John entered the briefing room inside his command center, his expression hard and focused after the chaos of the evacuation. Waiting for him was Dr. Emily Carter, the chief of the research division, standing by the display screen with a series of documents in hand.
"Dr. Carter," John greeted her, nodding as he took his seat.
"Commander," she replied, her face showing the strain of recent events. The weight of the situation settled over the room as she began detailing her findings.
"Based on our research," Dr. Carter started, pulling up an image on the screen, "the Terragnath was once an ordinary centipede. But exposure to the pathogen has caused severe mutations, pushing it into its current monstrous form."
She paused, letting the implications sink in. "This pathogen doesn't just infect; it rewrites the biology of its host, enhancing certain traits and creating aggressive behaviors. The fact that it could mutate something as small as a centipede into this… monstrosity… means it has the potential to affect various other organisms."
John's jaw tightened, realizing just how much the situation had escalated. The pathogen was not only deadly but transformative, and any living organism in its path could potentially become something equally horrific.
"So, these hordes of creatures we've encountered—are they all affected by this same pathogen? Are they undergoing the same kind of transformation as the Terragnath?" John asked.
Dr. Carter nodded solemnly. "Yes, Commander. Based on our studies, the pathogen isn't selective. It seems to thrive in any biological host, altering their structure and behavior drastically.
We believe it's this mutation process that's responsible for the hostile hordes we've encountered. Once infected, their bodies and instincts are reprogrammed for aggression and survival."
John's gaze turned steely. "And what about the infected civilians and soldiers? Will they experience the same fate?"
Dr. Carter nodded again, a grim expression crossing her face. She pulled up a series of images and videos on the display screen, each one showing stages of infection observed among those quarantined. Distorted features, discolored skin, and bulging veins marked the subjects, their eyes unfocused yet filled with a primal rage.
The images shifted to footage of infected individuals in containment, showing their transformation progressing at an alarming rate. Their movements were jerky, almost animalistic, as though they were losing their humanity with every second.
"Unfortunately, our findings indicate that humans aren't immune to the mutation," Dr. Carter continued. "Once the infection takes hold, it spreads rapidly, eventually leading to the same kind of monstrous transformation. We're observing aggressive, instinct-driven behavior in the advanced cases. The infected individuals are… well, they're becoming something else entirely."
A heavy silence filled the room as John absorbed the gravity of her words. The implications of this outbreak were beyond anything he'd anticipated.
"Is it possible for infected humans to be as large as this monsters? If yes, how long will it take." John asked Dr. Carter, clearly afraid of the notion that infected humans might mutate into larger creatures overnight.
John felt a wave of relief as Dr. Carter explained, "Fortunately, Commander, even with the pathogen accelerating mutations, it would take several decades—maybe even longer—before infected humans could grow to the size of something like a vehicle. Human biology, while susceptible to mutation, still has its limits on growth."
He nodded, absorbing her words. "So we won't see these people turning into Terragnath-sized creatures anytime soon?"
"Exactly," Dr. Carter confirmed. "While the pathogen drives rapid mutation, humans are less predisposed to that scale of physical transformation. The mutations will be dangerous, but it'll be a much slower progression in terms of size."
With that reassurance, John's focus sharpened. "Alright, then. At least we have a window to work with. I need you and your team to prioritize containment and prevention. We need to keep this from escalating into something even worse."
Dr. Carter met his gaze with a steady nod. "We're on it, Commander. We'll do everything we can."
...
John leaned back heavily, rubbing his temples as he tried to process everything. The weight of responsibility pressed down on him, and the room felt stiflingly quiet. Ever since he'd first arrived in this world, he'd assumed his powers and resources would make things straightforward—like managing units in an RTS game or gathering resources in an RPG. But every day, the stark contrast between a game's predictable mechanics and the harsh, unpredictable reality gnawed at him.
The infected, the monstrous terragnath, the overwhelming numbers of civilians and soldiers all depending on him… none of it was as simple as he'd imagined. He could summon reinforcements, create structures, and strategize endlessly, but dealing with fear, loss, and morale—those were variables that no game could simulate.
Letting out a long sigh, he muttered to himself, "This was supposed to be easy…" But deep down, he knew it never would be.
John called up the system interface, watching as the familiar holographic display flickered to life in front of him. His points balance was astronomical—thanks to the constant flow of daily actions and tasks from his forces, he has a total of 25 million points. But as he scanned through the numbers, the sheer quantity felt hollow. With threats mounting, points alone weren't enough to keep everyone safe.
He needed strategic upgrades, better defenses, and specialized units to deal with the evolving threats. His mind raced through the possibilities: fortifications, advanced research facilities, maybe even deploying specialized strike teams to hit the horde at its source.
For a moment, he marveled at the vast pool of resources at his disposal, yet even with all these points, he realized the complexity of survival in this world demanded more than just brute force.
Taking a deep breath, John began allocating resources, hoping he'd have enough to turn the tide.
John swiftly summoned a new batch of prefabricated houses, watching as the structures materialized in an instant. With the sudden influx of civilians from Crestfall, Havenbrook needed to expand rapidly to accommodate everyone.
He tapped into the system to ensure the houses were equipped with basic amenities—enough for the civilians to live comfortably as they adjusted to their new circumstances.
After confirming the summoning, he quickly radioed the Combat Support Brigade, instructing them to mobilize and begin construction of new batch of prefabricated houses as soon as possible.
He emphasized the urgency of the situation, knowing that the sooner they could provide proper housing, the better it would be for the civilians' morale and well-being.
Next, John focused on supplies. He refreshed all supply depots using his accumulated points, ensuring that food, medical supplies, and other essentials were readily available for the growing population.
...
With housing and supplies set in motion for the influx of civilians, John redirected his attention to the soldiers from FOB Crestfall. They had proven their resilience and adaptability, and he saw in them the potential for a more offensive role.
The Combat Defense Brigade was already handling Fort Sentinel's fortifications, allowing him to repurpose Crestfall's troops into Company A, reassigning them as specialized assault teams.
John's plan was clear: strike at the source. Drone surveillance suggested the densest clusters of these hordes were around 200 kilometers south of Fort Sentinel.
If they could dismantle those hotspots, it would give them a significant reprieve from attacks, making it safer for civilians and ensuring their perimeter remained secure.
Yet, he knew the importance of balance—pushing too far would overstretch his lines, leaving gaps in their defense that a creature like the Terragnath could exploit.
To this end, John ordered Company A to launch precise, targeted strikes, systematically eradicating clusters of mutated threats within the 200-kilometer radius. His air force would play a crucial role, coordinating with ground forces to ensure maximum impact.
Apaches and AC-130 Gunships would provide close air support, while F-35s would provide precision strikes.
Blackhawks and V-22 Ospreys would handle rapid deployment and extraction, giving Company A the mobility and flexibility to strike fast and hard, then retreat before the enemy could counter.
With these well-coordinated offensives, John knew they could gradually chip away at the hordes, reducing the threat without endangering the fort's defenses. The campaign would be methodical, each strike designed to inflict maximum damage with minimal risk.
Yet he trusted his teams—both on the ground and in the air—were well-prepared for the task, ready to bring all the strength and precision they could muster. This wasn't a battle to win in a day, but each successful strike would bring them closer to securing their stronghold, step by careful step.
...
The following morning, Company A assembled in the staging area, fully geared and ready for their mission. John had spent the early hours fine-tuning every aspect of the operation. He had settled on a name that captured both the urgency and the careful strategy behind it: "Operation Scorch Veil."
Standing before his troops, John gave a nod of approval, his gaze sweeping over each soldier's face. Determination radiated from them; they were all acutely aware of the challenge ahead. Weapons were primed, gear checked, and minds steeled. They knew that today would demand nothing less than precision and unwavering grit.
With a nod from John, Captain Daniel Carter stepped forward and addressed the company over the comms.
"Company A," he began, his voice steady and resolute. "Today marks the start of Operation Scorch Veil. Our objective is clear: we're striking into hostile territory, dismantling every nest and eliminating every threat we find. This is about securing our future, keeping Fort Sentinel safe, and making sure these monsters don't get another foothold."
He paused, letting the words sink in, his gaze meeting those of his soldiers. "Remember, we're not just here to fight; we're here to protect everything and everyone back home. Stay sharp, cover your squad, and trust in the training that got you here. Let's make every shot count."
With a final salute, he raised his fist and gave the signal. Company A mobilized, advancing with calculated purpose into the hostile terrain, ready to confront the dangers lurking ahead.
...
Company A advanced into the dense forest with their convoy, engines rumbling low but steady towards the south.
At the very front, five enormous Caterpillar D9 bulldozers tore through the trees, their powerful blades pushing aside massive trunks and clearing a path wide enough for the armored vehicles that followed.
Behind them, two M2 Bradleys rolled slowly, their crews vigilant, scanning the dense undergrowth for any movement.
Just a short distance back, two M1A2 Abrams rumbled along in formation, their heavy turrets sweeping in slow, controlled arcs, ready to respond to any threat with sheer force. The forest felt eerily quiet, the roar of engines the only sound cutting through the silence, and everyone knew that could change in an instant.
In the center of the convoy, thirty M2 Bradleys moved in staggered lines, the infantry inside readying their weapons, mentally preparing for deployment at a moment's notice. Interspersed among the Bradleys, three M1128 MGS Strykers moved in unison, offering additional firepower with their 105mm guns.
Protected within this core were three HEMTTs and five M1083 Cargo Trucks, loaded with supplies, ammunition, and medical equipment.
At the rear of the formation, the final three M1A2 Abrams and two M1128 Strykers held a defensive line, scanning the area behind the convoy to ensure that no ambushes or surprises would go unnoticed.
As they moved, the sound of the D9s crushing through trees and brush echoed around them, and soldiers exchanged tense glances, the weight of the operation palpable in the air. Every few hundred meters, the convoy halted briefly as the bulldozers cleared more dense sections, then resumed forward progress.
The radio crackled to life. "All units, stay alert. The area may seem quiet, but let's not underestimate what's out there," came the firm voice of Captain Daniel Carter.
With a steady pace, the convoy pressed onward, carving a determined path into the heart of the forest.
The dense forest loomed around Company A as they forged their path southward. Suddenly, from the shadows of the trees, there came a low, guttural growl that echoed through the convoy, making everyone pause. The soldiers tensed, gripping their weapons as their eyes darted from one shadow to another.
"Contact!" a voice crackled over the radio, breaking the tense silence. Without warning, grotesque figures burst from the undergrowth—mutated, twisted creatures with elongated limbs and twisted, razor-sharp claws. Their eyes glinted with an unnatural, hostile gleam as they charged toward the convoy, their growls rising in a chilling crescendo.
The front D9s plowed forward, but the creatures were fast, darting around the massive bulldozers and moving toward the heart of the formation. An M2 Bradley in the front line unleashed a torrent of machine gun fire, its rounds tearing into the creatures. Some went down, but others kept coming, undeterred by the barrage of bullets.
Captain Daniel Carter's voice boomed through the comms, "All units, engage at will! Protect the convoy!"
The Abrams tanks roared to life, their massive turrets swiveling toward the oncoming wave. With a deafening blast, one of the Abrams fired, the shell impacting a large creature and sending it sprawling back, its body shattered by the sheer force of the hit. The explosion lit up the forest, momentarily illuminating the terrifying shapes of more creatures lurking just beyond the treeline.
"Left flank! Multiple contacts!" shouted one of the scouts, and a group of M2 Bradleys pivoted, their autocannons opening up on the wave of creatures swarming from that direction. The ground was soon littered with twisted bodies, but for every creature felled, two more seemed to take its place.
The Strykers joined the fray, their 105mm guns firing controlled shots that obliterated groups of smaller creatures as they charged. Meanwhile, infantry deployed from the Bradleys and fanned out around the convoy, setting up a defensive perimeter to keep the monsters at bay.
Amid the chaos, one of the HEMTTs carrying medical supplies came under attack as a particularly large creature leapt from the trees, landing with a crash on its roof. Soldiers scrambled, aiming upward as they fired at the beast, rounds pinging off its armored hide until a sharpshooter in a Bradley scored a direct hit, sending the creature tumbling to the ground.
Despite the relentless attack, the convoy pushed forward, the D9s continuing to clear the path as soldiers held the creatures at bay. 5 Apache helicopters that took the first shift in protecting the convoy provided air support, cutting through the treetops and unloading heavy gun fire, which sprayed the creatures from above.
After what felt like hours of fighting, the forest grew quiet once more, the last of the creatures retreating back into the darkness. The soldiers held their breath, scanning the treeline, fingers still on triggers, ready for the next wave.
Captain Carter's voice broke the silence. "All units, status report."
Gradually, reports of minor injuries but no serious casualties filtered through the comms. With a collective exhale, the soldiers returned to their positions.
The journey south was relentless. Every few kilometers, new waves of mutated creatures would emerge from the dense undergrowth or lunge from hidden burrows, drawn to the vibrations of the convoy's heavy machinery. Yet, with each encounter, Company A responded with precision and overwhelming firepower.
The D9 bulldozers plowed through the forest, clearing paths as the Abrams tanks and Bradleys moved in a coordinated formation, scanning the treeline for movement. Whenever a creature charged, the convoy's guns erupted in unison.
Strykers fired 105mm shells, and the Bradleys unleashed autocannon rounds that tore into anything that dared to approach. The firepower was intense, holding the creatures at bay while the convoy steadily advanced.
High above, Drones maintained overwatch, sweeping the forest with powerful spotlights during dusk, which highlighted the creatures' positions, making them easier targets.
The Blackhawks would swooped in periodically, unloading fresh supplies and ammunition for the troops below. Soldiers took only brief moments to rest and resupply as the Blackhawks hovered, the downwash kicking up dust and leaves.
Each time they stopped to regroup, medics from the convoy's HEMTT trucks checked for injuries, patching up anyone wounded in the skirmishes. Engineers inspected the vehicles, ensuring the machines were fit to press forward and handling minor repairs on-site.
The attacks, though brutal, became almost routine as Company A continued to grind southward.
With each successful engagement, the creatures' numbers thinned, and the once-relentless assaults began to lose their intensity.
The convoy's disciplined firepower, teamwork, and steady stream of supplies ensured they remained on course. And as they advanced deeper into hostile territory, Company A remained focused, determined to secure the region—one battle at a time.
After eight grueling hours of travel, Company A had managed to carve out only 15 kilometers through the dense forest. It was slow, painstaking work—the Caterpillar D9 bulldozers led the way, grinding and pushing through the heavy vegetation to forge a path wide enough for the convoy. The journey had been relentless, marked by frequent skirmishes with the strange, mutated creatures that seemed to emerge from the shadows with each passing mile.
As night fell, the convoy came to a halt. Despite the power of their vehicles and the might of their weaponry, the soldiers were exhausted, each one understanding that they'd only made a small dent in their journey. It was clear they'd have to dig in for the night.
The D9 bulldozers parked in a line, forming part of a makeshift barrier at the camp's edge, while Abrams tanks and Bradleys took up strategic positions around the perimeter. Engineers unloaded portable floodlights from the M1083 cargo trucks, illuminating the immediate area while keeping the outer zone shrouded in shadows to avoid drawing unnecessary attention.
The soldiers organized into watch rotations, with some taking their positions in turrets on the Bradleys and Abrams, rifles at the ready. Specialist teams set up motion detectors and thermal imaging devices at key points around the camp, creating a web of early-warning systems for anything that might come too close.
Inside the perimeter, soldiers sat by their vehicles, sharing field rations and quietly discussing the day's encounters. Medics tended to minor injuries sustained during the day's confrontations, and maintenance crews checked each vehicle, ensuring they'd be ready for whatever lay ahead. Although fatigue was setting in, they knew the importance of keeping their equipment and bodies in top shape.
In the quieter corners of the camp, soldiers unrolled sleeping bags or leaned back against their vehicles, seizing a few hours of rest. Yet even here, sleep was shallow and fitful—any noise from the surrounding forest could be the start of another attack.
As midnight approached, the camp fell into a tense quiet, interrupted only by the hum of thermal devices and the occasional murmur over the comms. Company A's defenses were as solid as they could be, but every soldier knew that in the vast, dark forest, vigilance would be their best shield. They'd secured 15 kilometers, but there were still many unknowns lurking in the darkness, waiting for dawn to come.