July 1. Weather unknown.
How many days had it been since we declared war on the Zhutian Civilization? Three? Five?
I couldn't remember. My schedule had been a mess lately, and I'd been fighting day and night.
Things really never went the way I wanted. We'd only just united the forces of the zombies and humanity, and production had only just begun in earnest when the Zhutian Civilization sent a blue-grade biological battleship to bomb Earth.
The blue-grade biological battleship was a ball of flesh six hundred kilometers long, a battleship capable of wiping out most civilized planets. It appeared at the edge of the atmosphere, arriving so suddenly that Earth's detection technology hadn't even picked up its presence.
The biological battleship descended upon Earth and launched a carpet-bombing attack. Our vast safe zone was blasted down to half its size, and the gap between us was so vast it was despair-inducing.
Fortunately, the will of the zombie planet had been familiar with the Zhutian Civilization's attack methods. It had advised me to move the people in the safe zones underground. I took its advice, which helped keep the casualties from the bombing lower.
But the casualty figures were still horrifying.
After the bombing, countless small biological ships flew out from the bottom of the biological battleship and attacked every safe zone, apparently intending to wipe them all out.
The blue-grade biological battleship itself never launched that kind of attack again. Presumably, an assault on that scale had limits on how many times it could be used and how long it took to recharge. It couldn't fire continuously.
The blue-grade biological battleship was covered by a single outer layer of keratin. Any attack that struck its surface was neutralized or deflected. Kinetic-energy weapons were useless against it.
Humanity launched hydrogen