Each step carried Lin and the others further from the familiar remnants of Seoul and deeper into a world that no longer belonged to humans. The tunnels had once been subway lines, storm drains, and utility shafts. Now, they were something else entirely—arteries and veins carved out of the city's corpse, pulsing faintly with a rhythm too slow and heavy to belong to any machine.
The floor under Lin's boots gave slightly with each step, like damp muscle. The walls shimmered with a wet sheen, streaked with black veins that pulsed faint red, carrying some form of ichor deeper into the abyss. The faint hum of fluorescent lights had long since been replaced with the muffled beat of something alive.
Keller spat into the ground and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His voice was a low growl.
"Christ. It's like walking through the inside of a lung. I swear, if I see it breathe, I'm torching this whole place."
