Ying's gaze sweeps over the group, then freezes behind you. Heavy panting and rapid footsteps close in fast. Her eyes turn icy, and she barks, "Move!" In a flash, she dons her goggles and swings her rifle toward the threat.
Jin Mao reacts instantly, yanking you to the side. Zhao Ming rolls to the right in sync. The moment you clear the spot, a black, dog-like monster with a gaping maw dripping viscous saliva lunges through the air, its bloodshot eyes locked on Jin Mao, aiming for where you stood.
Bang!
Ying's bullet strikes its abdomen with pinpoint accuracy. The creature writhes, clawing at the floor with a grating screech, dragging itself toward your feet.
Ying calmly ejects the spent cartridge, chambers another round, and fires twice more. The monster collapses, a pool of blood spreading beneath it.
She turns to you, her expression grim. "This floor's their weapons production line, meant for testing. Somehow, the 'products' from below got up here." She gestures with her rifle at the corpse.
So there's a basement level.
"They've turned aggressive lately," Ying continues. "A few stragglers we could handle, but now this place is their den. Stay sharp!" Her words are cut off by a chilling howl echoing from the distance, followed by more—dozens of wolves, closing in fast.
Your scalp prickles as you all instinctively back away.
Then, horrifyingly, the fallen "wolf's" blood reverses course, flowing back into its wounds as if time itself rewinds. Its crimson eyes flare to life, and it lunges, jaws snapping at Ying's ankle—the one that killed it.
Crunch!
A sickening metallic clash. Ying's leg… doesn't break. No blood spills. She merely frowns, raises her rifle, and ends the creature's life again with a single shot.
"I've got a safe spot. Follow me!" Ying beckons. You all sprint, the wolf pack in relentless pursuit. Your stamina fades fast, breaths coming in ragged gasps, footsteps slowing until you lag behind.
Zhao Ming notices first, dropping back to your side, her face etched with concern. "You okay?" Your throat burns, voice barely a croak, your body on the verge of collapse.
She grabs your wrist, half-dragging you forward, her other hand steadying your back. "Stand tall! Look ahead!" You force yourself to comply, and the effort eases your strain. But…
Zhao Ming's fingers, gripping your wrist, tremble violently. She's drenched in sweat, her breathing as labored as yours. This awkward, sidelong pull clearly taxes her.
Yet her eyes meet yours, fierce with trust. Determined not to let her down, you grit your teeth and surge forward. Together, you widen the gap between you and the wolves.
But the glowing red eyes of the pack still tail you.
"Here!" Ying's voice is a lifeline. The "safe room" is a small armory, lined with cold weapons and firearms. "How'd you find this place?" Jia De asks with a grin, pocketing a few sleek handguns.
"Someone gave me a keycard," Ying replies, reloading her rifle and grabbing spare pistols. "Said I'd keep it safer."
You and Zhao Ming slam the heavy metal door shut, then collapse against the wall, gasping. Jin Mao gently nudges your head onto her shoulder, and Zhao Ming leans close. The three of you huddle together, catching your breath. Only Jia De and Ying remain standing, talking.
"What's next? Fight our way out?" Jia De asks, tossing a handgun lightly.
"Not yet," Ying says, glancing at you. "They need to recover." She sits, rolling up her pant leg to check her "injury."
A glint of metal catches your eye—a precisely crafted prosthetic leg. No wonder the bite didn't faze her.
Your exhaustion gives way to awe and curiosity, your gazes fixed on the prosthetic.
Zhao Ming stares at it, swallowing hard, her expression complex. She steps forward, eyes alight. "Can I take a look?" Ying shrugs, unperturbed. Zhao Ming examines the prosthetic's structure and joints closely.
"Such incredible craftsmanship…" she murmurs, genuinely impressed. "Whoever made this put in extraordinary effort."
Ying's eyes dim, her voice low. "She was a genius… brilliant. But she's been missing for years." Her tone carries the weight of old wounds.
"…Sorry," Zhao Ming says, realizing she's touched a sore spot. An awkward silence falls.
You quickly rummage through Zhao Ming's suitcase, pulling out water and biscuits. "Let's eat and recharge!" you say, handing them out. They take the offerings quietly, nibbling slowly.
Jia De stretches out a hand, expectant. "Where's mine?"
"Gone," you reply flatly, tossing the empty wrapper aside.
Jia De's face falls, her exaggerated whine breaking the tension. "What? I'm the only one who doesn't get any?"
In the metallic, gunpowder-scented armory, the four of you and one "dog" find a fleeting moment of respite.