Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse With My Military System

"Sir…we need to do something to the Oriental Crown," Sara urged Richard carefully. She knew that he was deep in thought and didn't want to interrupt him unnecessarily, but the situation was urgent.

Richard turned his attention to Sara. "Oriental Crown will fall before we send out any reinforcements…" 

On the screen, the Warthog made a daring maneuver, swooping in for another strafe run against Crimson. But Crimson, unfazed, raised her hands skyward, summoning an array of blood arrows. Thirty massive arrows, each two meters in width and with a radius of fifty centimeters, materialized in the air, glowing with a sinister red hue.

With a swift motion, Crimson directed the blood arrows toward the Warthog. The arrows, infused with her power, shot forward with incredible speed, matching the velocity of missiles. They streaked across the sky, trailing a wake of dark energy.

The Warthog pilot instantly recognized the danger. He pushed the aircraft into an evasive maneuver, trying to outpace and outmaneuver the blood arrows. The scene was tense as the Warthog twisted and turned in the sky, narrowly avoiding the relentless pursuit of the arrows.

Despite his best efforts, found the blood arrows relentless. Each twist and turn in the sky was matched by the arrows' unyielding pursuit, their speed and maneuverability defying normal physics. The pilot's expertise was evident, but the situation rapidly deteriorated as the arrows closed in, their dark energy leaving a menacing trail in the sky.

The pilot executed a series of desperate maneuvers, pushing the Warthog to its limits. He dove, climbed, and banked sharply, each move more daring than the last, in an attempt to evade the deadly projectiles.

Finally, the blood arrows caught up with the Warthog. One by one, they pierced the aircraft, each impact marked by a violent eruption. The first arrow struck the tail, sending a shudder through the frame. Another arrow tore through the wing, shearing off a large section and sending it spiraling to the ground.

The Warthog, now critically damaged, struggled to stay airborne. The pilot fought valiantly to maintain control, but the damage was too extensive. More arrows found their mark, piercing the fuselage and the cockpit, turning the advanced aircraft into a flaming wreck.

In a final, tragic moment, the Warthog began its uncontrollable descent to the ground. Flames engulfed the aircraft, and thick, black smoke trailed behind as it plummeted.

The remaining two Apache helicopters, witnessing the fall of the Warthog, knew they had to act fast. They moved in, their rotors whirring loudly as they approached Crimson. 

Crimson, with a quick glance upwards, spotted the incoming helicopters. Without hesitation, she summoned a massive blood spear, its sharp tip gleaming ominously in the light. With a flick of her wrist, she launched the spear with incredible force directly at one of the Apaches.

The pilot of the targeted Apache, seeing the incoming projectile, tried to evade. But the spear was too fast, and it struck the helicopter with deadly accuracy. The spear pierced through the cockpit, instantly incapacitating the pilot and causing the helicopter to spiral out of control.

As the first Apache began its descent, the second Apache pilot, realizing the dire situation, increased their distance, attempting to engage from a safer range. But Crimson was not done yet. In a display of her terrifying power, she leaped high into the air, leaving a visible crack in the earth where she had stood. Her jump was so powerful it seemed to defy gravity, bringing her level with the second Apache.

As she ascended, Crimson swung her scythe slicing through the helicopter's rotor. The blades were severed cleanly, causing the helicopter to lose its lift and stability instantly. The Apache, now crippled, began to fall to the ground, its pilot frantically trying to regain some control.

After the destruction of the Apache helicopters, Crimson turned her attention to the remaining LAV-25s on the ground. The light armored vehicles continued to fire their Bushmaster II 30mm chain guns in a desperate attempt to slow her down. However, the gunfire seemed almost ineffective against her as the bullets simply wouldn't penetrate her blood barrier.

"Oriental Crown is down," Richard commented and pressed his earpiece. "Eagle Actual to Oriental Crown. Prepare for a sacrifice, hold her down for as long as you can, we are sending the B-2 on the Oriental and bombard the outpost." 

Seconds later, the Oriental Crown responded. "Copy that, Eagle Actual. We will hold out as long as we can to keep her occupied in the camp. Godspeed." 

Richard felt something heavy on his chest as he issued the command. It was a decision that weighed heavily on him, knowing that it would likely result in the loss of more lives, both of the enemy and his own forces. The reality of command often meant making these hard choices, and Richard understood that all too well.

On the screen, the remaining forces of the Oriental Crown prepared for their final stand. They were aware that this could very well be their last fight, yet there was a sense of resolve among them. They positioned themselves strategically, using whatever cover was available, and aimed their remaining weapons at Crimson.

Crimson, seemingly aware of the impending airstrike, intensified her assault. She moved through the remaining forces with lethal precision, her blood barrier deflecting the gunfire effortlessly. Every strike of her scythe brought down soldiers and equipment, reducing the Oriental Crown's defenses further.

Ten minutes later. 

The B-2 was on the runway of the Clark International Airport, going for takeoff. With a speed of 1,010 kilometers per hour, it would reach the Oriental Crown in less than six minutes.

Six minutes later.

At the Oriental Crown, Crimson stood before Echo 3-2, who was lying wounded on the ground, a smirk spread across her face. 

"Didn't I tell you that I would destroy your camp? If I promise something, it'll happen. Now, I noticed that the leadership of the Blackwatch is not here. I'll allow you to live and be my minion if you become a good dog and tell me where they are now."

Echo 3-2 staggered as he rose to his feet. He was taller than Crimson and so he looked down on her and then spat on her face.

"Over my dead body."

Crimson's smirk turned into a scowl as she wiped the spit off her face. "It's fascinating that you are so loyal to your leader without him giving a damn about you and your comrades that perished here in this outpost." 

"We are soldiers, we follow orders and protect our own," Echo 3-2 replied, his voice hoarse but resolute. He steadied himself, preparing for whatever Crimson might do next.

Crimson laughed coldly. "Such blind loyalty. But it doesn't matter now. You're all going to die here."

"Oh I know that I'm going to die here, the best part is…you are going to die along with me," Echo 3-2 smirked. "You may be looking for the Blackwatch leadership but know that they are looking at us right now, directly above us." 

Crimson turned her head upward and saw nothing but black skies. 

"You may not see or sense them here, but that doesn't matter because they are there somewhere looking down on us. I'm ready to die for our goal of eliminating every zombie including the likes of you and your master off the face of the Earth." 

"You talk too much…" Crimson, having enough of him babbling, stabbed him in the chest.

Echo 3-2, with his remaining strength, defiantly raised his middle finger at Crimson.