Saya ran with all her might, head down, breath ragged. Behind her, soft footsteps and rustling sounds echoed ominously—she didn't need to look to know it was that creature. It wasn't in a hurry. It didn't need to be. The prey had no way to resist.
The pitch-dark stairwell caused Saya to stumble more than once, but each time she forced herself up, clutching the little girl tightly and pressing forward.
But when they were almost at the ground floor, the staircase abruptly ended—destroyed. From that height, jumping down would either cripple her or kill her outright, especially with the sharp rubble scattered below.
Left with no choice, Saya burst through a nearby door and ran down a hallway, hoping to find another route. The hallway on this floor was no better—pitch-black and suffocating. She strained her eyes to see, but still bumped into broken equipment, debris, and… corpses.
The stench of blood was overwhelming. It couldn't be masked. There were monsters on this floor too. Many had died here.
The footsteps behind her drew closer—wet and deliberate, like some boneless creature slithering through the dark. Saya didn't dare look back. Her legs shook, but she ran on, arms wrapped around the child, struggling to stay upright in the chaos.
The corridor was so dark she could barely tell where the floor ended and bodies began. One misstep sent her stumbling over a cold, mangled corpse, its face twisted and blood oozing from empty eye sockets. Gritting her teeth, Saya avoided looking, pushed forward, though her legs felt like stone.
Then—
A slimy arm slithered out from a collapsed wall. Saya tripped. The girl in her arms cried out, but Saya rolled, clutching her tightly, narrowly avoiding a tendril that lashed down like a whip.
Clack! Clack! Clack!
The creature emerged at the far end of the hallway. No longer human. Its body had split open, human skin peeling away to reveal slick, pulsating flesh riddled with bulbous eyes. The once-human head dangled like a mask, stretched over something else.
There was no way left to run.
Saya turned her back to the wall, shielding the child. Eyes wide, she watched the creature approach. Its tentacles writhed along the ceiling, crawling like some grotesque spider toward its prey.
"So this is it…?" Saya whispered, holding the child close, eyes closing in resignation.
Just as the first tendril came crashing down—
"Get down!!"
BANG!
A gunshot rang out. A bullet tore through one of the creature's many eyes, making it shriek like a storm-torn banshee.
A man burst in from the opposite hallway, shotgun blazing. At the same time, a woman wielding a long metal pipe appeared from the shadows and slammed it into the tentacle attacking Saya.
"Get over here, now!" the woman shouted.
Saya didn't hesitate. Clutching the child, she ran toward them—toward salvation.
Moments later, three more people appeared. One carried a fire axe, the others held makeshift weapons: a metal tray, steel pipes, surgical tools.
The battle began.
Blood splattered. Metal clashed. Screams echoed. They surrounded the monster, striking from all sides. But it didn't go down easily. One tendril impaled the man with the fire axe, lifting him into the air and slamming him against the wall, painting it red.
"Kensuke!!" the woman screamed, desperation in her voice. She struck the creature's head wildly, sobbing.
Another person's leg was shattered by a whip-like strike. They collapsed, crying out in pain.
Saya could only cower in the corner, arms tight around the child, watching the desperate fight unfold.
Then—
BANG!
The final bullet from the shotgun found its mark—hitting the back of the creature's neck where a grotesque, unblinking eye surveyed the room.
The beast shrieked, convulsed violently, then collapsed with a sickening squelch. Its tentacles twitched, then stilled.
Silence.
Only ragged breathing remained. Blood covered the floor.
Three survivors.
The man with the shotgun now sat on the floor, drenched in sweat. The short-haired woman knelt beside Kensuke's corpse, tears streaming down her bloodstained face.
And Saya, still clutching the sleeping child, stared at the fallen monster with vacant eyes.
No one spoke for a long time.
Only the wind howled through shattered walls, a mournful cry like the souls of the dead wandering the halls of what was once a hospital.
Eventually, the man stood up. "We shouldn't stay here. We don't know what else is out there. We need to move."
He turned to Saya. "You're nurse Saya, right?"
Saya nodded.
"And that child?"
"…A patient," she replied weakly.
The man furrowed his brow but said nothing more about it. He went to comfort the grieving woman.
"Let's head to the storage room. There might be something useful there," he said. "We don't know what we'll face once we leave this place. Better to be prepared."
No one disagreed.
The group moved on, footsteps dragging across blood-stained tiles. They said nothing, as though words had become a luxury in this rotting world.
Saya walked in the rear, still holding the child. The girl seemed to be asleep, breathing softly. Whether from exhaustion or numbed terror, Saya couldn't tell. She didn't even know why she still held the girl—instinct? Duty? Or simply because letting go wasn't an option?
The storage room wasn't far. It lay behind a partially collapsed corridor. They climbed over rubble and squeezed through narrow gaps reeking of damp and rot—unclear if from corpses or something else.
"There," the man said, spotting a faded steel door in the darkness.
He pushed it open. It creaked loudly, making everyone flinch—but nothing stirred inside, only the musty smell of old paper, dust, and iron.
The storage room was small. Dim light from a single flashlight swept over steel cabinets lining the walls. Some had been forced open, papers scattered. But in one corner, a small medicine cabinet remained intact, its padlock dangling.
"I'll handle it," the short-haired woman said, approaching with a crowbar.
Snap!
The lock broke. Inside were gauze, painkillers, antibiotics, saline—barely enough for a short time.
"Not much… but it's something," she murmured.
The man began dividing the supplies, slipping them into everyone's packs. Saya accepted hers with a nod of thanks but said nothing.
"We should rest here," the man said. "My name's Renji. That's Kana," he added, nodding to the short-haired woman resting against the wall.
"There were five of us, all maintenance workers from the basement. The other two…" He trailed off, pain flashing in his eyes. "...didn't make it."
Saya looked at him, her voice dull. "The basement?"
Renji nodded. "We lost communication down there. When we came up... everything had changed. Something rose from beneath. We don't know what, but..."
He didn't finish.
"Do you know a way out?" Saya asked, urgency finally touching her voice.
"We checked all the main exits. Blocked by rubble. No signal either. We tried the control room, but the systems were completely destroyed…"
"So there's no way out?" Saya pressed.
He paused, then said, "There might be one. The underground sewer. It's big enough for adults to crawl through."
"…Back down there?" Kana whispered, visibly shaking.
"We have no other choice," Renji replied.
"What happened down there?" Saya asked, suspicion in her tone.
Silence.
Then Kana spoke. "The first signs of trouble started in the sewers. One of our coworkers went to investigate some strange markings… but never came back. We tried to contact him—nothing."
"Later, we got another strange signal. It felt wrong. No one dared go check. We were about to report it when the sewer entrance exploded and… that thing came out!"
Kana trembled. Renji shut his eyes, refusing to recall it.
"We barely escaped," Kana continued. "We triggered the gas system and blew the whole place up. Trapped the thing down there. If we go back now…"
She couldn't finish.
Saya fell silent. Tragedy had struck without warning. She had seen so many die—patients she cared for, coworkers she greeted every day. All gone.
Now, all she had left was the little girl.
Saya looked down at the child sleeping peacefully in her arms. Strangely, the sight eased her heart.
"I'll protect you," she whispered.
Then Renji spoke up. "It's dangerous, yes—but staying here is worse. We don't know how many more of those things are out there, and we'll run out of supplies soon."
The others said nothing. They knew. They understood. But they were afraid.
Still—whether staying or leaving meant death, they'd rather take a chance.
"Then let's go!" Kana declared, wiping her tears and picking up the axe.
Saya stood too. She hadn't been able to help in the fight—but now she could repay her debt. For herself. For the girl.
Renji rose as well. His shotgun was empty. Without hesitation, he discarded it and picked up a steel pipe from the rubble nearby.
"Let's move."