Regressed with Omnipotent AI on Zombie Apocalypse

Jacob showed no fear as he tossed the empty rifle aside and stepped forward. “Kid, you sound young. You think I got to the top with just a rifle?”

Without warning, he lunged forward, moving with incredible speed. His fist collided with Zack’s chestplate, the impact pushing the Mark armor back a step and leaving a dent in the metal.

“Sir, the target’s physical indicators are abnormal. His strength exceeds human norms,” Ego warned.

Zack felt the strain through the armor. “Got it.”

Jacob threw a rapid series of punches, each one shaking the armor. He fought like a seasoned underground fighter, his strength enhanced far beyond what any normal human could achieve.

Amid the dodges and punches, Jacob taunted him. “I don’t know where you got this metal shell, but I’m taking it after I crush you!”

Just as he lunged for the final blow, a glint caught his eye—a blade shot out from Mark’s forearm. He didn’t have time to pull back as it sliced clean through his right arm, severing it at the shoulder.

“ARGH!” Jacob screamed, blood spraying across the ground.

Before he could recover, another blade extended from the opposite arm. With a swift, fluid motion, it took his remaining arm as well. Blood gushed out in torrents, and Jacob dropped to his knees, his face contorted in pain.

“I don’t know what you thought you’d achieve here,” Zack said coldly, raising the bloodied blade for the final strike. “This armor isn’t just for show.”

With a single, decisive swipe, he silenced Jacob for good. As the blade cut through him, Jacob’s final thought was one of disbelief, his gaze locked on Zack as he died in helpless rage. “Really, who brings fists to a blade fight?”

Zack withdrew the blade, scanning the survivors. The workers and their families, huddled among old machines and rusted equipment, clutched makeshift weapons—mostly steel pipes. They looked up at him with fear in their eyes, his armor still stained with blood from the battle. To them, he looked no different than Jacob, the tyrant he had just overthrown.

“Who’s in charge here?” Zack asked, his voice distorted by the armor’s speakers. The crowd murmured nervously, eyes shifting toward a figure lying in the shadows, a bloodied heap.

“Sean Combs, male, 37 years old,” Ego reported. “Former director of the steel plant. No vital signs detected. Cause of death: blunt force trauma.”

Before Zack could respond, a cry pierced the air. A thin, dirty girl with short hair threw herself onto the dead man, clutching his bloodstained clothes. “Dad!” she sobbed, her voice raw and broken with grief.

“Who is she?” Zack asked, curious about the girl’s sudden appearance.

“Annie, female, age 13,” Ego replied, quickly adding her background. “Champion of the 18th Youth Invention Competition… IQ of 174, with four patents in mechanical engineering.”

A spark of interest flashed in Zack’s eyes. This girl, hidden beneath grime and tears, was a prodigy. Such talent could be invaluable. But as he observed her, the crowd grew uneasy. Whispers passed among them, their glances darting between Annie and Zack, a mix of hope and dread in their eyes.

Sensing the tension, Zack raised a hand in reassurance. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he said. “Unlike them.” He gestured at the bodies of Jacob and his gang, their lifeless forms scattered across the factory floor. “I’m here to help. I can clear the zombies around you, bring you food and water… if you cooperate.”

The workers exchanged glances. The offer of food and safety seemed too good to be true, but after the tyranny of Jacob’s rule, they were desperate. “Do you mean it?” one of the older workers asked, stepping forward, hope flickering in his eyes. “You’d really protect us… as long as we do what you ask?”

“Yes,” Zack replied, his tone steady. “All I need is for you to make steel for me. I’ll handle the rest.”

Murmurs rippled through the group, and the weary faces softened as Zack’s words sunk in. But as he spoke, his gaze fell on Annie, still clinging to her father’s body. “I’ll also need someone skilled,” he continued. “A mechanic who can keep up with my work. I want this girl.”

A heavy silence fell over the factory. Shock registered on each face as they realized what Zack was asking. Annie was their only link to the late director, Sean. Losing her felt like losing another piece of what little they had left. An elderly man, his back bent but his gaze sharp, stepped forward, positioning himself between Zack and Annie.

“No,” he said, his voice firm despite his age. “You can take our steel, but you won’t take her.”

“Charles Grant, male, 76 years old, retired metallurgical expert,” Ego informed Zack. Another valuable asset, Zack thought, but he maintained his patience.

“Listen carefully,” Zack said, his voice strong but no longer hostile. “I’m offering her safety and a chance to put her talents to real use. She’s a genius, and with me, she’ll be protected.”

Still, the workers hesitated, clinging to whatever moral ground they could. Then, a quiet, sorrowful voice broke the silence. “Charles… let her go with him.”

The crowd parted as Annie’s mother, a frail, pale woman, stepped forward. She knelt beside her daughter, gathering her into an embrace, her trembling hand stroking the girl’s short hair. “Annie,” she whispered softly, her voice cracking, “you have to go with him. Your father and I… we can’t protect you anymore.”

“No, Mom! I don’t want to leave you!” Annie cried, clutching her mother as though her grip alone could change their fate.

A wave of grief and resignation washed over the woman’s face as she forced a weak smile. Her body trembled, and her breath grew shallow. Zack noticed the unnatural pallor of her skin. “Ego, scan her,” he ordered quietly.

“Name: Morgana Combs. Age: 35. Severe internal injuries. Fatal hemorrhaging. Medical intervention unavailable,” Ego reported coldly.

Zack’s jaw clenched as he watched the woman’s last moments play out. She turned to her daughter, her eyes filled with a mother’s love, even in the face of death. “Annie, I need you to be brave. This man… he’ll protect you now. You’ll be safe with him.”

The woman’s voice faded, and with a final, loving glance, her eyes closed. The factory fell into silence, broken only by Annie’s choked sobs as she cradled her mother’s lifeless body.

Zack’s faceplate retracted, revealing his youthful face to the stunned crowd. They stared at him—the warrior who had worn the steel armor—now just a young man with a weary, solemn expression. “Bury the dead,” he said quietly. Then, with a softer tone, he added, “Bury them together.”

He turned away and waited as the workers began their grim task, giving them a moment to mourn and honor the ones they’d lost.