The lab had become a killing floor.
The Belfre thundered across the chamber, smashing through equipment and spraying shards of armored plating with every stomp. The Vitraspawn darted around its legs like starving wolves, screeching in warped echoes as they surged toward Inferius squad.
Kraustein's voice crawled over the PA system—calm, clinical, inhuman:
"Specimen response at forty-two percent. Increasing aggression parameters. Observing adaptability."
Netoshka ignored him.
She rolled beneath a cleaving swipe from the Belfre's massive forelimb, the strike pulverizing the reinforced steel wall behind her. Sparks rained across her back as she slid, rose, and fired a burst straight into the creature's throat-slit.
Blue ichor splashed.
The Belfre didn't even flinch.
"Taran, right flank!" she barked.
"I'm on it!"
Taran pivoted, driving a pipe-spear into the joint behind the monster's knee. The impact forced the limb to buckle for half a second—just long enough for Zev, half-shifted in lupine form, to leap onto its back and dig in with clawed fingers.
The Belfre roared and twisted violently, shaking Zev off like dust.
Across the room, Vitraspawn swarmed Twila's illusions, tearing them apart in confusion. Zopi stayed behind one toppled cryo-chamber, her hands shaking as she fired short bursts.
Rue was covered in black-blue blood, slicing down anything that came close.
Circe slammed her fist against the malfunctioning terminal.
"Doors are locked—that Kraustein A.I. keeps rebooting the system!"
Kraustein answered, almost amused:
"Correct."
A hiss broke through the vents above them. Pale gas drifted in, slow at first—then flooding.
Surgien yelped, scrambling to tighten his mask.
"TOXIC GAS! This bastard is trying to mummify us!"
Genrihk stretched both arms outward, black sigils crawling across the floor. Necromantic force crashed outward in a shockwave, repelling a full cluster of Vitraspawn.
"These creatures do not die," he hissed.
"Something is forcing their bodies to re-stitch themselves. Even my energy barely slows them."
Netoshka ducked under the Belfre's tail-swipe.
"if We don't kill them. We ESCAPE."
She jumped onto a toppled console, then onto a suspended walkway, firing down to cover Taran's retreat. The Belfre slammed into the support pillar—hard—shaking the entire platform under her.
Cracks zigzagged up the walls.
The whole lab was destabilizing.
"Circe!" Netoshka shouted. "Find ANY exit. I don't care if it leads into a trash compactor."
Circe's eyes widened behind her visor.
"Found one—north catwalk, twenty meters. It leads back toward the old metro!"
"Then open it now!"
"I CAN'T! Kraustein sealed it with an external barrier—something energy-based!"
As if to prove her right, the far door flickered with a thick, humming blue shield, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Kraustein's voice drifted through the speakers, soft as dust:
"You are not allowed to leave."
Netoshka gritted her teeth.
"Tsk, Watch me then, tin can."
The Belfre lunged.
Netoshka leapt from the walkway, landing beside Taran as he parried a Vitraspawn with a metal beam.
"Move toward the door! All of you!"
"But it's sealed!" Zopi cried.
"We'll BREAK it!" Netoshka snapped.
Genrihk unleashed another decay wave, buying precious seconds.
Rue grabbed Zopi by the collar and dragged her through the chaos.
Twila fired, split again, fired again.
Zev transformed fully into his half-wolf form, tackling two Vitraspawn into a wall.
Surgien screamed, "DON'T LEAVE ME I'M IMPORTANT!" while sprinting after them.
The squad regrouped, running toward the north catwalk—
—just as the Belfre barreled after them.
The walkway shuddered violently.
"It's gonna bring the whole damn ceiling down!" Taran yelled.
"Good," Netoshka said coldly. "Maybe it'll crush half these freaks."
Kraustein's voice cut in:
"Commencing structural purge."
Metal bolts in the ceiling detonated one by one.
Panels dropped.
Pipes tore free.
Chunks of concrete fell like meteor strikes.
And then—
BOOOM.
A massive slab crashed open a wall that connected directly into the lower metro tunnels.
And from that darkness—
Soft blue light flickered.
Then dozens of eyes.
Then hundreds.
The reanimated corpses—the ones from the mound—were pouring through the new opening, crawling over debris, spilling like infected water.
Rue hissed through her teeth.
"Oh fantastic. NOW they show up—"
Zev: "We've got incoming on BOTH SIDES!"
Taran: "We're getting pincered—"
"KEEP MOVING!" Netoshka thundered.
They sprinted toward the blue-shielded exit.
Vitraspawn behind them.
Belfre charging in.
The blue-eyed corpses flooding the tunnel breach.
Kraustein sounded almost pleased:
"Excellent. Multi-vector stress test engaged.
Observe.
Adapt.
Expire."
Netoshka lifted her rifle, firing straight into the barrier.
The shot fizzled uselessly.
Taran stepped forward, shoulder ramming it.
Nothing.
Genrihk reached out—and immediately recoiled as sparks danced up his arm.
"This barrier is not Wire. Not necrotic. Not arcane. It's… something old."
Rue slashed two Vitraspawn behind them.
"Well find a way to BREAK it!"
Surgien screamed as the Belfre stomped closer, its roar shaking the walls.
Blue corpses surged from the tunnel behind them.
Vitraspawn closed from the sides.
And the barrier stayed solid.
For the first time, Netoshka felt her breath stutter.
Then her eyes narrowed.
"Everyone," she said, calm in the chaos,
"get ready."
Taran blinked.
"Ready for what?"
She cracked her knuckles.
"We're blowing the whole damn hallway."
Kraustein paused.
"Hmm…do Clarify?."
Netoshka grabbed two grenades from her belt and armed them.
"No clarification needed. Green Screen, time to put you and your little science experiment to sleep forever."
And she hurled them toward the collapsing ceiling—
—straight above the Belfre and the advancing hordes.