The train groaned as it cut through the night, its metal frame rattling softly under the weight of silence. Between Car No. 8 and Car No. 9, where Lucas stood, a dark steel barrier loomed—the Captain's door, a reinforced wall that completely separated the two compartments.
He ran his fingers along the metal, pressing against every corner. No cracks, no openings. Not above, below, or to the sides. It was airtight.
Lucas exhaled, half relieved. "No one's been attacked in this carriage yet… These vampires must have a reason they can't enter through the windows." His voice was low, calm, but alert.
He turned, gripping the handle of his kitchen knife, and began walking toward the rear—Car No. 10.
The train had stopped at the station platform earlier, but whatever boarded now wasn't human. Vampires from Dogtown were still pouring into the cars, drawn by the scent of blood. From somewhere beyond the steel door, Lucas could already hear it—wood splintering, glass breaking, and the distant chorus of terrified screams.
"...They've reached Car Ten," he muttered.
At the connection point, Lucas laid the long mouthpart he'd ripped from a vampire earlier onto the ground, then looked toward the next carriage.
Through the narrow crack of the door, he could see chaos.
Inside Car No. 10, pandemonium reigned. Passengers shrieked as vampires tore through the wooden doors of private compartments, dragging victims out into the aisle. The blood on the floor gleamed dark red under the flickering lights.
> [Modeling...]
[A risk assessment is being generated based on host's own strength...]
[Vampire of Dogtown: Intermediate Danger]
[Warning: Vampire of Dogtown is about to exceed intermediate level]
[Passenger Nar's body: No Danger]
Lucas's eyes scanned the glowing interface, absorbing the information quickly. "Nine of them… None have reached high-level danger yet." He tightened his grip around the kitchen knife. "I can't let their numbers increase."
With quiet precision, Lucas pushed the door open and stepped into Car No. 10.
The smell hit him first—metallic, thick, and sickly sweet. Blood soaked the carpet. A vampire crouched over a woman's body, his bald head glinting under the broken ceiling light. The creature's mouthpart pulsed rhythmically as it drained her dry.
Lucas moved behind him.
A soft tap on the shoulder.
The vampire froze, puzzled, and turned its head—just in time to meet the flash of a blade.
Shink!
Half its skull split open, blood and black ichor splattering across the wall. Before the body could fall, Lucas yanked the mouthpart out, tossing it aside with disgust. "You really don't know when to quit."
But his movement had drawn attention.
The other vampires feeding in the compartment stopped simultaneously, their heads jerking up in unison. The glowing black pupils locked on to him.
A dozen pairs of eyes, hungry and inhuman.
Lucas's expression didn't waver. He simply turned his wrist, spinning the kitchen knife once in his hand. His gaze hardened. "Come on, then."
The train clock read 8:28.
Three minutes had passed. Ten more until the train departed.
By now, every passenger in Car No. 10 was already dead—drained husks scattered like discarded dolls. The floor was slick with blood. A faint mist of iron and death filled the air.
And yet, even in this hellish sight, a new sound rose.
"Please! Don't kill me! Don't kill me!"
But this time, it wasn't a human begging. It was a vampire.
The creature stumbled through the aisle, drenched in gore, glancing back over its shoulder in pure terror. Something far worse than itself was behind it.
A wet splat echoed—a crimson object flew through the air, landing squarely on the fleeing vampire's chest. Looking down, the creature's eyes widened in horror.
It was a mouthpart—its companion's mouthpart, torn out and flung at him.
He gasped, stumbling backward in panic. But before he could move again, a shadow fell over him.
"Please, let me go…" the vampire stammered, trembling as it stared up into Lucas's cold, merciless eyes. Even the predator knew—it had become the prey.
Lucas crouched slightly, his tone deceptively calm. "Be a good boy and… stick out your mouthpart, would you?"
The vampire's jaw clenched shut instantly, shaking his head so fast it almost blurred. "No! No! Please!"
Lucas sighed softly, as if disappointed. "Can't even cooperate voluntarily... what a shame."
The kitchen knife gleamed in the dim light. Then it fell—clean, swift, final.
When the echoes faded, nine torn mouthparts lay scattered behind him, glistening like wet ropes of sinew.
Lucas walked forward, dragging them behind him, leaving a trail of blood across the aisle. His breathing steady, eyes sharp. "None of them were high-level threats… but too many together—too much danger."
He glanced at the flickering clock on the carriage wall.
8:30. Eight minutes until departure.
He muttered under his breath, half to himself, half to the silent corpses, "Fortunately, vampires still possess a trace of human fear… otherwise this would've been impossible."
---
Meanwhile, several cars ahead—Car No. 12—the situation was far worse.
Blue Kill stood among shattered seats and corpses, panting heavily. Her silver hair clung to her forehead, streaked with crimson. The train wasn't moving, and that was the problem. Every minute it stayed at the platform, more vampires were climbing aboard.
She swung her blade downward, cleaving through the neck of another vampire. Its body hit the floor with a dull thud. Her chest heaved. "They just keep coming…"
Da-da-da-da!
The sound of running footsteps—dozens of them—approached rapidly. Blue Kill's eyes widened. "What now?!"
She hadn't even caught her breath before the doors burst open again.
At first, vampires that boarded the train had dispersed evenly—some went left, some right, attacking separate cars. But now, every new vampire that entered through the junction of Car No. 10 and Car No. 11 was moving in one direction only—straight toward Car No. 12.
"Why... why all at once?" she gasped.
The pressure mounted fast. The narrow aisles overflowed with bloodthirsty monsters. Even Blue Kill, experienced and armed, couldn't hold the line anymore. Her movements slowed; her arms ached. "Car Twelve can't be saved!"
Around her, the few surviving passengers bolted for the next car, their screams fading as they ran.
Blue Kill's eyes hardened. There was no longer any point in standing her ground. "If I stay, I die. The only thing I can do is wait—wait for those fifteen minutes to pass..."
She turned and sprinted toward Car No. 13, her footsteps echoing through the chaos. Yet even as she fled, a question gnawed at her mind—
"What the hell is happening over there? Why are they all moving in that direction?"
---
The answer was simple—but horrifying.
The players watching the live broadcast from the group stage saw everything.
On the home screen, Lucas—known to the audience by his handle Good Money Zhao—was sitting calmly in the center of Car No. 10's aisle. He had dragged a wooden chair from one of the compartments and positioned it facing the door to the next car.
Beside him hung a gruesome creation: a "door curtain" crafted entirely from the vampires' own mouthparts. He'd tied and nailed them together using a nail-binding device he'd casually bought from the in-game mall.
At first glance, it looked like a writhing wall of red tendrils, dripping and twitching faintly.
Every vampire that entered the train froze upon seeing it. Their instincts screamed danger. One by one, they turned and fled the other way.
Lucas leaned back slightly, resting the flat of his kitchen knife on his knee. "As expected... you do understand fear."
The vampires didn't dare to cross the threshold. The curtain of death had become both warning and barrier.
He smiled faintly. "Even if one or two bold idiots try to break through... I'll handle them myself."
The seconds ticked by.
8:35.
Finally, Lucas exhaled deeply, the tension easing from his shoulders. The metallic taste of blood still lingered in the air, but for the first time in fifteen minutes, there was silence.
He looked around at the ravaged carriage—the corpses, the broken glass, the twisted door of mouthparts swaying like macabre ornaments.
Then, with a faint smile, he whispered:
"These fifteen minutes of hell... are finally over."
The train lights flickered once more, as if acknowledging the end of the carnage. But deep within the next carriage, unseen by human eyes, something stirred.
And the Thriller Train rolled on into the night.
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