No one moved.
The office was swallowed in black. The emergency exit sign flickered weakly in the distance, barely enough to cast a dull red glow over the wreckage of shattered desks and broken walls.
Jin's breath was slow, controlled—but his heartbeat slammed against his ribs.
The others stood paralyzed.
Because they knew.
The thing was still here.
It hadn't left. It hadn't stopped.
And now—it was listening.
A sharp inhale cut through the silence.
Jin's stomach twisted.
He felt it—the thing was pulling air into itself, stretching open, searching.
It wasn't hunting them.
It was waiting.
Jin tightened his grip on the pipe, chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. If they moved now, it would hear.
Someone beside him shuddered, biting back a sob. The woman he'd saved earlier pressed both hands over her mouth, her entire body shaking.
No one spoke.
No one breathed.
Then—
Echo groaned.
Jin's head snapped toward him.
His body convulsed violently, shoulders trembling under his own weight. Blood dripped from his nose, his breath coming in wet, uneven gasps.
Jin moved on instinct. He reached out, grabbing his arm. "Hey—stay quiet."
But Echo's fingers twitched.
His unfocused eyes lifted toward Jin.
For a second, he looked at the exit.
Then, his lips curled into something small—something tired.
Jin's stomach dropped.
Echo pulled away from his grip.
Then—he stepped forward.
Jin's blood ran cold.
What the hell was he doing?
His fingers curled so tight around the pipe that his knuckles turned white.
"Stop," Jin whispered, stepping forward. "Don't—"
Echo didn't stop.
His breath was slow, shaking. His body trembled violently.
Then—
He inhaled.
And he screamed.
The sound ripped through the air like a bomb going off.
Jin flinched. The others did too. The shockwave of sound crashed into them, shaking the walls, rattling the broken office furniture.
Then—it got worse.
The scream looped.
Once.
Twice.
A hundred times.
Jin's stomach dropped.
The sound didn't stop.
It built on itself.
Growing louder. Heavier. More violent.
The floor rumbled. The glass in the shattered windows cracked further, spiderwebbing from the sheer force.
Jin pressed his hands over his ears. It didn't help. The scream dug into his skull, burrowed into his bones.
And then—the thing reacted.
A horrific, wet shudder.
Jin saw it convulsing in the flickering red light.
Its flesh bulged outward, spasming. Its body was rejecting the sound.
It thrashed—violently.
Its form broke apart, splitting at the seams, flesh folding in on itself, bones snapping under the weight of the sound.
And yet—it still moved.
It lunged forward, desperate, thrashing. It tried to pull itself toward Echo.
Jin's eyes widened.
No.
Echo staggered. His body was barely holding itself together. His knees buckled—his head tilted back, mouth still open, but no longer moving.
The scream was still going.
Even though he wasn't making a sound anymore.
Then—the thing reached him.
Jin lurched forward, pure instinct taking over.
But before he could move—
The creature collapsed.
Its body caved in.
A final, horrid shrieking noise rang out—
Then it was gone.
Like it had never existed.
Silence.
Jin stood there, frozen, deafened, breathless.
The office was shaking. His heartbeat pounded against his ribs, his skull, his lungs.
Then—Echo's body dropped.
Jin moved before he thought.
He barely caught him before he hit the ground.
The second his hand touched him—he knew.
His body was ice cold.
His breath—shallow. Uneven.
Jin pressed a hand to his chest. "Hey—Hey."
Echo barely reacted. His lips twitched—his eyes unfocused, staring past Jin.
A single, weak exhale.
"…Did it work?"
Jin swallowed, throat dry. "Yeah."
Echo smiled.
Then—his system screen appeared.
Jin's breath caught in his throat.
[ Warning: Skill Overuse Detected. ]
[ Vital Functions Failing. ]
Jin's fingers tightened against Echo's limp body.
This guy had saved them.
And now…
Jin refused to let him die.
Then—a sudden gasp.
Echo's body jerked faintly. His breath stuttered, weak but real.
Jin's pulse jumped.
He wasn't gone. Not yet.
Jin's gaze snapped up, locking onto the woman who had claimed she had a healing skill.
"You," Jin said, voice low and sharp.
She flinched. "I—I don't know how to—"
Jin grabbed her by the collar.
Her breath hitched.
His voice wasn't calm. It wasn't controlled.
It was raw. Frustration, desperation, rage, all bleeding together.
"Then figure it out. Now."
She hesitated.
Jin's jaw tightened. His fingers clenched harder, his knuckles white.
Too slow.
He yanked her closer, his face inches from hers.
"You felt what that thing did to her," he said, his voice low, sharp, dangerous. He nodded toward the spot where the woman had been taken.
His next words came out hoarse, stripped bare.
"Do you want to be next?"
The woman's breath stuttered. Her eyes flickered to Echo's pale face, to the blood pooling under him.
Then—her shaking hands pressed against his chest.
"Please... work," she whispered.
Echo's chest suddenly rose in a shallow, struggling breath.
Then—a sudden flicker of blue light.
Jin's gaze snapped down. The woman's hands, still shaking, were pressed against Echo's chest—and beneath them, a dim glow began to spread.
Faint at first. Flickering, unstable. But it was there.
Jin exhaled slowly, watching as the glow pulsed unevenly, rippling like water disturbed by a single drop.
The woman swallowed hard, her fingers twitching. "I—I think it's working," she whispered.
Jin didn't answer. He just stared.
Echo's body shuddered weakly. His fingers curled against the floor, his breath deepening just slightly. The color in his face was still deathly pale, but—
He was still here.
Jin let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
The woman sagged forward, her shoulders slumping, exhausted. "I don't know how much this will do," she admitted, voice unsteady. "I can feel it working, but it's… slow. Weak."
Jin's jaw tightened. It was better than nothing.
The others remained silent, standing among the wreckage of overturned desks, shattered monitors, and blood-streaked walls. No one spoke. No one moved.
Not from exhaustion. From hesitation.
Because now, they had a decision to make.
Jin turned toward the exit door, still intact at the far end of the office. The flickering red emergency sign cast long shadows over the entrance.
For the first time, he hesitated.
He thought about what they had just faced.
What if there were more of those things outside?
What if it was worse?
The man with the metal rod seemed to have the same thought. He glanced toward the door, then back at Jin.
"…Are we sure we should leave?"
The words settled heavy in the air.
Jin didn't answer immediately.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.
Then—the woman beside him, the one he had saved earlier, swallowed hard. "Maybe we should just… stay here for a bit," she muttered.
Someone else exhaled shakily. "We don't even know what's waiting outside."
Another voice, quieter. "Maybe it's safer in here."
Jin's grip on the pipe tightened.
They were scared.
For the first time since the system had activated, they weren't running.
They had a moment to stop. To breathe. To think.
And the only thing that thought led to—was fear.
Jin glanced at Echo, whose breathing had steadied, but his body was still weak, still unmoving. They couldn't drag him through a fight—not like this.
His shoulders tensed. He hated this. Waiting. Sitting still.
But they had no choice.
"…Fine," he muttered, lowering himself to the floor beside Echo. His voice was tight, reluctant. "We stay."
For now.
No one argued.
They all just sank to the ground, backs against broken desks, breathing slow and heavy.
For the first time since this nightmare began—
They weren't running.
But that didn't mean they were safe.