Extra large chapter for Christmas cheer!
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Under Ash's guidance, Garry—like a walking corpse—led him on a tour of his own stronghold.
When it was over, he stood amid the empty expanse pitted by Iron Golem fists.
And atop the looted skeletons of buildings, he stared in a daze.
The base he had painstakingly built for years had been emptied in under an hour?
They'd almost scraped three layers off the ground itself.
"Come with us."
Ash's muffled voice pulled him back from the brink of stupor.
Looking at those red-glowing eyes and recalling the sky-borne weapons of annihilation… even a vegetable would spring back to life.
Garry let out a long, helpless sigh.
He knew that from this day forth the so-called leader of base was history.
All he could do was follow these mysterious, mighty visitors from Gamma and gamble on an unknown future.
He had no choice.
Before absolute might, any resistance was a pale joke.
Garry, once a tyrannical Tier 3 Awakened over these wastes,
now trotted like a docile lamb behind Ash, escorted by ghost-like Shadow Marine Warriors toward the eastern battlefield.
Meanwhile, inside US' Outpost Base,
a cordoned-off open-air research zone had been prepared, where a special team of a dozen Villagers had waited for ages.
They were Americas top research brains, possessing Overworld bodies and led by Doctor Cooper.
Each pair of eyes blazed; they whispered and argued fiercely, deaf to the earth-shaking battle in the distance.
Suddenly— the air at the zone's center rippled.
Several purple figures materialized out of nowhere.
They were the hauler Shadow Marine Warriors, gently setting the Energy Extractor on the ground.
"It's here!"
"Quick, quick, quick!"
The instant the device touched down, the Villager experts pounced like ravenous wolves.
They circled the faintly humming machine, stroked its cold metal shell, their fervour almost spilling over.
"Inconceivable energy-circuit design!"
"This condensation method—sheer genius!"
"Hook up power, start it—I need to see its internal logic!"
The greatest minds of the world surrendered themselves to dissecting and reveling in the Other World's tech.
Elsewhere, Garry was escorted to the outermost perimeter of the american base.
As he passed through the towering gate forged of obsidian, the vast alien sprawl of the base stretched beyond sight.
He was utterly stunned.
This isn't right.
This… this can't be.
Though he'd never visited the fabled Gamma Base, he'd heard it preserved pre-apocalypse architecture—a steel megacity of technology.
But every building here was built of perfect, angular blocks.
Black walls, grey watchtowers—everything exuded an otherworldly strangeness.
A shocking thought slammed into him.
He spun to the silent Iron Golem, voice hoarse. "You're not from Gamma Base?"
A storm surged in Garry's heart.
He had wondered why no Awakened from the legendary Gamma had shown up against him.
But when he saw the sky full of tanks and missile trucks,
that old-state terror made him equate them with Gamma.
Now… had a fourth power, silent till now, emerged on these wastes with might surpassing the Big Three?
Ash turned the Iron Golem's head; its red eyes regarded him calmly.
"When did I ever say we were from Gamma Base?"
The mild retort smashed into Garry's heart.
He stared at Ash, then looked around.
In the sky, white blocky creatures streamed toward distant missions.
On the ground, unfamiliar Nuclear-powered Tanks and APCs bearing Star-Sprangled Insignia rolled past like a tide of steel, heading for the still-raging Tyrant Battlefield.
Farther off, countless Armed Helicopters lifted into huge formations, also bound for unknown sectors.
Endless war machines—an inexhaustible supply.
A mobilization that could suffocate any power.
Garry's heart sank into an abyss.
A preposterous, chilling thought surfaced:
This mysterious force's military might probably surpassed even the legendary Gamma Base… In the Command Center, Steve glanced at the screen showing Garry's lost expression and looked away.
A Tier 3 Awakened no longer deserved his attention.
The Fen Hua sideshow was over and the Energy Extractor secured.
Now they only needed to wait for the R&D team to crack its secrets and mass-produce the Type I Body Enhancement Liquid; then—on the World Zeta front, absolute superiority was steadily stabilizing the war.
Watching the orderly base-building and hunting on the monitors, Steve felt reassured.
"Randy, we're done here."
He turned to General Randy beside him.
"Have them keep catching ordinary zombies as fuel for the Energy Extractor while the science team dissects that machine."
"I'll go check on the enhancement serum progress."
"All right, Steve, off you go."
General Randy nodded, concern in his eyes.
"Once that's done, get some rest—you've been at it too long."
"Mm."
Steve answered and walked away.
In truth, where he happened to be made no difference to him.
With his clearance, he could jump into the perspective of any Overworld npc at any moment and control the whole board.
Still, he decided to visit the Biological Research Institute in person.
Soon, accompanied by Fred Jones, Steve arrived at the top-spec biology lab inside Fortress that had been set aside for Doctor George's team.
The instant he stepped through the door he saw George holding a vial of scarlet fluid up to the intense light, scrutinising every change in its composition with absolute focus.
"George, how's the enhancer serum coming along?"
Steve lightened his footsteps, walked to his side and asked quietly.
"Oh? Steve's here."
Only then did George surface from his research; seeing Steve, a gratified smile appeared on his face.
He cautiously passed over the vial in his hand and said,
"Perfect timing—we've just finished debugging the first batch of the initial Type I Body Enhancement Serum."
Steve took the faintly warm reagent and gazed at the crystal-clear fluid inside, surprised. "So fast?"
"So fast?"
"Mm."
George nodded, pride showing on his face.
"The technical dossier you supplied was simply too complete, too detailed."
"Every step, every parameter, was pinpoint; we barely took a single detour."
"Coupled with the base's cutting-edge domestic equipment, progress naturally sped along."
"When can mass production start so the soldiers can use it?"
Steve asked the question that concerned him most.
George pondered for a moment before answering,
"To reach the flawless mass-production standard in the data you gave, we'll need another day or two for equipment run-in and process optimisation."
"However, Randy dropped by earlier; his view is we can mass-produce this initial version right now, get it to the troops in urgent need, and swap in the perfect version later."
"Oh?"
Steve's interest was piqued.
"What's the difference between this initial version and the perfect one?"
"According to our data model, the perfect version can raise every physical index of an average adult male by nearly sevenfold."
George explained.
"With the initial version, catalyst purity is slightly off, so the effect drops a notch—to about fivefold."
Fivefold.
Even this discounted first edition was enough to drive any army on Earth wild. America would make a crazy profit even with this version.
"Understood."
Steve nodded, no longer interrupting them.
"George, carry on; I'll be off."
"Mm, Steve, get some rest too." …Leaving the institute, Steve boarded the car back to villa.
Inside the vehicle he took out his phone and casually skimmed the online situation.
The instant he opened the news app, a bold, red-highlighted push notification leapt out.
[BREAKING! National Energy Administration announces another cut: household electricity prices down]
Two price cuts within a single day.
This time global opinion was completely detonated.
Domestic social media had turned into an ocean of jubilation.
The die-hard paid trolls were now being crushed by countless patriotic netizens wielding every meme spell in the book.
[Boohoo, I was wrong. I don't wanna use US' cheap, stable electricity anymore; I wanna use my troll-daddy's freedom-and-democracy power that randomly blackouts and jacks up prices. Please, troll bros, get me outta here]
[Upstairs, think bigger. From today, my AC runs 24/7—to boost domestic demand]
[Dude, your IP shows Washington—32 °C average for the next seven days. If you turn it off for even a second you're the champ (thumbs-up)]
[Then I lose]
[Thanks to the country, I'm winning till it hurts]
Sarcastic roast-after-roast mocking the trolls kept coming.
And those trolls, faced with iron-clad facts, could only rage helplessly, unable to stir a ripple… Meanwhile, in the international financial markets.
Geneva, Switzerland, inside a top-tier investment bank's trading floor.
"Gold's down again—another massive sell wave out of America."
"Shit! Did we trace the source? Who's dumping?"
"Preliminary intel: every sell order comes from different offshore accounts, but the money eventually points—faintly—toward the US."
"Is it their federal bank?"
"Can't confirm; looks more like some of their big state-owned financials adjusting assets."
In just one day, those relentless small hidden sell orders from the US had quietly knocked nearly 3% off the international gold price.
The drop wasn't enough to trigger market-wide panic yet—it sat within the upper band of normal fluctuation.
But the unusual chill behind it had already set every top trader and institution to maximum alert.
Major international financial headlines were quickly dominated.
[Reuters: Mystery selling wave hits gold; American chill sweeps market]
[WSJ: Gold's technical pullback seen tied to market expectations of upcoming policy]
Though mainstream analysts preferred to label the fall a normal technical correction, everyone knew that beneath the calm golden sea, a terrifying undercurrent capable of whipping up monstrous waves was quietly brewing.
Russia, Treasury Building.
Late at night, the ministerial office—usually silent—was ablaze with lights, the air stifling.
Finance Minister Boris Miller, gripping the red encrypted phone that connected directly to the top echelons of the world's major economies, was beaded with sweat.
On the other end: US Federal Bank and Minister of Finance.
"Minister Rorke, good evening—sorry to disturb you so late,"
Miller said, striving to sound both concerned and courteous, like a gentleman enquiring after an old friend.
"We've noticed some… unusual movements in the global precious-metals market lately."
He chose his words with extreme care.
"I'd like to know whether your esteemed country is conducting a large-scale adjustment of foreign-exchange reserves?"
"If you run into any difficulties, perhaps we could offer some necessary assistance?"
The words were extremely tactful, but their core was naked probing.
Yet what came from the other end of the line was an american trademark, watertight official response.
"Thank you, Minister Miller, for your concern; the US financial markets are functioning normally, foreign-reserve structure is stable, and there are no difficulties."
"As for market fluctuations, we believe they are merely normal market behavior—part of the market's self-adjustment."
American—again that damned, slippery amierican.
Every conversation with the american is half an hour of pointless talk that ends with nothing gained.
After nearly thirty minutes of verbal tug-of-war, Miller had extracted nothing beyond a pile of "no comment" and "all normal" officialese.
He slammed the receiver down, yanked his tie in irritation, and yelled at the anxious aides waiting in the office.
"the FSB—have they turned up anything new?"
...
Kremlin, FSB Headquarters.
In an emergency briefing room the atmosphere was equally tense.
"Satellite surveillance reports: all known large vaults inside America show no sign of major transfers—everything normal."
"Cyber-intelligence: internal networks of the US' major state financial institutions show no anomalies; capital flows conform to regular patterns."
"Economic Modelling Group: based on all our open and clandestine data, US' fundamentals simply do not support a strategic decision to dump gold."
"It makes no sense—no logical sense at all."
The string of bad news left every top analyst in the room feeling unprecedented pressure and dread.
America, the Eagle they had always seen as prudent and cautious during these troubling economic times, now behaved like a madman, completely off-script.
Restarting coal plants and dumping gold.
The two-pronged combo had left them dizzy, unable to read the intent.
"Damn these capricious guys."
The meeting director, a grizzled veteran, slammed the table, eyes bloodshot with fear.
"What are they up to? This feeling of the unknown is terrifying."
"I have a guess."
A young analyst raised a trembling hand.
"Could world be facing some severe, short-term liquidity pressure we simply don't know about?"
"For instance, a super-project in a field we can't monitor, burning through hard currency?Maybe they made advancements in AI technology? Or a new super weapon?"
That guess was the only explanation that sounded plausible.
Across Wall Street, in countless blazing trading halls, chaos reigned.
Market analysts had split into two camps.
The bears.
"It's a signal—they're cutting gold for liquid dollars. Run! Gold's going to crash!"
But the mainstream bulls clung stubbornly to their faith.
"Short-term adjustment—this is just a short-term adjustment."
"Trust me, any official, non-panic sale is a once-in-a-lifetime buying opportunity. Gold's long logic—scarcity, inflation hedge—never changes."
And the most sensitive, greediest global capital...saw a blood-smelling chance in the chaos.
"The americans must be crazy—or in dire straits. Otherwise they'd never sell gold with inflation expectations this high."
"It's a gift from God; however much they sell, we'll take."
"Exactly—grab every gold chip in their hands. Let those foolish westerners pay for their wrong decision."
Under these whales, a powerful bid force surged against the tide, madly absorbing every gold offer on the market.
Like brave knife-catchers, they tried to catch the falling blade from the sky.
Gold's decline slowed, even rebounding slightly at times.
The market became a brutal battlefield of bulls and bears, flesh flying.
Across the wider global web and public opinion...
panic and unease spread like a plague.
On international finance forums every post discussed the same topic.
"What earth-shattering move is the US plotting? My brain can't take it."
"Could they have discovered a new super-mine somewhere—big enough to upend the gold-reserve landscape?"
Conspiracy theories flourished.
"I heard America cut a secret deal with some Middle-East power—gold for oil."
"No, the truth is they sense WWIII is coming and are hoarding cash for an unprecedented war."
Outlandish guesses kept coming.
Yet no one—no matter how bold—could touch the craziest, closest-to-truth core.
"Unlimited Resources."
The whole world trembled under the US' seemingly contradictory yet supremely oppressive combo.
Everyone felt an invisible hand gripping their throat.
They had no idea what America next step would be.
They had no idea where the storm the US had unleashed would take the world.
That fear of the unknown was the deadliest of all.
Like a golden noose, it was slowly slipping around everyone's neck.
Deep into the night, inside the car heading back to villa, all was quiet.
Steve leaned back in the plush seat, scrolling through his phone with relish, watching the online flame-war sparked by America's moves.
"Nice, very nice."
He watched with glee, the corner of his mouth lifting.
Just then a comment made his gaze freeze and his brows knit.
The user's ID dripped heavy sarcasm: "AmericaWinsAgain."
The comment itself was an off-hand sigh.
"Winning every day—power prices down too. When will those huge deserts in the Arizona and Nevada turn into oases? If that happens, even housing prices will crash—now that's what I call winning big."
Desert, oasis... Seeing these words, Steve suddenly thought of something in his mind.
"Bone Meal".
An item he had long forgotten, yet possessing near‑creation power, instantly floated into his thoughts!
The miraculous powder that can ignore growth cycles and accelerate any plant.
"I've been busy conquering Other World, and I completely forgot these most basic, most buggy things in Overworld."
Steve muttered to himself, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.
Accelerate plants?
If applied properly, this seemingly ordinary ability could be as strategically valuable as creating gold and steel out of thin air.
His thoughts began to diverge uncontrollably.
"If, in the future, I get the chance to enter a cultivation or fantasy world..."
"Those top‑grade spirit herbs and divine medicines that normally take tens of thousands of years to mature—I'll just use Bone Meal to accelerate them, compressing ten thousand years into a second, a million years, and then all of US would have endless elixirs!"
The idea made Steve's heart race.
Although he had previously tested Bone Meal on ordinary plants in the real world, whether it works on spirit‑infused plants rich with spiritual energy of heaven and earth remains unknown.
Nonetheless, this undeniably opened a door of infinite possibilities for his future development.
In his reverie, the vehicle smoothly entered villa.
Steve got out, and as soon as he stepped into the courtyard, he saw his sister Stefanie standing at the doorway, looking lively.
"Brother, you're back?"
The girl's voice was as crisp as a nightingale's.
"Hmm."
Steve smiled and nodded, walking forward.
"How's it going? Did you buy everything after a day of shopping? Getting used to living here, right?"
"Yeah yeah."
Stefanie nodded vigorously, a happy smile spreading across her face.
"Everything's bought. I also visited the new school today—it's the best school in the capital. The teachers said I can start classes tomorrow."
"That's good."
Steve reached out and habitually patted his sister's head.
"The entrance exam is coming soon. In this last stretch, just study peacefully, ignore everything else, and be ready."
"Don't worry, big brother."
Stefanie pounded her chest, confidently promising.
"I won't let you down. This exam, I'll definitely bring home a top‑three rank in the state."
"Alright."
Steve smiled and asked,
"Where are mom and dad?"
"They've been shopping all day and are already resting."
Stefanie glanced at the time.
"Brother, it's almost eleven now. You should go to bed early."
"Okay, got it. You do the same, go to sleep soon."
"Alright, good night, brother."
Stefanie obediently said good night and turned toward her room.
Watching his sister's back, Steve's smile gradually faded.
He turned and went outside the courtyard, standing beside Fred Jones, who was still faithfully performing his security duties.
"Fred."
"Director, any orders?"
Fred Jones immediately straightened his posture.
"Help me contact the Forestry Bureau."
Steve thought for a moment.
"I need to find their highest‑ranking official."
"Understood."
Fred Jones nodded, then astonishingly pulled from his pocket a uniquely designed phone, its body forged entirely from black alloy.
Steve looked at the phone, puzzled.
Seeing his reaction, Fred Jones immediately explained.
"Director, this was delivered by President Kennedy this afternoon. It was originally intended to be handed to you tomorrow."
"Inside, it stores encrypted direct‑line numbers for all governors and the highest officials of every major region in our country."
He paused, then added,
"Moreover, President Kennedy has personally issued the highest directive: any command sent through this phone, no matter how bizarre, must be executed unconditionally and immediately."
"This also allows you to mobilize national resources directly whenever needed."
"President Kennedy thought this through quite thoroughly."
Steve nodded, increasingly admiring the Secretary's foresight.
"Fred, you take it with you; we're all the same anyway."
"Yes."
Fred Jones said no more, quickly found the US Forestry Bureau entry on the phone, and dialed the direct line of its top official, Director Tom Schultz's line… in the capital's Ministry‑affiliated residential area.
Nearly fifty years old and in his prime, the national Forestry Bureau Director Schultz had just finished a busy day and was preparing to sleep.
At that moment, a black encrypted phone on his nightstand—one he had never used proactively but kept in the most conspicuous spot—suddenly shook violently.
Schultz's heart leapt in that instant.
He stared fixedly at the vibrating phone, eyes filled with shock and excitement.
He clearly remembered that earlier this afternoon, a central‑guard had handed him the phone.
The guard, in an unprecedentedly solemn tone, gave him a an order.
"Director Schultz, from now on, this phone is the highest command."
"Whenever it rings, wherever you are, you must answer it."
"No matter what the caller demands, you must treat it as top‑priority and execute it unconditionally."
He knew this matter was far from simple.
He didn't expect the supreme‑command phone to ring so quickly.
He scrambled out of bed and, with the fastest speed of his life, tremblingly pressed the answer button.
"Hello? This is US Forestry Bureau, Tom Schultz."
As soon as the line connected, Tom announced his identity, his voice trembling with uncontrollable excitement and tension.
On the other end, Fred Jones, after hearing the voice, respectfully handed the black encrypted phone to Steve beside him.
Steve took the phone and said calmly,
"Hello, Director Schultz."
Hearing the young voice, Tom straightened his posture and replied respectfully,
"Hello, what can I do for you?"
"Deploy a batch of your most reliable people."
Steve's order was concise.
"Gather them at the location I'm sending you now."
"Then I'll give you a batch of special supplies. Your mission is to take these items to the desert and plant trees."
"Plant trees?"
Schultz was taken aback.
He had imagined countless possibilities, even preparing to lead the entire forestry system on a life‑or‑death secret operation.
But he never imagined that the mysterious high‑ranking figure holding the supreme command would call first just to plant trees in the desert?
Though his mind seethed with unanswered questions, he dared not show the slightest disrespect. Snapping to attention, he replied at once,
"Yes, sir. Understood. I'll arrange it immediately and make sure we pick the finest team in the system. They'll be on standby."
"Mm."
Steve gave a flat grunt and ended the call.
"Fred."
He handed the phone back to Fred Jones.
"Handle the follow-up coordination. Have them ready to move."
"Yes, Director."
Fred Jones nodded and set to work at once.
With that settled, Steve went to his room to rest… The next morning, six o'clock sharp.
The instant the first ray of sunlight slipped through the lattice window, Steve awoke on schedule.
The moment he stepped out he caught the familiar, homely scent of food wafting through the air.
His mother, Nicole, wearing an apron, bustled between kitchen and dining room, setting plate after plate of lovingly cooked breakfast on the table.
"Mom, why are you up so early?"
Surprised, Steve walked over.
"The compound has its own chefs—let them do this."
"Oh, I've nothing to do at home; idle hands are the devil's work."
Nicole turned, her face warm with affection.
"What, you think mom's cooking isn't good enough now?"
"No way."
Steve sat smiling, eating the cozy breakfast, feeling the accumulated fatigue and tension melt away.
After breakfast he bade his family a quick farewell.
"Mom, I've got to run."
"All right, go on—drive safe."
Then he and Fred set off once more toward Fortress.
The moment they arrived, Steve saw General Randy on the open training ground, excitement written across his face; in front of him stood several dozen elite soldiers in custom combat fatigues.
Steve and Fred strode over.
But as he drew close and got a clear look at General Randy, shock flashed across his face.
The man before him, still every inch the imposing commander, looked a full decade younger than yesterday.
The few white hairs at his temples were gone, replaced by jet-black roots; the wrinkles on his face had softened, and vitality radiated from within.
"Randy, you've gone younger!"
Remembering something, Steve probed,
"Did you take the Enhancement Agent?"
"Hahaha, spot on!"
General Randy laughed heartily, flexed his joints, and felt inexhaustible strength surge through him.
"Early this morning George's team finished calibrating their gear. The first batch of mass-produced prototype serum rolled off the line."
"Here, I saved one for you."
He took a vial of scarlet liquid from an orderly and held it out.
"No need, Randy."
Steve waved it off with a smile.
"I've already had mine."
"Oh?"
General Randy blinked, then saw the light.
Recalling the blueprints Steve had produced from thin air, he understood.
So the kid had taken it long ago.
Good—his safety was that much more assured.
"This stuff's a miracle,"
General Randy murmured, unable to contain his excitement.
"Take a look—see what terrifying levels our boys have reached."
Following his gaze, Steve turned to the training ground.
Dozens of lean, tough soldiers were undergoing a battery of extreme tests.
One was in the middle of Dynamic Reaction Target shooting.
Before him stretched a huge electronic screen that would, at random, flash dozens of red dots smaller than coins, each lasting under 0.2 seconds.
His task: nail every single one with his custom pistol in that split-second window.
For an ordinary human it would be impossible.
Yet—
Bang! Bang!
The soldier moved in a blur, arm whipping, muzzle spitting continuous flame.
His eyes worked like a high-speed camera, locking onto every dot.
His neural response far outstripped human limits.
In seconds, all thirty dots flashed—and every one was drilled dead-center.
Nearby, a burly fighter slammed a specially reinforced Punch-Force Tester.
Boom!
A deep, dull crash.
The tester, built of special alloy, groaned under the blow.
The gauge spiked and froze at a staggering 850 kg.
Far from superhuman tonnes, yet already dwarfing the heaviest recorded punch of any world-class heavyweight boxing champion.
Weight-lifting, high-jump, loaded cross-country, combat dodging… every event smashed every physiological record in human history.
Each trooper who'd taken the prototype serum now posted data five times beyond human limits—strength, speed, stamina, dynamic vision, neural reaction, all of it.
They were no longer merely human.
They were true Supersoldiers.
An unstoppable, invincible legion of supersoldiers was quietly being born in this secret subterranean base.
To Steve those shattering numbers fused into one wild, hellish idea.
Watching these men whose strength and speed had leapt in quality, he couldn't stop the faint, chilling smile that curved his lips—anyone who knew him would shudder at the sight.
General Randy caught that fleeting expression.
His heart lurched.
He knew the kid had dreamed up another outrageous scheme.
"Steve."
General Randy leaned in, voice low but eager.
"Got another good idea?"
"Mm."
Steve nodded, eyes still on the training soldiers, and asked off-handedly,
"Randy, has this Enhancement Agent been tried on the Endermen yet?"
"The Endermen?"
General Randy shook his head.
"Not at all. We gave the first mass-produced batch to our own soldiers first."
"Let them try it too."
"After all, when we conquer Other World later on, we'll mainly rely on consciousness projection to control those Overworld bio units. Boosting their strength is the real way to raise our overall combat power."
"Makes sense."
General Randy nodded deeply in agreement.
Without another word, Steve simply willed it and summoned from Overworld a Shadow Marine Warrior whose soul had just been linked.
A flash of purple light, and the tall, slender Enderman appeared on the training ground.
"Commander, Director."
The soldier possessing it, Lee, snapped to attention and saluted.
The two men nodded.
Immediately General Randy handed over a brand-new first-edition Enhancement Liquid prepared for Steve and gave the order.
"Lee, use that body of yours and drink this vial. Let's see the effect."
"Yes, sir!"
Without hesitation Lee took the faintly warm red serum and downed it in one gulp.
The next moment—
The Enderman's originally pitch-black body began to tremble violently.
Visible streams of wild red aura, like steam, erupted from its surface.
Its purple eyes seemed to be tinted with a crimson halo.
The whole process lasted a dozen seconds before slowly subsiding.
"Did it work?' asked Steve.
The soldier controlling the Enderman, Lee, flexed the newly explosive body and spoke in disbelief and joy.
"Yes sir! A success! I feel this body's strength has increased by a huge margin."
"Looks like it worked."
Steve nodded in satisfaction.
Seeing the experiment succeed, General Randy grew even more excited.
"Steve, what exactly did you think of? Spill it now."
Steve smiled and willed again.
Clang!
A towering, oppressive Iron Golem materialized before everyone.
"Iron Golem?'
General Randy stared at the familiar war machine, more puzzled than ever.
"Randy, watch this."
Steve began explaining his underhanded idea.
"Iron Golems have monstrous strength and defense, but they're slow and clumsy."
"Before, limited by power, we needed five Shadow Marine Warriors just to drag one a short distance—far too inefficient."
"But now…"
"One Enderman who drank the serum, strength multiplied five-fold, can lift an Iron Golem single-handedly."
"Picture this—'
He spread his arms like an artist unveiling his masterpiece.
"A fortress with unbreakable defense and terrifying attack, granted the Enderman's god-like, terrain-ignoring limitless teleportation—what kind of monster does that become?'
Steve mused to himself,
"Only I could come up with such an underhanded tactic."
After hearing this, General Randy froze as if struck by lightning.
His mind went blank for a moment.
Seconds later he jolted back, trembling with excitement.
"That's… a bloody genius idea!"
He swore, eyes bloodshot, staring at the Iron Golem and the Enderman as if at a perfect work of art.
Pointing at the two wildly different beings, he barked,
"You two, right now—do exactly what Steve said!"
"Yes, sir!"
Lee, suppressing his thrill, strode up to the Iron Golem.
He took a breath and wrapped the Enderman's now-powerful arms around the golem's thick waist.
"Up!"
With a roar—the 31-ton steel giant was lifted effortlessly and held steady in his arms.
"Teleport, attack—show me everything!"
General Randy was completely fired up.
"Roger!"
Lee focused his will.
Whoosh!
He and the Iron Golem vanished in a puff of purple smoke.
The next second—they reappeared a hundred metres away before an abandoned tank target.
The Iron Golem, cradled in his arms, didn't need to move its legs.
It simply swung its mountain-splitting steel fist.
BOOM!!
The multi-ton special-armour tank was instantly reduced to scrap.
At the instant the blow landed—
whoosh.
Lee and the Iron Golem teleported again, reappearing elsewhere on the range.
The entire sequence was fluid, lightning-fast.
A killing machine with fortress-grade defence and siege-beast destruction.
A spatial assassin that ignores terrain, barriers, appearing anywhere on the battlefield.
This was no mere tactic.
It was perfection—a war god born for battle.
On the field, the teleporting Iron Golem flickered in purple, each appearance bringing ruin.
General Randy was in utter rapture.
His battle-hardened eyes blazed, seeing the unstoppable future of world's forces.
"Hahaha—brilliant! A truly genius tactic!"
He laughed to the sky, clapping Steve's shoulder hard enough to shake out his excitement.
Spinning around, he barked at the orderly,
"Ship every first-edition Enhancement Liquid we've produced to the Shadow Marine Unit for priority enhancement."
"Then pair one soldier to one golem and start two-man team training immediately."
General Randy stared at the still-clumsy yet promising underhanded coordination on the field.
Right now it was only basic lifts and strikes.
But once they were fully trained?
When the minds of the Enderman pilot and the Iron Golem pilot synced—every heartbeat, every reaction, every beat of the fight—
What kind of terrifying, war-history-making destructive power would that duo unleash?
General Randy dared not think further; he felt his very blood burning with excitement.
He dragged Steve into the internal lift and rode straight to the Strategic Planning Division of the General Staff, several levels higher in the base.
"Immediately draft a brand-new training regimen."
General Randy kicked the conference door open and barked the order at the sharpest minds inside mid-war-game.
He laid out Steve's wild idea of an Enderman hugging an Iron Golem into battle, in full detail, to these strategic experts.
The room first sank into dead silence.
Then came a chorus of sharp intakes of breath.
Every officer present was a master of war; they grasped in an instant how this unreasonable tactical pairing could overturn every existing land-warfare theory.
"Yes, Chief!"
The lead staff officer shot to his feet, eyes blazing.
"We'll start tactical modelling at once and deliver the most detailed, efficient joint-operations training plan within twelve hours."
Watching the elite staff whirl into action, Steve and General Randy slipped away and returned to the Command Center.
"By the way, Randy."
Steve glanced at the screen where the encirclement of the Tyrant was proceeding methodically and asked casually.
"Did that fellow called Garry cough up anything useful?"
"Quite a bit."
General Randy nodded, his expression regaining its usual calm.
"The Staff Headquarters is cross-checking and deep-analysing his testimony."
"After all, his rank is far higher than that guy called Zack; the intel is far more detailed and core."
"Oh? Such as?"
"Such as the exact strength tiers of the three major bases, the ability system of high-level Awakened Ones, even some hidden secrets of this world. Once they finish the full report I'll show you."
"Good."
Steve answered, then raised the issue he cared about more.
"Randy, is our satellite ready?"
"Mm, the final data debugging is basically done. Once that satellite is in the sky, we'll use it to take over this world's satellites"
General Randy checked the time.
"The first test launch is scheduled for this afternoon."
Finally Steve's gaze fell on the heavily guarded Energy Extractor.
"How's the research on that thing?"
"We're studying it while capturing ordinary zombies to extract crystals."
As he spoke, General Randy took a sparkling, milky-white crystal from a nearby safe and handed it over.
"Here—this is the first finished energy crystal they condensed with that machine."
Steve held the thumbnail-sized white crystal.
It felt warm and smooth like jade, yet he sensed no special energy fluctuation akin to psychic power.
He handed the crystal back and said,
"For now, focus on decoding and reverse-engineering the tech."
"As for its effects, pick an Overworld body for testing—see if absorbing this energy produces any beneficial mutation."
The moment Steve finished, a staff officer from the General Staff hurried in.
He respectfully presented a freshly compiled encrypted file to Steve and General Randy.
It was the in-depth analysis and summary of everything Garry had confessed.
Steve took the file and skimmed rapidly.
Most of it matched what the guy called Zack had said, only far more detailed and accurate.
The part highlighted in red was the most eye-catching: the precise coordinates of the three survivor bases.
With this map, the entire continent's power structure held no more secrets for Steve.
Appended at the end was an inventory of goods seized from base.
When Steve's eyes swept across "Exoskeleton powered Armour" on the list, his brows knitted slightly.
"Exoskeletons?"
According to Garry, after the apocalypse, though social order collapsed, certain fields of technology experienced twisted, explosive growth.
Survivor factions that had struggled for decades had naturally scavenged plenty of good stuff from ruins and bases.
But now all those spoils had been fully taken over by America's research teams.
They were sent to the top-level lab of Fortress for reverse engineering and study.
With base's fall and the slow grind on the Tyrant front,
the entire World Zeta exploration entered a relatively calm development phase.
Hundreds of thousands of Shadow Marine Warriors scattered like chess pieces across the board.
Their mission was no longer mere extermination but capture... On the outskirts of a city, in a derelict industrial park, hundreds of gaunt, aimless ordinary zombies shambled through the open streets.
Suddenly—a faint purple ripple shimmered in the air.
A tall, slender black figure appeared without warning behind one zombie.
Before the zombie could react, strong arms had already wrapped around its body.
The next instant, purple light flashed again.
The Shadow Marine, clutching the struggling zombie, vanished on the spot.
Then, like dominoes toppling,
purple spatial fluctuations flickered frantically across the park.
Black silhouettes appeared, scooped up zombies, and disappeared, again and again.
The whole process was silent, seamless, and chillingly efficient.
The once-sizeable horde of hundreds began to shrink at a speed visible to the eye.
In an instant, they were gone without a trace.
Just as the area was about to be cleared,
several sleek, hound-like Mutated Zombie Dogs lurking in the ruins sensed danger and bolted for the distance.
Yet the moment they showed themselves—
Whoosh!
A Shadow Marine Warrior teleported precisely in front of one.
He slammed it out of mid-air and casually slung it over his shoulder.
"Stray dogs still at large."
The warrior inside the body, via the comm channel, reported calmly.
Scenes like this were playing out simultaneously in every corner.
The once free-roaming, fearsome zombie tide had, at this moment, become nothing more than mobile mineral deposits in the eyes of the Shadow Marine Unit.
They were bagged and taken from every corner of the world, one after another… East side of the Outpost Base.
A towering structure of pure obsidian had already risen from the ground.
It was a colossal open-air cage covering tens of thousands of square metres, its walls dozens of metres high.
At the top of the wall, a purple light flashed violently.
A Shadow Marine Warrior appeared on the parapet, a still-shrieking zombie slung over his shoulder.
Without so much as a glance, he casually tossed the zombie—like trash—into the cage.
Plop.
The zombie fell from a height of several dozen metres onto a cushion of countless others and was quickly swallowed by the churning horde.
As far as the eye could see,
tens of thousands of ordinary zombies were already packed densely beneath the cage.
Only one fate awaited them.
Once a high-efficiency Energy Extractor was built, they would be fed into it, every last drop of energy wrung from their bodies, contributing their final value to the rise of America.
Of course, these ordinary zombies were just the appetiser.
Every Shadow Marine Warrior knew their true target.
The special variants hiding deeper in this world, their bodies containing high-quality energy crystals.
Tyrant Battlefield.
Deafening artillery had raged for an entire day.
The ten-metre-tall, mountain-of-flesh titan zombie was now stuck in the most stifling fight of its life.
It had some brains, but not many.
Yet enough to grasp the situation.
It could tell that the sudden swarm of monsters—part steel, part living thing—and those circling overhead simply could not kill it.
The shells that could turn reinforced concrete to powder only stung its rock-hard hide like mosquito bites, annoying but harmless.
The enemy seemed to know this.
Like tireless, fearless hounds they kept their distance, never engaging, merely harrying it.
Endless barrages wore down its patience, pinning it to the battlefield.
For the first time the Tyrant felt the humiliation of being toyed with.
It roared in fury; every sweep of its hill-splitting claws
carved bottomless gouges into the earth.
Every stomp triggered a minor earthquake.
It possessed the power to annihilate everything,but it couldn't land a hit.
Whether the nimble Armed Helicopters overhead or the nimble, coordinated nuclear tanks on the ground… its earth-shattering blows struck only empty soil.
Just as its rage neared the boiling point, a still-more hellish torment—one they'd kept up all day—began anew.
Beyond the tank-and-helicopter net,
purple spatial ripples flashed in dense succession.
Tens of thousands of Shadow Marine Warriors appeared behind the Tyrant,
each cradling an ominous red cube marked TNT.
With Mob Spawner Towers, sand generators and other Redstone Machines producing infinite resources,
TNT—the ultimate Overworld killer—now cost America nothing.
A war of attrition demanded refresh-able, damaging Overworld resources.
"Start walking the dog."
The order echoed in every Shadow Marine Warrior's mind.
The next instant, one warrior materialised less than ten metres behind the Tyrant, hugging a sizzling, lit block of TNT.
He casually lobbed it at the monster's thick ankle, then blinked away to safety.
Before the Tyrant could recover from the surprise,
BOOM!
A thunderous blast erupted at its feet.
The explosion failed to break its freakish defence—didn't even make it sway—yet the irritation of being nipped by an ant sent it into a berserk fury.
It whirled, ready to tear the impudent bug to shreds,
only to meet—whoosh! whoosh! whoosh!
Hundreds more TNT-carrying warriors blinked in from every side, dropped their gifts and vanished.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
In an instant the Tyrant's surroundings became a continuous bloom of fire and shrapnel.
It could not land a blow.
These slippery black devils were impossible to catch.
Each swipe triggered titanic explosions and left craters behind,but the warriors always blinked away before the claws fell, then, cycle after cycle, returned with fresh TNT to detonate at its heels.
The fight had lost every semblance of a clash between apex predators; it had turned into one-sided, calculated humiliation.
The Tyrant, once the terror of survivors, a peak Third-Order monstrosity, was now like a New-Year's dog beset by kids with firecrackers— all earth-shattering power, yet unable to brush a single enemy sleeve, reduced to futile, enraged roars beneath an endless barrage of low-damage, high-insult blasts.
ROAR!
After a full day of non-stop TNT harassment the Tyrant finally snapped.
It abandoned all attack, stood rooted, letting the insulting explosions wash over it.
Ever since these black creatures had first appeared yesterday, they had traded heavy artillery with it like civilised foes—then, for no reason, switched tactics.
No longer trying to kill, they trapped it here with this shameless guerilla game.
A sudden mutation erupted.
Bzzzt!!
An invisible, unique sound-wave surged without warning from the far horizon.
First to bear the brunt were the Shadow Marine Unit on the outermost perimeter, tasked with reconnaissance.
The black silhouettes that had been flickering nimbly a moment ago
were swept by that intangible wave.
Without the slightest omen, their bodies froze rigid.
Then, within a single second, they were simply blasted apart.
No struggle, not even a sound.
They were just dead—gone.
The terrifying wave travelled at extreme speed; it streaked past the Tyrant at the battlefield's centre,
leaving him untouched, and swept toward the wider area beyond.
In the sky, circling golems and Armed Helicopters
and on the ground, assembling nuclear-powered tanks—be they airborne or earth-bound, anything brushed by that invisible sound perished in the same instant.
Fortress, Soul Link Center.
The huge chamber, silent moments earlier, exploded into chaos.
Tens of thousands of Hibernation Pods were force-disconnected.
The lids sprang open like a startled beehive.
More than ten thousand american soldiers who had been immersed in the Other World battlefield sat bolt upright, as if breaking the water's surface.
They gasped raggedly, faces blank with shock.
"What happened?"
"Quick—medical teams, every medical team to your stations! Check vitals on all warriors!"
Doctors and nurses on standby surged forward like a tide.
The soldiers returning from death wore bewildered looks.
"What was that? I didn't feel a thing—just died."
A special-ops member who had been piloting a Shadow Marine soldier said, brow furrowed.
"Exactly. No warning, no attack—everything went black, then I woke here."
A tank driver chimed in.
"Same for us. We were flying, then—gone."
Everyone spoke at once, yet every story pointed to the same eerie truth:
Instant kill.
An instant kill whose source no one could even identify.
The medics' results came back quickly.
Soldiers who had taken the first-gen Enhancement Liquid were drained and pale but basically unharmed.
Those who hadn't yet taken the drug
looked frail and were carried off on stretchers to observation lounges... Command Center, atmosphere grim.
Everyone stared fixedly at the main screen.
A cluster of surveillance feeds had gone black at the same instant.
They cut out simultaneously.
"What's going on?"
"All of them... wiped out?"
"What level of attack is this? Some Colossal Zombie we don't know?"
"Or some natural disaster unique to this world?"
Countless questions rang in every mind.
Strategic analysts of the Staff Headquarters pulled the last-second data and began frantic modelling.
Steve, watching the eerily familiar scene, knitted his brows.
Memory flashed back to the time before he ever approached the state.
Right after he gained the system and first entered World Zeta, something similar had happened.
He had seen nothing, taken only a few steps with a Zombie, then blacked out and died.
At the time he'd blamed bad luck—some hidden, ultra-powerful Zombie.
Once the main force arrived, the freak deaths had ceased, so he'd pushed the matter aside, assuming the creature had moved on.
Never had he imagined that today, at the climax of the Tyrant siege, this terror capable of erasing tens of thousands in a blink would return.
Inside the Command Center, the sight of near-total annihilation struck everyone speechless.
General Randy's face was heavy with consternation.
He instinctively turned to Steve for insight.
Seeing Steve's knitted brow and that flicker of recognition, he asked at once,
"Steve, do you know something? What is this?"
Steve gave a nod, then a shake, his expression graver than ever.
"I know a bit." he said in a low voice.
"When I first got the Portal and entered this world, I died countless times right where we now have our base."
Each death was identical—no warning, nothing seen, just erased."
He paused, then continued,
"I couldn't leave that zone, which is why I asked the country for help."
Yet once our large force came in, the killings stopped cold."
I figured some powerful Zombie with a special domain had wandered off during our absence."
But today it's back."
So I still don't know exactly what it is."
His words drew a collective gasp.
The unknown enemy's terror had surpassed imagination.
"Analyse immediately."
Steve ordered the tech team without hesitation.
"Use the first casualties as anchor points—build a coordinate model and back-calculate the wave's origin."
"Roger!"
The operators sprang into action.
The Command Center's Super-Computer roared to life.
A huge 3-D city map bloomed on the main screen.
Tens of thousands of red dots blazed across it.
Each dot signified a freshly slain Overworld Bio unit.
[Data model constructing]
[Reverse-calculating trajectory from millisecond death deltas]
[Calculation complete]
A huge red circular ripple, expanding outward, appeared on the display.
The strike had indeed radiated in all directions from a single point.
Tracking the wave's spread, the technicians soon pinned down the source to an uncharted swath of darkness on the map.
"The Sonic Wave has dissipated."
A Technician reported.
"Its spread vanished completely about five kilometers from our Outpost Base—never touched the base itself."
General Randy ordered at once.
"Have the Shadow Marine Unit garrisoned at the base sortie immediately. Head that way and conduct an Armed Reconnaissance."
"Yes, sir." …Inside the Outpost Base.
The Shadow Marine Warriors unaffected by the wave received the top-level directive from the Command Center.
Without hesitation they vanished from the base, flashing toward the tagged epicenter at top speed.
Yet mid-teleport they soon spotted something even stranger.
Right there, on streets swept clean by the Sonic Wave, ruins that should have been empty…
…began to sprout scattered Zombies crawling out of every rubble pile.
These Zombies seemed utterly unaffected by the terrifying sound.
More importantly, they were no longer shambling aimlessly; instead…
…as if drawn by some mysterious summons…
…they all lurched in the same direction—toward where the sound had come from.
"Headquarters, we've found large numbers of surviving Zombies advancing toward the wave's origin—looks like they're massing."
The squad promptly relayed this startling discovery back.
Inside the Command Center, Steve's eyes flickered with doubt at the news.
"So the wave didn't attack zombies—yet wiped out our troops?"
"Interesting."
"Since it's drawing every hidden Zombie out, perfect."
He opened the Comm Channel and issued new orders.
"Squad, keep pushing into the center and find out exactly what that thing is."
"All other garrison forces, move out now—net every Zombie this thing flushes out. Don't let a single one escape."
"Roger."
With Steve's order, the deep-penetration squad…
…ignored the pilgrim-like columns of corpses around them…
…and continued racing toward the core at maximum speed.
Meanwhile tens of thousands more Shadow Marine Warriors and Overworld Bio troops poured from the Outpost Base.
They began frantically scooping up the Zombies that had delivered themselves to the trap.
Watching the Zombie Tide swelling on every monitor, the capture teams all had the same thought.
"You walked right into this yourselves."
Inside the Command Center, Steve had originally wanted only to locate the mysterious sonic source.
But now…
"If I can get my hands on whatever's producing that sound…"
"…I could trigger it once, act like I've switched on a mob-attracting artifact, lure every Zombie over and wipe them out in one go."
At the thought even someone of Steve's composure felt his blood burn.
These walking Energy-Crystal Mines were the most precious resource of all.
Yet just as he was about to order the Scout Squad to reach the source at any cost…
…he recalled the nightmare of his rookie days—being insta-killed over and over.
Before, that eerie sound had never been a one-off…
…after the first blast a second and third would follow in rapid succession.
It was that relentless chain of erasures that had left him without a chance to react or flee.
"Hold on."
Steve's expression shifted in an instant.
He barked an emergency order into the channel.
"All units advancing toward the center—pull back immediately, top speed!"
The several Shadow Marine squads already deep inside the city core…
…though puzzled, triggered chained teleports the moment they received the command, racing back toward the base.
"Steve, did you spot something?"
General Randy had barely asked…
…when…
Boom!
The invisible Sonic Wave thundered past again.
Fortunately…
…Steve's order had come in the nick of time.
Relying on the Endermen's absurd teleport range, the squads with heart-stopping timing, snapped back into safe territory one heartbeat before the wave hit.
Watching the simulated ripple sweep across the screen, everyone in the Command Center broke into cold sweat.
"It's back."
Steve stared hard at the display.
"Keep analyzing—lock down its exact coordinates."
The tech team at once used the second wave's data for a far more precise triangulation.
A flashing red coordinate quickly appeared on the 3-D map.
It marked an unexplored spot outside the city, ringed by mountains.
"Randy, don't send anyone for now."
Steve studied the mark and spoke in a low voice.
"From what I've seen, this sound will keep firing at random for a full three days."
"Anything non-Zombie that nears that zone during those three days gets erased instantly."
While the officers were still talking…
Rumble—rumble—rumble—
…a thunder of countless stampeding feet, savage and chaotic, shook the distance.
Roars rolled in from every direction.
"Switch to the outer perimeter feed—now!"
The screens flicked.
Tens of kilometres beyond the base—city edges, open plains, even forested hills…
…endless Zombies were surging from the horizon like a tide.
Every last one heading for the same spot—the source of the mysterious sound.
Ordinary walkers mixed with agile Zombie Hounds, airborne mutants wheeling overhead, even hulking giants the size of Tyrants.
It looked as though the Zombies had declared the start of a grand banquet.
Watching that sky-blotting swarm—enough to drive any survivor enclave to despair—
…the staff in the Command Center felt no fear; instead…
…every face flushed red, eyes blazing with excitement.
Steve's voice shook as he gazed at the endless resources on legs.
"Is this heaven?"
"A Zombie Tide? This is providence—Heaven helping US!"
He spun and roared at General Randy, who was quivering just as hard.
"Randy—move! Rally every unit we can scrape together!"
"Round them all up!"
"Good."
General Randy slammed the command console, eyes blazing with unprecedented fervor.
What they feared most wasn't the number of zombies.
What they feared most was how scattered the zombies were—forcing them to hunt and capture bit by bit.
Now, this terrifying wave of undead triggered by the Sonic Wave…
looked to them like a feast delivered right to their mouths.
Steve immediately addressed the crowd.
"Engineering Corps, right now, using the Sonic Wave's maximum spread as your radius…"
"…build me an obsidian perimeter wall. Keep every attracted zombie outside—not a single one gets through."
"At the same time, hold that Sonic Wave center at all costs. Protect it so it keeps drawing in more undead for us."
"Soul Link Center, activate every standby pod. Notify the rear: pull every training batch of reserve troops—link them up and send them straight into battle."
"And start building more centers in the real world—immediately."
Orders issued.
The entire war machine of the US mobilized at a terrifying, unprecedented efficiency.
Several field armies that had been rotating through training…
…were rushed to the Soul Link Center the instant the supreme command arrived.
One hundred thousand!
Two hundred thousand!
Until a full three hundred thousand fully-armed american soldiers…
lay in the pods, transforming into a steel torrent capable of crushing anything.
They surged into that Other World now hosting an apocalyptic carnival.
And this was only the beginning.
Behind them, still more american troops streamed in from every corner of the motherland.
Converging on the Fortress…
Washington, White House.
President Kennedy had just finished reviewing a file on northwestern economic development and was about to stretch his legs.
Suddenly…the red phone symbolizing top-priority emergencies rang out—shrill and jarring.
At the same moment, a flashing warning popped up on his encrypted terminal.
[Sender: Fortress]
[Priority: SSS-Level (Supreme War Mobilization)]
[Content: Request military personnel and war materiel nationwide.]
President Kennedy's gaze sharpened the instant he saw the SSS-Level tag.
In those eyes that had weathered countless storms—usually calm as still water—a rare flicker of surprise appeared.
What major event had happened at Fortress…
…to warrant the country's highest war-mobilization order?
Previously classified merely SSS, now an outright SSS-Level requisition.
Yet he didn't hesitate for a second.
He placed three-hundred-percent trust in Steve—and in that divine cornerstone for all of America's future.
"Anthony."
He calmly pressed the internal call button on his desk.
Outside, a brisk young aide pushed the door open at once.
"Chief."
"Go ask Fortress what exactly is happening."
President Kennedy's tone was level.
"Also, pass the word: since Fortress has issued an SSS-Level requisition—meet every demand. Full cooperation."
"Yes, sir!"… Orders spread to every corner of the country in seconds.
Top commanders of every major military region received—simultaneously…
…the supreme directive that made their hearts skip a beat.
"What? Fortress issued an SSS-Level requisition?"
"They need even more men and supplies?"
"Have we officially gone to war with another country?"
Countless speculations flashed through the minds of generals still unaware of Fortress's true purpose.
They'd assumed the first few hundred thousand elite troops sent earlier…
…would be enough for any contingency.
Who could have guessed an even larger, more terrifying mobilization would follow so soon?
But soldiers live to obey orders.
No one voiced a doubt.
No one hesitated for a moment.
The instant the command arrived, America's vast national machine…
…the slumbering Eagle—fully awoke.
Lights blazed on in barracks across the land.
Train after train packed with hot-blooded warriors roared from every direction toward Fortress.
Giant underground arsenals saw their sealed gates flung wide.
Crates of bullets, tons of explosives, rows of missiles—massive stocks of war materiel—were loaded nonstop onto heavy trucks.
They merged into steel convoys racing toward Fortress.
All night long, America quietly entered its highest state of readiness.
Ordinary citizens, still celebrating the latest electricity-price cut, knew nothing of it.
Yet within the state apparatus, a force capable of shaking the world was assembling at breakneck speed… World Zeta.
The Sonic Wave feast raged on.
Across the vast plain about to be submerged by the tide of undead…
…a grand project had already begun.
Shadow-Blade Engineering Corps had piled massive amounts of obsidian…
…transported from Overworld, just outside the Sonic Wave's maximum range.
"Raise the wall!"
At the command…
…tens of thousands of Endermen hugged heavy blocks of obsidian…
…and began madly "printing" the wall at lightning speed.
Countless purple figures flickered between ground and sky.
Black ramparts hundreds of meters tall and massively thick shot upward, visibly stretching outward on both flanks.
Meanwhile, the newly linked three hundred thousand american soldiers appeared inside the Outpost Base.
The avatars they controlled were, for the most part…
…Endermen—the fastest, best choice for large-scale construction jobs.
With many zombies near the sonic center already cleared, only stragglers answered the call.
The main horde was still some distance away…
…giving the troops ample prep time.
"Hurry—get all the TNT out!"
Steve's voice sounded in everyone's mind.
"Outside the obsidian wall, blast a deep isolation trench to split ordinary zombies from special mutants."
Steve figured these mindless common zombies couldn't even find a path—a deep pit would be more than enough to trap them. Separating the specials would make targeted cleanup easier.
"Yes."
Three hundred thousand Enderman warriors, without the slightest pause, the instant the order reached them, sped toward the front line.
Behind them followed a dedicated logistics brigade of five thousand Endermen.
They had only one task.
To cradle shulker boxes stuffed full of TNT.
Keeping tight behind the main force, they would provide an endless stream of fire-support powerful enough to flatten everything in its path.
Soon the army of three hundred thousand arrived behind the obsidian wall that was still madly extending.
Without stopping they crossed the wall and reached the planned construction site—forty kilometres short of the Sonic Wave's edge.
The air rippled with dense purple rings.
Five thousand supply Endermen materialised silently across the vast plain.
They bent down and placed the purple shulker boxes they carried in perfect unison upon the ground.
In an instant.
Five thousand Overworld-style purple blocks formed a continuous violet line across the earth.
Task complete, the Endermen did not linger; their figures flashed and vanished without a trace, returning to Overworld for the next supply run.
The moment they left.
The three-hundred-thousand-strong main force that had already reached the front sprang into action.
Silently they moved to the purple shulker boxes.
At their command the tightly shut boxes gave a soft click, their lids rotating open like petals.
Inside lay TNT crammed to the brim.
Every shulker box held a full 27 stacks—1,728 blocks of TNT!
Five thousand boxes meant… 8.64 million TNT.
And this was only the first batch.
"Originally we wanted the Engineering Department to build heavy bombers and carpet-bomb the zone the way we did the Vacant Sector."
Inside the Command Center, Steve watched the impending display of violent aesthetics and shook his head with a wry smile.
"But now those bombers' pitiful speed looks like a Stone-Age toy compared with our teleporting human bomb-droppers."
On the battlefield.
Three hundred thousand Endermen began frantically pulling endless TNT from the shulker boxes.
"GO!GO!GO!."
At the command.
Half of them—fully one hundred and fifty thousand—hoisted TNT blocks and, with a flash, became a sky-filling purple mist.
The next moment.
On the broad plain forty kilometres beyond the obsidian wall.
They appeared simultaneously along a huge pre-planned circular track.
They set the TNT on the ground, drew Flint and steel from their inventories.
"Click!"
With a crisp sound, a hundred and fifty thousand TNT blocks were ignited at once.
Without a backward glance the fifteen thousand Endermen flashed back to safety.
Immediately.
BOOM!!
No words can describe the spectacle of that moment.
A hundred and fifty thousand TNT detonated simultaneously.
A fire-ring dozens of kilometres long leapt skyward across the plain.
A terrifying shock-wave swept madly in every direction.
When the blinding light and rolling smoke finally cleared.
A scorched circle several metres deep and wide had been branded into the soil of Other World.
The first blast had merely carved a foundation trench.
What followed was a truly mountain-moving, sea-filling work of the gods.
"Second wave—deploy."
At the order the remaining one-hundred-fifty-thousand standby Endermen sprang into motion.
Carrying fresh TNT blocks, they teleported into the newly blasted ring-shaped pit.
They packed the TNT tight at the bottom, lit the fuses, and teleported away again.
And so.
Two groups—three hundred thousand Endermen in all—worked like twin never-tiring machines, beginning a frantic cycle.
Deploy! Light! Teleport!
BOOM!
Explode!
Deploy again! Light again! Teleport again!
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
Heavier, deeper blasts pounded the ring-shaped trench over and over.
The world seemed left with nothing but that single monotonous roar.
Under this utterly cost-be-damned bombardment the trench raced toward the planet's core at terrifying speed.
Ten metres!
Thirty metres!
Fifty metres!
A hundred metres!
When the final flashes of TNT died away.
Everyone was stunned by the sight before them.
Across the plain now yawned a bottomless chasm tens of metres wide and a hundred kilometres long.
It split the earth cleanly in two.
Sheer walls of rock showed distinct fault lines, scorched black throughout.
This was the US' first moat against the coming tide of corpses… The instant this Abyss-Wall was finished.
Wumm!
The mysterious source at the centre emitted a third pulse without warning.
An invisible wave swept past once more.
This time it harmed not a single unit on America's side.
Meanwhile, behind the obsidian line a far larger war host was assembling.
Rumble… rumble… the earth shook.
Out of the portal rolled hundreds upon hundreds of the latest main battle tanks—refitted with nuclear power.
Their thick composite armour gleamed beneath the sky.
Ten-metre-long, vicious main-gun barrels lifted toward the multiverse, radiating killing intent powerful enough to crush anything.
Behind them came thousands of Infantry Fighting Vehicles likewise driven by nuclear engines.
And hundreds of mobile fortresses—rocket artillery whose hulls bristled with dense Launcher Nests.
Freed of human limitations, most modern war machines can be outrageously upgraded into bespoke slaughter-tools for Overworld creatures.
A ground torrent of steel and ruin—enough to erase a medium-sized country from the map—kept gathering.
Above their heads.
Blotting out the sky.
Over three thousand up-gunned Armed Helicopters and tens of thousands of colossal golems used as aerial aircraft carriers swarmed like storm clouds, sealing the multiverse.
Beneath their wings and between their tentacles, they carried a dense array of bombs—Thermobaric Bombs and cluster incendiaries—enough to plow the land below dozens of times over.
An unprecedented, absolute sense of oppression from a mighty industrial civilization enveloped the battlefield of this Other World.
Real world, outside Fortress.
A steel dragon of military heavy trucks glided to a silent halt outside the heavily fortified secret entrance.
The doors opened without a sound.
Tens of thousands of american soldiers in varied camouflage combat uniforms, faces etched with a resolve far beyond their years, stepped out.
In perfect unison they leapt down, swiftly forming square after square on the open ground.
They hailed from every corner of the country, belonging to different military regions, different ace units.
Yet now, the same light glinted in their eyes—absolute obedience, and a trace of bewilderment at the unknown.
"Reporting! 32nd Mountain Combined-Arms Brigade, Northern Theater—entire brigade arrived, awaiting orders!"
A Brigade Commander bearing the rank of Senior Colonel, his face weather-worn, strode to the base sentry, snapped a crisp salute, and barked in a thunderous voice.
"Follow me."
The guide guard offered no superfluous words; turning, he led the elite troops through the gate into the unknown.
After passing layer upon layer of dazzling security and decontamination checks...
When they finally reached the vast subterranean Central Assembly Plaza...
Even these veterans of great spectacles were deeply shaken by the sight before them.
Across the immense plaza, Friends from every major theater command already stood in tight, endless ranks.
Marines of the Eastern Theater, Jungle Commandos of the Southern Theater, Snow Lions of the Western Theater—an ocean of men, badges flashing.
A rough count put the first wave of american soldiers gathered here at well over a hundred thousand.
At the forefront, upon a raised platform, stood General Randy—his figure as immovable as a mountain.
Looking at the young, resolute faces below, he could not help but feel a surge of emotion.
Thank multiverse they had reserved enough space when designing Fortress.
Otherwise the hundreds of thousands still pouring in would have had nowhere to stand.
Even so, the Soul Link Center deeper inside was undergoing frantic expansion.
Row after row of standardized Connection Pods snapped together like building blocks at breakneck speed.
One bed after another, fitted with basic life-support and Medical Monitors, was rapidly brought online.
"Friends."
General Randy's voice rang clearly in every ear through the loudspeakers.
"Welcome to Fortress."
"The first thing you must know: from the instant you crossed our gate, none of you may leave again—unless America rises supreme."
A stifled ripple of shock surged through the hundred-thousand-strong formation below.
"The second thing may shatter every conviction you've held for decades."
General Randy's gaze turned razor-sharp.
"We need you to enter a brand-new, alien Other World."
"To fight, to carve out a future for America and an everlasting foundation for our civilization."
Other World?
The two words detonated like a blockbuster in the hearts of the soldiers.
Shock, horror, disbelief—countless emotions mingled on their faces.
"Of course."
General Randy's tone shifted.
"Before you enter the battlefield, we will use cutting-edge tech to enhance you in the shortest possible time and teach you entirely new combat capabilities."
"But understand this: for now, you are not the main force."
"The true tip of the spear consists of men already skilled in Other-World warfare."
"Your task is to cooperate with them unconditionally in vital, specialized tactical operations."
Silence gripped the plaza as his words ended.
Yet within seconds, shock was replaced by something fiercer—the innate ferocity of soldiers.
So what if it's Other World?
So what if the enemy is unknown?
So long as it is for the country and the people...
Even mountains of blades and seas of fire hold no terror.
"Understood!"
Hundreds of thousands roared in unison, shaking the multiverse, then followed guides in batches toward the newly built Soul Link Center.
Along the way, sights greeted them that stunned them even further.
Gigantic transport vehicles rumbled endlessly out of deeper tunnels.
Aboard them: hundreds of fully automated, sci-fi-looking Close-In Weapon Systems.
And monstrous, fortress-like war machines whose like they had never seen.
Everything moved with extreme efficiency.
And every last item was bound for the same destination—the huge, vortex-like Portal glowing mysteriously at the plaza's center.
When the first transporter, loaded with dozens of close-in guns, slowly rolled into the purple light...
and vanished without a trace before every eye, every passing soldier instinctively held his breath.
Their faces darkened slightly.
Though they feared no sacrifice, this terrifying, no-holds-barred mobilization—and the super-weapons that even they found chilling—told them the foe they would face surpassed anything they could imagine.
This was a battle that brooked no failure, a war for the very fate of their civilization.
A solemn yet heroic fire ignited in every heart... The newly arrived hundreds of thousands of american soldiers, hearts shaking, lay themselves one by one into the Hibernation Pods.
Under Steve's personal guidance, their souls were drawn forth and injected into the Overworld Bio shells long since prepared.
Then this mighty new force of Overworld Bio surged through the Portal and poured into the World Zeta.