Whispers in the Dark

The cold night air clamped around Shen Mu like an invisible cloak, bearing with it the distant howls of mutated beasts prowling in the ruins. It was a world gone wrong, where only the strongest or the cleverest survived in this twisted reality.

He led the way through the shattered remains of the city. The grip on his weapon was firm. Luo Qi limped slightly behind him, still favoring his injured leg, but he didn't say anything. That at least did grant him some measure of respect.

Shen Mu was not the kind of person to waste his time helping strangers. In this world, kindness was often repaid with betrayal. But there was something about the Crimson Fangs that made him wary. If they were as organized and well-equipped as Luo Qi suggested, they could be a serious threat.

And threats needed to be understood before they could be eliminated.

They crept through the damaged streets, following the shadows cast by the skeletons of buildings left standing. The bones of collapsed houses seemed to dominate the night like skeletal giants, empty windows staring up into the void. Abandoned vehicles, rusted and looted, littered the cracked roads. Some sported dried blood on their doors—a silent testimony to the violence that had erupted when everything went to pieces.

After nearly an hour of walking, Luo Qi's breathing grew heavier. His pace slowed. He wasn't in good shape, and while he tried to keep up, Shen Mu could tell he was struggling.

Shen Mu finally stopped near a burned-out convenience store. "We rest here."

Luo Qi didn't argue. He lowered himself onto a piece of rubble, wincing as he stretched out his injured leg. "Thanks…" he muttered, rubbing his knee.

Shen Mu stood upright, eyes sweeping the shadows. He had learned the layout of the city before everything fell apart, but time and ruin had changed it beyond recognition. The streets, once crowded and alive, were now empty and full of lurking dangers, both human and monstrous.

He squatted by the store entrance, looking at the ground. The dirt and dust had been recently disturbed. Tracks. Thin, but visible. Someone or something had come through here.

Luo Qi, catching his gaze, stiffened. "Something wrong?"

Shen Mu didn't answer immediately. He placed a hand on the ground, feeling the slight indentation of the footprints. They were deep—whoever left them had been carrying weight. Supplies? Weapons? Prisoners?

He stood. "Someone came through here recently."

Luo Qi's expression darkened. "Crimson Fangs?"

"Perhaps," Shen Mu said, and stepped toward the door, looking in. The shelves were largely empty, but litter on the floor suggested that someone had fought hard. He went inside, crunching over broken glass in his boots.

The air was stale, heavy with the smell of rot. In the dim light filtering through the cracks in the ceiling, he spotted an old cash register lying on its side. Next to it, a backpack—torn open, its contents spilled across the floor.

He crouched and sifted through the remains. Empty cans. A shattered water bottle. A few strips of dried meat, now covered in dust.

Survivor supplies.

Which meant someone had been here not long ago.

He picked up a small notebook buried beneath the mess. The cover was scratched and dirty, but when he flipped it open, he found hurried scribbles filling the pages.

Luo Qi leaned closer. "What is it?"

Shen Mu didn't answer right away. The writing was messy, frantic. Most of it was illegible, but a few words stood out:

"They're hunting. Taking people. Need to get out before nightfall."

He turned to another page.

"Don't let them catch you."

The last entry made him shiver:

"They're coming."

A slight rustling sound from the back of the store made Shen Mu close the notebook. He pulled out his knife and motioned for silence.

Luo Qi stiffened, gripping his own weapon—a small, rusty blade that had probably seen better days.

Shen Mu moved first, slipping between the overturned shelves. The noise had come from behind the storage room door. It was slightly ajar, darkness pressing against the edges.

A trap?

Or another survivor?

He took a slow breath, steadied his grip, and pushed the door open.

A figure lunged.

Shen Mu reacted in the blink of an eye, turning to the side as something sharp cut past his arm. He saw wild eyes, dirt-caked skin, and a tattered cloak before he shoved the attacker back.

The figure staggered but did not fall. They clutched a jagged piece of metal, a makeshift weapon, and breathed hard, their frame shaking with exhaustion.

A survivor.

But barely.

Now that the first wave of attack had passed, the figure dithered. Shen Mu didn't let them draw breath. He advanced, his knife at the ready.

"Drop it."

The figure hesitated then, perhaps aware they were bested, and let the blade fall to the floor.

Luo Qi moved inside, still limping, and when he saw the survivor his expression changed. "Another one…?"

The survivor—a woman, Shen Mu realized—stared at them with cautious, sunken eyes. Her face was smudged with dirt, her lips dry and cracked.

"Who are you?" Shen Mu asked.

The woman swallowed hard, pressing herself against the wall. "…Zhao Ling."

Another name. Another mystery.

But before Shen Mu could question her further, she whispered something that made his blood run cold.

"They're close."

Shen Mu's entire body went rigid. "Who?"

She didn't answer at first. She took a shuddering breath again, her eyes darting towards the window. "Crimson Fangs. They are near."

Luo Qi straightened. "You are certain?"

Zhao Ling nodded frantically. "I have been hiding here for two days. I saw them pass by earlier. They were searching for something—or someone."

Shen Mu exhaled slowly. It just got more complicated.

They couldn't stay here. If the Crimson Fangs really were close by, then sleep was out of the question.

He looked at Luo Qi. "Can you still walk?"

Luo Qi winced, but nodded. "I'll get by."

He turned to Zhao Ling. "If you want to live, you're coming with us."

She hesitated, but ultimately nodded. She had no choice.

Shen Mu readjusted his grip on his knife and walked toward the exit. He could feel it now, that heavy tension in the air, those unseen eyes watching from the shadows.

The hunt was starting.

And this time, he was the prey.