I Have a Modern Weapon Gacha System in the Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 62: A Trouble

They were on the rooftop of a four-storey hotel. Waiting for their extraction.

It’s already ten minutes since Adrian informed them they are pulling out and it’s a waiting game for them.

However, they are still tensed on whatever is to come.

Meanwhile, in the command center, Adrian was watching the feed of the drone on station. Suddenly, he noticed something.

"Hey, something is moving northwest of their position," Adrian pointed out. "What the heck is that?"

The operator leaned forward, fingers tightening on the controls as he pushed the zoom further.

The image sharpened.

A shape cut across the street below, low to the ground, limbs driving in fast, controlled strides.

"...Sir," the operator said, voice rising, "that’s a Hunter."

Adrian’s focus locked.

"Track it."

"Tracking," the operator replied, dragging the feed to follow the movement.

Another shape entered the frame.

Then another.

They weren’t scattered.

They were moving together.

Same direction.

"Count them," Adrian said.

"Four... six... eight—more coming in from the same direction," the operator answered, his tone tightening.

The camera panned wider.

The path became clear.

A straight line.

Toward the rooftop.

"Where the fuck did they came from?" Adrian cursed and immediately switched to the team’s frequency.

"Ryan, you have multiple Hunters inbound from the northwest. They’re moving directly toward your position."

On the rooftop, Ryan shifted slightly, stepping away from the edge.

"How many?" he asked.

"At least eight of them, and increasing. We don’t know where they came from..." Adrian answered.

"More than eight?" Ryan’s eyes widened. "How are we supposed to fight them?"

"Don’t worry, the F-35 is still in orbit, we will buy you time. For now, hold your ground," Adrian said, switching channels.

"Falcon One, this is Command," he transmitted. "We have multiple fast movers converging on friendly position. Grid is being uploaded now. Confirm receipt."

A beat.

Then the pilot’s voice came through, calm and clear.

"Command, Falcon One copies. Data link received. I have the target box."

On the main screen, the drone feed overlaid with targeting markers. The Hunters moved fast, crossing streets, cutting between structures, their path tightening toward the rooftop.

"Falcon One, you are cleared hot," Adrian said. "Engage with air-to-ground. Danger close, friendly element on rooftop. Mark is laser and GPS combined. Prioritize outer cluster first."

"Copy, cleared hot. Selecting ordnance."

Inside the command center, another screen switched to the F-35’s targeting pod feed. The view locked onto the moving cluster, tracking them from altitude.

"Weapon selected, GBU-53/B StormBreaker," the pilot said. "Multi-mode seeker. I’ll ripple two for coverage."

Adrian watched the feed tighten.

"Make it count," he said.

"Rifle, rifle."

Two small shapes dropped clean from the aircraft.

On the display, the bombs separated, fins deploying as their guidance systems activated mid-air. They didn’t fall blindly, they adjusted, correcting trajectory as they locked onto movement below.

On the rooftop, Ryan heard it, a distant jet engine roar.

"Eyes up," he said.

The team held position, rifles still trained outward, but their focus shifted for a fraction of a second toward the sound cutting across the sky.

Seconds later.

A huge explosion tore through the street below.

The first detonation hit just short of the intersection, the blast punching outward in a tight radius before expanding into a rolling wave of pressure. Concrete cracked, debris lifted, and the leading Hunters were caught mid-stride.

Their bodies snapped off the ground and were thrown apart.

A second detonation followed half a second later, slightly offset from the first.

The overlapping blast zones covered the entire approach corridor.

On the rooftop, the shockwave hit a moment after.

Loose debris skidded across the surface. Dust rose along the edges. The team held their footing, rifles still up, bracing through the impact.

Ryan stepped forward to the edge.

"Hold," he said.

Inside the command center, the operator tracked the impact zone as the feed stabilized.

"Good hits," he said. "Adjusting zoom."

The operator paused for a fraction of a second, then spoke.

"Sir there three of them dismembered."

Adrian looked at his notification and he received fifteen thousand per confirmed kill, it’s name was indeed Hunter.

"Three hunters confirmed kill. There’s still six of them."

Adrian didn’t look away from the screen as he spat another order.

"Falcon One, re-engage. Six targets remaining. They’re closing fast. Adjust your run—danger close confirmed. You are cleared to use guns."

"Copy, Command. Rolling in."

High above the island, the F-35 banked hard, its nose dipping as the pilot aligned for the attack run. The targeting system locked again, tracking the moving heat signatures below as they cut through the debris field.

"Master arm on. Gun selected."

The aircraft stabilized for a split second.

Then it dove.

On the rooftop, Ryan heard it.

Louder now.

Closer.

"Get ready," he said.

Below, the remaining Hunters burst through the smoke, their movement accelerating again as they cleared the blast zone. They spread slightly, adjusting their path, but all of them still converged toward the building.

Suddenly, a sharp, ripping burst from above.

A tight stream of 25mm rounds tore through the street, the line of fire walking directly into the moving targets. Each round struck with force, punching into concrete, ripping chunks out of the road as it tracked the Hunters mid-run.

One of them took a direct hit.

Its body snapped sideways, momentum broken instantly as it slammed into the pavement and didn’t move again.

Another tried to cut left.

The stream adjusted.

Tracked.

Rounds caught it across the torso, tearing through its frame and driving it into the wall behind it.

"Good hits!" the operator called.

Inside the command center, the feed followed the gun run in real time.

"Impact on target... two more down," the operator said. "Four remaining."

Adrian leaned closer.

"Falcon One, keep pressure on them," he said. "They’re adapting their movement. Don’t let them regroup."

"Copy."

The F-35 pulled slightly, then rolled again for a second pass.

"Guns, guns."

The rounds cut ahead of the lead Hunter, forcing it to adjust its path mid-run. The next burst landed directly on it, the impact breaking its forward drive as it collapsed and slid across the ground.

"Three remaining," the operator said.