The sirens had faded, but in their place came a new sound—grinding engines, the clatter of metal on broken stone, the guttural shouts of men.
Min-joon froze where he crouched beneath a shattered overpass, Lin leaning heavily against him. Keller pressed his back to the crumbling concrete, his pistol drawn, his face taut with suspicion. Hwan only smiled faintly, as if he had been waiting for this.
Headlights cut through the choking dust, scattering shadows across the ruins. Vehicles—old trucks retrofitted with scavenged armor, mesh plating, spikes of rebar welded like teeth. Figures clung to the sides, rifles slung across their shoulders, masks covering faces burned by ash and sun.
"Militias," Keller muttered. His voice was low but sharp, like the scrape of steel on stone. "Scavenger packs. Saw plenty in Busan after the fall. Hyenas that tear at what the abyss leaves behind."
Min-joon's jaw clenched. "Hyenas or not, they're armed. We need to move before—"
