General Kojan's Plan

Bam…

Adam's fist sliced through the air, creating a small shockwave that rattled the surroundings. His right arm was fully extended, muscles taut, sweat dripping from his temple, tracing down his chin before falling to the ground. His breath came in heavy pants, but his sharp eyes remained locked on his clenched fist.

"Huh..." He let out a long breath, his throat parched like a barren wasteland. He had been training non-stop for three hours. His body screamed for rest, but his mind refused to yield.

[ Main Mission: Punch x954 ]

"Just 46 more punches?" He muttered, eyes gleaming. The system notification floating in front of him reignited his fading determination, fueling him with renewed energy.

He adjusted his stance, pulling his left arm back before launching another punch forward.

Bam…

The air trembled once more, another minor explosion breaking the silence. Each strike didn't just bring him closer to completing the mission—it gave him an odd sensation, as if his body was progressing far faster than it would through ordinary training.

"So, the system affects my training too?" Adam mused, sensing something different. If he threw a thousand punches without the system, the effects would never be this pronounced.

The more he thought about it, the stronger his desire to finish the mission became. In just a few more minutes, he would reach the required threshold—a thousand punches, kicks, blocks, and evasive maneuvers. But beyond the mission itself, what he truly wanted to know was… just how much stronger would he become after this?

***

On the main road of West Jakarta, a military convoy moved through the ruined city. The formation consisted of a jeep and a mid-sized truck, trailing behind two massive tanks that crushed debris and abandoned vehicles beneath their tracks.

The steel wheels of the tanks clattered loudly over cracked asphalt, grinding down remnants of collapsed buildings. With this setup, their journey remained smooth, unimpeded by obstacles.

Atop the lead jeep, a middle-aged man lounged beside the driver, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his lips. The tip still burned, releasing wisps of smoke that swirled in the wind. His rough hands gripped a cane, occasionally tapping its end against the jeep floor in a slow, steady rhythm.

"Anything?" His raspy voice carried a tone of both boredom and unease. "Any signs of life?"

Behind him, a woman in military fatigues didn't respond immediately. Her eyes were fixed on a rotating dish-like device, scanning for signals in the vicinity. At its center, a circular screen displayed several blinking dots.

"Two o'clock direction. Four hundred meters out. Seven life signs detected," she reported crisply.

The middle-aged man exhaled a long breath, then crushed his cigarette into the jeep's metal surface. Deep wrinkles etched his face, reflecting a mix of emotions—anger, resignation, and a hint of caution. He turned to the three soldiers sitting in the back, his gaze settling on one individual with noticeably paler skin than the others.

"Get ready."

No further explanation was needed. The soldiers immediately raised their weapons, chambered rounds, and secured their gear.

"Ready."

The pale-skinned soldier responded firmly. His eyes sharpened, fixed straight ahead, as if he could already see the marked location on the radar.

It didn't take long for the convoy to reach their destination. They now stood at the end of an overpass, overlooking an abandoned marketplace below.

Captain Rio stepped out of the jeep with a steady gait. A faint blue glow shimmered around his body for a brief moment before fading away. A massive sword hung from his waist, gleaming under the dim sunlight filtered through dust and smoke. He shot a glance at the pale-skinned soldier.

"Let's go."

Without hesitation, the soldier followed. Two more soldiers and the woman with the radar device moved in sync, maintaining a few steps' distance from the captain and the lead soldier.

As they reached the muddy streets of the market, a foul stench of rot and decay assaulted their senses. The remains of vegetable stalls, fish, meat, and spices lay scattered, covered in grime and filth. Broken glass cases lined the area, dried blood staining the remnants of unidentifiable goods.

At a glance, the place seemed deserted—like a ghost town abandoned long ago. However, the woman monitoring the radar remained fixated on the screen. The seven red dots continued to blink, hidden within an old building.

Captain Rio halted, his gaze locking onto a worn-out shop sign that read Fresh Fish Store. Raising a megaphone, he spoke in a commanding tone.

"This is Captain Rio. Anyone inside the Fresh Fish Store, come out now! If you don't comply, we will enter by force!"

His voice echoed across the empty buildings, resonating through the eerily silent streets. The soldiers tightened their grips on their weapons, fingers hovering over the triggers.

Seconds passed.

Five. Ten. Thirty.

No response.

Rio narrowed his eyes, lifting the megaphone again. But before he could speak, the sound of footsteps echoed from within the building.

The wooden door creaked open, revealing a group of figures emerging from the shadows.

A middle-aged man stepped forward. His body was gaunt, his face smeared with dirt, a scar running along his temple. Behind him, two younger men stood upright, each gripping long-barreled rifles with wary expressions.

As they drew closer, the older man stopped. His furrowed brows deepened as his gaze swept over the armed soldiers before him.

"What do you want?" His deep voice carried no trace of fear or friendliness—just cold indifference.

Rio remained calm. After numerous meetings with other captains and General Kojan, a decision had been made—regardless of how these Evolvers behaved, as long as they cooperated with the military, they would be accepted.

"I'll be direct. This is a direct order from General Kojan, the current leader of West Jakarta."

Captain Rio's voice was firm, delivering his message like an official decree. He locked eyes with the older man, ensuring his words were fully understood.

"Everyone within West Jakarta must cooperate with him. We will assist in fortifying the city, defending it, and participating in routine expeditions," he continued.

His gaze remained unwavering as he added, "Every group is also required to pay a residency fee—ten crystals per person."

The middle-aged man's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. The lines on his face deepened as he furrowed his brows. It was clear he didn't like what he had just heard.

His lips moved slightly, murmuring something under his breath before he finally spoke.

"And what do we get in return?" His voice was heavy, filled with reluctance.

Rio remained unfazed. "You get the right to live within the city's stronghold and work alongside the government," he replied nonchalantly, as if dismissing any objections before they could be voiced.