In the Caribbean base, a satellite s flickered with images of devastation. The satellite, unched by the Asan Kingdom two decades ago, was now the sole reaissaool of the base. Although it was outdated pared to Zack’s LSI satellite—g crity and zoom capabilities—it was still a remarkable feat to retain trol of such teology after the apocalypse. While it couldn’t capture fiails like LSI, it provided just enough resolution to observe events on the ground.

  Kshadi, a bearded man with a weathered face, stared at the satellite feed in shock. “What kind of ons are these?” he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Since when did they have such advaeology?”

  Kshadi was one of the three leaders of the Caribbean base. His panions were no less iing. Navas Puticha, a brash man, shared his leadership role. t, the infamous sharpshooter spotted at the Imperial Capital base, was Navas’ half-brother. The third leader, Joan, hailed from the East and was a former soldier.

  Unlike Kshadi and Navas, who shared cultural roots, Jock’s authority stemmed from his military background. Before the apocalypse, he was just a lowly sergeant in a fn nd, resentful of his posting. But when the world fell apart, Jock transformed into a local warlord, ruling with impunity. At Caribbean base, his voice carried more weight thahers. He wielded his power cruelly, exploiting people and resources with nard for humanity. Many women had fallen victim to his predations, only to be repced by younger ones, sent by those desperate to curry favor.

  Jock leaned ba his chair, staring at the satellite image with a glint of greed. The s dispyed a bck dot—a Avalon—h over a scorched battlefield. “Don’t worry,” he said with a sly grin. “There’s no major survivor base near NYC City. Whatever on that aircraft belongs to will be ours soon enough.”

  Kshadi hesitated, frowning. “Are you sure about this? We ’t uimate them.”

  “You fool,” Navas sneered, his disdain for Kshadi evident. “These survivors are cowards. A little pressure, and they’ll hand over everything willingly.”

  “And if they don’t?” Kshadi asked, still uain.

  Joterrupted with a sharp ugh. “Then we’ll make them regret it. We’ve got dozens of fighter jets and hundreds of ballistic missiles. We’ll wipe them off the map.”

  Kshadi’s expression wavered, but Jock’s fidence was iious. Navas chimed in again, adding fuel to the fire. “Their Imperial Capital base already has our spies embedded. Those five thousand girls sent there are just a distra. The real pn is to use Kao destabilize the base aually, the entire region.”

  Kshadi finally nodded, his reluce fading. Human ambition had only grown more urained in the chaos of the apocalypse, morality eroded by desperation and greed. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s tact the base that owns this aircraft. Demand they hand it over. If they refuse, remind them what we’re capable of.”

  Jock’s grin widened as he barked orders. “Make it clear: resistance means annihition.”

  Meanwhile, Zack had just returo his Mansion after a successful o. The micro-cluster sprinkler system had proveating against ordinary zombies, but Zack wasn’t satisfied. Seated at his workbench, he pulled up schematics of the MV-02W, muttering to himself. “The aerodynamics are awful,” he said, frowning. “It’s like trying to make a brick fly.”

  The MV-02W owerhouse but had gring fws. Its bulky design, with a Vul mae gun folded on its back, multiple shoulder-mounted ons, and a massive bomb partment, severely his speed. Despite having four auxiliary thrusters on its bad legs, the MV-02W could barely break the sound barrier, maxing out at Mach 1.1. Even the Avalon, with its sleek design, performed better in terms of speed.

  Zack stood before the armor, muttering to himself. "Ba its prime, MV-02 could easily exceed Mach 1.3. But now? It's just a MV-02W strapped with a boxy spreader that drags it down. Breaking the sound barrier? Fet it." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "That spreader might as well be an anchor with the drag it adds."

  The idea bugged him. He turo Ego. "Run a simution. What happens if I k up the thruster power and force it to go supersonic?"

  Ego’s voice responded almost instantly. "The spreader and right shoulder armor would be torn off by the extreme wiahe moment the sound barrier is breached."

  Zack groaned. "Figures. Maybe... I could reduce the spreader’s size and ammo capacity, then move it somewhere less exposed, like the back of the armor. That would free up the right shoulder for somethier—maybe a missile unch system!" His eyes lit up as inspiration struck.

  Grabbing a pen and some paper, Zack sketched out a rough redesigtered under his breath, "If the spreader’s hidden ihe armor, it’ll streamline everything. And with the shoulder freed up… missile unest. Perfect."

  Meanwhile, in the basement, a swarm of meical Ants crawled along the walls, drilling holes and installing pos. A holographic proje system slowly began to take shape. Suddenly, Zack smmed his pencil down. "Damn it! I’m so stupid!" He crumpled the sketto a ball and hurled it into the wastebasket across the room. The artled the meical Ants, but when Ego determihere was no actual issue, they resumed their work.

  "This is pointless!" Zack excimed, pag. "Why waste time fixing MV-02? It’s a! I’m trying to fit a race car eo a ky old wagon and w why it doesn’t fly!"He stopped mid-stride, realization dawning on him. "I’ve beehinking it. Instead of patg up old tech, I should just build something new aer."

  Zack spped his forehead in frustration and began pag, his hands gesturing animatedly as ideas ed in his mind. “Back when I built the MV-02, I didn’t have the precision tools I have now. No nanoscale meical arms, no autonomous i drones. I ractically w in the dark ages! Now, I push boundaries—even without access to exotic elements.”

  His eyes lit up as a thought struck him. “Ultralium alloy! Of course. Lightweight, durable, and easy to refine. Perfect for the job.” He turo Ego. “Pull up the specs for all my prior designs.”

  Ego’s interface flickered to life, projeg a series of blueprints onto the workshop’s main dispy. Zack skimmed through them, muttering his thoughts as he reviewed each iteration.

  “MV-02… det, but too reliant on bulk. MV-03… just a polished version of the 02, nothing groundbreaking. MV-04… ah, the stealth variant. Nice, but not my priority now.” He scrolled further, his eyes narrowing in tration. Then, something caught his attention. “MV07! That’s the one. Modur, adaptable, assemble on the fly, and it’s perfect for remote operation or quick repairs.”