Stephen held his breath, waiting for the tunnel to swallow the light.
The car was silent, tension stretched thin as wire.
This was the fight that would decide who made it out.
Sang-hwa was already braced at the door, ready to break into Car 10.
Stephen's voice cut through the dark, calm but firm: "Sang-hwa, you're up front. Don't waste time killing—just smash through their line. Stay alive. Let me handle the slicing and dicing."
"Got it." Sang-hwa drew in a deep breath.
Stephen turned to the others. "Seok-woo, Yong-guk, you flank me. Make noise, pull their eyes my way. Anything lunges for me from the side, you deal with it."
"On it!"
"Ready..." Stephen lifted his Tang Blade, the steel catching the dim light.
The train roared as it plunged into the tunnel.
Darkness swallowed everything.
"Go!" Stephen hissed.
Sang-hwa roared forward like a bull in a storm, clearing the doorway into Car 10.
The packed deadheads were disoriented in the dark, fumbling like blind cattle.
Stephen and his crew struck first—and struck hard.
Sang-hwa barreled down the aisle, throwing corpses against the walls.
Stephen was a shadow at his heels, blade flashing in tight arcs.
He was stronger now, faster. The last fight at Daejeon Station felt like a different life.
Heads fell. Black blood sprayed. His blade moved faster, his heart hotter.
The others made noise, banging the racks, drawing the dead the wrong way.
Sang-hwa smashed. Stephen cut.
When the train broke daylight again, the four of them slumped by the door to Car 11, breath coming hard.
Two cars cleared in under three minutes. More truthfully—Stephen had cleared them.
Sang-hwa panted, looking at him wide-eyed. "Hell of a show."
Stephen steadied his breath. "Rest. Five minutes to the next tunnel. Don't rush for the survivors yet—if we wake up Car 14, it's over. Third tunnel's our window."
"Got it."
"Stephen, we're with you."
They leaned back, closed their eyes.
The whistle blew.
Stephen opened his. "Second tunnel coming. Same plan."
"Yeah!" Sang-hwa exhaled, ready to storm.
Darkness again.
Sang-hwa charged.
Stephen followed, blade low, fast.
They moved like a pack—Sang-hwa the battering ram, Seok-woo and Yong-guk guarding his flanks, Stephen carving a path.
Car 12 fell in a minute flat.
They spilled into Car 13—and Yong-guk froze.
Half the dead here wore his baseball team's uniforms.
They were faster, meaner. They came from the sides, teeth gnashing.
Stephen cut two down quick, but more came from the right.
"Yong-guk! Move!" he barked.
The kid didn't. His face twisted. "I… I can't. They were my friends!"
Seok-woo cursed and lunged, but the players dragged him down, biting at his taped arms.
Stephen hacked harder, but the numbers pressed.
"Yong-guk!" Stephen's voice was a blade of its own. "They're gone! Only their bodies left! You want their souls to rest? Swing that bat! Think of Jin-hee! She's waiting!"
The name lit a fuse.
"Damn it! I'm sorry!" Yong-guk roared, his bat cracking skulls like ripe melons.
The tide shifted. Stephen carved through two more, pulled Seok-woo up.
With flanks steady again, he cut a path to Sang-hwa.
Car 13 went still. The train left the tunnel.
Yong-guk dropped to his knees in the blood of his old teammates, silent tears streaking his face.
Seok-woo laid a hand on his shoulder, but no words came.
Stephen hauled the gasping Sang-hwa upright. "You good?"
Sang-hwa thumped his chest. "Armor held. Could've been worse."
"Rest. The survivors are up ahead, between 13 and 14. But Car 14's crawling. We move careful."
Sang-hwa nodded. "Alright."
Stephen squeezed his shoulder. "Especially you. No heroics."
Sang-hwa grinned. "With my build? I'll be fine."
Stephen nodded, but a flicker of worry gnawed at him.
Don't go tempting fate.