The battle had only begun.
Inside the command center, every screen continued updating in real time.
Drone feeds.
Reconnaissance reports.
Satellite imagery.
The map of Central Luzon was becoming increasingly red.
Not because the defenses were failing.
But because the infected kept appearing.
Every destroyed concentration seemed to be replaced by another.
Every gap created by artillery fire slowly filled with more bodies.
The analysts no longer talked about hordes.
They talked about fronts.
Entire fronts.
The north.
The south.
The west.
All moving toward the same target.
Basa Air Base.
Adrian stared at the tactical display.
The northern concentrations were taking heavy losses from HIMARS strikes.
Entire highways had been erased.
Several bridges no longer existed.
Fields burned beneath rocket impacts.
Yet the infected kept advancing.
Then another officer approached.
"Sir."
Adrian looked up.
"What is it?"
"The southern concentrations are accelerating."
