Perez is still on the ground, chest heaving, blood streaked across her face. She stares at the horde's remains, silent, motionless, shredded.
Luka breathes slowly. Calm. Pipe still in hand. The fight over.
[Battle Complete…]
[Processing Report…]
[Unit Status: 4 Casualties]
[Available Control Slots: 10 / 20]
[XP Gained: +15]
[BP Gained: +3]
The glowing words flicker into place like always, center of his vision, no source, no noise. Just there.
But for the first time, Luka doesn't blink it away.
He just… stares.
Perez struggles to stand, gripping the side of the truck for balance. "Who are you?" she whispers.
Luka doesn't answer. He's too busy watching numbers scroll in front of his eyes. Something cold crawls down his spine.
"Do you see that?" he asks without thinking.
Perez frowns. "See what?"
He looks at her. "The... text. Right here." He gestures to the empty air.
Perez just stares. "There's nothing there."
Luka slowly nods, jaw tightening. "Yeah. Thought so."
He lets out a slow breath. "It's not just in my head."
Perez looks at him like he's halfway crazy. "Are you okay?"
He gives her a tired smile. "Not even a little."
Luka squinted at the glowing text. In the corner of the screen, if he could call it that, something pulsed faintly.
[Status]
It wasn't a button.
It wasn't… anything. Just a word floating there.
But it felt like it was waiting.
He narrowed his eyes. "What the hell are you?"
No response. Just the pulsing word.
He stared at it, thinking. Do I say something? Touch it?
Then, almost without meaning to, he reached out a hand and poked the air.
Nothing.
He sighed. "Figures."
But the second he thought the word status, really focused on it.
Click.
The screen changed.
Name: Luka Cross
Status: Alive
Level: 2
XP: 70 / 110
Title: Lazarus Commander
Class: Non-combatant
Command Range: 15 Meters
[Attributes]
Strength: 12
Agility: 14
Endurance: 11
Perception: 15
Intelligence: 13
Charisma: 7
Total BP Available: 503
"Commander? XP? BP? Weird. Wonder what that number means."
He tries to swipe at the screen. Nothing. But just thinking about scrolling works. The next tab flips.
[Available Lazarus Units Nearby]
•3x B-Rank Slayer
•2x B-Rank Ranged
•4x B-Rank Mauler
•2x C-Rank Slayer
•3x C-Rank Slayer
•5x D-Rank Mauler
•9x E-Rank Slayer
Luka squinted at the screen. Four gone. Ten left.
He looked at the survivors. Mikha stood at the edge of the bloodbath. Head tilted. Calm as ever.
He muttered under his breath, "Might be time to recruit…"
Luka stares at the unit list.
Too many to control them all. Not enough slots.
But something catches his eye.
A faint glow around the B-Rank Slayers.
Like the system is nudging him.
He frowns. "You want me to pick?"
No answer. Of course not.
Still, he thinks about it. Focuses.
A new line blinks into existence:
[Select units to Claim – Control Slots: 10/20]
Luka hesitates, then focuses again.
[3x B-Rank Slayer] – Claimed.
[2x B-Rank Ranged] – Claimed.
[4 Slots Remaining…]
"Mauler," he muttered. "Sounds like a punch to the face."
He hadn't seen one up close. Not clearly. But something about the name itched in his brain.
Slayers were fast. Up-close killers. The ones he took first.
Ranged? He'd seen them lob acidic spit like artillery.
James, the Arcanist, he torched a dozen with a wave of fire. A freak. A useful one.
But this… Mauler. It felt heavier. Duller. A blunt weapon. Maybe even defensive?
"A tank," he murmured. "Like… meat shield type."
He looked up from the screen. Four of the bigger corpses were already twitching, arms thick like tree trunks, jaws dislocated from chewing through riot armor.
Luka nodded slowly. "Yeah. You'll do."
He focused on the word, Mauler.
[4x B-Rank Mauler] – Claimed.
[Initiating Control Link…]
[Initiating Control Completed.]
[New Lazarus's Acquired]
[Available Control Slots: 19 / 20]
Perez watches him, cautious, confused, bloody.
"You gonna explain what just happened?"
He glances at her, then at the carnage. His new squad is already rising from the rubble, pulling themselves free of corpses.
"Not unless you've got a damn good imagination."
The first Slayer stands, head twitching side to side like it's scanning for enemies. But it doesn't move toward Perez. Just turns toward Luka, waiting.
Obedient.
Controlled.
Luka tightens his grip on the pipe. "This is really insane."
Perez flinched as static crackled through the radio. Then a voice came, flat and cold.
"...coordinates locked. Missile en route. Estimated impact in two minutes…"
It listed the numbers. Her eyes widened.
"No. No, no… wait!" She grabbed the mic. "This is Colonel Perez! I'm alive down here! Friendly forces still present! Abort strike!"
Only static answered.
She slammed the mic down. "The hell…? They're gonna bomb this whole place!"
Luka didn't even flinch. He gave her a dry look. "Wow. You're welcome, by the way."
She blinked. "What?"
"I saved your ass back there. Little 'thanks' wouldn't hurt." He turned toward the bus. "Whatever. I'm out."
He hopped inside. One by one, the zombies followed, silent and obedient. Nineteen dead things crammed into the seats, some still dripping.
Perez turned the truck's key. The engine coughed. Then nothing.
She tried again. Still dead.
Stray bullets had torn through the side. Fuel leaked under the chassis.
"Come on, come on!"
Luka leaned out the bus window. "Hey!"
She looked over.
He jerked a thumb toward the passenger door. "Get in!"
Perez cursed under her breath. She jumped from the truck and climbed into the bus, slamming the door shut behind her.
Luka didn't wait. He floored it.
The bus roared to life and sped off, tires kicking dirt and debris as they peeled away from the ruins.
They needed distance. Fast.
Because behind them, death was coming again. This time from the sky.
A few seconds…
BOOM!
The bus rumbles down the broken road, smoke rising in the distance. Behind them, a thunderous explosion rocks the horizon. The missile hits.
The sky flashes orange. Then black.
Perez grips the dashboard, eyes wide. Luka doesn't even flinch.
Perez glares. "The bastards launched it. Even knowing I'm still alive."
Luka smirks. "Seems the government's fine with a little collateral damage."
She doesn't laugh. She's staring at the radio again. Something's buzzing, static, low, crackling.
Then a voice breaks through.
"All units, report. Missile impact confirmed. No survivors expected at District 5. Clean sweep. Move to next phase."
Her face goes pale. "They think we're dead…"
Luka: "Good. Let's keep it that way."
Perez sat back in the passenger seat, silent.
Then Luka saw it.
On her forearm. Just under the torn sleeve. A wound.
Fresh. Bleeding.
Not from a bullet. Not from shrapnel.
From teeth.
He didn't say anything at first. Just stared.
Perez looked at him, confused, then followed his eyes. Looked down.
Saw it.
Her face went pale.
"Shit," she whispered.
Luka gripped the wheel tighter. "Yeah."
The bus kept moving.
No one said a word.