Chapter 8: Summoning Combat Squads
stared at the numbers on the system panel, his fingers tapping lightly on the desktop.
Outside the window, the sky was darkening, the last shred of sunset swallowed by thick smoke rising from distant high-rises.
The roar of the diesel generator rumbled through the walls. Under the incandescent light, the whole building stood out harshly, like a white dot thrown onto black paper.
He had been sitting in the sixth-floor office for twenty minutes, repeatedly weighing how to allocate the .
Summon two combat squads—nine men each, five points per soldier—costing ninety points in total.
After deducting that, he would have just over twenty-seven left, enough to summon five more individual soldiers.
Adding the original four, that made three groups, forming the skeleton of a full platoon.
He ran the numbers through his head again. No issues. He spoke up:
"System. Summon two combat squads and supplement with five mobilized soldiers."
[Command confirmed. Current : 117.6. Summoning two combat squad organizations costs 90 points. Summoning five regular mobilized soldiers costs 25 points. Total: 115 points. Remaining: 2.6 points. Proceed?]
"Proceed."
[Summoning… Generated via concealed summoning mechanism. Targets are converging on the base from nearby concealed locations. Estimated arrival time: within fifteen minutes.]
[Three full combat squads detected. Platoon-level organization unlock progress: 127.6/140 points.]
stood up and walked to the window.
The nearby streets were empty and desolate, with only a few zombie corpses lying on the roadside.
But he knew that in those dark alleys and abandoned houses, soldiers in camouflage combat uniforms were silently converging toward him.
The first combat group arrived at the building entrance after ten minutes.
Then the second, the third… In less than fifteen minutes, all the mobilized soldiers had arrived.
In the square in front of the building, three rows of soldiers had already formed. Standard combat uniforms, rifles, uniform stances. The twenty-three new arrivals stood together with the previous four, and it was almost impossible to tell who was new.
walked down the stairs. His combat boots landed on the concrete steps, each step heavy and resounding.
Everyone snapped to attention, their eyes following him.
"Count off!" ’s voice rang out from the front of the formation.
"One, two, three…" Twenty-seven crisp, short replies.
stopped in front of the formation.
The system had automatically assigned the two new squad leaders: and , both originally from a certain group army’s reconnaissance company—veteran non-commissioned officers.
He swept his gaze across two unfamiliar faces in the formation but said nothing more.
"Tomorrow, we take the . There’s enough weapons and ammunition there to arm an entire company—military trucks, body armor, communication equipment. Once we secure it, our ammunition problem is solved."
He paused, his voice dropping half a level:
"Rest up today. We move out at 0700 tomorrow."
"Yes, sir!"
stood at the building entrance, clutching a notebook, her whole body frozen in place.
She stared at the formation in the square, her mouth slightly open, glasses sliding down to the tip of her nose.
ran up from the basement, a wrench still in his hand.
He saw the first row first, paused, then saw the second and third rows. The wrench clattered to the floor.
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, nothing came out.
Twenty-seven fully armed men standing in front of you—the visual impact was something else.
" ."
She jolted, quickly pushed her glasses up, and ran over.
The twenty-seven soldiers stood ramrod straight in three rows, their shoulder lines aligned as if drawn with a chalk line. Rifle butts rested in shoulder pockets, muzzles uniformly pointed forty-five degrees downward, fingers placed just outside the trigger guards with perfect precision.
Wind swept dust from the street through the formation. No one moved. Only the hems of their camouflage uniforms lifted slightly with the breeze.
’s fingertips trembled.
For the past two days, she had been in the building inventorying supplies. Privately, she had done the math: four people holding a building—they couldn’t hold out against a large-scale zombie horde.
She had guessed that reinforcements might come. By her most optimistic estimate, maybe a squad of a dozen men would arrive, at most.
But before her were three full squads.
She recalled the feeling of gripping that rusty pair of scissors in the night when she heard the distant roars.
Now, looking at the gleaming rifles and neatly arranged ballistic helmets in the formation, something indescribable surged up from the soles of her feet, lodging in her throat.
"Chief… ," she swallowed, her pen pausing on the notebook for a moment. "I’ll go arrange the accommodations and supply allocation for these comrades right now."
nodded:
" , calculate rations at 0.8 kilograms per person per day for now. Prioritize drinking water. Ammunition gets its own record book. Each squad is to assign an armorer. Report consumption every night at 2000 hours. Clear out the third, fourth, and fifth floors’ offices for temporary barracks. Use the batch of bedding from the flood prevention reserve."
"Understood. I’ll take care of it immediately." nodded vigorously. When she turned, her steps were still a bit unsteady.
When she reached the stairwell, she looked back once more. The three squad leaders were issuing separate orders. The soldiers dispersed—some checked the perimeter defenses, others bent over to move barricades. Their movements were crisp, without a single wasted motion.
She entered the stairwell, leaned against the wall for two seconds, and hugged her notebook a little tighter.
The elevator had long since been out of service. She began climbing floor by floor, her steps noticeably faster than yesterday.