ITB Chapter 9 Zombie Horde

Issei, Weiss, Yuuka and Azula sat in one of the many rooms the Backrooms had to offer, if such a place could be called a “room.” The walls were the same jaundiced yellow as always, stained with water damage and peeling in corners. The carpet was damp beneath them, but at least this chamber was quiet. No flickering shadows, no skittering sounds. Just the endless hum of the fluorescent lights above.

It was a fragile kind of peace, one that gave them all a chance to breathe.

Issei, Weiss, and Yuuka sat together, their eyes fixed on the girl now sharing their space with Azula, the Fire Nation princess. 

Weiss’s gaze was sharp, with her rapier resting beside her. Suspicion colored every glance she gave Azula, yet beneath it lingered something softer. Pity, perhaps. Because no matter who this girl claimed to be, she had been dragged here just like the rest of them, stripped from everything familiar, forced into a nightmare maze with no escape in sight. Weiss knew that feeling all too well.

Yuuka, seated cross-legged, hugged her pipe against her knees. Her blue eyes darted between Azula and Issei, hesitant and uncertain. Unlike Weiss, she didn’t mistrust the newcomer—if anything, she seemed to feel sympathy for the girl’s obvious exhaustion.

Azula, however, was adrift in a storm.

Her amber eyes stared past the three of them, unfocused, as the words they’d told her replayed in her mind. ‘Different worlds… Earth… Remnant… Grimm… Backrooms.’

The concepts crashed against everything she thought she knew. Her world, her nation’s conquest, her family's war was suddenly meaningless in this endless maze. And worst of all, there was no guarantee she would ever return.

Her heart twisted. ‘Gone. All of it is gone. Zuko. Mai. Ty Lee. My throne. Father…’ The thought burned, and her pride forced her spine to straighten. ‘No. I am Azula. I don’t break. Not here. Not anywhere.’

Issei, sitting closest, watched her carefully. The silence between them stretched, heavy with unspoken thoughts. He could see how stiff her shoulders were, how her jaw tightened whenever her eyes flicked back into focus. She was trying so hard to appear unshaken.

He shifted slightly, then reached out, his hand settling gently on her armored shoulder. The warmth of his touch contrasted against the cold metal, grounding her in the present.

“Hey,” He said softly. “I know we dropped a lot on you just now. But… are you okay?”

Azula blinked, his voice tugging her from her spiraling thoughts. She turned her head, meeting his earnest brown eyes.

For a heartbeat, she wanted to snap back—to tell him she was fine, to sneer at the very idea that she might be shaken. That was what was expected of her. That was what she’d been raised to be.

But the sincerity in his gaze made her hesitate. Her pride clung desperately to her mask. She forced her lips into a small, tight smile, her voice measured. “I’m fine.” The words rang hollow in her chest, but they came out steady, the way she wanted.

Issei smiled anyway, seemingly content with her answer. “Good. That’s all I needed to hear.”

Weiss frowned faintly, her sharp blue eyes narrowing. She wasn’t convinced. She saw the slight tremble in Azula’s fingers, the stiffness in her frame. But she said nothing, choosing instead to lean back against the wall, arms crossed.

Yuuka exhaled softly, her own tension easing a little. “That’s good. We’re all a little messed up after ending up here. Don’t feel like you have to hold it in, though.”

Azula’s amber gaze flicked toward the girl with the scarf, studying her with a cool intensity. ‘They pity me.’ The thought made her want to recoil. Yet at the same time… the warmth of Issei’s eyes still lingered, quieting the whispers that had nearly broken her earlier.

She tightened her grip slightly on his hand, drawing silent strength from the contact, even as she kept her expression calm and proud.

The silence lingered after Azula’s carefully crafted “I’m fine,” and it was Yuuka, of all of them, who finally broke it. She sat forward, her blue eyes bright with curiosity.

“Um… Azula,” Yuuka began hesitantly, her voice softer than usual, “would you… maybe like to share a bit about yourself? Only if you’re comfortable, of course. If it’s too personal, that’s fine you don’t have to say anything. But…” She tilted her head and offered a small smile. “…maybe you could tell us about your world? Like what kind of animals you have, what kind of food, and, uh, how you’re able to shoot fire from your hands like that.”

Issei perked up immediately at that, his eyes practically sparkling. “Oh yeah! That fire thing was crazy! Totally badass, by the way. And food—don’t get me started. I’d love to know what kind of food you guys have.”

Weiss sighed, rolling her eyes at Issei’s enthusiasm, though her gaze remained fixed on Azula. “It might help us understand you better,” She said evenly.

Azula’s lips pressed into a thin line. Part of her bristled at the attention, pride demanding she keep her secrets close. The Fire Nation’s conquest was not something to be freely shared—not with strangers who might turn against her at the mention of war. Yet… another part of her, quieter and far more vulnerable, feared losing the fragile favor she’d managed to gain, especially with the boy who had pulled her from the fire.

Her amber eyes flicked to Issei. He smiled at her, waiting, not pushing, simply curious. ‘I can’t lie. Not to him. But I don’t have to give them everything either.’

With a soft exhale, she began. “My world… doesn’t have an actual name. At least, not one I’ve ever heard. But it is divided into four nations: the Water Tribes, the Earth Kingdom, the Fire Nation, and the Air Nomads.”

Yuuka leaned in, listening intently. Issei tilted his head, looking fascinated. Even Weiss’s frown softened slightly.

“Each nation,” Azula continued, her voice steady but careful, “is tied to one of the elements. The Water Tribes command water. The Earth Kingdom wields the strength of stone. The Air Nomads—well, the name is obvious. And the Fire Nation… we control fire.” Her fingers twitched slightly, as if flames might dance to her words.

Weiss nodded, thoughtful. “So elemental affinity defines culture and governance. Interesting.”

Azula’s pride sparked faintly at the interest, though she kept her tone measured. “Each people has its bending masters, who train the next generation in their art, passing their knowledge and culture forward. It is not simply combat. It is a form of identity.”

“Whoa,” Issei muttered, his grin widening. “So you mean like—whole societies based around being able to wield an element? That’s… that’s actually awesome!”

Yuuka giggled. “It sounds like something out of a fantasy story.”

Azula allowed herself the faintest smirk. ‘At least they are entertained.’

She continued, her voice sharpening slightly as she shifted to familiar ground. “I was born in the Fire Nation. My homeland is made up of several large islands straddling the equator. Warm, humid—perfect for life to flourish. Our people are ruled by the Fire Lord. It is an absolute monarchy.”

Weiss stiffened slightly at the word absolute, but said nothing.

Azula pressed on, pride lacing her words even as she chose them carefully. “Our economy is the strongest in the world. Industrial power, technological advancement, fleets and armies unlike any other. The Fire Nation leads, and the rest…” She caught herself, her pride almost spilling into arrogance. Her eyes flicked toward Issei again, and she drew in a slow breath. “…the rest follow their own paths, each nation unique in its ways.”

There was a pause.

Issei leaned back, whistling low. “Man… your world sounds like it’s straight out of a story. Nations of fire, water, earth, and air… people who can bend the elements…” He grinned brightly. “That’s seriously cool!”

Yuuka nodded eagerly. “Yeah! And you live on tropical islands? That sounds so nice compared to these creepy yellow walls.”

Weiss, however, studied Azula with quiet intensity. Her words had been said carefully, too careful. The heiress caught the subtle restraint, the way Azula’s pride wanted to flare but was checked, the hesitations when speaking of the Fire Nation. Weiss’s instincts told her there was more to the story. Much more.

But she didn’t press. Not yet.

Azula sat straighter under their stares, her hand still clutching Issei’s like an anchor. Her heart pounded, her mind swirling as again their reaction gave credence to what they told her. ‘They really don’t know. They didn’t even react. They don’t see the Fire Nation as conquerors. They just see me as… just another person from another world.’ It was disorienting. And strangely… comforting.

After a while Issei scratched at his cheek, thinking. Then his face brightened suddenly, like he’d just had an idea. “Hey… maybe we should unlock her Aura.”

Weiss’s head snapped toward him, her blue eyes widening. She didn’t speak immediately, but her expression said everything as she was very displeased.

‘Issei, must you always throw caution to the wind?’ She folded her arms tightly but kept her silence. It wouldn’t do to start a fight in front of the newcomer, not yet. Still, her stomach twisted. ‘We’re already revealing far too much about ourselves to someone we’ve known for a short time…’

Yuuka, however, brightened immediately. “Oh! Yeah, that’s a great idea! It really helped me when Weiss did it for me.” She beamed at Azula. “Aura makes a huge difference—it could help you too.”

Azula’s amber eyes narrowed slightly, confused. She straightened her back, ready to demand an explanation. ‘What nonsense are they talking about?’ But then her gaze flicked to Issei, his earnest smile trained on her, and she bit back her sharper words.

Instead, she asked carefully, “What are you talking about?”

Issei leaned forward, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, in Weiss’s world, people can use this thing called Aura. It’s like… energy from your soul or something.”

Weiss cut in, her voice crisp. “Aura is the manifestation of one’s soul. It is the very essence of life force itself. With it, you can heal faster, withstand damage that would normally kill you, and even enhance your physical abilities. For many, it is the foundation of combat and survival.”

Yuuka nodded eagerly. “Yeah! Basically, it’s like a shield and a booster in one. I wasn’t even from her world, but Weiss was still able to awaken mine. It really helps.”

Azula’s eyes sharpened, curiosity gleaming beneath her guarded exterior. “So… is it possible even for me?”

Yuuka tilted her head, smiling brightly. “I don’t see why not. Like I said, I’m not from Remnant either, but I can use Aura now. The only one who can’t—” She glanced playfully at Issei, grinning. “—is him.”

Issei laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head, the Boosted Gear faintly glinting on his arm. “Yeah… for some reason, it just doesn’t work on me. Weiss tried a bunch of times, but no luck.”

Azula’s eyes lingered on him, a mixture of amusement and intrigue flickering across her face. ‘So he has limits. Interesting.’

Weiss sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is a reckless idea…” She muttered, though she didn’t outright forbid it. ‘But if she truly intends to stay with us, then perhaps it would be safer if she had more ways to defend herself.’

Yuuka turned back to Azula, her smile soft. “It’s really simple, actually. Someone who already has Aura just needs to share some of theirs with you. It’s like… unlocking a door that’s been closed inside you all along. Once it’s awakened, it’s yours forever.”

Azula’s lips parted slightly. ‘The manifestation of the soul… a shield against pain… a power I don’t yet possess?’ Her pride sparked, curiosity overwhelming her hesitation.

Her gaze slid toward Issei, who still smiled at her despite his own embarrassment. ‘If I refuse, he may see me as weak. If I accept… then I gain another weapon, another edge. But… is it safe? Or is this just a way for them to bind and control me?’

After a long moment, she spoke, her voice even but edged with challenge. “Show me, then. If this Aura truly exists.”

Weiss’s lips thinned, her blue eyes flicking from Azula to Yuuka. She clearly wasn’t pleased with the idea of sharing her Aura with a stranger, especially one who radiated such mistrust and calculation in every glance.

Finally, she exhaled sharply through her nose. “Yuuka. Can you do it this time? Consider it practice.”

Yuuka blinked in surprise, then grinned brightly. “Really? Me?”

“Yes,” Weiss said firmly, already turning her attention away from the princess. “I’ll handle something else first.” Her eyes settled squarely on Issei.

Issei tilted his head, confused. “Huh? Something else?”

Weiss gestured toward him with her rapier hand. “Healing you. You’re still carrying burns from when you decided to leap into blue fire like an imbecile.”

Issei waved his hands frantically, his grin sheepish. “Whaaat? No, no, I’m fine! Totally fine! Look—” He slapped his jacket. “Not a scratch on me.”

Weiss was not impressed. Without a word, she stepped forward and pressed her hand against his forearm, right where the scorched fabric had peeled away.

“—Ow!” Issei yelped, jerking slightly.

Weiss arched a brow, her voice laced with frost. “And what, exactly, do you call that?”

Issei laughed awkwardly, rubbing the spot. “Ehh… okay, fine, maybe a tiny scratch. Nothing worth fussing about!”

Weiss’s sigh was long and weary. “Honestly, your recklessness will be the death of you. If not for your Boosted Gear, you’d have burned to a crisp already.” She shook her head, placing her hand firmly over his arm. “Hold still.”

Azula, sitting a short distance away, finally let her eyes linger. For the first time since the chaos, she really looked at him. His sleeves were scorched, patches of skin reddened and blistered where his clothes hadn’t protected him. 

‘He was hurt because of me,’ She realized, her chest tightening. ‘Because he charged into my flames to pull me out…’

For a brief moment, her pride faltered again. She lowered her eyes, whispering just low enough that only she could hear. “…Sorry.”

Issei didn’t catch it. He was too busy flinching as Weiss scolded him while holding his arm steady.

“Stop squirming,” Weiss ordered. Closing her eyes, she let her Aura flow. A faint, pale-blue glow shimmered around her hand, seeping gently into Issei’s burns. Slowly, the raw redness faded, the sting lessening as the wounds closed with soft warmth.

Issei blinked, staring at the light. “Whoa…as always it feels… really nice.”

Yuuka giggled. “It’s healing you, idiot.”

Weiss didn’t look up, though her voice carried her usual sharp edge. “It’s what Aura is supposed to do. If you weren’t so stubborn, you wouldn’t need me to patch you up like this every time you overextend yourself.”

Issei pouted slightly, but couldn’t hide the relief in his face as the pain ebbed away.

Azula watched in silence, torn between guilt and intrigue. The sight unsettled her in ways she couldn’t quite name. ‘He doesn’t even blame me,’ She thought, studying his sheepish grin as Weiss scolded him. ‘And that makes me feel even worse.’

Weiss pulled her hand back at last, the glow of her Aura fading as the last of Issei’s burns vanished beneath healthy skin. He flexed his arm experimentally, blinking in surprise.

“Wow… feels like it never happened,” He said, flashing Weiss a grin. “Thank you Weiss”

“You’re welcome,” Weiss replied crisply, though a faint pink touched her cheeks at his gratitude.

While they exchanged words, Yuuka shifted nervously where she sat, fiddling with her pipe. Her eyes darted between Azula and Weiss before she finally cleared her throat.

“Um… I-I guess it’s my turn now.”

Azula’s amber gaze snapped to her, sharp and assessing, though she didn’t move away. Weiss gave Yuuka a small nod. “Go ahead. Remember the words.”

Yuuka swallowed hard. She closed her eyes, recalling the strange chant Weiss had once used to unlock her Aura. At first, she wasn’t sure she could remember—but then the words flowed to her as if pulled from somewhere deep inside:

“For it is in determination that we achieve success. Through this, we become a paragon of acceptance and bravery to rise above all. Infinite in love and unbound by fate, I release your soul, and by my heart, protect thee.”

Her voice was quiet but steady, echoing faintly in the otherwise empty room. The words hummed in the stale air, weaving with her Aura until her hand glowed a faint, pale green. She reached out, gently pressing her palm against Azula’s chest.

Azula’s eyes widened the instant she felt it.

Something warm surged inside her, slipping past the walls she didn’t know she had. It wrapped around her like a second skin, soft and protective, yet thrumming with strength. She inhaled sharply, the sensation both foreign and exhilarating. For the first time in years, she felt… safe.

And then came the realization. Power.

It was unmistakable. She could feel it coursing through her veins, alive and waiting, begging to be used. Her mind raced, possibilities flashing like lightning. ‘If I brought this back to the Fire Nation, if every soldier could wield Aura, our armies would be unstoppable. Not even the Avatar could resist us.’

For a moment, the thought consumed her, her lips curving into the faintest smirk. The Fire Nation triumphant, her throne secure, her father’s approval—

But then the weight of where she was pressed in again, the endless yellow halls, the buzzing lights, the uncertainty of ever leaving. The smirk faded. ‘No. I can’t escape. Not yet.’

Her gaze drifted back to Issei, still flexing his healed arm with awe. She stared, captivated—not by the thought of conquest, but by the boy himself. He had charged into her fire, saved her from her own madness, and even now smiled like nothing had happened.

A warmth unfamiliar to her stirred in her chest. “…So this is Aura,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Issei grinned at her, rubbing the back of his head. “Yup! Guess that means you’re officially one of us now.”

Azula blinked at his casual declaration, caught off guard. ‘One of them? Just like that?’

Issei stood and stretched, his voice steady again. “Alright. For now, we should continue to rest. But once we’re ready, we’ll keep moving. The sooner we find an exit, the better.”

Weiss nodded briskly. “Agreed. We’ve lingered long enough already.”

Yuuka gave an eager smile. “I’m good with that.”

Azula looked at each of them in turn, Weiss with her cold suspicion, Yuuka with her bright friendliness, and Issei, still radiating warmth that cut through the shadows of her mind. Her hand soon reached his and formed a grip on his hand, grounding herself.

“…Very well,” She said quietly. As she continued to hold his hand, the voices stayed silent. Though both Weiss and Yuuka were a bit unhappy as they noticed she wouldn’t let go.

—---------------------------------------

The Backrooms continued to stretch endlessly as ever, the ceiling buzzing with the drone of fluorescent lights. Until suddenly the sound of damp carpet squelching faintly with each step was heard. Unfortunately those steps weren’t human as they instead belonged to corpses.

All throughout the maze, across countless rooms and hallways, movement spread like a wave. The Undead shuffled aimlessly, their groans echoing in the sterile yellow halls. Their forms varied from rotting flesh, skeletal faces, gaping jaws slack with hunger. They trudged forward without direction, drawn only by instinct. Searching. Always searching for their next meal… or their next victim to add to their endless number.

There weren’t just dozens. Not even hundreds. Their numbers pressed far higher, spreading outward like a plague. Thousands—perhaps millions—shambling through the maze, filling the air with their mindless chorus of groans and wet footsteps.

But within that sea of the dead, one figure moved differently.

A girl, her skin the same grayish-blue pallor as those around her, but her motions carried something more than empty hunger. Her straight, red hair extended past her shoulders, part of it tied into a neat side ponytail by a blue-and-pink ribbon. Her crystal-blue eyes, dulled yet still glimmering faintly with life, darted around the endless corridor.

She wore a high school uniform, a blue and white dress with clean lines, white socks pulled neatly to her knees, and brown loafers that tapped faintly against the spongy floor. But her legs bore bandages, frayed and stained, as did her left hand. And across her forehead, a jagged scar cut deep, marking her clearly as one of the dead.

Yet she was not like them.

Sakura Minamoto turned her head slowly, confusion etched in every line of her expression. She pressed her bandaged hand against the peeling wallpaper, the buzzing of the lights above needling her ears. “Wh… what is this place?” Her voice trembled.

Sakura’s breaths came quick and shallow, though she couldn’t even feel the burn of air in her lungs anymore. Her crystal-blue eyes darted wildly, panic brimming as she tried to take in her surroundings. Endless yellow walls. The unbroken buzz of fluorescent lights. A sour, moldy stench clinging to the damp carpet beneath her loafers.

And around her—bodies.

Undead bodies, all in varying states of decay. Some missing eyes, others dragging half-broken legs across the floor, their mouths opening and closing with sickly groans. The sound of them—their collective chorus of death—reverberated in her skull.

‘Where am I? How did I get here? Why—why are they all around me?’

Her chest tightened. She wanted to scream. To run. But her voice caught in her throat, trembling. “S-someone… please, where is this?!”

No one answered.

“Kyaa! Hey don’t push me! Wait where are you touching?”

The zombies pressed against her from all sides, their clammy bodies shuffling endlessly forward. Their numbers were suffocating. Each time she tried to stop, she was jostled and pushed, her own feet forced to move with the tide.

‘Why aren’t they attacking me? Why aren’t they… eating me?’

Her fear mounted with every step. She glanced down at herself, her school uniform still neat, her ribbon tied carefully. But her skin—her gray-blue skin and her hands trembled as she lifted them into view, as if she were seeing them for the first time.

“…N-no…” Her voice cracked, almost a whisper. “I can’t… I can’t be like them.”

The mass didn’t care. They groaned and pressed onward, shoulder to shoulder, blank eyes staring ahead. She tried pushing back, squirming sideways, anything to break free, but their numbers swallowed her. Every attempt to stop only sent more weight crashing into her from behind, forcing her forward again.

“Stop it!” She cried, her voice thin and desperate. “I’m not… I’m not one of you!”

The zombies around her didn’t answer. They didn’t even notice her. They kept walking, groaning, arms outstretched. Their eyes were empty, vacant.

She looked down at her own hands, at the bluish skin, the bandages. Her fingers trembled. “I-I’m like them, aren’t I? But… I’m… me.”

The crowd pressed around her, moving in one slow, ceaseless tide. She staggered with them, carried forward by their sheer number. Every now and then one bumped into her shoulder, but not a single one turned its head. 

Her mind spun.

The last thing she remembered was… a normal morning. A bright sky. Running late for an audition. Then—blackness. Now she was here, in this nightmare of yellow walls and buzzing lights, surrounded by walking corpses that should have terrified her, but instead filled her with a cold familiarity.

“I… don’t understand,” She whispered, her crystal-blue eyes darting frantically around the endless hallways. “Why am I here? Why… am I like this?”

For every step she took, the crowd of zombies groaned louder, their moans reverberating in the claustrophobic halls. The sheer number of them was suffocating. She clutched her ribbon with trembling fingers.

Yet the horde kept moving, endless, aimless, shoving her deeper into the yellow labyrinth.

And Sakura Minamoto, the only zombie still aware of who she was, struggled in vain against the tide.

—---------------------------------- 

The hum of the lights was all she heard when she opened her eyes. The same buzzing, endless, grating noise that seemed to seep into her skull. She blinked rapidly, her dark lashes fluttering as her vision adjusted to the dull yellow walls and the ceiling above her.

The girl slowly sat up from where she had appeared, her long black hair spilling over her shoulders in waves, the hem of her black school uniform brushing against her thighs. Her fingers flexed around the cool steel handle of the large kitchen knife she carried, the familiar weight grounding her.

She looked around.

Endless yellow corridors. Damp carpet under her shoes. The faint smell of mold clinging to the air.

“…What is this place?” She murmured, her voice low, curious more than afraid.

The Backrooms gave her no answer.

Her lips quivered into the faintest smirk. “Not that it matters.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, the walls pressing down on her weren’t those of a containment cell. There were no locked doors, no restraints, no sterile white lights above her head. The reality of her sudden freedom slowly settled in, and for a moment she simply stood there, savoring the silence.

She ran her fingers along the flat of her blade, tilting it so that the buzzing light glinted faintly on its edge. A wave of giddiness ran through her chest, sharp and electric.

‘Free. I’m finally free.’

Her mind swirled with possibilities. What should she do with this freedom? Wander? Hunt? Play? She tilted her head thoughtfully, her long black hair spilling forward, her red eyes glittering with something between curiosity and menace.

A shrug rolled off her shoulders, casual, almost dismissive. “I’ll figure it out as I go.”

Then the shadows began to creep.

It started at her feet, pooling unnaturally against the damp carpet. The fluorescent lights above flickered as the dark spread across her form, wrapping her like a shroud. She didn’t resist—instead, she welcomed it.

Her smirk widened.

And in the blink of an eye, her body dissolved into darkness, her form vanishing completely as though she had never been there at all.

The room was left empty, silent once more.

The hum of the lights returned, indifferent to the fact that something dangerous now wandered the Backrooms, unseen and free.

—---------------------------------------

The endless monotony of yellow walls stretched on without end. Fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above, their glow staining everything with that same sickly hue. The damp carpet squished under their boots, the sound echoing through the emptiness.

Guts walked at his usual measured pace, Dragonslayer strapped to his back, his single eye scanning the endless hallways. His expression was stoic as always, but inside, the silence was starting to grate.

Hours of walking. No enemies. No fights. Just the yellow walls repeating forever.

He let out a low groan, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘Damn it all… this place is duller than purgatory.’

Beside him, Nezuko moved lightly on her feet, her presence far quieter. Her pink eyes flicked between the walls with cautious curiosity. Unlike Guts, she didn’t mind the silence. After being forced into a box to avoid the sun, this endless walk almost felt… freeing. She could stretch her legs, take in her surroundings, even hum quietly in her mind.

The constant repetition didn't bother her. She simply walked, following her new friend in her small form, an odd contrast to the massive swordsman beside her. For a while, that was enough.

But for Guts, the monotony ate at him. He glanced at her, considering starting a conversation, but he quickly dismissed the thought. She can’t exactly answer back. Hell, she probably doesn’t even know what I’m saying.

So he walked on in silence, the quiet scraping against his nerves like sandpaper.

Finally, he let out a groan of frustration, his voice echoing faintly in the empty halls. “Damn it. Something—anything—better happen soon.”

As if the Backrooms themselves had heard his plea, the silence broke. From somewhere ahead came the sound of footsteps. Heavy. Uneven. And beneath that… groaning. Low, guttural groans. Nothing human or living.

Guts immediately froze, his instincts sharpening like a blade. His hand twitched toward Dragonslayer, his body coiling with anticipation. “Tch. Guess I spoke too soon.”

Nezuko perked up, tilting her head curiously. Her sharp senses confirmed it—dozens, maybe hundreds, all shuffling in unison. The smell hit her next, the stench of rot, of corpses long decayed.

The sound grew louder. A tide of footsteps, hundreds of them, echoing through the endless halls.

Guts narrowed his eye, his lips curling into a grim smirk. “Well… wish granted.”

Nezuko stepped closer to him instinctively, her hands curling into fists, her eyes glowing hot pink.

Ahead, just beyond the bend of the corridor, the groaning swelled. Shadows shifted against the far wall.

The horde was coming. The groaning was growing louder.

From the bend in the yellow corridor, shadows began to spill forward, twisting against the peeling wallpaper. Then the first shambling figures appeared—rotting corpses with empty, glassy eyes and jaws slack with hunger. Their skin sagged in gray strips, limbs twitching as they dragged themselves forward.

And behind them… more. Dozens. Hundreds. An ocean of death spilling endlessly through the Backrooms. Their collective groan filled the air, drowning out the hum of the fluorescent lights.

Guts’s eye narrowed. The weight of Dragonslayer shifted as he pulled the massive blade free from his back, the familiar weight settling into his armored hands. The iron edge scraped faintly against the floor before he hefted it to rest across his shoulder.

“Tch. A goddamn horde,” He muttered, his voice low and steady. He glanced down at the girl beside him. “Kid. Get ready.”

Nezuko’s pink eyes flared in response. She growled, and her small body suddenly swelled. Her frame lengthened, her muscles tensed, and her claws sharpened into long, glistening talons. The air seemed to quiver with her demonic energy as she cracked her neck, a predator’s smile tugging faintly at her lips.

The undead were almost upon them now, filling the entire hall with their endless tide.

Guts smirked grimly. “Heh. Guess I won’t be bored anymore for at least hour.”

With a roar, he swung Dragonslayer in a massive arc. The sheer weight and power of the blade cleaved through the first rank of corpses, their bodies exploding into chunks of rotting flesh and bone. The sound was a wet, sickening CRUNCH as they collapsed in heaps, only for the horde to trample over them.

Nezuko lunged forward with a snarl, her claws flashing. She ripped through torsos like paper, her kicks sending heads flying down the corridor. Her body moved with feral grace, each motion precise yet savage. She tore one corpse’s arm clean off and spun, using it like a club to smash another back into the horde.

The hall became a storm of violence.

Dragonslayer rose and fell like a scythe against wheat, cutting down dozens at a time. Blood and gore splattered across the carpet and walls, painting the already-decayed hallways with fresh crimson. Each swing left a trail of shattered bone and shredded flesh, but the horde pressed on, endless and relentless.

“Damn bastards don’t know when to quit!” Guts snarled, his eye blazing as sweat dripped down his temple.

Beside him, Nezuko let out another growl, her claws dripping with rotting blood. She ripped through five more in a flurry of slashes, her body moving faster than the corpses could react. Her eyes gleamed, feral yet focused, as she fought shoulder-to-shoulder with the black swordsman.

And still they came.

From the darkness of the halls, the moaning never ceased. For every dozen they cut down, dozens more stumbled forward to take their place.

But neither Guts nor Nezuko faltered.

For Guts, the endless tide was nothing new—just another battlefield, another fight. His grin widened into something savage, Dragonslayer singing in his grip. “Come on then! Let’s see how many of you bastards I can pile up!”

For Nezuko, it was instinct. Her blood boiled with power, her nails digging into rotten flesh as she ripped and tore, her pink eyes burning bright. Together, they continue to turn the endless hallway into a slaughterhouse.

The horde poured forward like a flood, endless and suffocating. Their groans merged into one horrible drone that reverberated down the yellow halls, bouncing off the stained wallpaper and ceiling tiles. The reek of rot and old blood clung to the air, thick enough to choke.

But Guts and Nezuko didn’t choke.

Dragonslayer swung in a wide, merciless arc, the slab of iron plowing through another dozen corpses at once. The sound of tearing flesh and cracking bone filled the air, the front ranks obliterated like insects before a storm. Limbs flew, torsos split, heads burst apart under the sheer weight of his strikes. The undead didn’t even scream—they just collapsed in heaps, trampled by those behind them.

“Outta my way!” Guts bellowed, his voice raw, his single eye gleaming with savage fury.

Each swing left his arms trembling, the shock of impact rattling his bones, but he didn’t stop. He never stopped. Sweat and blood streaked his face, mixing with the grime of the Backrooms, and still he grinned that grim, battle-born grin.

Beside him, Nezuko was a blur of claws. She darted low, slicing through legs to topple corpses, then pounced high, driving her foot into a skull so hard it exploded like a melon. Her claws ripped open ribcages, pulling rotten hearts free before tossing them aside like trash. She leapt into the thick of the horde without hesitation, spinning, slashing, kicking, her crimson eyes glowing bright in the flickering light.

The carpet squelched under their feet, saturated now not just with mildew but with blackened ichor and rotting gore. Every step sank into the remains of the fallen.

Guts cleaved another line of them, the sheer force of his swing blowing the nearest corpses apart into wet chunks. He pulled Dragonslayer free with a grunt, the blade slick with blood and bits of bone. “Tch… pathetic. Not even worth the swing.”

Yet he swung again. And again.

Nezuko darted forward, grabbing one zombie by the throat and crushing it with a single squeeze. Another lunged at her side—her claw came down like lightning, severing its head from its shoulders in one fluid strike. The blood spattered across her face and uniform, but she didn’t blink, didn’t flinch. Her growls echoed in the hall, almost harmonizing with the groans of the horde.

Wave after wave fell.

The corridor itself seemed too narrow to contain the carnage. Walls shook with the force of Dragonslayer’s swings, cracks spreading through the drywall as corpses were crushed against it. The ceiling lights flickered under the sheer vibrations of Guts’s relentless assault.

The horde didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. But every attempt to overwhelm them ended in more bodies piling higher, littering the path with broken remains.

Minutes bled into a blur of slaughter.

Guts’s chest heaved, his eye wild with that familiar madness that came with endless battle. The more they came, the harder he swung. The more he swung, the wider his grin became. “Come on then! You’ll all fall the same!”

Nezuko darted up onto the pile of corpses, her demonic strength carrying her above the wave. She dove into the crowd, a whirlwind of claws tearing a swath open around her. Her movements were feral yet controlled, her instincts honed to perfection

The yellow halls were drowned in black gore, the endless monotony of the Backrooms broken only by the mountain of corpses left in their wake. And still, neither faltered.

Guts swung his blade through another wall of flesh, Nezuko’s claws ripped through skulls like paper, and together they turned the tide of death into nothing but silence and ruin.

—-----------------------------------------

In one of the various yellow rooms. A room that was visited by Guts and Nezuko. Various amounts of damage could be seen around it from explosions, cuts and dents in the wall. 

On the ground the giant bio-organic corpse that had been slayed by guts earlier was seen twitching as the towering undead clad in a ragged black trench coat was stirring. Its carcass lay broken, ribs split wide, limbs twisted grotesquely where Nezuko’s claws and Guts’s blade had torn it apart. It should have stayed dead.

But from within the cracks of its ruined body, something writhed. Thin, metallic appendages, glistening wet with ichor, slithered free. They weren’t natural. They looked like mechanical tentacles, each tipped with needle-like claws. They stabbed into flesh, dragged across shattered bone, and began to stitch the creature back together.

Schlkkk—schhhhhh.

The sound of sinew and steel fusing was nauseating. The stench of burning rot filled the room as its body reshaped itself. Flesh bubbled, tearing and reforming around jagged, bone-like plates that jutted outward. Muscle fibers wound tighter, thicker, like cables being drawn into place. The trench coat stretched against its new, hulking form, the fabric tearing but clinging as though alive.

One eye burst with a sickly squelch, replaced by a glowing red optic, its lens clicking as it whirred into focus.

The rocket launcher, broken in two, was discarded with a wet thud. The creature flexed its hand, and more mechanical tendrils slithered out from its palm, coiling and retracting like snakes preparing to strike.

It groaned at first, a low guttural noise that rattled the walls. Then the groan deepened into something inhuman, a roar so loud and resonant it seemed to shake the very foundations of the room.

RRRRAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHH!

The fluorescent lights above flickered violently, buzzing louder as if straining under the vibration. The peeling wallpaper rippled under the soundwave, and dust rained from the sagging ceiling tiles.

The roar carried down the endless halls, a challenge and a promise.

Its jaw cracked as it snapped into place, steel and bone merging. The giant corpse stood fully once more, stronger, more grotesque, more resistant than before. Its massive hands flexed, its red optic glowing brighter.

The thing took a step forward, its heavy foot sinking deep into the damp carpet. Then another. The mechanical tentacles slithered eagerly from its back, clacking and twitching in anticipation.

It had been slain once. But it would not fall so easily again.

Done. Tell me what you think and if I made any mistakes.