"Fight!" Don shouted, swinging his bat as he rushed forward and struck the creature hard, but it twisted away with unnatural speed and snapped toward him again.

"They’re too fast!" someone shouted, backing away as another creature lunged from the side, its claws tearing across his chest, before pinning him down.

Another man tried to run, but one of the monsters caught his leg and dragged him down as he clawed at the ground. "Help me! Don’t...!" The sound ended in a choke.

The gate behind them shook under renewed pounding. "Open it! Open it now!" "Please! We’ll die out here!"

Ronan hit the metal again, his hand slipping slightly as his strength faltered. "Camile!" he shouted, louder this time, his voice breaking. "Camile, please! It’s me, Ronan!"

But there was no answer, leaving him devastated.

The girl yanked him back suddenly as a monster lunged past them, its claws slicing through the air where he had been a second before. "Move!" she shouted, pulling him to the side as her grip tightened.

Behind the gate, the soldiers shifted as one of them stepped forward and said, "We can’t just leave them!" but another snapped back immediately, "And if we open it, we face Mack’s wrath!"

...

Meanwhile, inside the Severance Cult’s base, the control room hummed with a low mechanical rhythm. The monitor’s screen flickered with movement from the outer perimeter while several soldiers stood at their stations, their eyes fixed on the surveillance feeds.

One of the soldiers suddenly straightened, his hand moving quickly to his communicator as he spoke into it, his voice urgent but controlled. "Reporting from the outer gate. A group of survivors has reached the entrance. They are requesting refuge."

The words cut through the room, drawing attention immediately.

Mack, who had been seated behind the central console, lifted his head slowly, his brows furrowing slightly as he listened, his fingers pausing mid-tap against the surface of the desk.

"Did you say... requesting refuge?" he asked, his tone calm but edged with something sharper.

"Yes, sir," the soldier replied, glancing at the screen in front of him. "They are banging on the gate. The situation outside is very serious."

Mack leaned back slightly, his fingers resuming their slow, rhythmic tapping against the desk, his gaze drifting briefly to one of the monitors before settling again.

"Anything else?" he asked.

The soldier hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. "One of them keeps calling for Vice-Leader Camile."

The tapping stopped.

And Mack’s eyes darkened almost instantly. For a brief moment, the room’s temperature plummeted.

His mind flickered, to the memory of Camile’s lips against his, the warmth of her breath, the softness that had lingered in his head. His chest clenched with a sharp and unpleasant sensation.

"...calling for Camile?" he repeated quietly.

"Yes, sir."

Mack’s jaw tightened slightly, his fingers curling against the edge of the desk before relaxing again, his expression smoothing over as if nothing had happened, though the cold in his eyes remained.

"And you believe this man is... important?" he asked.

"I... cannot confirm, sir," the soldier replied carefully. "But he is persistent."

Mack exhaled slowly, his gaze lowering briefly before lifting again.

Another voice cut in from a different station. "Sir, a huge wave of monsters is approaching the outer perimeter at high speed. Estimated arrival in seconds."

The first soldier turned slightly. "Sir... should we open the gate? If we delay any longer, they will be killed."

Silence stretched across the room.

Mack tapped his fingers against the desk again, slower this time, his eyes fixed on the screen as the figures outside came into view. The frantic movement, the chaos, and the desperation.

He watched without speaking. Seconds passed slowly, after what seemed like forever.

"No." He said.

The soldier froze slightly. "Sir...?"

"Do not open the gate." His voice was calm, almost indifferent, but it carried a weight that left no room for argument.

"And this information," he continued, his gaze finally shifting toward the soldier, "must not reach Camile."

The soldier hesitated, his grip tightening slightly around the communicator as uncertainty flickered across his face.

"...Understood, sir."

"Good."

Then, the line went silent. The room returned to its low hum, but the tension lingered in the air.

A few seconds later, the door behind them opened.

Camile walked, carrying several pieces of equipment in her hands. Blades and guns.

Her movements were light but purposeful, and the moment she entered, a faint smile curved across her lips.

"It worked," she said, her tone carrying a quiet pride. "The venom in Benjamin’s blood... we’ve successfully integrated it into the weapons."

Mack turned his head toward her, the earlier tension gone from his expression as a smile slowly formed on his lips, though there was something uneasy beneath it.

"That quickly?" he said, rising from his seat.

Camile set the weapons down on the table with care. "Faster than expected," she replied. "We finally found a way to integrate it, all thanks to the scientists. The venom enhances penetration and spreads on contact, once it enters the body, it begins to kill every living cell inside an organism."

Mack stepped closer to her, his gaze lingering on the weapons for a brief moment before returning to her face.

"Impressive," he said quietly.

His eyes narrowed slightly, darkening as he looked at her. An unreadable glint flashed through them.

"Then we no longer need to wait," he continued. "Send the soldiers out to fight these so-called monsters."

Camile nodded. "Sure," she said, "but Benjamin is weakened. We’ve drawn a significant amount of blood, his condition is unstable."

"Then let him rest," he said simply. "Once the required amount has been extracted, his purpose remains fulfilled."

Camile’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, as if weighing his words, before she nodded again.

"...Understood."

Mack tilted his head slightly. "And Scott?"

The question made her pause for a second. Her smile faltered, the corner of her lips lowering slightly as her gaze shifted away.

"He is still in a coma," she said.

Mack stepped closer... Closer than necessary.

His hand lifted slowly. His fingers brushed against her cheek as he cupped it gently, his touch warm but it made her shoulders stiffen almost imperceptibly.

He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "That is... unfortunate," he said softly. "Don’t keep me waiting for long. I’m not a patient man."

A faint chill ran down Camile’s spine, though her expression remained composed.

Mack’s thumb brushed lightly against her skin before he withdrew his hand.

"Prepare the soldiers," he said, turning slightly away from her as if the moment had already passed. "We will not wait any longer."

Camile exhaled quietly, calming herself before nodding.

"Yes."

She turned and walked toward the door, the moment she reached the exit, her expression hardened slightly, the earlier smile gone completely.