Chapter 45

Seri screamed as she kicked the man in the face, her foot connecting with a sickening thud. Blood streamed from his eyes, yet he refused to let go of her ankle.

Instead, he yanked her leg and swung his arm wildly.

‘Thud!’

A heavy punch glanced across Seri’s face. Even though it wasn’t a direct hit, the impact left her head spinning. She collapsed to the ground, panting, and her eyes caught sight of the knife the man had discarded earlier.

She stretched her arm out desperately, fingertips brushing the cold handle. Almost there.

“You filthy little—”

The man cursed and reached for the revolver in his back pocket, only to find it missing. It must have fallen during the chaos. In the moment his focus slipped, his grip on Seri’s ankle weakened slightly.

Seizing the opportunity, Seri snatched up the knife.

With a surge of adrenaline, she sat up and drove the blade straight into his wrist with all her strength.

“Aagh!”

Blood spurted as the knife pierced clean through the man’s wrist and embedded itself in the ground. Crimson spread across the rooftop floor. Seri scrambled free of his weakened grip, but almost simultaneously, the man snatched up the fallen revolver.

The revolver fired.

The shot went wide, completely missing her.

Seri bolted toward Dong-seok, grabbing the pistol he had dropped earlier. Originally, he had been assigned a rifle, but the weapon swap during their shift had left him with a pistol.

If they’d stuck to the rifle and the attackers had gotten their hands on it… Seri shuddered at the thought.

The man, now bleeding from both his eyes and his wrist, staggered wildly. Whether he was blinded or disoriented was unclear, but his revolver swung erratically through the air, his finger hovering over the trigger.

Seri knew exactly how many bullets were left in his gun.

One.

Just one shot.

If he wasted it, he’d be defenseless. It seemed he realized this, too—his gun trembled as he pointed it back and forth, unsure where to aim.

Seri had no intention of waiting for him to fire.

Lowering herself to a crouch, she crept silently toward him, step by step. When she was close enough, Seri pulled back the hammer of her pistol.

‘Click.’

The faint sound froze the man in place. Panicking, he spun toward the noise, pointing his gun at her.

‘Bang!’

Seri fired first. The bullet struck him clean in the forehead, and his body crumpled backward, lifeless.

“Rest in hell, you psychopathic trash.”

Seri collapsed onto the ground, panting heavily. Every inch of her body throbbed with pain. But she forced herself to stand. She needed to check on Dong-seok.

She staggered over to him. He was unconscious from the earlier blow, but there was no blood, and he was still breathing. The blood on the attacker’s bat hadn’t been his.

“Rooftop watch here. Seri speaking. First floor, do you read me?”

— ‘Seri? Are you okay? What happened?’

Seo-jun’s voice crackled through the radio. Seri let out a shaky sigh of relief.

“We were ambushed. I killed two of them, but Dong-seok is injured, and I can’t move him alone. Can you come help us?”

— ‘I’d come right away, but we’ve got intruders in the parking lot. You can’t come down yet. Hang tight.’

“What about Yohan? Yohan, are you there?”

— ‘Yohan’s out of contact. Something’s happened.’

Seri’s expression hardened.

—

Yohan had counted to three. As soon as he did, he bolted toward the building, his feet pounding the ground. Hajin rushed forward, grabbing for the firecracker.

A sharp whistle rang through the air as an arrow embedded itself in the spot where Hajin had been a moment ago. The near miss sent a chill down his spine.

Arrows flying through the darkness. Fear gripped him, freezing him in place like his feet were glued to the ground.

‘Move.’

Clenching his teeth, Hajin forced his legs to move and sprinted toward the firecracker. Without slowing his pace, he scooped it up and hurled it like a baseball outfielder throwing to first base.

The firecracker traced a low arc through the air, burning Hajin’s hand with its heat.

He rushed back to Jung-hwan’s side, hoisting him up. Zombies were closing in fast, drawn to the light and noise.

With one hand supporting Jung-hwan, Hajin couldn’t use his gun. Arrows could come at any moment.

The instinct to run away clawed at his mind.

“Run!”

Yohan’s shout cut through the chaos. To draw the zombies’ attention, Yohan fired his gun into the air. ‘Bang! Bang!’ The sound echoed, pulling the zombies toward him and away from Hajin.

Hajin gripped his kukri knife tightly.

‘Trust him.’

There was no choice but to trust Yohan and move forward. Hajin began walking, swinging the blade in wide arcs. Zombies fell, their heads severed cleanly by the heavy knife.

He pushed forward, sweat pouring down his body like rain. There was no time to conserve his strength now.

Yohan, meanwhile, picked off zombies one by one with precise shots, covering Hajin’s advance. His remaining ammo was dwindling quickly.

Yohan glanced toward the firecracker.

The trap that had cornered them was now lighting up the attackers, like a beacon.

Yohan’s eyes narrowed. His gun snapped toward the silhouette of a man kicking the firecracker off the ledge. The attacker raised his crossbow, aiming at Yohan.

Time seemed to slow.

Yohan’s body hummed with the familiar warning signals of danger, his nerves on high alert. The crossbow’s string released with a sharp ‘twang’, and the arrow seemed to grow larger in his vision, frozen like a still frame.

‘I can dodge it.’

Yohan twisted his body at the last moment. The arrow grazed past his face, close enough to feel the wind as it flew by. It felt slow, almost frozen in time. His eyes caught the shaft of the arrow no more than a foot from his face. For a fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still.

Once the arrow had passed, it was as if the world resumed its normal rhythm. Yohan darted into the building. Inside, a suffocating darkness enveloped everything. It was impossible to distinguish friend from foe.

Using a flashlight wasn’t an option—it would only reveal his position. As soon as he entered, Yohan crouched beneath the staircase, closing his eyes. He opened them slowly, repeating the motion for thirty seconds. His irises quickly adjusted to the darkness.

The sound of footsteps echoed from above. Yohan waited, listening closely. The enemy was descending the stairs, drawing closer. Suddenly, a zombie’s howl pierced the silence.

Yohan’s hand shot to the knife at his waist. He lunged forward, slicing through the zombie’s skull in one swift motion.

“Where did he go?!”

The enemy’s voice gave away their position. Yohan turned toward the staircase. Amid the dark, the faintest movements in the shadows were visible—ripples of black in the void.

He adjusted his aim.

‘Bang!’ His Glock fired, and a scream erupted.

He kept shooting until the magazine ran dry. He couldn’t tell how many bullets hit their mark, but he heard four distinct cries of pain.

Reloading quickly, Yohan bolted up the stairs.

The enemy was on the second floor.

The door to the second floor was closed but not locked—the doorknob had already been smashed.

Yohan paused just outside. How many of them were waiting for him inside? He imagined them, like predators in the deep sea, lying in wait for their prey.

No matter their numbers, Yohan was alone. This was his fight. His radio was already muted to avoid making noise, and he had sent Hajin and the injured Jung-hwan back to camp. The responsibility of clearing this place rested solely on him.

The attackers clearly had a hierarchy—some were elite. Judging by their tactics and precision, these enemies were far more dangerous than those at the hospital.

The moment he opened the door, it would be life or death. The electric hum of warning signals coursed through his body, nerves tingling.

A part of him whispered to abandon the camp, to flee. That voice urged him to save himself—wasn’t that what he had promised himself? Wasn’t survival his priority?

That voice delayed him, even if only for a moment.

Yohan gritted his teeth.

Not again. He wasn’t doing this because they were comrades or because he had grown attached. Not because he wanted to protect someone.

It was because he refused to let everything he’d built crumble.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Yohan stepped closer to the door, his mind unsettled. He gripped the handle and swung it open.

The moment he did, something heavy swung down from above.

Yohan jerked backward just in time, narrowly avoiding the blow. At the same time, he fired his Glock, the gunfire flashing in the darkness.

The attacker staggered, and Yohan grabbed him, pulling the man forward to use as a shield.

‘Thunk!’ An arrow embedded itself in the man’s back.

‘Bang! Bang!’ Yohan fired in the direction of the arrow, the shots ringing out. From behind the shelves, attackers fell one by one.

Yohan’s mind was blank. Only a single thought floated through his consciousness: ‘Kill them.’

He moved faster than he could think. Instinct guided his body—hesitation meant death. Instead of circling the shelves, Yohan grabbed the railing above and kicked the shelf forward.

‘Crash!’

The shelf toppled, revealing three attackers who had been crouching behind it, silhouetted against the shattered window.

Holding his human shield high to block incoming arrows, Yohan aimed and fired.

The man in the center—clearly the leader—caught his attention. Yohan’s aim shifted toward him just as the man flipped a metal table vertically, using it as a makeshift shield.

Yohan fired. The bullets ricocheted off the table with sharp pings.

With his last bullet, Yohan turned to the man on the left and shot him. The attacker staggered before falling backward, crashing through the shattered window.

Almost simultaneously, Yohan dropped the man he had been holding and shifted the empty Glock to his left hand. With his right hand, he drew the knife at his waist and hurled it.

The blade flew true, piercing the throat of the man on the right.

A gurgling cry escaped him as he collapsed.

Suddenly, a sharp, searing pain exploded in Yohan’s shoulder.

The attacker he had dropped earlier—now turned into a zombie—had bitten him.

Yohan’s body tensed as the pain shot through him like electricity, every nerve on edge.