Pulling away from Iris, Bruno stepped through the door and locked it behind him, keeping her safe while he was gone.
He walked down the streets toward the market, but something was wrong.
"Where are the infected?" he wondered, scanning the surroundings.
The silence was unsettling. The few he saw were scattered, distracted, chasing after dogs that barked in panic. The scene felt off—unnatural—and it put every nerve in his body on alert.
When he finally reached the market street, still some distance away, a violent wave of sickness hit him. His legs weakened, his lungs failed as if the air itself had vanished, and the world spun around him. Black veins began to spread across his arms, pulsing as though something crawled beneath his skin. His muscles clenched suddenly, a painful spasm rippling through his entire body. He tried to move forward but stumbled, collapsing against a wall for support.
Then came the pull.Something invisible yanked his body backward, forcing his spine into an unnatural arch. A sickening crack echoed through his back. He threw his head toward the sky, screaming in agony. Dark veins bulged against his reddened skin, and his eyes burned a vivid crimson as the whites turned pitch black.
And then—just as suddenly—it stopped.
Air rushed back into his lungs, and he gasped for breath.
"It was a hallucination. It had to be. But what the hell was that?" he muttered, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Before he could think, one of the infected staggered toward him, drawn by his momentary weakness. Bruno spotted it just in time and reacted on instinct. He ducked beneath the creature's arms, swept his leg behind it, and shoved hard against its chest. The infected toppled backward, hitting the pavement with a dull thud.
In one swift motion, Bruno switched the knife to his other hand and lunged. Grabbing the creature's hair, he slammed its head against the ground and, without hesitation, drove the blade into its neck again and again. Hot blood splattered across his arm, dripping onto the concrete in dark streaks. He kept going—strike after strike—until the infected stopped moving.
Silence returned.
Bruno remained there, kneeling over the corpse, chest heaving with ragged breaths.
Then he rose, still breathing heavily, and continued down the street. The knife dripped blood as he walked, leaving a dark trail behind him.
When he reached the market, he stepped through the wide-open gate—broken down by the infected the day before. The stench of rot hit him instantly, burning his nostrils. And the moment his eyes swept across the interior, he knew.
He was alone.
The market, once a refuge for those he had sworn to protect, was now a graveyard of torn bodies. Scattered limbs, twisted flesh, bones laid bare. The trail of destruction was brutal—merciless. The corpses were so mangled that most were beyond recognition.
Bruno's heart pounded violently. His vision blurred as tears welled in his eyes. But something felt wrong… His reflection in a shattered window confirmed it—the color of his eyes had changed again.
And then he saw them.
On the stairs leading to the office, pieces of his sister Samira's body were strewn about. The sight hit him like a punch to the gut. His body convulsed in a spasm of pure shock.Samira…
The poor girl had been reduced to nothing but unrecognizable remains. What they'd done to her wasn't just murder—it was cruelty. Savagery.
The world around him went silent.
Tears streamed down Bruno's face—red, like blood. His body trembled. But it wasn't only grief. It was something deeper. Something twisting and growing inside him.
Rage.
With a choked roar, he fell to his knees and slammed his fists into the floor. The impact made his hands burn, but he didn't stop. He struck again. And again. His sobs merged with his ragged breathing as the veins beneath his skin darkened, pulsing with grotesque energy. The crimson glow in his eyes flared brighter, burning like living embers.
Then, slowly, he rose.
He was panting like a trapped animal. Heat surged through his body like a fever born of hatred. His muscles were rigid, his jaw clenched tight. A guttural, monstrous growl escaped his throat—like a rabid pit bull about to tear its prey apart.
"Now… blood will be repaid with blood," he muttered, though the voice that came out was no longer his. It echoed distorted—low, demonic.
Bruno walked to the car they had used the day before. He opened the door, grabbed the sledgehammer, and brought it down in a brutal swing against the metal. The crash rang through the market—a thunderclap of fury cutting through the dead silence.
He lifted his head, eyes blazing like beacons in the dark.
Then he screamed.
A bestial roar, deafening—a summons to hell itself.
The infected would come.
And he would be waiting for them.
***
Sitting in a chair, Iris wept silently, her eyes lost in the slits of the curtain as she tried to glimpse the sky without daring the window. Her chest rose and fell in restrained sobs while her mind wandered through the happier times she'd shared with her family—moments that now felt as distant as the stars.
The bodies scattered through the house were a cruel reminder of what had been taken from her. She avoided looking at them. She didn't want to see what they had become. She couldn't bear to accept the crushing reality of death.
About an hour had passed since Bruno left. The weight of the silence and the suffocating presence of the corpses made the wait unbearable. Tired of pretending the inevitable wasn't there, she rose from the chair.
With hesitant steps she moved toward the window. She knew she wouldn't stand a chance if an infected attacked, so she acted with caution. She pressed herself against the wall beside the pane and peered through the curtains before risking any movement.
"It looks clear around here… But just in case, I'd better take a closer look before I try to move the bodies out," she murmured to herself, her voice choked with fear.
She drew a deep breath and crept to the door, opening it with extreme care so as not to draw attention.
She stuck only her head out, eyes sweeping every corner of the street. Her heart raced, waiting for something to move in the shadows. But there was nothing. Only silence. Only forgotten bodies—people and animals strewn across the asphalt like the remnants of a senseless massacre.
Still cautious, she opened the door all the way. A cold breeze brushed her skin and made her shiver. She picked up a stone from the sidewalk and wedged it under the door to make sure she wouldn't be shut out.
Now came the hard part.
Iris inhaled and went back inside the house. She had to get rid of the bodies.
With great effort she began to drag them out one by one, muscles burning with every pull. The stench of blood and rot filled the air and turned her stomach, but she forced herself to keep going. She didn't want them near the entrance, so she left them in the middle of the street, as far away as she could.
When she finished she was exhausted and soaked in sweat. She went back in and closed the door, but hesitated before locking it. Bruno could return at any moment, and she didn't want to make it harder for him to get inside.
The hours crawled by.
The blood splattered across the house was beginning to bother her—almost as much as Bruno's delay. Anxiety swelled inside her, needling at her nerves until irritation began to take over.
"Damn it…" she muttered, rubbing a trembling hand over her face.
Unable to sit still any longer, she grabbed a rag and started cleaning. The heavy work helped distract her mind, made the waiting a little less unbearable. She scrubbed the floor hard, trying to wipe away the bloodstains—as if she could somehow erase the horror that had taken place there.
Daylight began to fade, and still, Bruno hadn't returned.
Discomfort turned into anguish. She couldn't stand it anymore. Pacing back and forth, biting her nails, her thoughts pounded with worry.
And then night fell.
The house sank into shadow.
That was when she heard the sound at the door.
Her heart leapt.
Bruno!
She dropped everything and ran to the living room, ready to throw herself into his arms. But the moment she arrived, she froze.
It wasn't Bruno.
Two men stood in the doorway, staring at her. Young—maybe a little over twenty. The taller one, thin with sunken eyes, flashed a wide, vile grin.
"Well, look what we've got here, Neguim…" he said, his gaze predatory.
The other, shorter and stockier, chuckled darkly, eyes gleaming with wicked intent.
"Yeah, Breno… looks like the end of the world's finally smiling on us."
Before Iris could react, he lunged forward and grabbed her by the neck.
Panic erupted inside her.
Completely defenseless, Iris realized her only chance was to scream. If she could draw the infected into the house, maybe—just maybe—she'd have a shot at escaping.
But before she could open her mouth, she felt the first blow.
"Shut the fuck up!" the taller one growled, delivering a hard slap to her face.
The other one took the opportunity to pull her by the arm, his gaze shining with sickening intent. Íris struggled, but it was useless. They were much stronger, with broad bodies and hard muscles. They were even more imposing than Bruno.
Her breathing quickened. Her heart pounded wildly.
The shorter one gripped her clothes tightly and ripped them off without hesitation.
Íris began to cry, her eyes wide, silently pleading. But when she looked at him, he became enraged.
"Don't look at me like that, you fucking redhead!" he roared, clenching his fist and punching her face brutally.
Pain exploded in her head. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.
She fell to the ground, dizzy, feeling the world spin. Before she could react, he yanked her by the hair, forcing her face upward.
"Let's use those clothes you ripped from her body to tie her hands and shut her up," the taller man suggested, a cruel smile forming on his face.
Íris tried to scream, but before she could, a piece of cloth was shoved into her mouth, stifling her protests. Her arms were pulled behind her back, her wrists tightened with strips of the same fabric.
Her face burned from the blows. Her left eye was black, her right swollen shut.
The darkness of the house seemed to swallow her hope.
And no one would come to help her.
The two continued to abuse her, one by one, laughing and exchanging disgusting comments about how hot she was and how lucky they were.
The night was split by lightning, briefly illuminating the scene of horror. Íris could barely react, her body aching, her mind wavering between pain and despair.
Then, suddenly, everything went dark.
The blackout engulfed the area in darkness.
The wind whistled outside, and a deathly silence filled the house.
The living room door creaked open by itself, creaking like a death knell.
Amidst the darkness, a silhouette emerged.
Two red eyes glowed like embers, illuminating the pitch-black. The presence that invaded the room seemed to make the air denser, heavier, as if sucking all the oxygen. The two men felt their bodies tremble, like cornered prey facing an unknown predator.
The creature growled.
The sound rolled through the house like a muted thunderclap, heavy with rage and bloodlust.
Fear washed over the faces of the intruders.
Suddenly, the energy returned, and the scene became fully visible.
Iris lay on the floor, battered and bruised, a picture of pain and despair.
And in front of her stood Bruno.
But it was no longer the Bruno she had known.
He was covered in blood, strands dripping and staining the floor with every step. The thick, metallic scent hung in the air, mingling with sweat and decay. All day he had killed, torn apart the infected—and now he faced a new prey.
His eyes were no longer human.
Black veins throbbed across his body, bulging as if something inside him was about to explode. His dark skin had taken on a reddish glow, like burning embers, and heat rose from him in waves, warping the air around him.
Bruno dropped the sledgehammer to the ground; the dull thud echoed like a challenge.
The two men tried to steady themselves, but their bodies refused to obey.
"W-what the hell is… this?" stammered Breno, the taller one, taking a hesitant step back.
The other simply stared, frozen, sweat running down his face.
A monstrous war cry tore through the house, reverberating like infernal thunder.
Bruno lunged at the smaller of the two with inhuman speed. The man, still over Iris, barely had time to react. Instinct screamed before his mind could comprehend what was happening, and he threw himself aside in a desperate reflex.
Bruno moved so fast he couldn't stop in time; the force of his own momentum slammed him against the wall, cracking it with a brutal impact.
Before he could recover, the taller man tried to strike.
He charged, leaping with a flying kick aimed at Bruno's chest.
But Bruno caught the leg mid-air.
With a savage twist, he spun the man like a ragdoll and hurled him against the wall with unimaginable force.
The impact was devastating.
The air whooshed from the attacker's lungs in a single stifled gasp as he writhed in pain. He tried to flee, but Bruno was already on top of him.
The monster swung a punch with such raw power that when the man dodged at the last second, Bruno's fist smashed through the wall as if it were paper, tearing a hole in it.
Breno, pale and trembling, staggered back toward where the smaller man crouched.
"What the hell is this, man…?" he gasped, terror dripping from every word. "What kind of monster are you, Neguim…?"
The smaller man didn't answer. He could barely breathe, his entire body frozen with fear.
Bruno pulled his arm out of the wall. His fist was mangled, the skin torn away, exposing the bones of his fingers.
He drew a deep breath and unleashed a bestial roar, deafening, primal—a cry that made the floor tremble.
The beast charged.
Neguim tried to run through the house.
He didn't stand a chance.
He ended up cornered against the wall, trapped, and Bruno didn't hesitate.
The punches fell like sledgehammers, each one imbued with inhuman fury. The man's bones began to give, snapping and cracking under the overwhelming force. Every blow carved holes into his body, crushed muscle, and sent blood spraying in all directions.
Breno, terrified, attempted a surprise attack from behind, leaping onto Bruno.
It didn't work.
Bruno spun with impossible speed and caught him by the hair mid-air.
With a brutal sweep, he slammed Breno to the floor.
The man struggled, but Bruno planted a foot firmly on his chest, pinning him down with an unstoppable weight.
Without hesitation, he grabbed the man's arms and pulled.
Muscles tore.
Tendons snapped like frayed ropes under unbearable tension.
Breno roared in pain, writhing like a dying animal.
Bruno didn't stop.
He pulled harder.
The flesh tore completely away, rendering his arms useless. To ensure they would never be used again, Bruno broke them both.
The sound of bones breaking echoed through the room, followed by agonizing screams.
"You enjoy abusing defenseless women, don't you, you worm?!" Bruno roared, his eyes glowing like burning coals.
He crushed Breno's knees with his foot, shattering his joints.
The man screamed like a pig being skinned alive.
Bruno wasn't finished.
He pulled down the wretch's pants and, with a single brutal blow, ripped off his penis.
The scream that followed was the most horrific of all.
Breno struggled, kicking, his eyes rolling back as blood gushed uncontrollably.
Bruno grabbed the mangled piece of flesh and shoved it into the man's gaping mouth.
"Open your mouth, you son of a bitch! OPEN!" he roared, forcing the piece down his throat.
Breno struggled in sheer horror, but Bruno pressed harder, until he began to choke.
"Now you're going to eat your own dick, you bastard! SWALLOW, FUCK!"
Then, without warning, Bruno lifted his foot and crushed the man's neck with a single blow, silencing the screams with a grotesque crack.
To finish, he delivered a devastating stomp to the wretch's face.
The skull exploded.
Blood and bits of brain splattered across the floor, the walls, and Bruno.
Silence took over the room.
The beast was breathing heavily, its chest rising and falling like an animal just released from its cage.
And amidst the destruction, covered in pain and terror, Iris just watched.
He walked to the living room, where Iris was struggling, trying to prop herself up on the sofa, her body trembling, her eyes swollen from crying. Her hands and feet were still bound, her mouth stuffed with cloth, stifling her gasping breaths even more.
Bruno approached silently, his gaze heavy as a murderous shadow. Iris froze. Fear gripped her completely. For a moment, she thought he was going to kill her too.
Without saying a word, Bruno picked her up, naked, her muscles tensed beneath her reddened, blood-stained skin. Iris struggled, her fists hitting his face, her feet kicking his body with all her remaining strength. But Bruno didn't react. He simply placed her on the sofa and, with his bare hands, ripped the bonds from her feet.
Iris's first instinct was to kick him square in the face. But even with the impact, he remained there, motionless. The black veins still throbbed on his skin, and tears mixed with blood streamed from his red eyes. It was at that moment that she realized. This was still Bruno. Not a monster. Not a mutant. Just Bruno.
Fear gave way to a fresh wave of tears as she reached out to him, allowing him to untie her. Before releasing her wrists, Bruno ripped the saliva-soaked cloth from her mouth. Iris tried to speak, but her voice wouldn't come. She didn't even know what to say.
As soon as her hands were freed, she clutched him tightly, burying her face in his chest, crying uncontrollably. Her body trembled, wracked with trauma, pain, and humiliation.
Bruno carefully pushed her away, not looking directly at her. Her voice was hoarse, filled with a still-smoldering fury.
"Get up and take a shower… We're getting out of here."
Iris didn't answer. She simply obeyed, dragging herself down the hallway, her bare feet further soiling the bloody floor. Along the way, her eyes caught the mangled bodies of the two men. Her stomach churned. The air grew heavier. But she didn't stop. She simply grabbed another set of clothes from the bedroom and went into the bathroom, where she let the hot water run over her bruised skin, trying to wash away the horror of that night.
While Iris showered, Bruno walked over to the boy's body, his movements strange, as if possessed by an insatiable thirst for blood. He approached the corpse and, without hesitation, thrust his hand inside the man's body. He ripped out the heart with brutal force and, holding it above his mouth, began to squeeze it. Blood flowed, dripping into his mouth as he drank as if it were the only thing keeping him alive.
Fear gave way to a fresh wave of tears as she reached out to him, allowing him to untie her. Before releasing her wrists, Bruno ripped the saliva-soaked cloth from her mouth. Iris tried to speak, but her voice wouldn't come. She didn't even know what to say.
As soon as her hands were free, she clutched him tightly, burying her face in his chest, crying uncontrollably. Her body trembled, wracked with trauma, pain, and humiliation.
Bruno carefully pushed her away, not looking directly at her. His voice was hoarse, filled with a still-smoldering fury.
"Get up and take a shower… We're getting out of here."
Iris didn't answer. She simply obeyed, dragging herself down the hallway, her bare feet further soiling the bloody floor. Along the way, her eyes caught the mangled bodies of the two men. Her stomach churned. The air grew heavier. But she didn't stop. He simply grabbed another set of clothes from the bedroom and went into the bathroom, where he let the hot water run over his bruised skin, trying to wash away the horror of that night.
While Iris showered, Bruno walked over to the boy's body, his movements strange, as if possessed by an insatiable thirst for blood. He approached the corpse and, without hesitation, thrust his hand inside the man's body. He ripped out the heart with brutal force and, holding it above his mouth, began to squeeze it. Blood flowed, dripping into his mouth, as he drank as if it were the only thing keeping him alive.
When he finished, Bruno stepped away from the body, breathing heavily, and started back to the living room. But as he passed the bathroom, his body swayed, and he fell to the floor, unconscious.
The sound of the fall startled Iris. She quickly opened the door and, seeing him on the floor, ran to him. His body seemed to have returned to normal, but something was different. Bruno's hair, once dark, was now streaked with white and black strands at the sides.
She, still trembling from the previous scene, pulled him into the bathroom with effort. She cared for him as best she could, removing his clothes and beginning to clean his body with all the gentleness she could muster amidst the chaos. She soaped every part of him, removing the blood and the smell of death that surrounded him.
When she finished cleaning his body, she noticed something surprising. Bruno's hand, which had previously been injured, seemed to have healed completely, as if it had never been injured. Unease gripped Iris, but she didn't have time to process it. Fear and exhaustion consumed her as she focused on caring for him, waiting for him to wake up.