Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 235: Commander’s Respite Part 1
January 12, 2026 — 10:04 AM
MOA Complex — Executive Wing, Thomas's Suite
The morning sun filtered in through the armored glass panels of the suite, casting angled rays across polished marble and steel. For once, there were no sirens blaring, no tactical alerts on the overhead screens. Just silence—soft, tranquil silence.
Thomas Estaris exhaled and let his back sink into the leather couch.
His wrist console flickered with a soft chime. The screen displayed his current status once again:
[User: Thomas Estaris]
[Level: 50]
[Experience Points: 123,808,218 /134,758,442]
[Blood Coins: 5,234,512,445]
More than enough to launch another campaign.
But for the first time in months, he didn't feel like launching anything.
He stood up and grabbed his Overwatch utility jacket—not because he needed it, but because habit was a hard thing to kill. The hallways were quiet. His elite guards nodded as he passed, but none spoke unless spoken to.
Even they knew their commander needed this.
10:31 AM — MOA Digital Mall Sector B, Electronics Hub
Rows of untouched shelves stood frozen in time—rows of consoles, game discs, and untouched plasma TVs. The air was clean now, thanks to the filtration and life-support teams who'd spent weeks sanitizing every part of the complex. Everything was powered, maintained, and guarded.
The first console Thomas laid eyes on was a classic: a black and red PlayBox Elite X, still wrapped in its transparent case. A dusty title sticker caught his attention:
"Steel Horizon: Remastered"
He smiled.
That game. He played it years ago—back when the world still made sense. Naval strategy, unit construction, fleet battles against alien forces... ironic how much of it had become his actual life.
He slid the disc into the console, grabbed a controller, and lowered himself onto a padded chair before the mounted 60-inch screen.
Startup screen. Studio logo. Then the menu. The music played—a soft piano tune that stirred an unexpected pang in his chest.
Start New Game
Load Save Data
Multiplayer Mode (Offline Only)
"New game it is," he muttered.
For the next hour, Thomas lost himself to nostalgia. He built up a base on a Pacific island, formed a carrier group, launched bombing runs. He laughed as he failed to protect his fuel tankers and cussed when his destroyer was sunk by a stealth submarine.
It was bliss.
No politics. No pressure. No monstrous Bloom hives. Just numbers, icons, and a satisfying power fantasy.
11:44 AM — MOA Complex, Command Center (Live Feed Room)
Marcus entered cautiously, carrying two thermal mugs of brewed coffee. He peeked through the glass doors into the adjoining entertainment hub.
There, seated like a teenager on his day off, was Thomas Estaris—Commander of Overwatch, the system-enhanced tactician who held the Philippine archipelago together by sheer will and weaponry—mashing buttons like a casual gamer.
"He's been at it for over an hour," a technician whispered. "Hasn't issued a single order. We didn't interrupt."
Marcus smiled faintly. "Good. Let him breathe."
He placed one coffee on the console desk and sipped the other, watching the screen as Thomas's digital fleet launched another airstrike across a virtual ocean.
12:23 PM — MOA Complex, Recreation Lounge
Game paused.
Thomas leaned back with a yawn and rubbed his eyes. His head felt light—not from fatigue, but from the lack of stress.
This... this was nice.
A knock came at the glass door.
He turned.
Rebecca.
"I'm not bringing you a report," she said before he could react. "Marcus told me you're in 'downtime mode.' I brought food."
She placed two trays on the side table. Real food. Hot, fresh rice, fried bangus, salted eggs, tomatoes, brewed barako coffee. Comfort food.
His expression warmed. "God, I missed this."
"You could have asked for it days ago. The kitchen's been restored."
"I didn't want to waste resources."
Rebecca gave him a look. "Thomas. You have a major food source. I think you can afford one breakfast."
He laughed. "Point taken."
They ate together quietly, with only the distant hum of servers and ventilation fans filling the silence.
After a while, Rebecca asked, "What are you going to do next?"
He leaned back, chewing thoughtfully. "I am thinking of clearing the entirety of Luzon of zombies, so that we can no longer be contained in this complex. The West Philippine Sea is under partial control... but I think I'm tired of reacting."
She looked at him.
"I want to build now. Not just survive. Actually build something for the people."
Rebecca smiled. "Then maybe rest isn't a waste. Maybe it's the first step."
1:15 PM — Private Balcony, East Wing Overlooking Manila Bay
Thomas stood alone, sipping the last of his coffee. The sky was clear. The horizon sparkled.
But even in the distance, he could see the faint speck of a sonar buoy blinking red out near the bay's edge.
The world was still dangerous.
But it was no longer out of control.
And for the first time in what felt like a year, he didn't feel like a soldier.
He felt... human. And what do humans need? A companion. Well truth be told, he had enjoyed some of his time as a commander in this complex as he managed to have fun with the Koreans and P-pop idols. But that was just temporary pleasure. He wanted a real one.
A girlfriend—in a time like this.
Despite his past, he still deserved to have someone as a girlfriend and possibly a wife.
He had a dream of building a family before this apocalypse started, and it would not change even if the apocalypse had broken the world. That dream—quiet, personal, and stubborn—clung to his heart like an ember refusing to go out.
It was easy to forget it sometimes, drowned in operations, war councils, system upgrades, and the roar of CIWS guns. But when everything quieted down, when the world stopped screaming for a moment—like now—he could hear it again.
He didn't want to die just a commander. He wanted to die a man who had lived.
