Note:
A little note, if you don't like my story, then don't bother to read it and leave a bad review.
And also did you read the title ? Dude it's literally in the title and why would you be saying that it's OP? When what I was doing is literally for the plot, and Stay true to the title.
This is for those people who don't appreciate my work, and instead leave a bad review.
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Ah, figures. If it could reload, that would be ridiculous — basically OP. The system clearly has limits, but considering I'm in reality now, it's still a major advantage for me.
I remembered another theory I had yesterday: I thought maybe I could exploit the system by leading other people to kill walkers, increasing my control capacity. Turns out… nope. Doesn't count. You have to do it yourself, with your own hands. So that idea's out of the question.
At least now I know a walker can fire a gun — even if it can't reload a pistol. It's still impressive. It can grab objects from the ground, aim, and pull the trigger.
I let out a chuckle, dark and dry. "Congratulations, Marcus. You just created a new mutant: the shooting walker. Or, hmm… the 'Shooting Mutant.'"
I shook my head, grinning at the absurdity. "Hahaha… lovely. Nothing says apocalypse humor like a zombie with trigger discipline."
I then raised my sword and decapitated the controlled walker I had been testing. Instantly, the system sounded an alert: I had lost one control capacity. But almost immediately, I regained another. So there was no cooldown.
"All right," I muttered. "Let's start creating mutants."
I only had ten pistols, so I decided to train ten walkers and hide them for now. I would call them A1 — my first creations, my "mutant squad." In a way, it felt like assembling a team, only… the team was undead and fully obedient.
I had already issued orders to the system: aside from the hundred controlled walkers scattered around the Federation, fifty of them would head this way. I planned to alternate them into forming a kit, a sort of training rotation. For now, I'd let them hold weapons and practice, gradually teaching them how to interact with objects, aim, and fire.
This was going to be tedious, but necessary. Every controlled walker added to my arsenal increased my options — and in a world like this, options meant survival.
I decided to select ten of them to form the A1 squad, train them, and then hide them…
No, wait. Why stop at ten? Thirty would be better. Thirty A1s.
I would only choose the ones that looked… presentable, I guess. I laughed at the absurdity of it — a squad of undead mutants chosen for aesthetics. Only in this world.
With this kind of cheat, I realized all I really had to worry about now was getting bitten — by other walkers, or by people foolish enough to cross me. Everything else was under control.
Over the past few days, I've been training the walkers I successfully created, and I've maxed out my control capacity. I've already trained all of them. Now, the A1 squad stands in front of me, while the rest are back on duty, guarding the Federation's routes.
These thirty walkers I selected are among the best of the best — physically fit when they were still alive, strong, fast, and now… obedient. The only thing left to figure out is where to hide the A1s. Should I place them with the other group I stashed in the valley? Hmm… yeah, that'll work.
"All right," I said, and ordered the system to head to that valley immediately. The A1 squad sprang into action. Ten of them were already holding pistols, fully loaded, while the others followed behind, ready to adapt. I made sure not to use all the bullets, keeping a little reserve for training purposes.
Now it's time to head back and check on the camp. The controlled walkers are now familiar with holding and using weapons — I can confidently say that one of my major goals has been accomplished.
Back at the camp Troy and Jessy are having a conversation,
Back at the camp, Troy and Jessy were having a conversation.
Jessy asked, "When will Marcus be back?"
"Hmm… either today or tomorrow," Troy replied. "Let's give it some more time. Have you asked that girl?"
"Yeah," Jessy said, frowning. "It's… disgusting."
"I thought so," Troy said, his face turning grim. "This is connected to what Marcus found in that building, right?"
"Yeah," Jessy nodded. "Earlier, one of the five-man teams discovered a girl running from a few men who were trying to capture her. She was crying and shouting. The leader of the five-man team tried to stop those guys from leaving, but as soon as they saw the team's uniform, they bolted immediately. The team tried to confirm the situation, which means… they knew we were here."
Troy narrowed his eyes. "How's the girl?" he asked.
"For now, she's okay," Jessy said. "But when Marcus hears about this… yeah, I knew it. Marcus loves children. The moment he hears something like this, he becomes enraged. Even I'm angry," Jessy added, his voice grim.
"Let's just double the patrols and wait for Marcus," Troy said to Jessy.
"Yeah," Jessy replied, nodding in agreement.
In one of the luxurious rooms of the building, Mike Delta sat comfortably, happily enjoying his coffee.
Suddenly, a man burst through the door.
"What is it, Jay?" Mike asked.
"Sir… it's bad," Jay replied, his voice tense. "One of our hunting teams failed to catch a little girl, and now those people will soon know we're here."
Mike Delta frowned, his expression darkening. "I told them not to let themselves be discovered."
"I told them, sir, but some of them wouldn't listen," Jay explained.
Mike's face hardened. "Jay, prepare our people. Then call that entire team to me — now."
As Jay heard those words, he understood exactly what his boss intended. "All right, sir," he said, turning to carry out the orders.
In the hallway, a dozen men surrounded a group of four, holding them in place. Mike and Jay stood nearby, watching.
"What is this about? What happened?" asked the leader of the four, his voice edged with fear.
"Didn't I tell you not to reveal yourselves?" Mike asked, his tone cold and calculating.
"It… it was just a mistake," the leader stammered.
Mike tilted his head slightly, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. "Looks like the stock will have some new additions," he said, smiling faintly.
The dozen men moved closer to the four in the middle.
"What! You can't do this!" the leader shouted, anger flaring as his companions tensed beside him. "Give me one last chance! One last chance!"
Mike paused as he began to walk away, then glanced back at them. A satisfied smile spread across his face. "I'm giving you a chance… a chance to be our food," he said calmly.
"No! No!" the leader and the others shouted, but the dozen men advanced, closing the space around them. Mike continued walking, Jay following close behind, leaving the group trapped and terrified.
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