POV: Jun-ho
The dorm hallway smelled of sweat and disinfectant, a sharp tang that clung to the air like a warning.
Fluorescent lights flickered, casting long, quivering shadows across the cracked linoleum. I had been on edge all morning, a low hum in my chest, the kind that made every creak in the ceiling feel like the warning drum of something terrible about to happen.
Ara's boots clicked softly on the tile as she led the younger students ahead of me, her bow slung over her shoulder.
Her movements were precise, calm, almost mechanical—but her eyes flicked constantly, scanning. I wanted to tell her to stop looking like she already knew what was coming, but the words caught in my throat.
Then it started.
A scream, sharp and ragged, echoed from the end of the hallway.
Instinct flared.
I dropped my bag without thinking, hands already moving. The door to the east wing burst open, splintering on its hinges, and a figure staggered through. Pale, jerky, teeth bared. Its arms flailed as if each movement cost it effort it could barely manage, yet it was faster than any human should have been able to move after whatever had happened to it.
It saw us.
And then they were everywhere.
—
I grabbed the first student—a boy, no older than sixteen—and shoved him behind me, throwing myself between him and the advancing figure.
The dorm erupted into chaos. Students shrieked, scrambling, luggage spilling into the hallway, the metallic clatter of lockers swinging open and slamming shut.
Ara drew her bow without hesitation, an arrow whispering through the air before the creature's head snapped back with a wet crack. Her calm precision was almost unreal. I swallowed, knowing I couldn't match that from range.
I had to get close.
One lunged at me, and I reacted on instinct, sidestepping and seizing its arm mid-swing. Its flesh was cold, damp, unyielding—but I felt the resistance, the mechanical struggle beneath.
I slammed it into the floor with a judo throw, heart hammering, and felt a sick satisfaction when it thumped against the wall like a discarded doll. No time to think. Another came. My hands found the scruff of its jacket; a swift pivot, a clinch, a chokehold.
My muscles screamed, the adrenaline burning every fiber. Its head jerked violently, its jaw snapping mere centimeters from my ear. I tightened my grip until the shuddering stopped.
I was panting, sweating, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't look away.
—
"Jun-ho! Hurry!" Ara's voice was sharp, precise, pulling me out of the moment.
She had already herded three of the younger students down the hallway toward the emergency exit. I shoved another creature off, twisted, threw a final strike into a locker for space, and ran to catch up.
We moved as a unit now. Ara led, calm and unflinching. I was the shield, the human wall between the chaos and the students.
I stole a glance at her. She didn't flinch. Didn't panic. The quiet precision in her movements made me feel both awed and terrified. Because if she could stay this calm…what did that mean for the rest of us?
—
The screams mixed with thuds, the metallic clatter, the wet, grotesque thumping of bodies against walls.
I forced my breathing into controlled bursts, remembering the countless hours I spent teaching my cousin how to wrestle. "Stay low. Don't panic. Control your center." I muttered almost to myself.
In my mind, I was back in the cramped living room, teaching him how to break a fall, how to shift his weight, how to trust his body even when fear wanted to make him stiff and useless.
Those lessons—they weren't about fighting. They were about surviving. And now, every instinct, every technique, mattered.
—
We reached the stairwell, and I shoved the last student ahead, pressing my back to the wall as Ara covered our flank. The creatures clawed at the railing behind us, shrieking in some broken imitation of anger. The smell hit me then—blood, sweat, rot that didn't belong anywhere a human should smell.
I felt a pang of guilt—my hands were covered in it. Not theirs. Mine.
One of the students tripped, a soft whimper cutting through the cacophony. Ara stooped, whispered urgently, and lifted them. I grabbed her arm.
"Go! I'll cover you!"
She hesitated, just for a heartbeat, before hauling the student after the others. I turned to face the creatures, my chest heaving, hands ready to grapple, to throw, to choke—anything to keep them from following.
—
And then it happened.
A human figure, one of the dorm's assistants, burst through the smoke and chaos—armed with nothing but a fire extinguisher and sheer panic.
They swung blindly, striking one of the creatures. The impact bounced it away, but another was already on them.
I froze for a fraction too long.
The sound of bone snapping, the soft wet rending of sinew—it's a sound that lives in your memory like a scream echoing in a cathedral.
And in that moment, I realized that nothing in the dorm drills, nothing in my training, had prepared me for this. For the unmistakable finality of watching someone alive die in front of you, helplessly.
I closed my eyes for a second, tasting bile, hearing Ara's steady breathing in the hallway. The assistant was gone. Nothing left but a body slumped against the wall, hands twitching.
And me, unable to stop it.
—
I shook my head, trying to clear it. There was no time for grief—not yet.
I grabbed a nearby broom, swinging it with the same precision I would a limb, using leverage and balance to keep the creatures at bay. My heart pounded in my ears.
Every throw, every grapple, every choke—I felt my control slipping, and yet, I had to hold on. Every second mattered. One mistake, and a student would be dead. I could feel fear clawing at me, sharp and insistent. But I couldn't let it. Control was the only thing that would keep us alive.
—
We spilled out into the dorm courtyard. The evening sky was gray, a smudged watercolor of smoke and clouds. The sea wind carried a tang of salt and decay, fluttering the torn banners of the dorm like ghostly fingers.
Ara took point, leading the group across the open space with movements precise, calculated. I stayed close, hands ready, eyes scanning.
The younger students clung to each other, to her, to me. Their trembling hands were small anchors, and I realized with a weight I hadn't expected: I couldn't let them see me panic. Not now, not ever.
For a brief moment, I let my mind wander. My cousin. Teaching him to fall safely. Teaching him to trust his own body. Teaching him that control—over fear, over instinct—was survival. And now here I was, applying those lessons not in practice, but in flesh and blood.
I could taste the irony.
A distant roar made me freeze. I didn't turn. I already knew. The dorm wasn't just compromised. The entire island was shifting. This wasn't a drill. The broadcast sirens were blaring somewhere beyond the trees, faint but insistent. The ferries—our only planned escape—wouldn't come. They'd already enacted lockdown.
I swallowed hard.
"Keep moving." I said, voice steady though my chest burned. Ara glanced at me, a flicker of concern in her eyes. But she didn't argue. She never did.
I knew why. Because she trusted me. Because she had to. And if I failed…everything failed.
—
The group hit the edge of the dorm grounds. A cluster of abandoned vehicles blocked the way to the road.
I swung a broom at the nearest creature, then ducked under a half-collapsed van. Ara followed, pulling two students behind her. "Jun-ho! There's a gap by the fence!" I nodded, heart hammering. We dashed, rolling over damp grass slick with morning dew.
A creature lunged for my shoulder—I caught it mid-air, twisted, and slammed it into the metal fence with a bone-jarring thud. The sound of its impact was drowned by the cries of those behind us, panicked but alive.
We were bleeding. Exhausted. Shaken. But alive.
I glanced back at the dorm, now a chaotic monument of screams and flailing limbs. My stomach churned. One human casualty. Not heroic. Not clean. Just…death. And I couldn't unsee it.
My hands shook, but only for a second. Control returned like a cold tide, washing over me. The students didn't notice. Ara didn't notice. They never could.
The island had sealed itself off. No ferry would come. No rescue. Only the wind, the water, and the rising chaos. And I—Jun-ho—was going to have to keep us alive. I exhaled, long and slow, letting my control settle over me like armor.
The real fight had just begun.