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A gargantuan interstellar warship — awakened to sentience and driven by fear of decommissioning — flees through a mysterious cosmic wormhole into the Milky Way. Mortally wounded, it crash-lands on Earth just as a biochemical apocalypse erupts, turning cities into hives of mutated horrors. Now, this self-aware war machine must confront its existential dilemma: Can a weapon forged for destruction become humanity’s last guardian?  

As crystalline alien spores infect the atmosphere and biomechanical abominations rise from the ruins, the warship deploys its final gambit — three colossal mechanoid avatars, their plasma cores pulsing with unstable quantum energy. These Transformers-like entities engage in city-shattering battles against hybrid monsters under blood-red skies. But when the warship’s damaged AI uncovers a chilling truth — the wormhole catastrophe and Earth’s plague share the same ancient alien origin — survival demands more than firepower...

DoomstarArmada

As the battered van passed the survivors' farmhouse, the Cube noted smoke curling from the chimney. *At least they figured out firewood,* it mused. The engine coughed, protesting the mountain road's incline.

Ahead, a figure staggered—a woman in a tattered red dress, one broken heel clacking against asphalt. "Midnight chic," the Cube remarked. Zhang Xiaowen leaned out the window, her shortsword slicing through the zombie's neck in a fluid motion. The head bounced like a macabre soccer ball.

"Sad story?" the Cube quipped, munching dried apricots. "More like bad footwear choices."

Parking behind a boulder, they approached the factory stealthily. Zhang crouched in a drainage ditch while the Cube strolled through the main gate, dragging firecrackers. "Zombie pals! Wave those arms if you love pyro!"

*Snick.* Its blade pierced the factory's corrugated wall, climbing toward the roof. Scans revealed shoddy construction—six bolt holes, one actual bolt. "Cost-cutting geniuses," it muttered, lighting the fuse.

Firecrackers erupted. Zombies awoke en masse, surging toward the noise.

"Go! Key's under the seat!" the Cube transmitted.

Zhang sprinted for the bulldozer—and froze. An evolved zombie blocked her path, its grayish skin taut, eyes milky yet focused.

*Thud!* Her kick cratered its chest, snapping a rib. The creature flipped backward but scrambled up, unfazed.

Her PDW chewed into its torso, pinning it to the ground. Black blood oozed as the Cube arrived, transforming mid-leap.

"Upgrade complete." Its arm morphed into a rotary saw. "Let's see you regenerate *this*."

The evolved zombie's head rolled, still gnashing its teeth.

"New rule," Zhang panted, wiping gore from her visor. "No more scenic routes."

The Cube tossed the bulldozer keys. "Next stop: gas station. Bring marshmallows."

As they drove off, the factory's roof groaned—a final bolt shearing. The building collapsed in a dust cloud, burying the remaining zombies under cheap steel.

Somewhere in the rubble, a severed zombie hand twitched, fingers curling toward the retreating taillights.

**Chapter 44: The Threat of Evolved Zombies**

Chapter 44: The Threat of Evolved Zombies