Location: Echo Point Outpost, Sector 4A – Romanian-Ukrainian Border
Time: 12:00 | Day 2 of Infection Collapse
The last of the infected dropped with a crunch of shattered bone and ruptured sinew.
Smoke still curled through the air like the dying breath of war, carrying with it the metallic tang of blood and spent gunpowder. Logan Hale lowered his rifle, shoulders sagging with exhaustion as the final report from the auto-turret rang out. Silence fell across the compound like a thick wool blanket—suffocating but welcomed.
> [Hostile Forces Eliminated: 57]
[Class Bravo (31), Delta (20), Berserker Variant (6)]
[WAR CREDITS EARNED: +412]
[Current WAR CREDITS: 462.2]
[Outpost Defended Successfully – Defense Tier Increased to II]
[Casualties: 0]
Logan exhaled slowly. His knuckles were white around the grip of his rifle, sweat dripping from his brow beneath his helmet. His entire squad stood alive, bruised and bloodied, but breathing.
Reaper One's smoking Gatling gun slowly powered down, steam hissing from its casing. The heavy infantry unit scanned the surrounding terrain for stragglers before speaking in his mechanical tone. "Area secure. Target count confirmed. Ammo remaining: 152 rounds."
Wraith pulled himself up from behind a barricade, breathing heavily. "That was no skirmish. That was a field test."
"They're probing our structure," Logan said, dragging a gloved hand across his blood-smeared cheek. "Trying to figure out if we're worth the effort."
Hammer sat against the concrete wall near the north gate, helmet off, his hands trembling as he lit a cigarette. "This outpost is holding, but it won't last if we don't reinforce it. The next wave's going to bring something uglier."
Logan opened the Military Command System. The screen blinked to life, displaying rows of deployment options and infrastructure upgrades.
> [Current WAR CREDITS: 462.2]
[New Base Development Options Unlocked:]
Perimeter Wall (Concrete + Razorwire) – 50 WAR CREDITS/segment
Watchtower (Equipped, M240 Nest) – 75 WAR CREDITS
Barracks Tent (Squad Capacity +4) – 45 WAR CREDITS
Armory (Ammo Efficiency +15%) – 100 WAR CREDITS
Power Grid Stabilizer (Grid Resilience +35%) – 50 WAR CREDITS
Anti-Air Radar Array – 80 WAR CREDITS
Field Kitchen (Morale Recovery Boost) – 25 WAR CREDITS
Logan selected quickly and efficiently:
> [Spending:
3x Perimeter Wall Segments – 150 WAR CREDITS
1x Watchtower (M240 Nest) – 75 WAR CREDITS
1x Barracks Tent – 45 WAR CREDITS
1x Armory – 100 WAR CREDITS
1x Power Grid Stabilizer – 50 WAR CREDITS
1x Field Kitchen – 25 WAR CREDITS]
> [Total Spent: 445]
[Remaining WAR CREDITS: 17.2]
One by one, new structures shimmered into existence around the outpost. The first was the concrete perimeter walls—thick, reinforced slabs of grey steel and razorwire rising like teeth from the earth. They connected into a cohesive ring around the base, leaving only two reinforced access gates.
Next, a metal watchtower erupted beside the northern wall, complete with a mounted M240 machine gun. A soldier manned the nest within moments—one of the summoned Tier-1 infantry, eyes sharp, trigger steady.
The barracks tent unfurled behind the main command building—a long, tan canvas structure with reinforced door flaps, cots, and thermal blankets. It smelled like disinfectant and stale sweat.
Beside it, the armory came online—a hardened metal storage unit containing modular racks for rifles, grenades, and magazines. A digital console hummed on one side, tracking ammunition usage and distribution.
Then the stabilizer buzzed to life. Located next to the generator core, it grounded the compound's fragile power grid, reducing brownouts and extending operational efficiency. Lights flickered less. Comms hissed with clarity.
Finally, a humble but vital field kitchen appeared—a prefab aluminum structure with food storage, a water filtration unit, and a cooking station. A new recruit, Private Radu, manned the kitchen almost instinctively. Within ten minutes, steam rose from a battered pot as the scent of synthetic stew drifted through the air.
Wraith chuckled, biting into a protein bar. "Didn't think I'd be eating hot food again."
Logan finally sat down, his body aching from hours of nonstop engagement. He sipped from his canteen and stared across the compound—his compound now.
The base resembled a modern forward operating base from the Afghan campaign era. It had segmented zones: the southern gate guarded by Reaper One and the new turret tower, a command center at the heart with reinforced concrete slabs, perimeter patrol paths, modular structures for living and armament, and a clear line of sight across every entry approach. The dirt had been swept, sandbags stacked cleanly, motion sensors humming under pressure.
It wasn't just shelter anymore. It was a fortress.
Sofia sat nearby, her pipe replaced by a salvaged MP5 from the bunker. She looked different—still scared, but more composed. Hardened by fire. "How long do we stay here?" she asked.
Logan looked up. "Until we find out where this all started. And how to end it."
He opened the System again.
> [Comm Tower Status: Inactive]
[Requires: 1x Power Cell to Initiate Global Uplink]
"Still offline," Logan muttered. "Until we get that uplink running, we're cut off."
Wraith approached, resting one arm on the edge of the command table. "Satellite feed's been dead since day one. Even military channels are mostly static. But if we can send a signal, someone might hear it. NATO. Or what's left of them."
Logan nodded slowly. "Next step is getting that power cell."
He looked down at his hands. For the first time in 48 hours, they weren't trembling. He wasn't in flight. He wasn't chasing shadows. He was standing still. Building.
And this was just the beginning.