Humanity intended to make sure the infected never saw the sunrise.
And somehow—
It succeeded.
The final hours of darkness became a massacre.
Not a battle.
A massacre.
Across Pampanga, Tarlac, and parts of Nueva Ecija, every remaining concentration of infected was relentlessly hunted.
The bombers returned.
The fighters never left.
The artillery never stopped.
The helicopters continued their attack runs.
And the ground forces advanced behind walls of steel.
The infected no longer moved like an army.
They were broken.
Scattered.
Disorganized.
The giant converging wave had been shattered into isolated pockets.
And humanity hunted every single one.
5:12 AM.
The eastern horizon slowly brightened.
The first rays of dawn illuminated Central Luzon.
What they revealed was almost unimaginable.
Entire sections of Pampanga were burning.
Smoke columns rose toward the sky.
Destroyed highways cut through the countryside like scars.
Craters filled abandoned fields.
