Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 231: Trying the Naval Assets in Combat Part 1

January 9, 2026 — 04:45 AM

West Philippine Sea – Combat Patrol, 87 Nautical Miles West of Palawan

The ocean before dawn was vast, black, and heavy with mist. Beneath the rolling gray swells, sonar pings echoed through layers of saltwater like distant, muted thunder.

On the bridge of the OWS Bulwark, Thomas Estaris stood beside the captain's chair, arms crossed, eyes locked onto the large digital display hovering in front of him. The destroyer cruised at 22 knots, a low, steady hum vibrating through the deck under his boots.

Off to starboard, her sister ship—the OWS Sentinel—cut through the sea in parallel, separated by 1,500 meters of open water. Their twin wakes traced glowing lines under the moonlight. To the rear, the Support Barge Hephaestus maintained its slower pace, flanked by two Sea Phantom II patrol boats acting as close escorts.

The sea was calm. Too calm.

"This sector was clean two days ago," Marcus said, stepping up beside him with a tablet in hand. "But we're getting anomalies now. Deep sonar sweeps picked up contact at 160 meters. Multiple readings. Moving in formation."

Thomas narrowed his eyes. "Any surface breach?"

"None yet. But the thermal scatter looks like a Bloom pocket. Water's warmer over the contacts by five degrees."

He said nothing for a moment.

Then: "Deploy sonar drones. I want live returns."

The comms officer nodded and relayed the order. Moments later, from the aft deck of the Bulwark, a pair of autonomous underwater vehicles slid into the sea, trailing lines of green light as they descended.

Sonar feeds updated.

Blips appeared.

Then more.

"Jesus," the operator murmured.

The screen lit up with shapes—elongated, jagged, serpentine. Some moved erratically, others in perfect arcs. All too deep to be casual sea life.

"Count?" Thomas asked.

"Twenty-three confirmed, spread over a five-kilometer cone," the sonar tech replied. "We've tagged five as high-threat size index. One of them is… really big."

"How big?"

"Whale class. Maybe larger."

Thomas felt it in his gut. "They're testing us."

"Looks that way," Marcus said grimly. "What do you want to do?"

"Let them come up," Thomas replied. "Arm all forward batteries. Set CIWS to auto-track. And tell the Sentinel to hold tight—we'll bait them first."

He keyed the command system open and flagged the drone network.

"Begin patrol intercept."

The two sonar drones changed course and headed straight for the underwater contacts.

04:59 AM

OPAREA BLUE – 85 Nautical Miles from Palawan

From beneath the calm water, the ocean erupted.

The first creature exploded upward in a burst of froth and scale—its body twisted like a giant eel, plated with bone armor and dripping thick black fluid from its gills. Its mouth was a spiral of teeth, flaring open as it lunged toward the midsection of the Bulwark.

"CONTACT!" the radar officer shouted. "Surface breach—port side—range 800 meters!"

The five-inch gun rotated. CIWS auto-tracked.

"Engage!" Thomas ordered.

The Phalanx CIWS spat fire.

Twin bursts of 20mm shells sliced through the air in a buzzsaw roar. The creature shrieked—a wet, gurgling sound—as rounds punched through its upper body, shredding muscle and cartilage. It crashed back into the water, thrashing wildly.

Another emerged behind it—smaller but faster—skimming the surface like a torpedo with limbs.

BRRRRT.

A second CIWS burst ended that one before it got within 500 meters.

"Three more surfacing!" shouted a deck gunner. "Starboard side, mid-range!"

The Sentinel opened fire.

Her five-inch gun let loose a thunderous roar, and a bloom of whitewater detonated against one of the targets, launching it skyward in pieces. Tracer rounds followed—her deck guns stitching fire across the surface as two more targets submerged again.

"They're circling," Marcus said. "They're not just attacking—this is tactical."

"They're not beasts anymore," Thomas muttered. "They're hunters."

05:11 AM

Combat Information Center – OWS Bulwark

"All weapon systems green," reported the fire control chief. "CIWS ammo at 86 percent. VLS on standby. Awaiting strike package confirmation."

Thomas tapped the console and keyed in a preloaded scenario.

"Load VLS: ASROC. Target package: Contact Cluster Four, depth 90 meters."

A pair of vertical launch cells hissed open.

Inside, the ASROC (Anti-Submarine Rocket) systems activated. The ship's sonar locked onto the precise coordinates of the deepest cluster—four distinct shapes huddled together in what looked like a sunken reef.

"Fire."

WHOOMP.

The ASROC launched into the sky, arcing high before separating mid-air and plunging into the sea with a sharp splash. A second later—detonation.

The blast ripped a shockwave through the water. On sonar, the returns spiked—then faded.

"Confirmed hits on two," the operator said. "Third contact retreating."

Thomas didn't smile. "Let them run."

"More surfacing!" someone called out.

From the bridge, the crew watched as a trio of silhouettes surged toward the ship. These ones were bigger—heavily mutated, their upper halves armored like crustaceans, limbs lined with thick bone blades. They propelled themselves using thick muscular tails, their jaws clicking and opening wide like deep-sea anglerfish.

"CIWS reload!" the tech shouted. "Too close for the five-inch!"

"Ready stunners!" Thomas barked.

At the starboard railing, two Overwatch sailors swung open access hatches and deployed electrical lances directly into the sea.

They fired.

High-voltage arcs lashed across the water. The closest creature screamed—its body spasming violently before flipping belly-up, gills flaring.

The second kept coming.

The Bulwark's deck gun rotated.

KA-THOOM.

A single point-blank blast from the naval cannon sent shockwaves across the water. When the smoke cleared, the monster was gone—just scattered bits of chitin and blood staining the waves.

The third retreated.

"New sonar update!" shouted a tech. "Something's approaching—large displacement—400 meters out—dead ahead!"

Thomas narrowed his eyes. "Main screen."

The image flicked on.

There, beneath the surface, a shadow moved. Slow. Deliberate. Massive.

It wasn't just swimming—it was crawling.

The sonar return showed protrusions—long, anchor-like limbs digging into the seabed and dragging itself forward.

"How deep?" Marcus asked.

"Forty meters," the tech said. "It's climbing. Coming up."

"Ready VLS—load all forward Tomahawks. Fire as soon as it breaches."

"Thomas—" Marcus started.

But he held up a hand. "It's testing us. Let's give it a lesson."

05:20 AM

West Philippine Sea – Battle Zone Alpha

The surface broke.

A massive, armored creature emerged—its body like a fusion of whale and sea scorpion. Its carapace shimmered with Bloom-tinted crystal patches. Spines curled from its back, and its head—vaguely humanoid—twisted with too many eyes.

It opened its mouth.

A shriek blasted across the sea—like a whale song warped by rage.

"Target acquired!" the fire control officer shouted.

"FIRE!"

The VLS roared.

Four Tomahawks burst skyward—spiraling, then plunging down toward the beast. The creature tried to dive—but too late.

The missiles struck center mass.

BOOM—BOOM—BOOM—BOOM.

The explosions lit the sea with fire. A geyser of water and blood rose twenty meters into the air. The shockwave rocked the Bulwark, but her hull held.

The creature collapsed backward, floating belly-up.

Dead.

No movement on sonar.

Silence.

Thomas stepped forward to the bridge railing.

Only foamy, bloodied water remained.

And the smell of burning salt.

"Battle report," he said calmly.

"Seventeen contacts neutralized. Four retreated. No hull damage. Minor ammo expenditure. No casualties."

Thomas nodded once.

Then looked west—toward the deeper waters where the sonar had yet to scan.

"Signal the fleet," he said. "Phase Two begins at dusk."

Marcus glanced over. "We hunting again?"

"No," Thomas replied.

"We're sending a message."