Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 223: Exhausted

December 15, 2025 — 6:15 PM

Southbound – 105 Nautical Miles from Luzon

The ocean had finally calmed.

Gone were the thrashing waves and the shrieking chaos. The bloom-mutated sea creatures had vanished beneath the surface, driven off or disrupted by the last of the depth charges. But their presence lingered—like rot in the air, like oil in the water.

Inside the Sea Phantom, Thomas Estaris sat stiffly in his seat, one hand still gripping the control yoke though there was no longer immediate threat.

The hum of the boat's engines was steady, but underneath that noise, he could feel the subtle vibration—uneven, irregular. Something wasn't right.

He checked the diagnostics panel.

Hull Integrity: 45%

Left-side Stabilizer Panel: Misaligned

Stern Underside Armor: Cracked

Engine Cooling Loop (Auxiliary): Functional but Compromised

Canopy Seal: 90% Integrity

Internal Pressure: Stable

Electronics: Minor fluctuations

Structural Fatigue Index: Elevated (Red Status)

The Sea Phantom had held up—barely.

"She held the line," Thomas muttered under his breath, reaching for the water bottle clipped to the side panel. His wrist ached. His jaw felt like it had been clenched for an hour straight.

As the boat cruised forward, the fading light outside bathed the sea in bruised purple and cold gray. The sun had set, and the first signs of night crept over the waves.

He switched the forward lights on.

Twin beams cast pale white arcs across the surface ahead. The sea had grown glassy again, but not in a peaceful way. More like a mirror that could crack at any moment.

Thomas engaged low-level auto-nav, giving the AI temporary control so he could unclip from his harness and move.

His legs were stiff when he stood. Every step in the narrow cabin sent a creak through the ship's frame.

He opened the side access panel that led to the internal engineering bay, a small crawlspace-like compartment where toolkits and maintenance modules were stored.

The scent hit him first—burnt insulation and seawater.

He squatted down and shone his headlamp.

The rear cooling conduit had split, probably from the glancing blow during the serpent's tail strike. Saltwater had breached one of the thermal vent seals, but the electronics remained dry.

He opened the toolbox, pulled out a roll of marine-grade patch tape, and began a crude seal job.

"You're lucky this thing's modular," he muttered.

Next, he moved to the stern hull junction. The damage here was worse.

A large hairline crack ran from just beneath the external tow loop down toward the underside hull plating. The carbon-fiber composite hadn't shattered, but the structural bonds had delaminated, meaning it was only a matter of time before the stress tore the crack open wider—especially if another encounter happened.

He marked it with red chalk and wrote on the checklist board:

Stern Hull – Patch ASAP – Priority Level: 1

Next, he checked the stunner conduit.

The last electric pulse he had fired had overloaded one of the current regulators. The panel still smelled like fried copper. He could rewire it with spare fuses—but not in open water.

That would have to wait until he got back to the MOA Complex.

Returning to the cockpit, Thomas slumped back into the pilot's chair and stared ahead through the canopy.

He couldn't see land yet.

But he knew it was coming.

With luck—by sunrise.

He activated the long-range encrypted comm line, now that atmospheric interference had dropped.

Attempting uplink to MOA Relay Grid…

The light blinked. Then blinked again.

And then:

Connection Established

MOA Tower Response Signal: Active

Bandwidth: Low

A small relief passed through him.

He opened a voice channel.

"Overwatch MOA Complex, this is Sea Phantom One, broadcasting on long-range band Gamma-One. Do you read?"

The signal buzzed. Static cracked through.

Then a voice returned. Male. Familiar.

"Sea Phantom One, this is MOA Tower. Marcus speaking. Is that you, Thomas?"

He let out a breath. "Affirmative. Alive. On approach. Hull integrity compromised. ETA ten hours, slower speed. Tell Engineering to prep a berth. I'm coming in battered."

A pause.

Then Marcus again: "Understood. We'll keep the runway clear and the lights on. Welcome back."

Thomas leaned back and closed his eyes.

Not home yet. But close.

December 15, 2025 — 9:12 PM

Sea Phantom – 60 Nautical Miles from Luzon

The sea was pitch black now. The stars overhead shimmered faintly between cloud breaks. The glow from the Sea Phantom's forward beams carved narrow lines across the surface, reflecting ripples and foam in stark white.

Inside the cabin, Thomas kept watch.

Every thirty minutes, he ran sonar scans—paranoid now.

But there were no more blips.

No more movement.

Even the sea itself seemed… wary.

He reviewed the full damage log:

Port stabilizer was hanging on by a few brackets.

Emergency comms relay panel had warped.

Thermal processor for the AI co-processor had been overloaded and was throttling performance.

A second hull crack had appeared in the underside during the last sharp turn, likely from flex stress.

He'd make it.

But barely.

He rubbed his forehead. "First naval encounter... and we nearly went under."

Then he tapped the interface and opened the system diagnostics screen.

He was already considering upgrades.

A proper patrol boat.

Hull armor reinforcements.

Advanced sonar.

Something better than a stunner and a flare.

Because the Bloom wasn't staying on land anymore.

And if the seas were infected, then Overwatch would have to adapt—fast.

December 16, 2025 — 2:32 AM

MOA Complex — Southern Approach, 15 Nautical Miles Out

On the far edge of Manila Bay, the city lights shimmered like a dream through the fog.

Faint. Dim.

But visible.

Thomas sat straighter.

He recognized the curvature of the sea walls. The faint outline of the MOA Tower, silhouetted behind the line of rooftop solar panels. The radar pings returned full, clear echoes. No anomalies. No interference.

Overwatch was awake.

They were waiting.

He activated the docking beacon and began final approach.

The Sea Phantom shuddered—tired, wounded, but alive.

Just like its pilot.

He was exhausted from the fight earlier. But luckily in that encounter, he learned something. It's not only in the land where monsters exist, but also in the ocean.

If he plans on reclaiming the entire planet, he would have to have naval assets.