In the central command chamber of the human military's main headquarters, the air was heavy and hot, even though no fire was burning. The scent of sweat, metal, and tension hung thick in every corner. A world map covered the wall marked with red and black symbols denoting lost territories, undead-controlled zones, and places deemed unsafe. At the center of the vast room, generals and high-ranking officers sat around a round table, their faces as stiff as metal shields forced to hold back cracks.
The debate was boiling over again.
"If we let the city of Nocture continue to grow, they'll win the hearts of what's left of humanity!" barked Colonel Marron, slamming his hand on the table. "We the military are the last bastion of human civilization! And now they want to live alongside zombies? That's blasphemy!"
"And you want to attack that city?" a young lieutenant shot back, bitterness in his voice. "They've never attacked us. They even sent diplomatic communications—"
