The air was thick with the scent of rot and blood. The dim hallway flickered with dying fluorescent lights, their glow barely illuminating the horrors that lurked in the dark.
Sanichi stepped forward as his family cowered in the corner, gripping the emergency axe he had taken from nearby.
His face was blank—void of fear, void of hesitation. He was completely different from his usual self. But in his mind, only one thought echoed: he must protect his family at all costs.
The monster loomed ahead, its grotesque form twitching unnaturally as it blocked the path. With a sudden lurch, the creature charged, its elongated limbs stretching forward like spears.
Sanichi didn't flinch. He moved.
In his heart, he supplicated. "O God, I ask you for strength."
His axe cleaved through the monster's limbs effortlessly. The severed appendages hit the ground with wet thuds, yet the creature didn't stop—it lunged again.
His grip tightened.
One clean strike.
The axe cut straight through the monster's torso, splitting it in half. Its lifeless body collapsed, twitching violently before going still.
Sagira gasped at what she had just witnessed.
This wasn't normal—this wasn't the man she knew. Sanichi moved with terrifying speed and precision, every strike deliberate, effortless. The monster didn't stand a chance.
He didn't even break a sweat.
For a moment, Sagira couldn't move.
The sound of the monster's body hitting the ground still echoed in her ears, but her eyes were fixed on Sanichi. The axe hung loosely at his side, its blade dark with blood—but his face remained calm. Not triumphant. Not angry. Just... still.
A horde in the Hallway
The air hadn't cleared. It still stank of death.
Sanichi led the way down the hallway, axe dripping and fingers clenched so tight his knuckles paled. Behind him, Sagira held Zen'no close, her breath shallow, her eyes never leaving his back. The echo of their footsteps mingled with distant, wet shuffling.
The fluorescent lights above buzzed and flickered, casting long, warped shadows across the blood-streaked floor.
None of them spoke. The silence between each footstep was louder than any scream.
Then, just as they rounded the corner, they saw it.
A horde.
Twisted, malformed creatures clustered together like insects swarming rotted meat. Some dragged themselves across the floor, others twitched with erratic, insect-like spasms.
Their flesh pulsed, mouths open and slack, their eyes vacant—no awareness, just instinct.
But then one of them turned.
Its hollow gaze locked onto Sanichi.
A split-second of stillness.
Then—it screamed. A high, piercing, bone-chilling shriek that echoed through the corridor like a siren from hell.
All at once, the horde stirred.
Heads snapped in unison.
Limbs twitched.
And they ran.
All of them.
Straight at Sanichi and his family.
Sagira gasped, pulling Zen'no close. Her heart hammered.
Sanichi didn't move for a moment. Then he stepped forward, axe raised.
He gritted his teeth.
"There's too many…" he muttered, voice low, almost to himself—half fear, half resolve.
Behind him, Sagira dropped to her knees, wrapping Zen'no in her arms, clutching him tight as she closed both their eyes.
Suddenly—
Zen'no's crown glowed.
A radiant light burst forth, flooding the hallway in divine brilliance. It wasn't just light—it was purity itself.
The wave of energy washed over the charging monsters. Their bodies twisted, contorted—then changed.
Their grotesque forms melted away, revealing human flesh beneath.
The hallway fell silent.
Dozens of people stood where monsters had once been, trembling in confusion, their eyes filled with fear.
Along with that, the overhead lights flickered. A hum rolled through the walls as the power generator came back to life. The building's power had been restored.
Sanichi stared at the crown in confusion.
It had reversed the infection.
Then—a slow, deliberate clap echoed through the silence.
The Vessel.
From the shadows, a figure emerged.
He walked with eerie calm, his red suit pristine despite the carnage around him. A metallic case dangled from his fingers.
The man stopped a few feet away, eyes locked onto the glowing crown.
He smirked.
"A crown that shines like that? Reversed our infection? Restored the building? I didn't expect my client to hold so much value this time. Marvelous."
He extended his arm downward and slightly back—and with a shift, it transformed into a blade.
When the people saw him, they all ran toward Sanichi in a panic.
He swung his bladed arm toward the fleeing crowd—but suddenly, the blade extended, shooting forward like a whip to reach them.
Sanichi's eyes widened at the sudden attack. Without thinking, he stepped in and swung his axe upward, intercepting the blade mid-strike.
Steel clashed. Sparks flew.
Sanichi's counter deflected the attack into the ceiling with a loud crack. The man narrowed his eyes and withdrew his arm, the blade retracting with a metallic hiss.
Then—snap.
Sanichi looked down.
His axe handle split apart in his grip. The blade hit the ground with a dull clang, broken clean off.
The force had been too much.
The man said nothing.
He calmly set the metallic case on the ground with a soft thud. Then, without a word, he reached for his wrist—his fingers tightening around it. A faint tremble ran through his arm.
Pain. Unexpected and unexplained.
He glanced down at it, frowning—not from weakness, but confusion.
"What… is this?" he muttered under his breath.
His eyes narrowed, flicking back to the crown… and then the crown returned to normal.
Then, from Sanichi's side, a Guardian Angel stepped forward—quietly, yet impossibly present.
A gentle radiance pulsed from his skin, soft and silver-gold, as if light itself flowed beneath the surface. Not blinding, but impossible to ignore. His very presence seemed to bend the shadows around him, pulling silence into the space.
He looked at the man with seriousness before turning to Sanichi and shaking his hand in admiration for his bravery.
"Peace be unto you, Sanichi. It is an honor to finally stand before you." the angel said, his voice like a soft wind stirring the air—though nothing around them moved.
"You held him off alone. I'm impressed—by the determination in your heart, and your faith."
Zen'no gently released his mother's embrace and stepped forward,
"Guardian? Can you help us? I wanna go home, I'm scared… I can't take it anymore, please."
He widened his eyes.
"Do you know him?" he asked, wondering.
But before Zen'no could answer, the red-suited man tilted his head, smirking.
"Well, well… you've got company now?" he said, voice slick and amused. He raised one hand casually, as if lifting a wine glass.
"Before we continue, I have Inquiry for you."
A flash of teeth.
"What blood type are you?"
The Guardian Angel stepped forward, one arm extended downward with his palm facing back, shielding them from the threat.
"Do not answer him, Sanichi."
His voice now firm, cutting the tension like a blade.
"His inquiry is purely analytical, not conversational. Your blood type is the variable that determines the parasite's viability within you. He carries a virus with… transformative properties."
Sanichi's knuckles whitened around the broken axe handle.
"Who is he?"
The Angel didn't look away from the red-suited figure.
"Hemorrhage. A Blood Vessel. He serves him directly... and it's not just him; there are many of them."
The man gave a shallow bow, mockingly elegant.
"Good. Then you know what's coming."