Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

The gunfire tore through the eerie silence, flashing like lightning in the dimly lit courtyard. Rook held steady, each shot of his rifle finding its mark as the twisted creatures advanced. Their skeletal frames shattered under the relentless barrage, but for every one that fell, two more seemed to emerge from the darkened alleys.

"Ghost! Where's that exit?" Rook barked, shifting his aim to a particularly fast-moving creature that lunged toward Shadow. Continue reading stories on My Virtual Library Empire

"Working on it!" Ghost shouted, his voice strained. He had sprinted toward a doorway leading into one of the buildings, now feverishly working to clear debris blocking their path. "This place is falling apart. Give me a minute!"

"That's a luxury we don't have!" Viper growled, his knives slicing through a creature that had gotten too close. Its hollow eyes flickered once before its body crumbled into ash-like dust.

Bulwark stepped forward, his massive frame acting as a shield for the team. His shotgun roared, blasting creatures back in chunks of bone and sinew. "Hold the line! If they want a fight, we'll give 'em hell!"

The strange laughter echoed again, louder now, as if mocking their struggle. Shadow spun in a wide arc, her pistols firing in tandem, each bullet lighting up the courtyard. "Something's wrong," she said, panting. "They're not just attacking—they're herding us."

"Toward what?" Rook snapped, his eyes scanning the chaotic battlefield. Then he saw it—a figure standing at the far end of the courtyard, partially hidden in the shadows. Unlike the others, this one stood motionless, observing.

Rook's gut tightened. "Cover me!" he shouted, breaking formation and sprinting toward the figure.

"Rook, wait!" Shadow called after him, but it was too late.

As Rook closed the distance, the figure stepped into the light. It was clad in tattered crimson robes, its face obscured by a mask carved from bone. In one hand, it held a staff adorned with glowing, pulsating runes. The creature raised the staff, and the air around Rook turned thick, like wading through water.

"What are you?" Rook demanded, struggling to lift his rifle.

The figure tilted its head, a low, resonant voice cutting through the chaos. "You are trespassers in the land of the Crimson Path. You do not belong here."

Before Rook could respond, the figure slammed the staff into the ground. The runes flared, sending out a shockwave of crimson energy that knocked Rook off his feet and sent the rest of the team reeling. The creatures halted their assault, retreating to the edges of the courtyard.

"Fall back!" Rook shouted, struggling to his feet. "Everyone, regroup at Ghost's position!"

The team scrambled, dragging each other toward the partially cleared exit. Ghost finally shoved the last piece of rubble aside, waving them through. "Move, move!"

As the team sprinted into the building, the sound of the staff's pulse echoed behind them. Rook glanced over his shoulder to see the robed figure watching them, unmoving, as the doorway slammed shut behind them.

The Crimson Path wasn't just a battle—it was a warning.