The Descent To The 34th Floor. Part 2

The elevator doors opened, revealing a pitch-black expanse before Asher. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for what lay ahead. Naked and devoid of weapons, Asher's first step was to make its way to the changing room of the guards.

'The guards changing room is supposed to be empty, if I followed the path that I planned I should be there without any problems ' Asher thought, while stepping into the darkness.

GROWL!

The sound of distant growls and eerie screeches filled the air. The monsters were near, their presence palpable. He couldn't afford to waste any time, This floor unlike the 35th floor that had one corridor was a lot bigger with five corridors with tens of rooms, but fortunately for Asher the changing room that was seeking was at the end c the corridor in front of him

After taking a glance at Shadow that was at his side Asher with a racing heart made his way through the corridor, his senses heightened with each step. Shadows danced menacingly on the walls, and the distant sounds of claws scraping against the cold, concrete floor sent chills down his spine. Every nerve in his body tingled with anticipation as he inched closer to his destination

Shadow, Follows Asher's steps somehow without walking with a calm confident expression. His silent support instilled a sense of confidence within Asher.

As they ventured deeper into the corridor, Asher could hear the faint echoes of the monsters growing louder. The creatures' shrieks and howls reverberated through the corridors. Fear threatened to consume Asher, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand.

Finally, after less than two minutes Asher reached the entrance of the changing room. Although Asher still doesn't understand why there was a changing room for guards on such a faraway floor from the exit, he took a deep breath, then pushed open the door.

The changing room was a small, dimly lit space, lined with rows of lockers and benches. A mirror hung on one wall, its glass cracked but still intact. There was an eerie stillness in the room, a respite from the chaos that lurked outside.

Asher's heart pounded in his chest as he stepped inside, his senses on high alert despite the temporary calm. He scanned the room, searching for any signs of danger, but all he found was emptiness. No monsters lurked in the shadows, and no cries of anguish echoed through the air.

Heart pounding in his chest, he reached the lockers, praying that fortune would be on his side. Fumbling with the lock of the first locker, his hands trembling with a mix of fear and adrenaline, he finally managed to secure a set of sports clothes and a weapon—a sharp, makeshift blade.

Then As he scanned the room, Asher found all the other lockers closed except one where he found, a flashlight and a sturdy baton—the same type the guards use. A glimmer of hope sparked within him as he realized the potential tools at his disposal.

Asher stood before the cracked mirror in the dimly lit changing room, his gaze fixed on his reflection. The complete black set of clothes he now wore accentuated his transformation, and his hair, neatly styled, added a touch of confidence to his demeanor. Adjusting the collar of his shirt, he couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at the image staring back at him.

Just as Asher turned to leave the changing room, the silence was shattered by an unseen voice, its tone laced with impatience. The mirror, however, revealed no sign of its source. It was Shadow, his words cutting through the air. "Aren't you ready yet? You've spent an hour in here."

Startled, Asher spun around, to find shadow standing just beside him, Frustration tinged Asher's voice as he responded, "Alright, alright, I'm ready. Let's go."

With Shadow by his side, Asher made his way to the door of the changing room. As his hand reached for the cool metal doorknob, his heart pounded in his chest. The weight of the upcoming challenge pressed upon him, but he steadied himself, determined to face whatever lay ahead.

A mental checklist of his plan flashed through Asher's mind. He needed to reach the elevator while avoiding unnecessary encounters with the relentless undead monsters infesting the floor. Every step he took had to be calculated, each decision based on the sole purpose of survival.

As Asher stepped into the corridor, the flickering fluorescent lights created a disorienting effect, casting shifting shadows on the peeling wallpaper. The distant roars and guttural growls of the monsters reverberated through the air, sending shivers down his spine. He tightened his grip on the baton he had acquired, finding solace in the familiarity of its weight.

With each cautious stride, Asher's senses sharpened. His eyes darted from one shadowy corner to another, scanning for any signs of movement. The air was heavy with tension, as if holding its breath, waiting for the next encounter to unfold.

Approaching an open door, Asher felt his heart quicken. He knew what awaited him inside—a solitary undead monster, lost in its own macabre existence. He paused, his eyes fixed on the blood-streaked figure standing motionless, its milky eyes staring blankly at the wall. Shadow, cold as ever, whispered beside him, "Kill him."

Confusion clouded Asher's expression as he whispered back, his voice barely audible, "What? Why? We don't have to kill him. It's not in our way."

Shadow's response was unwavering. "You need to get used to it. In this world, it's kill or be killed. He's an easy target."

Reluctantly, Asher nodded, his apprehension masked by determination. "Alright, I'll do it."

With every ounce of nerve he could muster, Asher steadied his trembling hand and stepped forward. The uneven sounds of his footsteps mingled with the low growls emanating from the zombie. The air crackled with anticipation, the room becoming a battleground between life and death.

As he peered into the dimly lit space, his eyes locked onto the grotesque figure before him. The zombie stood motionless, its decaying flesh hanging loosely from its skeletal frame. The putrid stench of decay filled the air, assaulting Asher's senses. The creature's milky, lifeless eyes stared blankly at the wall, oblivious to the imminent threat approaching.

Asher took a deep breath, steadying his trembling hand. Shadows danced on the walls as he stepped forward, his movements deliberate and calculated.

Time seemed to slow as Asher raised the baton, his arm poised to strike. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, his heart pounding in his ears. He could hear the low growls escaping the zombie's decomposing throat, a haunting symphony of death.

Woosh!!

Summoning every ounce of strength and courage, Asher swung the baton with a forceful arc. The air whistled as the weapon cut through space, colliding with the zombie's skull. A sickening crack echoed through the room, accompanied by the wet splatter of blood and brain matter.

The impact sent shockwaves reverberating through Asher's arm, jarring his senses. He recoiled slightly, his breath catching in his throat as the weight of what he had just done settled upon him. The zombie stumbled backward, its decaying form losing its tenuous balance.

Time seemed to freeze as the creature teetered on the edge of oblivion. Asher's eyes widened, his heart pounding with anticipation. In a final act of brutality, he summoned all his strength and resolve, delivering a devastating blow to the zombie's head.

The sound of shattering bone shattered the silence, filling the room with a gruesome symphony. The zombie collapsed to the floor, a broken and lifeless puppet. Blood pooled around its motionless body, mingling with the stains already marring the room.

Asher stood over the fallen creature, his chest heaving, sweat dripping from his brow. Emotions surged within him—a mix of relief, sorrow, and a gnawing realization of the darkness he now inhabited. The reality of taking a life, even one that had already been lost to the horrors of this place, weighed heavily on his conscience.

As the echoes of the violence subsided, Asher's gaze lingered on the fallen zombie. Its grotesque appearance served as a chilling reminder of the stakes they faced. In this world, survival came at a high cost—one that demanded he confront the horrors head-on.