The sunlight was starting to dim—not by time, but by mood. It came through the windows like it had second thoughts, like it didn't want to shine on what came next.
Gabe didn't move. He stood where he'd been for the last ten minutes—at the far end of the classroom, behind a cracked windowpane, one hand in his pocket, the other resting at his side like it might need to move quickly.
[Infection Proximity: 19m → 13m]
A second figure crossed the courtyard.
Not a victim this time. Not a bystander. Infected.
Younger. In a club jacket. His neck was bent too far to the left, and he limped as if one leg refused to straighten. He moved with the same unnatural rhythm—limbs out of sync with the rest of him, like he was being dragged forward by hunger alone.
[Path Trajectory: Direct – West Building Entryway]
A shimmer of weight under Gabe's jacket pulsed like muscle memory.
The Glock sat holstered at his waist—suppressed, loaded. No flash, no fanfare. The moment the system came online, it had just… appeared. Like it had always belonged there.
Loadout: Glock 17 (Suppressed)
Ammo: 9mm x60
Knife: Tactical, Tier 1
His hand brushed the grip, testing. Still cold. Still real.
He didn't draw it yet.
Not until the sound changed.
Down the hall, footsteps passed the door—heels clacking, voice muttering something about hallway curfews.
"…This school needs stricter patrol standards."
Miko Iino.
Still lecturing the world. Still hadn't noticed it was already too late.
In the classroom, Chika was still fiddling with her failed origami crane when she finally looked up.
"…Was that screaming?"
Miku's eyes followed the window's edge, half-lidded, slow. "Maybe it was from the gym."
Itsuki finally stood, brushing off her skirt and gathering her things. "It's probably just sports kids again. Someone twisted their ankle."
No one else stood.
Except Gabe.
He turned from the window and walked toward the back of the room.
Not fast.
But with caution.
He reached the second desk from the wall—the one near the cabinet with the broken hinge. Slipped a hand under the back panel.
There.
[Quick Cache: Accessed]
[Knife Retrieved – Slot Secured]
The combat knife slid into his jacket's side loop.
Then, for a moment, he just stood there.
Listened.
The footsteps were closer now.
Not Iino's.
Something dragging.
Something wet.
A moan—not human. Not animal.
Something else.
[Infection Proximity: 13m → 6m → 3m]
From her desk, Marin stirred again. She opened one eye. "Huh… did I fall asleep?"
Her voice was thick with dream. She blinked a few times, slowly sitting up, rubbing her cheek with the back of her hand.
"Why's it so quiet?"
Gabe looked toward the door.
He heard the first doorknob rattle—just once.
No one else reacted.
The second rattle wasn't subtle.
It was sharp. Short. A jerk of metal in the frame, like someone trying the handle with the wrong kind of urgency. Gabe's head tilted slightly.
Not locked.
He stepped once toward the door.
Behind him, Marin rubbed her eyes. "Is someone there?"
The knob turned again.
[Infection Proximity: 3m → 2m]
[Entry Point Compromise: Probable]
He didn't draw his sidearm. Not yet. Not until he could confirm line of sight.
The classroom was still—too still now. The others were reacting, but they weren't panicking. Just confused.
Chika looked toward the door. "That's not funny."
Miku flinched as the knob clacked again.
Itsuki stopped packing her bag.
Another beat.
Then—
A hand slapped the glass window on the top half of the door.
Just fingers.
Not a fist. Not pounding.
Just five fingers dragging down the surface like it was checking for texture. The skin was raw—pink in places, peeling in others. Fingernails broken. Wet.
A low sound vibrated through the frame.
Miku stood. "That… that's not normal."
Chika's voice cracked. "That's not someone from the sports club."
The glass shook again.
Gabe took one step forward—calm, smooth. No rush.
[Weapon Readiness: ENGAGED]
[Glock 17 – Drawn]
The firearm slid from his jacket with no effort, like it had been waiting for this exact moment.
He thumbed the safety into semi, suppressor locked in.
Marin stared at him. "Is that real?"
He didn't answer.
The doorknob turned all the way.
The door creaked open an inch.
No one moved.
No one screamed.
They just stared.
Then a face pushed through the gap.
Half of it.
The skin was grayish and sagged. One eye bulged and twitched in its socket. Blood crusted the lips and jaw. The figure didn't rush—just leaned inward like it was smelling the air.
Chika made a noise. Not a scream. A little whimper. Her body froze.
The infected shifted, and its whole shoulder shoved the door open wider.
That's when Gabe moved.
He stepped between the door and the others in a single stride, arm raised, gun aligned.
[Distance: 1.2m]
[FIRE? – YES]
He squeezed the trigger.
Pfft.
The sound was dull, barely audible. The suppressor did its job.
The shot hit just under the eye. The infected's head snapped back—not explosively, just enough to knock it off balance.
It stumbled two steps back into the hallway.
Gabe didn't stop.
He stepped through the doorway after it, gun trained.
A second shot.
Pfft.
This one dropped it. Flat.
[Kill Count: 1]
[+50 Credits]
[Perimeter Status: TEMPORARILY CLEAR]
No one behind him spoke.
Only now did Gabe glance over his shoulder.
Four pairs of eyes were fixed on him.
Even Marin was fully awake.
Then the screaming started.
Not inside the room.
Below from the lower floors.
Multiple voices. Sharp. Panicked.
Too many footsteps.