Blood splattered across the infected's body as Axel fired. His hands were shaky, and 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 a blur of movement, closing the distance between them faster than Axel could blink. The creature 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’s mind raced. He 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, battered but far from done, 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. It was almost like a predator chasing down its prey.

  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 planned his next move. He’d timed it perfectly, knowing that if the infected was going to keep charging, it would eventually stop at the well. Axel had already dropped down, and slipped into the narrow drainage channel below.

  It wasn’t that Axel had reacted faster—it was more that he had anticipated every step. 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 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.

  The infected’s movements grew more erratic, and Axel, feeling the heat of the situation, knew he had no more options. His speed couldn’t compete with the creature's raw 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 was different. The streets were eerily quiet, everyone hiding in the basement of their homes.

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

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  But then, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was small, fragile-looking, and at first glance, she seemed almost malnourished. 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. The distance between him and the creature was dangerously small—he could practically taste its rancid breath. But just as it was about to strike, something unexpected happened. 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. It was stuck, but only for now. Axel knew it wouldn’t be long before the creature managed to escape.

  And then, Axel did something irrational.

  In that crucial moment, as the infected struggled to free itself, Axel 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—it hadn't expected him to be so bold. 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, despite everything, 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. Axel could sense the creature’s life dying.

  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, "Brother... brother..."

  For a brief moment, there was nothing but silence—the kind of silence that spoke volumes, like the weight of bad news settling into your bones.

  Axel coughed weakly, his voice hoarse but reassuring. "I’m fine. Wait for me a bit," he said, each word a struggle.

  Annabelle’s face lit up, relief flooding her features as she gazed at Axel. 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. The tacit understanding between the two of them had reached the point where they could understand each other's thoughts without words.

  So 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. Yet, through it all, a wicked grin spread across his face as he finally allowed himself to laugh—rough, bitter, but freeing. His laughter echoed in the sewer, a release of every ounce of tension, as if the weight of the world had been lifted.