The muzzle flash lit up the dark corridor, the deafening roar of gunfire drowning out the inhuman snarls that filled the air. General Viktor "Bloodfang" Kruger stood shirtless, his muscles glistening with sweat and blood, his crimson beret tilted on his head as he fired shot after shot into the wave of undead charging toward him.
Shell casings clattered against the cracked concrete, mixing with the shattered remains of Wolfe's Flesh Revenants. The creatures refused to die easily, their bodies riddled with bullet holes yet still pushing forward, their rotting hands reaching for him.
"Enough of this." Kruger growled.
His pistol clicked empty. Without hesitation, he threw it like a weapon, the steel cracking into the skull of the nearest Revenant, sending it stumbling back.
Then he dove forward.
Like a predator in his prime, Kruger ripped a combat knife from his belt, his powerful arms slashing through decayed flesh with ruthless precision. One slash to the throat. A stab to the skull. His movements were brutal, efficient—a master of death.
As he tore through the undead horde, a familiar voice crackled through his earpiece.
Sergeant Darius "Hellhound" Rook.
"Boss! We've got a situation—Wolfe's leading a charge himself. North sector, old refinery!"
Kruger grinned, blood dripping from his blade.
"Finally," he muttered.
He grabbed a fallen Revenant by the collar and hurled it through a rusted doorway, clearing his path. He was done playing games. Wolfe had been hiding in the shadows for too long, sending his mindless corpses to do his work.
Now, it was time to finish this.
Old Refinery – North Sector
The fires cast long shadows across the battlefield, oil drums exploding as bullets ripped through them. Wolfe's undead legions surged forward, their roars blending with the chaos. But Kruger didn't slow down. He ran straight into the storm.
A Revenant leapt at him from the side. He caught it midair, snapping its neck with his bare hands. Another came from behind—Kruger spun, driving his knife up through its jaw, twisting it with a sickening crunch.
Colonel Adrian Wolfe.
Standing atop a ruined fuel tanker, his veins dark with the virus he had injected himself with. His flesh was scarred, his eyes burning with an eerie red glow.
"Kruger," Wolfe snarled, flexing his grotesquely enhanced arms. "You can't stop evolution."
Kruger cracked his neck, wiping the blood from his chest with the back of his hand. He stared up at his old rival and smirked.
"Evolution?" he scoffed. "You're just another failed experiment."
Then he lifted his gun and fired.
The war was reaching its climax.