While the rest of the squads swept the yard, securing the perimeter and clearing out remaining threats, their commander had already stepped into his own battlefield—alone.
To the infected, he must have looked like an easy prey, delivering his own life to be slaughtered. The stray dogs came first, followed by a few pekin ducks. Then the bats—silent, quick, eyes locked onto his throat as if drawn to it by some lingering instinct. Whatever intelligence they'd once had was long gone. Hunger was all that remained.
But what greeted them wasn't flesh. It was cold steel. And swift death.
Despite the chaos, the commander moved like the eye of a storm—calm, precise. Every time something charged, it fell. Beheaded in one smooth motion, or dropped by a shot placed with clinical perfection. One bat tried to circle from behind, wings slicing the air—aiming right for his neck. But just as it struck, he tilted his head slightly, as if he had eyes in the back of it. The bat missed. It never got a second chance. His blade flashed, and its body split mid-flight.
They didn't stop coming. But it didn't matter.
All that waited for them… was their end.
1st Person POV (Alpha)
"Bravo. Charlie. Move it." I kept my voice low but sharp. The two of them were working the gate—unwinding wire bindings and the knotted cord that held it shut against the pole.
We'd finished clearing the area, including the side. No more movement from the corpses. But that didn't mean we could relax. The commander was still out there. And reckless or not, he was ours.
"Delta, prep your medkit," I ordered without turning. "We don't know what state he's in."
"What happened? Who are you talking about?" Foxtrot's voice called out from behind. He and Echo had just returned from the upper floor, weapons still raised, alert.
Scanning the room and noticing the commander's absence, he asked, "Where's the commander?"
No one answered. His gaze followed ours—drawn toward the gate, or more precisely, what lay beyond it.
Foxtrot's brow furrowed. He turned fully toward me, his voice more insistent now. "Where is he, Alpha?"
His expression tightened—concern masked behind a controlled jaw, flickering between me, Bravo, and the gate. He already knew. He just didn't want to say it.
Then Bravo's voice came through. Low. Measured.
"Gate's almost loose. Get ready."
One last twist—then the final lash gave out. The gate creaked, dropped, and slammed against the ground. We all stepped back, rifles raised, fingers tight on the triggers.
What we expected… was carnage.
What we feared… was silence.
But what we saw was something else.
Dozens of bodies littered the outside—infected animals twisted in death, limbs sprawled, wings torn. And at the center of it all stood the commander. Alive.
His boot pinned the skull of a twitching dog. His blade was standing, still buried in its spine.
His pistol clicked as he slid in a fresh mag.
No one said a word.
Then, a sudden twitch—one of the dogs we thought dead stirred, lunging up in a final burst of hate.
The commander didn't even glance. Even before we pulled our triggers, he already shifted his stance, aimed his sidearm, and fired a single, precise shot to the creature's head. The beast dropped—limp and lifeless.
Only then did he look up. "You guys finished?"
"Yes… sir." My reply came without thinking.
But my thoughts kept moving. Fast. Controlled.
He looked the same. Same eyes. Same voice. But something in me—deep down—didn't agree.
Even as I reminded myself he was our commander—our leader—every instinct in me was screaming. The man standing before us was dangerous.
3rd Person POV
"Good," the commander replied flatly.
"I take it as there were no casualties?" His gaze swept across the squad. A few gave subtle nods. No one spoke.
Whether he noticed the unease—or chose not to—he pressed on.
"Resupply. Check your ammo. Stay sharp."
Delta stepped forward, hesitant. "What's our next move, sir?"
"We're goi—" The commander stopped mid-sentence.
Below his boot, something moved.
He looked down. The infected dog's jaw still twitched, desperate for one last bite. The commander was slightly surprised.
"Aah... you. Forgot about you."
He shifted his heel slightly and fired. A dull thump. The creature stilled.
He turned back to the squad, expression unchanged.
"What was I saying?"
Pause.
"Oh, right. Next move."
He turned his gaze toward the darkened residential blocks beyond the street. Street Lights flickered in the distance, casting long shadows. And then he smiled.
"We soldiers... are going hunting."
✦✦✦
Under the commander's lead, the squad moved with renewed purpose—quiet, deliberate, and merciless. They advanced through the rows of suburban houses like a blade carving through cloth. At each doorstep, they breached with precision, clearing rooms and dispatching any infected they encountered. Just as their commander had warned, the infected were different now. More aggressive. Sharper. Alive in a way they weren't during daylight.
⧫⧫ [Flashback — Few Minutes Before] ⧫⧫
"Hunting, sir?" Alpha had asked, catching the faint glint in the commander's eyes.
"Yes," the commander replied simply. "We're going to clear the front section of this area tonight. Of course, if any of you are too exhausted, you can stay back. I won't hold it against you. After all, like what we've just learned—the infected become most active at night," the commander remarked while glancing at the zombie animal corpses. "And the reason, as some of you already suspect…is" He paused, sliding his sword free from an infected corpse and motioning upward.
All eyes followed the blade, landing on the blood-red moon that loomed heavy above them.
"That."
⧫⧫ [Flashback End] ⧫⧫
Night deepened. Unlike the day, when the infected lurked and only responded to loud noise, tonight they hunted. Their senses felt sharpened—sound, smell, even movement. And yet, it changed nothing against the squad and its commander. One by one, the infected fell—shot down before they could close in. Sometimes, bats descended from the sky like cleavers and hunger for flesh, but each time they met only the blinding arc of the commander's blade, cleaving them mid-flight.
Ammo was conserved now. Supplies were running low. Every bullet counted, and the squad knew it. They switched to their sidearm where they could, saving their magazines for emergencies. House by house, block by block, they pressed on through the ghostly quiet of the residential sprawl.
However, unlike the squad's methodical pace, the commander moved with sharp, fluid precision—faster, yet no less controlled. Even though severing an infected human's head in one clean strike didn't always guarantee instant death, the severed limbs and collapsing figures were proof enough of his skill. Some infected were left crawling, their legs cleaved away in a single motion. Others toppled to the dirt, losing balance as an arm was sheared off mid-charge.
The commander didn't need to run. He didn't chase. A simple rattle of his sword sheath against a nearby wall or the ground was enough to draw the infected toward him. And when they came—blind, hungry, and driven by instinct—they walked straight into their own demise.
Eventually, the road opened into a wider junction. Ahead, they could see the barrier gate that led to the highway. But they weren't ready to move on—not yet. Several homes near the edge of the tree line still hadn't been cleared. And more notably, a large building stood off to the side—the silhouette of a mosque resting under the red moonlight.
Just as Alpha gestured to begin spreading out, the commander raised a hand to stop them.
Without a word, his eyes narrowed on a single house tucked beneath the trees. Unlike the others, it was cloaked in darkness. No lights inside. No porch light outside. No sign of movement.
Alpha stepped forward cautiously. "Is there a threat there, sir?"
The commander didn't answer. Instead, he calmly lifted his sidearm toward the sky—and fired.
The sharp report cracked through the night.
Moments later, movement stirred in the shadows. Dozens of infected burst from the treeline, drawn by the sound, their howls piercing the silence as they charged. The squad didn't hesitate. They engaged immediately, cutting down the sprinting attackers with brutal efficiency. Gunfire echoed across the block—sharp and surgical.
Then, after the last of the infected were dispatched, came another sound—softer. Human.
From inside the house, a figure limped into view—staggering, shouting in a language unfamiliar to the squad. But not to the commander.
"Tolong! Tolong saya!"
(Help! Help me!)
The voice wavered with desperation. From the silhouette alone, they could make out the figure of an adult man—clad in torn civilian clothing, limping heavily as blood traced a dark path down his leg. Even in the dim light, his panic was unmistakable.
Instinctively, the squad raised their weapons, unsure. Alpha looked toward the commander, waiting for an order.
But the order never came—only action.
Without hesitation, the commander aimed.
A single shot.
The man crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
A heavy silence followed. Some of the squad stared at their commander, caught between confusion and disbelief.
"He was already dead," the commander said evenly. "Bitten long before we got here. You would've had less than ten seconds before he turned. And there was nothing to learn from him—not anymore."
His voice wasn't cold. Just resolute. Certain.
"If you don't believe me, check for yourselves."
At a nod from Alpha, Delta and Charlie approached the body. They rolled the man over, flashlight beams revealing the truth. His leg had been torn open below the knee—bone exposed, veins already blackening. Eyes unfocused. Lips twitching as the last of his humanity drained away.
He was turning.
When the rest of the squad gathered, Alpha gave the commander a firm look.
"How do you know, sir?" he asked.
The commander met his gaze without hesitation. "I have my ways," he said calmly. "I know you—and the rest of the squad—aren't exactly used to how I do things. But I have my reasons too."
Alpha stepped forward, his voice low. "Sorry, sir."
The commander shook his head. "No need to apologize, soldier. I know you all have questions—about me, about this night." He glanced at each of them in turn. "But not yet. In time, I'll explain it—one by one."
He swept his gaze across the team, meeting each pair of eyes.
"For now, we finish what we started. We clear this area."
Alpha studied his face. The cold edge that had haunted the commander since nightfall—gone. In its place was the man they followed. Their leader. Their anchor. The others felt it too.
"Roger," Alpha said, voice steady.
The rest echoed it, guns steady in their hands.
"Roger, Commander."