Story 642: Into the Abyss

The bunker walls dripped with condensation, the cold air thick with the stench of rotting flesh and burnt metal. General Viktor "Bloodfang" Kruger moved forward, his muscles tensed, his crimson beret casting a shadow over his cold, calculating eyes. His grip tightened around his knife, still slick with undead ichor.

Behind him, Sergeant Darius "Hellhound" Rook advanced cautiously, his rifle raised. "Sir, this place feels wrong," he muttered, scanning the dimly lit corridor.

Kruger didn’t respond. He knew wrong. This was worse than that. This was something unnatural.

The bunker stretched downward into a seemingly endless labyrinth of tunnels. The deeper they went, the more grotesque the environment became—flesh-like growths pulsated along the walls, whispering with an eerie, inhuman hunger.