, Overton used his grappling hook to climb the second-floor outer wall and aimed a Stunning Spell at the creature.
The Death Claw's magic resistance was surprisingly low. While its robust vitality could withstand direct damage spells, it had little defense against magic affecting the soul. As the red light of the Stunning Spell struck, the Death Claw froze momentarily. Cummins, a hardened warrior, seized the moment and fired repeatedly at the creature's weak points.
Pain jolted the Death Claw awake, causing it to unleash a bloodcurdling screech as it swiped at the power-armored soldier. Overton attempted another Stunning Spell, but this time, the enraged Death Claw resisted.
No wonder Death Claws dominate the wasteland's biological hierarchy. They possess both immense physical strength and remarkable intelligence. While they lack active soul-based abilities in this non-magical world, their naturally potent souls can resist direct magical influence once provoked.
That said, magic wasn't entirely ineffective. Overton noticed that every successful Stunning Spell caused the Death Claw to pause, even if only briefly. It confirmed that the creature wasn't outright immune to magic, merely resistant.
The battle dragged into a prolonged struggle. Overton moved swiftly along the walls using his grappling hook, continuously harassing the Death Claw with magic, while Cummins capitalized on the openings to strike its vitals.
After seven or eight minutes of relentless combat, the Death Claw finally collapsed. Cummins stepped forward and severed its claws, knowing that this tough material could be crafted into formidable cold weapons.
Overton then transported the Death Claw's entire body, along with the remains of the fallen predators, into the Plants vs. Zombies world via a space portal. He silently hoped that the plants would soon adapt to this environment—otherwise, many of his plans would be in jeopardy.
With the battle over, Overton and the survivors regrouped and set off for Sanctuary to build a new home. Darkness had fallen by the time they departed, but the journey was relatively safe. Most of the threats had been cleared earlier, and the remaining stragglers were no match for the heavily armed group.
After over half an hour, they finally arrived at Sanctuary Villa. In reality, the journey took much longer than it did in the game, but fortunately, nothing unexpected happened. Upon arrival, the group was astonished—Sanctuary was nothing like the abandoned settlement they had imagined.
The dilapidated houses, wrecked vehicles, and fallen trees were completely absent. Instead, dozens of robots had cleared the ruins within a single afternoon. They had also constructed the core energy tower from dismantled parts, repaired the water-pumping pipeline, and built several wooden houses for temporary shelter. To further fortify the area, a simple yet effective fence, about twice the height of an average person, was erected using wooden planks and cement blocks salvaged from the ruins.
The only issue was that the energy tower remained inactive. The plant had encountered an unexpected problem, and they had yet to find a viable power source. Checking the high-pressure steam storage tanks, Overton found them nearly empty. A sustainable energy solution was crucial—relying on other worlds for supplies was not a long-term strategy.
After taking stock of his resources, Overton approached the energy tower's edge. Most people had already retired for the night, exhausted from the day's events. The entire camp was dark, except for a single wooden house emitting light from within.
Walking up to the house, Overton knocked on the door, which was soon opened by Steve. Inside, Cummins and Starc sat at a table with three glasses of water, apparently deep in discussion.
"I'm not interrupting, am I?" Overton asked.
"Not at all," Steve replied. "We were just discussing the militia situation here. If you're interested, we'd love to have your input."
"Sure, what's the topic?"
Steve explained that he was likely the only surviving militia member, as the rest had been scattered. He wanted to rebuild the force but lacked recruits.
"I was hoping Cummins could help, but he and Warne are focused on finding their son. They don't have the capacity to assist the militia. Starc, on the other hand, has no combat experience." Steve sighed.
"You must understand the love parents have for their children," Overton said sympathetically. But Steve's gaze remained fixed on him.
"Something wrong?" Overton asked, puzzled.
"Will you help us?" Steve asked eagerly.
"Me? I'm just a child," Overton said, pointing to himself in surprise. "Besides, I have a lot on my plate already. I might not have time for this."
"That's fine. We're not helpless; we don't need someone to watch over us 24/7. As for your age, it doesn't matter here. In the wasteland, only your abilities count."
Hearing this, Overton reconsidered. In this post-apocalyptic world, forming reliable alliances was crucial, especially with a militia group whose ideals aligned with his own. Finally, he agreed to Steve's request.
Steve expressed his gratitude profusely as Overton stepped out of the house. He then strolled along the perimeter wall, chatting briefly with the vigilant Mulder before retreating to his own quarters. He climbed into bed, ready for his first night in the wasteland.
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