The hum of fluorescent lights abruptly died, and the entire building was swallowed by darkness. Silence lingered for a split second, followed by soft gasps and the shuffle of hurried footsteps. Shadows stretched across the walls as emergency lights flickered to life, casting an eerie glow. The staff, caught off guard, exchanged tense glances.
A nurse, her face calm but her eyes betraying a hint of unease, stepped forward, her voice steady but laced with uncertainty.
"Please remain calm," she said, addressing the anxious patients who looked to her for reassurance.
"It seems there's been a power shortage. It happens sometimes when the system gets overloaded." She glanced over her shoulder as her colleagues rushed to check equipment, their movements urgent.
"The backup generators will kick in soon," she added, though her words felt hollow against the growing tension.
Then, amidst the uneasy calm, the entrance doors slid open.
A man walked in.
Dressed in a sleek red suit, he carried a metallic case in his right hand. His movements were unhurried, deliberate. He scanned the room with an unsettling calm, his piercing gaze shifting from one face to another as if analyzing something unseen.
The tension in the room sharpened at his presence, though no one could quite place why.
He approached the front desk with a measured stride. When the woman saw him approaching, she stopped him immediately.
"We're out of service, sir… just come back later."
"What blood type are you?" His voice was too calm, too smooth.
She blinked in confusion, taken aback by the abrupt and bizarre inquiry.
"Excuse me?"
"Your blood type. What is it?" His tone was almost too patient, like an interrogation.
She hesitated, unsettled by his tone but compelled to answer.
"I… I'm Type A."
The moment the words left her lips, a wet, sickening sound filled the air — a slashing sound — and she was suddenly lifted off the ground, a blade-like arm extending from the man's body, piercing through her mouth and out the back of her skull.
Blood splattered in grotesque arcs, staining the sterile white walls with crimson. Her body twitched as it was held impaled, her eyes rolling back in terror.
He watched her crumble to the floor, and then, with a simple flick of his wrist, withdrew his arm.
"Makes sense. You're not infected." His voice was devoid of emotion, as though he were evaluating a simple test result.
Then, without missing a beat, the chaos began.
A hideous, gurgling sound filled the air, as if the building itself was alive and suffering. One by one, the people around him began to convulse, their bodies contorting in unnatural ways.
Veins bulged, skin writhed, and their limbs twisted into grotesque forms as if something ancient and terrifying was clawing its way out of them. Their fingers elongated into savage claws, their faces distorted as fangs pushed through their gums.
He stood there, motionless, watching as these abominations tore through their human forms.
He did not flinch. He did not speak. He simply observed.
The facility descended Into madness... but to him, it was nothing more than the next step in his plan.
Inside the Operational Room.
The room remained engulfed in darkness.
The backup power had restored the outer facility, but here, in the heart of the procedure chamber on sublevel three, there was nothing but silence and shadows
Sanichi's heart pounded.
He had no idea what was happening inside. His son was still strapped to the operating table, restrained for the delicate crown-removal procedure.
The thought of being trapped in this pitch-black space, unable to move, filled Sanichi with dread — but his faith remained unshaken. He trusted God completely, no matter the situation.
He rested his hands against the heavy, sealed door, his voice steady and full of quiet strength.
"Son… can you hear me?" he called gently.
"Don't be afraid. God is with us. Everything will be alright — just trust Him, and stay strong. I'm right here with you. We'll see this through, together, okay."
He scanned the hallway, searching for someone.
"Please, someone — help us! My son is trapped inside!" he called out, his voice firm and clear, filled with faith rather than fear.
No response.
Sagira grabbed a chair and swung it at the observation window with all her strength. A loud clang echoed, but the glass didn't even crack.
"It won't break!" she cried in frustration.
Sanichi spotting a staff member rushing past.
"Hey! You have to open this door—my son is still inside! He's Restrained, and Dr. Kisaragi was with him, they are trapped."
The staff member barely spared him a glance, his face pale with fear.
"I-I can't! Something's happening on the ground floor!"
Sanichi clenched his fists,
"Please help me."
The man ignored him and kept running.
Sanichi pressed his forehead against the thick door, his fists trembling at his sides. His son was trapped inside — and he couldn't reach him, couldn't save him.
Hopelessness crushed him, heavy and merciless. With a choked cry, Sanichi slammed his fist into the sealed door.
Then—
BOOM!
The moment his knuckles connected, the entire door blasted off its hinges, as though an invisible force detonated it from within. Shards of metal skidded across the floor, and Sanichi stumbled back, momentarily stunned.
But he didn't have time to wonder. He rushed inside.
The moment Sanichi and Sagira entered, they heard it—Zen'no's terrified sobs.
He was still strapped to the table, the restraints holding him down. His face was streaked with tears, his body trembling violently.
"Father… Mother… I'm scared. It's so dark here. I can't see, I can't move. Please get me out. I don't wanna be here anymore."
Sanichi wasted no time. He rushed forward, unfastening the straps, and scooped Zen'no into his arms.
"All praise to God. You are safe. God is always with us… don't ever doubt that, okay?"
Sagira clutched both of them, her own hands shaking.
"We need to get out of here. Now!"
In the far corner of the room, the doctor stood—facing the wall, trembling. His body twitched in irregular spasms. A strange, wet sound filled the air, as if something was moving beneath his skin.
"Doctor?" Sagira whispered.
The figure lurched unnaturally, the sound of bones snapping reverberating through the room. Then, slowly… he turned.
His face was gone. It had melted, reshaped into something inhuman. Eyes blinked in places where they shouldn't exist. Mouths opened and closed along his exposed flesh.
A grotesque growl bubbled from his throat.
Sanichi's breath hitched. His grip on Zen'no and his wife tightened as the creature lunged. Instinctively, he hunched over them, covering them with his own body to shield them.
Before it could reach them—
CRACK!
A blur of movement.
The creature slammed into the wall — its head driven forward by an unseen force. Bones crunched as its skull shattered on impact, killing it instantly.
Sanichi and Sagira recoiled as blood splattered across the heart of the chamber. The Guardian Angel had struck without warning, swift and merciless.
The horror of what just happened was sinking in. A man they had just spoken to moments ago… was now nothing but a grotesque mess on the wall.
Zen'no saw his Guardian turn, meeting his gaze with a reassuring nod but his parents could not see him; only Zen'no could.
They had to get out of there before something worse happened.
The Hallway of Horror.
From the hallway came guttural shrieks and the scraping of many clawed feet against the floor, so they hid in the corner, out of sight.
Sagira turned pale.
"How do we get out if there are more of them?" she whispered."
Sanichi looked at his wife — her face pale, her eyes wide with fear. Zen'no clung to her side, silent but trembling. The shrieks in the hallway grew louder, the sound of claws dragging closer, echoing like a countdown.
But Sanichi didn't flinch. He lowered himself beside them, gently placing one arm around his wife and the other over Zen'no's small shoulders. Then he bowed his head slightly, voice low and firm — not just speaking, but anchoring them.
"Sometimes, it feels like there's no way out, when we're face-to-face with something like this.
But how many times have we thought it was the end, only to see the impossible happen right before our eyes?
These moments were beyond our strength.
But we made it through.
That's not chance.
That's God.
And just like before…
we'll make it through this too."
He squeezed their shoulders gently — not in panic, but in quiet assurance. His eyes were steady, not on the hallway, but on them.
"Don't be afraid. Let your faith be your foundation."