"What in the world is that?!" Tevin screamed as he burst into the complex, his chest heaving, lungs burning, and eyes wide with terror. He skidded to a stop, staring back toward the exit like a hunted animal.
Merek barreled in right behind him, boots scraping against the floor as he slid to a halt. He spun around. "Close the shutter!" he barked, voice cracking with urgency. Without waiting for a reply, he dashed to the shutter and yanked it down with all his might.
But his heart sank—the padlock and its metal holder had been blown clean off. He stared at the mangled remains for a split second before gritting his teeth so hard his jaw popped.
"What do we do?!" Tevin shouted, voice high and trembling. The panic in it was like a dagger to Merek's chest—but he didn't flinch.
He couldn't afford to.
Fear was death. And his will to live burned hotter.
Merek stepped back, reached for the metal bat that Mr. William had once wielded, and tightened his grip around the handle. He turned to face the shutter—where Yuki now stood like a sentinel—his expression grim and steady.
The elevator at the far end of the right hallway stood waiting. Their final escape route. A last resort if things spiraled out of control.
A heavy clang rang out.
Then another.
And another.
The shutter began to rattle violently as the undead slammed against it, their fists and claws creating a maddening rhythm of impending doom. Tevin flinched with each thud, stumbling backward until his spine pressed against the cold wall. His heart thundered in his chest, loud enough he swore the others could hear it.
He sucked in a shaky breath. No running. No cowering. Not now. He steadied his hands.
And then—silence.
The banging stopped, swallowed by a moment of eerie stillness.
Then came the rip of metal.
A crimson hand, thick with muscle and pulsing veins, punched straight through the shutter. Its clawed fingers gripped the torn steel, and with a guttural roar, it ripped the shutter open like paper.
Twisted limbs surged through the gap. A flood of smaller zombies scrambled into the lobby, crawling over each other in their frenzy. Some were sliced by the jagged edges of the opening, tearing open flesh and bone—but they didn't care.
They didn't even notice.
Their snarls echoed through the complex, feral and unending, drowning out all thought.
Without hesitation, bone carapace erupted over Tevin's body, white plates clacking into place like armor forged in panic. A sword flash split the air as Yuki moved—her form a blur, her blade a whisper of death.
Limbs flew.
Heads rolled.
Her cloak, already darkened by gore, fluttered behind her like the wings of a dark being. Each movement was surgical—precise, fluid, and merciless. She carved through the horde like a harvester in a field of wheat.
Yet even she could not hold the tide completely.
Despite the whirlwind of sword lights, some of the undead slipped past—lunging toward Merek and Tevin with jaws gaping and eyes full of endless hunger.
BAM!
Merek slammed the first zombie square in the skull. Its head whipped back violently as it was launched into the wall with a sickening crunch.
He spun—caught the second by the throat, locking his elbow around its neck—and brought the bat down like a hammer. Once. Twice. The third strike split its cranium, bone and black matter splattering across the tiles.
A snarl came from his right.
Another undead lunged, slamming him against the wall. Merek gritted his teeth, jamming the bat into its mouth to block its bite. He shoved it back, then twisted his body and swung the bat like he was knocking a home run.
The side of its skull caved in, the creature crumpling mid-swing. But Merek barely had time to breathe—more were already coming.
His heart thundered.
He began to retreat down the hallway, step by step, each backward motion accompanied by the wet crunch of metal meeting bone. Skulls shattered. Spines buckled. The sound of impact echoed in his ears like the toll of a bell, again and again, until time itself seemed to blur.
Then—another lunge.
He turned, swung—too slow.
The zombie crashed into him, and they tumbled to the ground. Merek's bat clattered out of reach, spinning across the floor.
He scrambled back, eyes flicking between the weapon and the snarling creature whose limbs cracked grotesquely back into place. It rose like a puppet reanimated by hatred.
Grrrrr!
It pounced—
BANG!
Its skull burst open, jerking sideways as a bullet tore through it. A shot from a revolver.
Breathing hard, Merek glanced up, then lunged for his bat and reclaimed it, his hands slick with sweat. His chest heaved. His arms trembled. He'd slain over a dozen, and yet more kept coming.
A quick glance revealed Tevin was still standing—barely. His bone carapace was holding up against the bites, but his strikes had slowed. The weight of exhaustion hung on his shoulders like chains. The undead were relentless.
That was the true weakness of men… stamina.
Had it not been for Yuki—still slicing through the horde like a blade of divine retribution—they'd be dead already. Her pace never slowed. Her sword danced with tireless grace, never faltering.
Three more zombies staggered toward Merek. These ones were twisted, their legs crushed by the stampede earlier, their gaits uneven and jagged.
With a grimace, Merek surged forward.
He shattered the first's head with a single overhead blow.
The second slashed—he ducked, letting the claw whistle over his head—then drove his bat into its neck. Bones crunched like twigs.
The third leapt—
Merek twisted and slammed an upward arc under its chin. The zombie flew backward, flailing through the air before landing with a thud in the bloodstained lobby.
Breathing raggedly, he followed, boots heavy, legs like lead. And then he saw it.
The giant.
Towering in the middle of the lobby was a grotesque, skinless monstrosity—red sinew stretched taut over bulging muscle. It roared, the sound shaking the walls, and brought its massive fist down like a meteor.
Yuki darted aside at the last instant, slashing open its abdomen in a blur of steel. But the wound was shallow—her blade wasn't cutting deep enough. Not on this thing.
The giant swung again.
Yuki flipped away, then lunged forward, driving her sword into its chest. The blade bit deep, but not deep enough.
The creature's massive hand closed around her.
Before Merek could react, Tevin shot forward, his body sheathed in blazing blue light. It was the skill—[Charge]—and he streaked across the blood-slick floor like a comet.
But the giant turned.
With a roar, it swung its fist sideways—
The blow connected with Tevin's face mid-charge. The impact was thunderous, sending him flying like a ragdoll into the wall.
The entire wall quaked. Dust rained from the ceiling. Tevin slumped to the ground, his bone armor cracked like shattered glass, thin spiderwebs running across its surface.
Yuki ripped her sword free from the giant's flesh. She slashed with all her might, severing the creature's arm at the shoulder. Tendons snapped, the limb thudding to the floor with a slap.
But the cost came immediately.
The monster's remaining fist struck her square in the chest. Her cuirass caved inward with a brutal crunch, metal warping like paper under a hammer. The force sent her skidding backward across the marble, sparks flying from her boots as they scraped the floor.
It was a blow that would have killed any human.
But Yuki wasn't human.
Not anymore.
She was like the thing before her—just a different breed.
Rising, she shot forward, her glowing orbs for eyes never leaving the monster. Her sword gleamed once more, but this time when she slashed, the beast didn't flinch. Instead, it took the blade head-on, letting the steel carve a deep gash into its torso.
Then with a low growl it wrapped its massive hands around the embedded blade and twisted.
Metal groaned.
The sword, a five-kilogram, weaved blade, bent like tinfoil.
Merek's heart pounded. His grip on the bat tightened, knuckles whitening. This thing—this monster—not only wasn't it like the normal zombie, it was definitely above level 10.
Yuki surged forward, undeterred, wrapping her arms around the creature's torso in a brutal grapple. Her boots dug deep into the marble, leaving gouges as she turned her body, trying to unbalance the behemoth.
The lights in her eyes flared—white-hot.
She looked back, just once.
"Master weaver… run."
Her voice was calm. No panic. No desperation. Just finality.
Merek' eyes narrowed. He saw the giant's remaining arm lifting, forming a hammer-like fist, ready to crush her skull.
There was no time to shout. No time to run. No time to think.
Only one bullet left.
He raised his revolver, arm steady, one eye closing.
The chaos around him faded.
His heartbeat slowed.
And then—
BANG!
The last shot roared out of the chamber, echoing like thunder through the blood-soaked lobby.