For the past three and a half hours, counting bullets without pause had drained both Elenor's mind and her patience. When the numbers began to blur and dance before her eyes, she decided to take a short break. Rising from her seat, she headed to the kitchen; she was craving something sweet—something warm—specifically, hot chocolate.
She placed a small pot on the stove and poured in three glasses of milk, added three heaping tablespoons of rich cocoa, and two tablespoons of sugar. As the mixture slowly heated, she retrieved a bar of milk chocolate from the drawer. The wrapper crinkled as she opened it, snapping off a neat row and setting the rest aside before dropping the broken pieces into the warming milk. She stirred with a spoon until the chocolate melted completely into the mixture. Taking a generous bite from the remaining chocolate, a warm, uncontrollable smile spread across her face as the rich flavor flooded her senses. she immediately tapped her watch and updated her supply log:
[7 chocolate bars >>> 6 chocolate bars]
She poured the steaming mixture into a large mug with a handle; the sweet aroma quickly filled the kitchen. Cradling the mug between her palms, she blew gently across the surface and took her first sip.
"…Not bad," she murmured with satisfaction.
The small indulgence lasted no more than five minutes. Taking her mug and the rest of the chocolate with her, she returned to the ammunition pile in the living room. While sipping her hot drink, she continued filling out her list.
[Standard Pistol]
• 789 standard rounds
She stretched in her seat, shifting her legs side to side to free them from stiffness.
"Last rounds…" she muttered to herself, focusing on the next group.
[Sniper Rifle]
• 78 standard / 89 piercing / 122 armor-piercing
• 76 ballistic / 90 explosive rounds
[Heavy-Class Sniper Rifle]
• 87 standard / 77 armor-piercing
• 102 piercing / 66 explosive rounds
When she entered the final number into the display, she smiled as though she had achieved a grand victory. Rubbing her numb neck, her eyes drifted to the time on her watch—and she froze. Her eyebrow began twitching involuntarily.
"…Have I seriously been counting bullets and supplies for six and a half hours!?"
With a deep sigh, she rubbed her aching eyes. Bombs were next, but at least they were boxed and bulkier. Classifying and logging them took only twenty-one minutes.
[Bombs]
• 25 smoke / 26 flash / 33 poison gas
• 22 grenades / 12 incendiary / 14 sound / 10 electric bombs
"FINALLY!"
She collapsed onto the couch in immense relief. Closing her tired eyes and leaning her head back, she felt the full weight of the day settle upon her.
"I'm definitely writing an automatic counter algorithm for my watch," she grumbled internally.
"I never want to spend hours dealing with something like this again."
As she rubbed her temples, her mind began calculating her ammunition status. The conclusion was far from comforting.
"This won't be enough. For small skirmishes, it's fine. But if I run into a large monster horde, I'll have to rely more on my intelligence than on bullets."
While staring peacefully at the ceiling, something caught her attention.
"Why did the lights turn on?"
She sat upright and looked out the wide window. Outside had grown dark. The shelter's internal environment was synchronized with the outside world's conditions.
She let out a soft chuckle.
"So that rotten old man synced the lighting here with the outside world… Actually, not a bad idea. At least I can tell when it's bedtime. But I was supposed to handle the garden today too…"
Yawning, she rubbed her eyes.
"…Forget it! I'll deal with it tomorrow. It's been a long and exhausting day—I deserve a little time for myself."
At that exact moment, a loud growl echoed from her stomach in the quiet room. She froze in mild embarrassment, only to feel a sudden sharp sting in her left wrist. LYRA had issued a notification. Curious, she swiped the screen—and her eyebrow twitched once more:
[Body Analysis Result: Critically insufficient nutrients detected in your body. Please consume healthy and high-calorie food immediately…]
With a deep sigh, Elenor rose from the couch and headed back to the kitchen. The growling in her stomach was no longer something she could ignore.
She pulled out a large pot, filled it with water, and set it on the stove. After lighting the burner and adding a pinch of salt, she opened the refrigerator and took out four plump tomatoes and three fiercely hot peppers, arranging them neatly on the counter. From a drawer, she retrieved three cloves of garlic and began her preparations.
On the adjacent burner, she placed a wide pan and drizzled in a generous amount of olive oil. As the oil warmed, she carefully peeled and thinly sliced the three cloves of garlic, tossing them into the pan and stirring with a wooden spoon. She lowered the heat slightly to prevent the garlic from burning. Meanwhile, she washed and sliced the hot peppers, making sure to set aside the seeds rather than discard them—she would use them later as seeds for the garden. When she added the peppers to the pan, the kitchen filled with an appetizing sizzle and the sharp, irresistible aroma of garlic and pepper.
Once they reached the desired consistency, she washed and peeled the tomatoes. She didn't throw away the skins; those would be buried in the garden soil later as compost. She diced the tomatoes into cubes and added them to the pan, mixing everything thoroughly. After sprinkling in a pinch of salt, she enhanced the sauce's intensity with red pepper flakes, ground red pepper, and freshly cracked black pepper. Increasing the heat slightly, she continued stirring as she noticed the water in the pot had reached a rolling boil. She opened a package of spaghetti and placed the pasta into the boiling water whole, without breaking it.
The kitchen was now saturated with the rich, savory scent of the sauce. As the aroma filled her lungs, her stomach growled loudly once again.
'God, I'm really starving, she thought to herself. I've been running around nonstop all day. The strange thing is, even after eating that seven-kilogram portion of chops this morning, I still didn't feel fully satisfied… Mhmm, but this sauce smells incredible.'
Soon, the pasta reached her preferred tenderness. Before draining it, she scooped out a large glass of the starchy pasta water and poured it into the sauce.
'Let it be extra saucy so the flavor truly shines…'
She drained the spaghetti and immediately combined it with the sauce, turning off the stove. She tossed it thoroughly until the once-bright yellow strands transformed into a vibrant tomato red. She piled the entire batch high onto a large plate. The remaining sauce in the pan she wiped clean with a slice of bread and ate without hesitation.
After placing the plate on the living room table, she returned to the kitchen, filled a pitcher with water, and came back. She turned on the television and selected one of the preloaded movies in the system. Settling comfortably onto the couch, she crossed one leg over the other. before taking her first bite, she tapped her watch and meticulously updated her supply list:
• [9 heads of garlic >>> 8 heads and 7 cloves of garlic]
• [14 tomatoes >>> 10 tomatoes]
• [24 hot peppers >>> 21 hot peppers]
Once the update was complete, Elenor lifted her fork and took a large bite of the steaming spaghetti. As she immersed herself in the world of the film before her, she slowly began shedding the exhaustion of the day.
Azera Empire – Tiger City
For the past fourteen hours, the planet Nevarion had borne witness to the bloodiest and most widespread invasion in its recorded history. Monsters poured down like a torrential storm from the rifts splitting the sky, descending upon civilization like a living nightmare in less than half a day. Many cities were erased from the map before they could even comprehend what was happening, while kingdoms caught unprepared paid dearly for their greed. Governments that had invested solely in high-ranking "Awakened" instead of strengthening their conventional armies now found themselves helpless before the endless hordes. The magnificent mansions of noble families had turned into tombs for the very bloodlines that had built them.
The great empires attempted to resist, yet even their priorities had proven misguided. In recent years, they had diverted budgets away from ground forces toward space technologies and starships, leaving their border cities dangerously undermanned. Many emperors had pulled their troops back to the center, focusing exclusively on defending the capital and the royal family. The cost of that strategic decision was being paid in civilian lives. With every passing second, the number of corpses lining the streets multiplied. Still, amidst the chaos, there were commanders and generals who had not surrendered their conscience; they defied the palace's "retreat" orders and refused to abandon their positions, choosing instead to defend the civilians and the territories entrusted to them.
The two nations standing most resilient against the catastrophe were the Turanya and Azera Empires. For centuries, they had never abandoned the doctrine of being "a nation of soldiers." In Azera, every healthy citizen, upon turning sixteen, underwent three years of compulsory military training. While these civilian soldiers could not rival elite commandos, each possessed fundamental infantry discipline and competent weapons training. Thanks to this system, the combined military capacity of the two empires exceeded one billion. Yet equipment shortages quickly emerged. There were neither enough advanced exo-armors nor colossal Mekas for everyone. Meka piloting was a privilege reserved for the elite; even touching those machines was forbidden for conscripts.
As the crisis deepened, the spirit of solidarity within the populace awakened. Arms dealers distributed every item in their inventories to acquaintances and soldiers alike. Retired veterans who had once served in artillery brigades rushed back to the barracks, reintegrating themselves into the chain of command without hesitation. Police and gendarmerie forces stood shoulder to shoulder with civilians, erecting barricades. Every street, every narrow alley, had become a battlefield.
Tiger City, the third most populous hub of Azera, stood at the very epicenter of destruction. Only sixteen hours earlier, it had symbolized prosperity, elegance, and modern architecture reaching proudly toward the heavens. Now it trembled beneath the roars of monsters. Smoke rose between skyscrapers as fighter jets and helicopters streaked across the sky, unleashing relentless barrages upon airborne creatures. In the city center, nearly forty Mekas, their massive frames towering over buildings, struggled to hold back gigantic beasts emerging from the urban maze.
In the main square to the south, the ground forces were engaged in a desperate fight for survival. Soldiers clad in standard and heavy-class infantry armor formed an unyielding wall with the support of tanks and armored vehicles. Rocket launchers mounted on the shoulders of heavily armored troops fired incessantly; flamethrowers, miniguns, and liquid hydrogen projectors spewed devastation, giving the monster hordes no respite. Snipers positioned in the windows of surrounding buildings provided overwatch, supporting the Awakened below as they battled creatures clad in bullet-resistant hide.
At the very center of the square, amid the chaos and the suffocating scent of gunpowder, stood a solitary figure, upright and immovable. The armor she wore was far more advanced and intricate than that of the others. With her helmet open, her dark-skinned, strikingly charismatic face was clearly visible. Her white-painted hair whipped in the wind, and the old scars lining her face bore silent testimony to the thousands of battles she had survived. This woman was none other than Amanda Demir, the legendary former commander of Azera Special Forces.
"WHAT IS THE STATUS ON THE LEFT FLANK?!" Amanda roared, the authority in her voice cutting through the thunder of war.
The reply came without delay, transmitted both through the radio and shouted by a nearby soldier.
"WE ARE HOLDING THE LEFT AND RIGHT FLANKS, COMMANDER, BUT THERE ARE TOO MANY RIFT BREACHES! AT THIS RATE, WE WON'T BE ABLE TO HOLD MUCH LONGER!"
Amanda swept her sharp gaze across the battlefield. She understood the severity of the situation better than anyone, yet retreat was not an option—not even a single step. She fixed her eyes on the soldier who had spoken.
"We stand here like a fortress until every last civilian is safely evacuated into the underground shelters!"
she declared, her voice unwavering.
"The same hell is unfolding in every corner of this planet. There is nowhere left to run. Grit your teeth and fight—not just for your commander, but for your families descending into the underground city behind us!"
Drawing strength from her unshakable resolve, the young soldier snapped into attention and delivered a sharp salute.
"YES, COMMANDER!"
As the soldier hurried back to his post, Amanda turned toward the intelligence vehicle stationed behind the defensive line. Its doors stood wide open, technicians inside working feverishly over illuminated control panels. Without slowing her stride, Amanda barked:
"Report! Have we still not established long-range communication?"
The chief technician replied without taking his eyes off the screens, his fingers moving with expert precision across the keys.
"Commander! The overall condition of the intelligence vehicle is stable. We performed a full system shutdown and reboot, ran all diagnostics. All internal systems are functioning flawlessly!"
Even as he spoke, he continued entering complex strings of code into the touchscreen interface. Wiping sweat from his brow with his sleeve, he elaborated:
"However, long-range communication remains offline. The issue isn't internal malfunction. There's either some form of electromagnetic turbulence in the atmosphere, or an immense energy discharge leaking from the rifts that's completely absorbing our signals. At this point, there's nothing more we can do at the device level!"
Amanda's brows furrowed deeply with concern. Their current communication range was limited to a mere fifteen to twenty kilometers—absurdly insufficient for coordinating an army of this scale. They could not establish contact with the imperial capital nor the central command. Yet worse than all of that was the thought of her adopted daughter, Elenor, alone in a laboratory miles away.
No matter how much she trusted Elenor's abilities—her razor-sharp intellect and icy composure—Amanda could not suppress the anxiety of a mother. Elenor might not have been her biological child, but she had been their first light, their first pride. Masking her emotions behind the steel façade of professionalism, Amanda issued a firm command:
"Keep trying. Find a way and reopen that channel. My units and I will buy you all the time you need!"
The chief technician, fully focused on his work, answered without hesitation,
"Yes, Commander!"