The trio pressed forward through the ruined streets, a tidal wave of corrupted corpses snapping at their heels. The air was thick with ash and rot, each breath burning as though the city itself resented their presence. Viktor's daggers flashed like silver sparks in the gloom, precise and efficient, each strike finding a neck, a skull, a weak point that dropped a foe in silence.
"More coming up from the side!" Yuzu's voice cracked as he pointed down the adjoining street. His eyes darted, wide, head cocked like he could hear something the others couldn't. "Running… I hear running! On the other side!"
Chris turned, sweat glistening on his brow, and cursed under his breath. The street ahead yawned with shadows, the sound of pounding feet unmistakable now—fresh hordes surging like a flood toward them. He spat to the side, lifted his greatsword, and with a wild laugh hurled it across the street.
The enormous blade spun end over end before cleaving into the corner of a crumbling building. With a deafening crack, the structure gave way, collapsing in a roaring avalanche of stone and dust. The path of the approaching horde vanished under rubble.
"Ha! That's what you call thinking on your feet!" Chris bellowed proudly, rolling his shoulder as if throwing away a weapon the size of a small tree was casual business.
Viktor didn't reply. His gaze was already shifting, catching the glint of movement out of the corner of his eye. Without hesitation, he pivoted smoothly, his body turning with the momentum like a dancer mid-spin. His dagger swept out in an arc so fluid it looked rehearsed, biting clean through the throat of a zombie just as its claws reached for a trembling civilian hidden against a wall.
The corpse slumped with barely a sound. The woman it had been about to kill stumbled backward, wide-eyed, clutching a child to her chest. Behind her, half a dozen more civilians revealed themselves, huddled in terror.
Chris groaned the moment he spotted them. "Oh, fantastic. Stragglers. This just got a whole lot messier." He wiped sweat from his forehead, glaring at the survivors like they'd inconvenienced him personally. "We can't drag them through this. Not while we're still fighting. We should find a hole for them to hide in, come back after the streets clear."
Yuzu's jaw clenched, his breathing uneven but his eyes burning with stubborn light. He stepped forward, blades flashing faster as he cut into another zombie with renewed fury. "Too dangerous!" he snapped between panting breaths. "If we leave them here, they'll be dead in minutes! We can't just—just abandon them!"
His voice cracked on the last word, but his movements surged. Each step forward became more ferocious than the last, his strikes almost desperate in their urgency. His hesitation from before was gone—burned away by sheer willpower. He wasn't fighting just for himself anymore.
Viktor's daggers slipped free from another corpse with a muted rasp. He glanced once at Yuzu, the fire in his eyes, then back to Chris. His nod was small, almost imperceptible, but clear enough.
Chris threw his head back with an exaggerated groan, dragging his hands down his face. "Great. Just perfect. I personally thought my plan was amazing but I guess you're backing him up?" His voice was half complaint, half disbelief. He kicked a zombie in the chest so hard its spine snapped against a wall. "Fine. Fiiiine! But if I end up playing babysitter, you two owe me."
"Deal," Viktor murmured flatly, already carving through another.
Chris sighed, shaking his head, but the corners of his lips twitched in spite of himself. "Dammit. Guess I'm too handsome to let you both take the glory." He hefted his regrown arm with a grin, stomping forward to rejoin the fray.
The civilians cowered in their shelter, their wide eyes following the trio as the tide of zombies pressed in closer. But where fear and despair should have consumed them, the sight of three young fighters refusing to abandon them sparked a fragile ember of hope.
And in the thick of it, Viktor's voice rose just loud enough to be heard over the carnage, calm and unwavering: "Stay behind us. We'll get you through this."
His daggers gleamed crimson as they descended once more, each movement sharp, economical, resolute.
The rhythm of battle slowed. Where once the horde had pressed like an unending tide, now the streets carried only scattered corpses and the faint crackle of settling rubble. The trio's weapons dripped with gore, their breathing ragged but steady. For the first time since they'd leapt from the chopper, the street felt almost—almost—quiet.
And then, a scream tore that fragile quiet apart.
It came from the cluster of survivors. A young man in his twenties staggered back from the group, clutching his stomach with shaking hands. His eyes, once terrified, now glowed faint violet. Veins crept dark and twisted across his neck, spreading too quickly for denial. His breath came in ragged growls, more beast than human, each one louder, sharper—until it was clear. The Honkai corruption had taken root.
Chris froze mid-swing, his expression twisting into a grimace. "Ah, hell—" he muttered, his greatsword falling slightly as instinct warred with hesitation.
Yuzu's eyes widened, his blade trembling in his grip. "No… wait, maybe—we can—" His words stumbled over themselves, hope and panic clashing as he stepped forward without a plan, without thought.
But the change was happening too fast. The man's skin was paling, his body jerking unnaturally as the infection overtook him. He opened his mouth wide—whether to scream again or bite, no one would ever know.
Because Viktor was already there.
Without a flicker of hesitation, without so much as a pause, his dagger swept in a clean arc. The blade caught the torchlight for only an instant before severing flesh and bone. The man's head fell to the ground with a wet thud, blood spraying outward in a crimson arc that stained Viktor's face and coat.
The body collapsed at his feet, twitching once, then stilled.
Gasps echoed from the survivors. The mother with the child pulled her son closer, shielding his face against her chest. The others backed away, horror twisting their faces—not at the monster that might have been, but at the swift finality of the act that had just taken place.
Viktor didn't even blink. He wiped the dagger clean on the corpse's sleeve, his expression unreadable, his voice steady and cold.
"Form a tighter circle. Stay low. If one of you feels anything—burning, pain, loss of control—you say it immediately. We don't hesitate. We don't give the Honkai time." His tone carried no malice, no pity, no hesitation. Only order.
Chris stared at him for a long moment, his usual easy grin absent, replaced with something heavier. He tightened his grip on his greatsword, looked at Yuzu, then back at Viktor. Finally, with a grunt, he turned and slammed his blade through another straggling zombie that staggered toward them.
Yuzu's hands shook around his weapons. His eyes lingered on the headless corpse longer than they should have, his throat tight, his breath unsteady. But when he finally looked up, his gaze found Viktor's back—broad, steady, and unyielding. He swallowed hard, then followed suit, his blades flashing again as he joined Chris in finishing off the last of the enemies.
The three moved together now, not consciously, not with practice, but with the instinct born of necessity. The last handful of zombies fell quickly, their cries drowned by the cold, efficient rhythm of steel.
And when the street was silent again, it was Viktor's voice that broke through. Calm. Final. Leading.
"Move. Survivors stay between us. Don't fall behind."
Neither Chris nor Yuzu argued. They exchanged only a brief glance—Chris's brows furrowed in reluctant respect, Yuzu's eyes shadowed with unease—and then they obeyed.