Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 232: Trying the Naval Assets in Combat Part 2

January 9, 2026 — 06:31 AM

West Philippine Sea – OWS Bulwark, On Patrol

The sea was quiet again.

But it wasn't the kind of silence that brought peace. It was the eerie, lingering stillness that came after something immense had stirred—then died.

Thomas Estaris stood alone near the bridge's starboard viewport, looking out at the crimson-tinted swells. Burnt oil, shredded muscle, and crystalline Bloom fragments floated on the surface like driftwood. The remains of the leviathan they'd just slain were still sinking, trailing black ichor behind it.

The rest of the bridge was abuzz, but Thomas was still.

Not frozen. Not stunned.

Just thinking.

Behind him, Marcus entered, helmet tucked under one arm. "No more sonar returns. Nothing within fifty nautical miles. They're either dead or they're hiding."

"They'll be back," Thomas said quietly.

Marcus nodded. "You were right. It wasn't a rogue mutation. That thing was organized. It had escort behavior. Defensive coordination."

"Exactly," Thomas muttered. "They're evolving with purpose."

He turned back to the console. "Status on the Sentinel?"

"Nominal. Minor damage from shrapnel spray, but nothing critical. Crew's cycling shifts now."

"And the barge?"

"Hephaestus is still intact. No direct engagements. Support boats are conducting cleanup and sonar sweep."

Thomas moved toward the center table and called up the tactical map. A wide stretch of ocean lit up between Palawan and the deeper western trench.

"We secure this stretch, we get control of the Sulu approach," he said. "That puts us in range of Mindoro, then down to Basilan. If the Bloom's nesting in the archipelago, we choke their lanes here."

Marcus frowned. "That's a wide net to cast."

"We're not doing it all at once." Thomas tapped a section of the map near a scattered reef zone. "Here. Next operation area. We'll set sonar buoys, deploy recon drones, and dispatch the Sentinel for perimeter patrol. The Bulwark and I will move west."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You want to head deeper?"

Thomas looked at him. "If we want dominance, we push forward. No more waiting for them to come to us."

Marcus hesitated. Then nodded. "Alright. I'll get the prep teams ready. ETA for full armament reload is four hours."

"Good," Thomas said. "Tell Rosario I want combat diagnostics from every fire-control module before we sortie again. Especially VLS seals and sonar integration."

He paused, then added, "And deploy the Type 212A. Quiet recon. Let it run deep current tracking while we press outward."

Marcus froze slightly. "You're activating the submarine?"

Thomas nodded. "Time to test its stealth. If anything is hiding under the trench, it's going to hear us coming. I want something watching from below while we're making noise up top."

Marcus didn't argue. "I'll notify the sub crew. They'll launch by 1100."

09:28 AM — Support Barge Hephaestus, Rear Docking Platform

Below deck, a curved bay door hissed open, and the waters parted for a moment as the Type 212A slid into the sea. Sleek, dark, and nearly silent, the German-engineered sub slipped beneath the waves without splash or fanfare. Its sail-mounted periscope retracted, and its air-independent propulsion kicked in a moment later, pushing it gently westward into the trench's shadow.

Inside, the two-man command crew adjusted bearings and set course.

"Submarine Call Sign: OWS Ghost," came the report across the secure channel.

Thomas heard it through his wrist mic. "Confirmed. Begin operations. Maintain radio silence after final ping. We'll reconnect at 1900 hours."

"Understood, Ghost out."

He closed the channel and turned back toward the sea.

They were ready.

12:41 PM — Open Waters, 106 Nautical Miles West of Palawan

The sun was now high above, beating down hard on the glistening deck of the Bulwark.

Standing on the upper command deck, Thomas reviewed his wrist console and watched the final updates stream in from the Sentinel's forward scout drones.

"Multiple sonar buoys deployed," Marcus reported. "They're forming a net around the forward combat zone. Anything breaches, we'll get a ping."

"What about the Ghost?"

"No contact since scheduled silence. They're submerged, holding depth at 300 meters. No anomalies so far."

Thomas narrowed his eyes at the horizon. "They're watching us again. They're learning. I want that learning to stop today."

He pulled open a side panel and keyed into the new operation file.

Operation Name: Steel Warden

Phase Two: Suppression through Naval Firepower

Target: Suspected Bloom nest hidden beneath reef structures and trench overhangs

Objective: Complete eradication of all marine Bloom variants within mapped radius

Assets: OWS Bulwark, OWS Sentinel, Ghost (sub), 2x Sea Phantom II patrols, drone air support

Duration: 8 hours

Priority: Total elimination

He tapped the green confirmation.

"Broadcast to the fleet," he said. "Weapons free."

01:03 PM — Steel Warden Begins

The destroyers peeled into a V-formation, their hulls cutting deep through the water. Overhead, a Reaper drone buzzed low, scanning surface anomalies. Beneath the surface, sonar pulses echoed—listening, always listening.

The first signs came quick.

"Contact," the sonar tech on the Bulwark called out. "Seven deep targets moving laterally—pattern spread. Same signatures as earlier."

"Intercept package loaded," fire control confirmed.

"Tomahawks?"

Thomas nodded. "Fire in pairs. Followed by ASROCs on staggered timers."

WHOOSH.

Four Tomahawks launched in perfect sync, arching through the sky before diving back down in tight arcs. A moment later, the surface of the water erupted in synchronized detonations—four bright columns of spray and fire.

Then came the second wave. Underwater ASROCs plunged deep and detonated at pre-calculated depths. The sea shuddered.

Sonar returns scattered.

"Two down. Five still circling. One changing depth—rising fast!"

"Which direction?"

"Dead ahead!"

Then it surfaced—a grotesque mass, broader than the last. Its back was lined with hardened plates, and its arms had fused into long blades like oars made of bone.

The Bulwark's five-inch gun didn't wait for orders.

KA-THOOM.

The deck shook as the turret fired. The round struck the creature's torso, blowing open a hole big enough to shove a truck through.

The creature convulsed—then twisted around and dove again.

"Finish it," Thomas said.

CIWS guns roared, one after another. Chained fire raked the sea, and the creature surfaced only once more—long enough for the Sentinel's main gun to put a second shell straight through its skull.

Silence again.

Then the sonar lit up.

Ten more.

Faster. Smarter. Coordinated.

1:45 PM — Steel Warden Escalates

The sea boiled with movement.

And Overwatch answered with steel.