The iron scaffolding groaned under the weight of General Viktor 'Bloodfang' Kruger as he climbed higher into the ruined industrial complex. His black fatigues were streaked with the fresh blood of resistance fighters who had dared stand against him. Their corpses littered the lower levels, now nothing more than fodder for his undead army.
He reached the upper platform, where the last of the enemy's command bunker was stationed. The air reeked of oil, tal, and decay—the stench of war that he had long since learned to embrace.
His combat knife dripped crimson, still warm from the last throat he had slit. He tightened his grip as he stepped forward, his boots crunching against shattered glass and bullet casings.
A desperate voice called out from the shadows.
"You think you've won?" Captain Elias Moore, the leader of the rebel stronghold, erged from behind a wrecked control panel, clutching a wounded arm. His uniform was tattered, but his eyes still burned with defiance. "Even if you kill , others will rise. You'll never break us."
Kruger smirked, tilting his head slightly. "You misunderstand."
With a flick of his wrist, he threw his knife. The blade found its mark—burying deep into Moore's shoulder, pinning him to the steel wall behind him. The rebel captain let out a strangled cry of pain, his body writhing as blood trickled down his chest.
Kruger approached slowly, his shadow looming over his prey. He grabbed Moore by the throat, his inhuman strength lifting the wounded man effortlessly.
"I don't need to break you," Kruger said, his voice a low, guttural growl. "I only need to turn you."
A sudden movent behind him. A soldier lunged with a bayonet, but Kruger sidestepped with unnatural speed. In one swift motion, he grabbed the attacker's wrist, twisted it with a sickening snap, and drove the bayonet into the man's stomach. The soldier gasped, blood bubbling at his lips before he collapsed.
Kruger turned back to Moore. "You see, Captain… death is not the end. Not anymore."
From the lower levels, the sound of groaning and dragging feet echoed through the factory. The Legion of the Damned was moving—his reanimated forces climbing the scaffolding, dead soldiers now reborn under his control.
Behind him, Dr. Sylvia 'Plague Mistress' Voss stepped forward, holding a syringe filled with black ichor. "The new serum is ready, General. Shall we begin the conversion?"
Kruger grinned as he released his grip on Moore, letting the captain slump forward. "Inject him."
Moore's eyes widened in terror. "No… please…"
The needle plunged into his neck.
His screams echoed through the industrial wasteland.
Kruger stood over him, watching as the transformation began. Soon, another commander would join his undead ranks.
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