Axel and Annabelle, watching from their hidden spots, shocked. This was raw, brutal, a battle between two beasts.

But Skye’s movements were slowing. The infected's claws swiped at the short blade in his hand, knocking it out of his grip. The gun he had dropped earlier flew through the air, clattering against the wall of a nearby building before bouncing off a manhole cover and coming to a stop.

Skye's vision began to darken, his strength slipping away. The hardening on his body faded, and he knew his time was running out. As his body weakened, the thoughts of the day earlier flickered in his mind—promising to keep the fleeing residents safe. He had promised them, and now…

I’m sorry...

He closed his eyes, resigned to the end. The expected fatal blow never came. What? Confusion clouding his mind.

Half-dead and drenched in his own blood, Skye managed to raise his head, his weak eyes following the infected’s gaze. The creature wasn’t focused on him anymore, it was looking in the direction of the houses.

Skye followed its line of sight, and his heart skipped a beat. Through the dim night, a thin figure stood, a gun gripped tightly in both hands, aimed directly at the infected’s head.

This was the third time today he had seen that face.

He didn’t know how the kid had gotten there, but all Skye could do, with his last breath, was try to warn him.

“Run!”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The sound of the gunshots drowned out every other noise in Skye’s ears. In the chaos, the last thing he saw was the boy’s nervous but unwavering gaze, and the infected, a fast blur of motion, charging toward Axel.

Blood splattered across the infected's body as Axel fired. Despite aiming for the head, due to his inexperience with guns, the shots landed on the creature’s body, not the skull.

The infected was so close now that Axel could almost feel its breath. It was a miracle Axel hadn't been torn apart yet—he’d only need one more hit to be finished.

Axel had calculated this moment, prepared for it. After firing five shots, he stepped back—just one small movement, but it was enough. The infected, in all its fury, lost track of him for a split second. It charged past the spot where Axel had been, crashing into the side of a building with a deafening thud.

The creature struggled to get back up, blood flowing freely from its wounds. Axel could hear its angry growls as it made another lunge, this time heading straight for him.

The infected stopped at a well, peering down into the dark depths. The stench of sewage and rot filled the air, but there was no sign of Axel. It leaned its long neck down into the well, sniffing around, searching for its quarry.

"Bang!"

The shot rang out again. Axel had already dropped down, and slipped into the narrow drainage channel below. The bullet hit the infected in the front teeth, and half of its chin was torn away, blood spraying.

Axel cursed under his breath. He’d thought the infected would drop after a clean shot to the head, but the shit creature's defenses had proved stronger than he expected.

"Roar!" The infected howled in rage, its fury consuming any remaining trace of rational thought. It squeezed its massive body into the well opening, its size too great for the narrow space. The creature was stuck, but still, its desperate thrashing scraped Axel, forcing him to block it with his gun, which snapped in two under the force.

Axel's force couldn’t compete with the creature's power, and the well was rapidly becoming a trap. So, he sat there, stared at the infected’s eyes, pale and calm in the face of imminent danger.

The creature’s thrashing echoed in the night, an unnerving sound that shook the dark streets. If it had been a normal night, Axel was sure that some of the nearby residents would have come out to see what was going on. But tonight the streets were eerily quiet, everyone hiding in the basement of their homes.

Meanwhile, Skye lay unconscious in a pool of blood, his team all knocked out by the infected's poison mist. The situation felt hopeless.

But then, a figure emerged from the shadows. Her braids were rough at the ends, and her body was thin, like she hadn't eaten properly in days. But what she was holding in her hand... was a bloody black short knife.

It was Annabelle.

As Annabelle stepped closer to the struggling infected, her eyes, once soft, now shimmered with a deadly red glow. Her brown hair, usually plain and unremarkable, rippled as it shifted into a dark, mysterious purple-red. The weak, timid expression that had once defined her was gone, replaced by a cold, murderous intent.

With a firm grip on the short blade, she reversed her stance and suddenly surged forward, her speed matching that of the infected in its prime.

Axel, barely breathing, watched the crack in the well’s wall widen as the infected’s desperate struggle continued. He could practically taste its rancid breath. But just as it was about to strike, the infected let out a shrill, agonized wail.

It tried to claw its way out, pushing against the well’s walls, but its earlier carelessness had trapped it. Axel knew it wouldn’t be long before the creature managed to escape.

And then, Axel did something irrational. He reached out and grabbed one of its arms with both hands, locking onto it as though it were a vice. The infected was taken by surprise. But this momentary hesitation gave Axel the upper hand.

The well’s mouth seemed to bleed with the infected’s blood as it poured down, soaking Axel’s face. He could hear the sickening sound of the dagger slicing into the infected’s flesh, a hissing noise that reverberated in the air.

Bang!

Axel was violently slammed against the well’s wall by the infected’s monstrous strength. His throat burned with the metallic taste of blood, and he felt like his organs were being jolted out of place. Yet, he stood his ground—unmoving, a rock in the storm.

An hour ago, Axel had killed for the first time. He’d thought that was the craziest thing he would ever do. Now, he was living through something even more insane.

After a few long seconds, the infected’s strength started to fade. Its screams became quieter, weaker, as it bled out.

Annabelle stood outside the well, the dagger in her hand had been plunged deep into the infected’s back, turning it into a pincushion of blood and muscle. As she let the blade fall, it clattered softly to the ground. Her expression softened, her eyes reddened, and she spoke in a whisper, "Bro... bro..."

Axel coughed weakly. "I’m fine. Wait for me a bit," he said, each word a struggle. Annabelle’s face lit up, her eyes were red and full of concern.

When Axel quietly picked up the fallen gun and pointed at the dagger in the corner, she had known what Axel meant.

She followed suit, but she did hesitate for a while. Now she was really scared, afraid that her momentary cowardice would lead to bitter consequences.

He dragged himself, exhausted, toward the waterway beside the wall, the pain in his body threatening to tear him apart. A wicked grin spread across his face. His laughter echoed in the sewer, a release of every ounce of tension.