Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 219: First Time Summoning a Naval Asset

December 15, 2025 — 12:22 PM

East China Sea — Open Ocean, Drifting

The sun hung high above the rolling waves, white-hot against the slate-colored sky. The debris field from the C-17 had thinned now, scattered across kilometers of saltwater. Whatever hadn’t sunk was either drifting further away or bobbing aimlessly in the current.

Thomas Estaris lay sprawled on a torn aluminum panel—the flattened belly skin of the Globemaster, barely floating.

His body ached. Dried blood clung to his left temple. His right leg throbbed from the impact, but nothing felt broken. Not yet.

The emergency beacon on his wrist-mounted device continued to blink.

Still no signal lock.

Still no one coming.

He gritted his teeth and sat up, squinting against the glare of sunlight bouncing off the water.

In the distance—nothing. No ships. No birds. No land. Just the hiss of the wind and the roll of endless sea.

He had maybe a few hours before dehydration set in properly. A few more before the elements claimed him.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead, sat cross-legged on the panel, and reached into his vest for the system interface key.

He hadn’t intended to use it. Not now. Not like this.

But desperate men did desperate things.

He flicked the switch.

The system booted to life with a faint pulse of blue against his wrist screen.

He tapped the tab for Ground Logistics first. Nothing useful. All he could deploy here would sink in seconds.

He swiped sideways to Aviation—pointless now.

Then he hesitated... and opened a tab he had never touched before.

Naval → Small Craft → Emergency/Recon

The list was short.

Thomas squinted at the options, filtering by criteria.

Deployable at sea?

Operable by one crew?

No crane or drydock required?

Fuel capacity: 3+ days

Speed: minimum 15 knots

The results narrowed down to just one.

[SP-32R "Sea Phantom" Recon Boat]

Cost: 180,000 Blood Coins

Type: High-speed naval recon craft

Length: 9.2 meters

Hull: Reinforced carbon fiber with waterline armor inserts

Propulsion: Twin inboard diesel-electric hybrids

Top Speed: 40 knots

Cruising Speed: 22 knots

Range: 1,100 nautical miles (extended tank)

Crew: 1–2

AI Integration: Optional autonomous navigation

Systems:

– Encrypted comms suite

– Radar + thermal scope

– Medical cabinet (sealed)

– Desalination unit (solar-assisted)

– Emergency shelter canopy

– Folding solar recharge cells

– Rear tow capability up to 2,000kg

– Internal cargo bay (1.2 tons capacity)

Status: Deployable on open water within 60 seconds

Summon Type: Maritime Projection (auto-placement within 15m radius)

Thomas stared at the display. This wasn’t a military patrol boat or a coastal cutter. This was a survival vessel, disguised as a recon tool. Small, fast, durable.

And more importantly—he could pilot it alone.

He hovered his finger over the CONFIRM icon. novelbuddy.cσ๓

"180,000..." he muttered. That was a massive cost for something he hadn’t planned to use.

But what good were Blood Coins if he was dead?

He hit CONFIRM.

The display pulsed. The interface chimed faintly. The device grew warm against his wrist.

[DEPLOYMENT: SP-32R Sea Phantom — LOCATION VERIFIED]

Stand clear. Deployment within 15 meters.

Thomas scrambled upright, nearly slipping off the panel as the water around him began to churn.

Fifteen meters to his right, a blue light shimmered beneath the surface—glowing just below the waves like a submerged engine warming up.

Then, with a sudden splash, the water parted.

The hull of a sleek black boat emerged, rising from nothing.

Its bow cut through the water like a dagger. The dark frame gleamed in the sunlight, water sluicing off its armored surfaces. Twin ducts at the rear churned softly as the engines initialized in idle.

Thomas stared.

It was real.

He paddled toward it, hands slapping the water as he swam across the short distance, ignoring the ache in his limbs.

Reaching the boat’s side, he grabbed onto the textured grip rail and hauled himself up onto the narrow boarding ladder.

The deck was warm beneath his palms. The smell of new electronics, fuel, and dry metal hit him like comfort food.

The cockpit canopy was open. Inside, a single leather-padded pilot seat faced a curved instrument panel. A small control yoke. Dual throttle sliders. Multi-function displays. All alive, waiting.

A soft voice pinged from the speaker.

"Sea Phantom online. Awaiting command input."

Thomas climbed in and dropped into the pilot seat. It was tight but comfortable.

He pulled the canopy down, sealed it, and exhaled deeply. The cabin sealed with a hiss. A light vibration tickled his boots as the engines spun quietly.

He accessed the nav panel.

Current Position: Approx. 240 nautical miles northwest of Luzon

No GPS lock

Passive radar: minimal clutter

Weather: Stable. Low wind. Mild currents.

He pressed a button labeled AUTO-TRIM.

The vessel adjusted itself to optimal trim for cruise mode.

He tapped the throttle forward.

The boat lurched gently into motion, gliding forward at a steady 12 knots.

Thomas turned on the desalination pump, noted the onboard water reserves climbing.

He checked the med kit—sealed, stocked.

Solar panels? Folded beneath the aft deck, ready for deployment when stopped.

Everything was here.

It was as if the system had known he’d need it eventually.

He pulled off his gloves and leaned back in the seat, skin still clammy from salt and cold.

For the first time in hours, he let himself breathe.

He was still alone.

But he wasn’t dead.

Not yet.

December 15, 2025 — 1:47 PM

Open Sea – Southbound

The Sea Phantom hummed across the water, slicing through the waves like it had always belonged there.

Inside the cockpit, Thomas sat with one hand on the yoke and one eye on the horizon. The auto-navigation pinged softly as it recalculated their position using solar drift and wind current algorithms.

He still couldn’t call MOA.

But he was moving.

Toward home.

The Sea Phantom surged forward with purpose, leaving a trail of foam in its wake. Thomas reached for the manual override, just to feel the throttle in his grip. He didn’t smile, but something in his chest settled.

He wasn’t waiting anymore.

He was returning.