A man stepped out from beside the gaming desk, tall and upright, his red uniform crisp and unwrinkled. The smell of new fabric and gun oil followed him as though he had just left a military production line.
His eyes were clear, and his posture remained straight. A bronze badge gleamed on his shoulder, displaying the same rank as Hans: Private. An MP5 submachine gun rested across his chest.
The soldier looked at Hans and saluted.
"Conscript Adam Orlov, reporting to the Commander."
He kept his voice low, aware that anything louder might draw unwanted attention.
That made Hans pause. The RTS System might have given the unit information before sending him into the physical world.
"At ease, Adam." Hans gestured for him to lower his hand. "Do you know who I am?"
"Yes, sir. You are Commander Hans Flemmens. My orders are to follow your command and protect you."
Hans nodded. "And our current situation?"
"You are gathering valuables to convert into Gold. I was also informed that this world has entered an apocalypse."
"Not bad." Hans smirked. Newly trained units already knew enough about his situation; he wouldn't have to explain everything whenever another one appeared.
He looked over Adam's equipment and found a large knapsack, a canteen that could probably hold a liter of water, and a sleeping bag.
"What do you consume for food?"
"Each Conscript receives a one-day field ration, sir. It refreshes every eight hours, along with our water. The food contains enough nutrients to sustain us."
Hans sighed in relief. Soldiers would consume plenty of food, and he had been worried about feeding every unit he trained. With their own supplies, he only needed to secure food for himself.
Of course, if he eventually established a self-sufficient base that produced food and water, he could let his soldiers eat something better once in a while.
After checking the rest of Adam's equipment, Hans focused on him and opened the unit interface.
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[ Name: Adam Orlov ]
[ Unit: Conscript ]
[ Tier: 0 ]
[ Star Promotion: 0 / 300 ]
[ Primary Weapon: MP5 Submachine Gun ]
[ Ammunition: 9mm | 30 rounds per magazine | 2 magazines | Refreshes every 24 hours ]
[ Secondary Weapon: None ]
[ Melee Weapon: Combat Knife | 15 cm steel-alloy blade | Indestructible ]
[ Grenades: None ]
[ Personal Kit: One-day field ration | 1-liter canteen | Basic sleeping gear | Standard soldier uniform ]
[ Supply Refresh: Field ration and canteen refresh every 8 hours. ]
[ Remarks: Average aim and close-quarter combat skills. Strength increases when grouped with other Conscripts. ]
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Hans studied the man. Adam breathed, blinked, and shifted his weight like any soldier Hans had seen in videos.
This person was real, both in flesh and blood.
"System, are these units real people?"
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[ Trained units are real people derived from living or deceased humans native to Aurelia. ]
[ They can think independently, act autonomously, and remain permanently loyal to the Commander. ]
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Hans squinted. "Isn't that too convenient?"
"Can anyone else use their weapons?" He didn't want someone taking a weapon from him or one of his soldiers.
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[ Each unit's weapons are bound to that unit. ]
[ They will not jam, rust, or misfire. In the hands of another person, they become unusable scrap. ]
[ Upon the unit's death, the body and all assigned equipment will disappear. ]
------
Hans breathed a sigh of relief. One of his largest worries had been resolved.
"That makes things much simpler." He looked at Adam again. Even if Adam was only a Conscript, having a companion in these dark times already felt better than being alone.
"How much sleep do you need, Adam?"
"Four hours is enough, sir. My sleeping gear will do."
"Good, because I need to sleep." Hans yawned as the exhaustion finally caught up with him. "Stand guard tonight. Wake me if anything approaches the room."
"Understood, sir."
Hans left Adam on guard and entered the bedroom, sinking into the soft mattress.
Now that the tension had receded and he had achieved his first goal, exhaustion claimed him. His body felt heavy, and his thoughts began to drift.
He thought of his parents in his hometown, wondering whether they were still alive.
Mom and Dad should be safe. The house is far from crowded places. But Alexa and John...
His younger sister, Alexa, was still in college. Since the meteor shower had come during the afternoon, she might have been inside a classroom with countless people around her.
His younger brother, John, was in a similar situation at his high school. Knowing how adventurous the kid was, Hans could only hope he had remained somewhere safe.
Hans wanted to reach them, but his hometown was hundreds of kilometers away. Leaving Grefort now, with one soldier and no clear route, would only get him killed.
I'll plan for it later. For now, I need sleep.
Soon, snores came from the bedroom. Outside, Adam kept watch with his combat knife in hand while the MP5 hung across his chest.
The groans beyond the apartment never ceased, and the night passed slowly.
...
The sun rose over the silent streets of Grefort City, spreading warm light across the damaged buildings. Below, several zombies hissed and shielded their rotting faces from the sudden brightness.
Inside the apartment, Hans peeled a few boiled eggs from the fridge, ate in silence, and drank a glass of water.
"I'll have to search for food later... but can the units' rations be eaten by anyone else?"
He hesitated. Taking food left unrefrigerated inside other rooms carried its own risk.
"I'll gather what I can. The food here should last a week or so."
Nearby, Adam slept lightly, one hand still resting near his combat knife.
Hans picked up his phone and checked the screen.
There's no signal. The Internet is gone too.
That wasn't surprising after the explosions and shockwaves from the previous afternoon. What surprised him was that his phone still worked, along with the apartment's electricity and water.
"The meteors might have broken apart in the upper atmosphere and damaged the satellites."
He wasn't sure. Most of Grefort's tall buildings and skyscrapers were still standing, although several had visible holes and other damage.
If objects that large had struck the city directly, there should have been far less left around him.
Ahh, thinking about it will lead me nowhere. I should focus on the present.
Hans grabbed his tablet and opened a saved map of Grefort City. It was a massive city spanning hundreds of kilometers in diameter, with numerous districts spreading north, south, east, and west.
A wide river curved around the city, crossed by several bridges. Highways extended in every direction, but Hans couldn't simply leave. The roads leading out might already be filled with zombies.
Grefort had been a bustling hub that attracted people from the surrounding regions. That also meant more infected.
He didn't know whether the zombies would grow stronger over time. Leaving immediately could halt his own progress while whatever remained in the city continued to change without him.
For now, his goal was straightforward: survive, train more units, deploy a base, increase his rank, and eventually establish a sanctuary for anyone still alive nearby.
Having the System wasn't enough by itself. RTS games simplified base construction, warfare, labor, and logistics; the physical world wouldn't. If Hans wanted a real base, he would eventually need more than summoned soldiers and automated structures.
Still, the thought of building Prism Towers, training Chrono Legionnaires, and deploying Prism Tanks made him smile.
Planning came first. Powerful units wouldn't matter if he failed to build a foundation beneath them.
"There are jewelry stores here and there..."
Hans marked key locations across the map, separating the places he might reach from those that looked too dangerous.
Supermarkets and malls became his main points of interest. They held food and other supplies, along with possible valuables that could be converted into Gold. Every survivor in the city would probably think of the same places, though.
Jewelry stores, pawnshops, and banks remained secondary targets. Their security would make entry difficult, especially if their valuables were locked inside reinforced vaults.
Most survivors would probably abandon gold and jewelry in favor of food, water, and weapons. That gave Hans one advantage.
Luring zombies toward one of those buildings and using explosives on both the infected and the vault was not a bad idea.
Four quiet hours passed. Planning felt safer than fighting, but considering routes, supplies, and future construction still left Hans's temples throbbing.
Adam woke, packed his sleeping gear, and placed the knapsack beside the wall before saluting Hans.
"You don't have to salute every time," Hans said, wondering whether the units' formal behavior could soften with time.
He had already reached the limit of what he could plan from inside one apartment. More Gold would let him train another unit, and another soldier might give Adam someone else to speak with.
"I guess it's time to check the stairwell." Hans looked at Adam. "Search the hallway and the stairs. Do not engage. Fall back if the situation is too dangerous, then report what you find."
"Understood, sir."
Adam opened the door and stepped into the hallway. He moved with the MP5 held ready, checking the locked rooms, bloodstains, and both directions before approaching the stairwell.
A wet chewing sound came from the floor above.
Is a zombie eating a corpse?
Adam listened for several seconds. Below him, the stairwell remained quiet aside from a few blood streaks along the wall.
Once he had confirmed there was nothing else nearby, he returned to Hans's apartment with his findings.