: The Roar Beyond the Wall
The bunker shook as if a giant fist was pounding against its steel gates. The vibrations penetrated the concrete walls, resonating in the bones, making the insides contract with a primal fear. Sirens wailed, their shrill cries merging with the dull thud of the gates and the piercing flash of red emergency lights, painting the narrow corridors in a bloody glow. Each flicker revealed the terrified faces of the survivors, but only one stood out — Min-jun. His eyes were sharp as knives, reflecting tension, fear, and resolve all at once.
He grabbed his rifle; the cold steel in his hands felt almost like an extension of his own body. Every step along the corridor echoed, bouncing off concrete walls, cutting through the chaos around him. Min-jun felt his muscles tense, his heart pounding, instincts firing at maximum speed. Every creak, every metallic scrape, every slight rustle sounded like a warning — the predator was near, ready to strike at any moment.
Beyond the walls came a guttural, low roar. Hundreds of zombies, ravenous and relentless, united into a terrifying symphony. Their empty eyes glimmered in the dim light, claws scraping metal and leaving deep grooves, while the stench of decay seeped through cracks, making lungs constrict with nausea. This was no random attack; something had clearly drawn them here. Min-jun recalled So-hyun's data: the Echo anomaly flickering on the screen was like a magnet for these creatures.
He ran to the main gates, where the survivors had gathered. They looked exhausted but ready to defend. Gardeners wielded improvised weapons — shovels, crowbars, hoes — fortifying barricades made of crates and furniture. Their eyes were filled with terror, yet their hands gripped their weapons tightly. Dr. Yoon, pale but composed, distributed bandages and injections with steady, precise hands. The engineer cursed under his breath, patching a gap in the door through which zombie claws were already squeezing. The stench of rot invaded the bunker, choking the survivors, who pressed their hands to their noses, fighting the nausea.
"They'll break through!" shouted a gardener, voice trembling but full of determination. "We won't last if there are more of them!"
Min-jun took position at a narrow slit. His rifle trembled in his hands from tension, yet every shot was precise and lethal. Zombie heads exploded; bodies collapsed onto the cold floor, yet they flowed like an endless river, seemingly without end. Each impact came with the hiss of tearing flesh and the clang of metal, forming a torturous harmony of chaos.
He felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders — he had to protect this bunker, protect So-hyun. His chest tightened with the pain of loss, the voice of the past whispering in his ears, a memory from his world where he had failed to save his So-hyun. But this So-hyun was alive. Min-jun could not let this life become a ghost.