Regressed with Omnipotent AI on Zombie Apocalypse(FF)

A soldier, shaking uncontrollably, instinctively pulled out his pistol, gripping it with trembling hands. He pointed the barrel at the door, his fear so overwhelming that he didn't even realize the safety was still on. "Put that down! Lay it down!" Kshatti hissed at him, his voice stern but barely above a whisper. "What do you think you're doing? Do you think a small pistol will do anything to someone who shrugged off bullets and a punch from Navas?"

The soldier jolted, realizing the futility of his weapon. "Y-yes, sir..." His voice quivered as he quickly tossed the gun to the floor and kicked it away, raising his hands in a panicked gesture of surrender.

"I didn't mean surrender, idiot..." Kshatti began, his irritation showing. Then, something clicked in his sharp mind. He turned to the others, speaking in hushed but urgent tones. "Quick! Everyone, raise your hands! No one shoots, you hear me? I don't care what happens—do not fire a shot!"

The soldiers scrambled to obey, throwing their weapons aside and raising their hands in unison. Fear permeated the room as the footsteps outside grew louder, heavier.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The distinct, metallic clang of the Power armor boots stopped just outside the command room door. The tension in the room thickened; no one dared even to blink.

Boom!

The heavy steel door was violently kicked in, flying across the room like a missile. It slammed into one of the soldiers, crushing his chest with a sickening crunch. The unfortunate man collapsed to the ground, lifeless, the door panel pinning his broken body.

Zack strode into the room, his Power armor gleaming ominously in the dim light. In his hand, he carried Navas, battered and barely clinging to life. Without a second glance, Zack flung him onto the floor like a discarded rag.

Navas hit the ground hard, his bruised body sliding across the floor until it came to a stop at Kshatti's feet. "Help...me..." Navas rasped, his mutilated mouth barely able to form words. "Ksha...Shatt..." Before he could say more, Kshatti recoiled, nudging Navas aside with his boot as if the man's very presence might seal his doom. His expression said it all: Don't drag me into this!

Zack's gaze swept over the room. The sight of Kshatti and the others, their weapons abandoned and their hands raised, didn't stir an ounce of pity in him. His voice, calm and cold, cut through the silence like a blade. "Now you're surrendering? Lose all your " he asked, his tone almost mocking. "Tell me, where's Jock?"

A soldier on the floor pointed shakily at a nearby corpse. "C-chief Jock... That's him..." His voice trembled as he indicated the lifeless body, its chest gruesomely torn open.

"Ah, I see," Zack said flatly. "So he's the one Navas dealt with earlier. Got it." He paused for a moment before speaking again. "Alright. Everyone, stand up. Get against the wall and line up. Straighten up."

Kshatti didn't hesitate. He scrambled to his feet and darted to the wall, standing stiff as a board. His haste made it clear he feared even a second's delay could cost him his life. The others followed suit, their movements frantic as they rushed to comply. They stood in a crooked line, trembling as they looked at Zack with wide, terrified eyes.

On the floor, Navas coughed weakly, blood dribbling from his mouth. His fading gaze flicked to his comrades. A bitter smirk tugged at his lips as the realization dawned on him: 'You fools, he doesn't care whether you live or die...' But he never got the chance to say it.

Zack stepped forward, his expression unreadable behind the mask of his armor. His voice, calm yet laced with steel, commanded, "Turn around."

Those three simple words hit Kshatti like a lightning strike. His mind reeled. He turned to Zack, his voice shaking. "Sir, please! We surrendered! We—"

"Turn. Around." Zack repeated, his tone unchanging. There is no way he take changed taking this people in.

Kshatti swallowed hard, his knees threatening to buckle. He turned slowly, facing the wall, sweat dripping down his face. The others followed suit, their movements stiff and hesitant, as if delaying the inevitable would somehow save them.

Zack reached for the coiled whip at his side. With a flick of his wrist, the electromagnetic whip came to life, sparking with high-voltage electricity. The crackling sound filled the air, and the ground scorched where the whip dragged.

Kshatti heard the sound and broke down entirely. He dropped to his knees, banging his forehead against the floor as he begged. "No! Please, don't kill me! I can help you! I can manage this base for you! I-I've done a good job, I swear!"

Blood trickled from his forehead as he continued to kowtow, his desperate pleas echoing in the tense silence. He assumed Zack wanted the Caribbean base for its resources and people—a valuable stronghold with a population of 40,000, even in the apocalypse. But Zack's laughter, cold and mocking, cut him off. "You think I'm here to take over this base?" His voice, distorted through the Power armor, carried an almost otherworldly menace.

After getting report from Ego, that Navas was cannibal something clicked on his mind, how did this base survived this long housing 40.000 people, the answer is they eath the other. What happened here, the atrocity can all be guessed. The world law maybe no more, but for Zack there is still something you should never do, it's his bottom line.

Kshatti froze, his face pale. Zack stepped aside, gesturing toward the large screen in the room. His voice was casual but laced with something darker. "No. I don't need this place. But you're right about one thing—I'll be taking some people with me. " He paused, letting his words sink in before adding with a chilling finality, "As for the rest of you... Let's just say you'll wish I'd let Navas finish you off instead."

On the massive screen in front of him, Kshatti's eyes lost all hope. Despair surged through him like an unrelenting tide as the horrifying scene unfolded. Three strange-looking fighter planes hovered ominously over the Caribbean base.

One of them, armed with missiles and cannons, was systematically clearing out the ordinary soldiers defending the base. The other two aircraft flew low, no more than fifty or sixty meters above the ground, releasing waves of cold, deadly machines.

As soon as these dog-like and spider-like killing machines hit the ground, they sprang into action. With terrifying efficiency, they massacred anyone they encountered. The air filled with the deafening sounds of light and heavy machine gunfire, explosions, and the desperate cries of their soldier. The chaos was relentless, echoing through every corner of the base.

The carnage drew the attention of nearby zombies, their growls and roars rising in unison as they surged toward the base. Undeterred by the high walls, the undead swarmed into the survivor's living area, cutting off any possible escape route for the terrified inhabitants. On one side, the merciless killing machines advanced. On the other, a growing tide of the undead closed in. There was no escape, no salvation.

"You are a devil!" Kshatti roared at the top of his lungs, his voice cracking with rage and despair. "A devil! I curse you! Curse you!"