On April 23, 2030, a train wound its way through a river valley surrounded by mountains. The tracks clung to the cliffs—on the left, verdant slopes soaked in spring rain; on the right, a wide river shimmered with a leaden hue under the overcast sky. In the distance, scattered village houses clung to the hillside like spilled building blocks.
Through the train windows, houses could be seen dotting the far side of the river. The hillsides were lush green, blanketed with small blooming flowers. Many passengers began pulling out their phones to capture the scenery.
Ethan, however, paid no attention to the springtime beauty. He had fallen asleep against the back of his seat. A few golden strands of hair hung over his eyelids, gently swaying with the subtle rhythm of the train.
Suddenly, an announcement from the train attendant came over the speakers: "Dear passengers, please be advised—the train is approaching the city of Wellen."
Hearing the broadcast, Ethan furrowed his brow, slowly opened his drowsy eyes, and sat upright. He blinked hard several times, trying to shake off the grogginess. He had just graduated with a master's degree in theoretical physics the day before and spent the night celebrating with friends, drinking heavily.
His phone buzzed. He pulled it out to check—a weather alert notification. The screen read: "[Red Alert for Torrential Rain in Wellen] A severe downpour is expected within the next hour. Please seek shelter and avoid hillsides and low-lying areas."
He looked out the window. The once-clear mountains were now obscured by dense clouds. Rain needles lashed against the glass in slanted lines. The river still flowed quietly, but its stillness felt oppressively heavy.
Despite the gloomy weather outside, the train car remained relaxed. The attendant pushed a cart offering hot drinks. A middle-aged man bought a cup, cupped it in his hands, took a sip, then glanced out the window again and muttered, "Rain again. Just my luck—I didn't bring an umbrella."
"The weather changes quickly in these valleys," the attendant replied with a smile, wiping away a thick layer of fog on the window—but frowned as she did.
Suddenly, a stark white bolt of lightning split the sky, followed by a thunderclap so deep it felt as though it had exploded from underground. A baby began wailing sharply; the mother clutched the child, trying to soothe him.
Everything still seemed relatively normal—until Ethan suddenly heard a strange, discordant sound. At first, it was a deep rumble like the groan of the earth's core, followed by the clatter of tumbling rocks, the gurgle of mud flowing, and the sharp crack of trees being torn apart.
"What was that?" the middle-aged man asked in a trembling voice, his face pale.
Ethan jumped to his feet and rushed to the window on the mountainside of the train. One look outside and his pupils shrank. His face turned ashen as he shouted at the top of his lungs: "Mudslide! Get down! Now!!"
Just as Ethan curled up under his seat, the world collapsed.
The mudslide roared down like a beast, dragging rocks and trees with it as it tore toward the tracks. The impact slammed into the train car like a giant fist. It derailed instantly. The rails groaned and bent under the pressure, and the train was shoved toward the river, bouncing and tumbling like a discarded toy.
In that instant of impact, the train car became a blender—screams, shouts, and the dull thuds of luggage colliding filled the air. Seats flew, people were hurled—some slammed into the walls, others hit the ceiling before crashing down again. Ethan clung to the leg of a seat, pressing himself flat to the floor. He held on with all his strength, knuckles pale. His forehead struck the underside of the seat hard; blood immediately trickled from his brow, blurring his vision. Darkness edged his eyes, but he forced himself to stay conscious.
A deep crash echoed through the car—the entire compartment had plunged into the river. Ice-cold water surged in from every crevice—through door cracks, vents, everywhere.
The car tilted, the floor becoming a slope. What had been a window was now the bottom. Once the rolling stopped, Ethan slowly crawled out from under the seat, gripping the chair leg for balance. When his feet touched something solid underwater, he let go and stood up in water that just reached his calves. He pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight—a beam of light pierced the murky chaos.
The beam revealed horrifying blood stains streaked across the walls. Debris, luggage, shoes, even a child's doll floated in the water, creating an eerie silence amid the chaos. In moments, the water rose to his knees—icy cold, like blades slicing into his skin.
He bit the phone between his teeth, leaned forward, and began searching through the water. He remembered there was an emergency hammer mounted in the upper-left corner of one of the windows—their only chance of escape.
The rising water created more resistance. He carefully avoided floating debris, but his fingers suddenly touched something soft. A hand shot up from below and grabbed him with terrifying strength, nearly dragging him down. It clamped tightly around his wrist.
Instead of pulling away, Ethan grabbed the other person's arm with his free hand and yanked upward. A young man burst to the surface, coughing violently.
He had short hair, thick eyebrows, and a ghostly pale face. Gasping for air, he released Ethan's wrist and rasped, "I... I'm Lucas. Thank you…"
"Save your breath. Catch it first," Ethan said curtly as he resumed searching. His voice was barely audible above the water. "If you can move, help me find the emergency hammer. Upper left corner of the windows."
Lucas tried to stand but let out a pained grunt as his left leg flared with pain. Clutching his leg, he gasped, "Shit... It's fine. I'll look on the other side."
Together, they searched the submerged car. Some people were unconscious. Others groaned in pain. A few, still aware, saw what they were doing and joined in the search.
Finally, a woman with a high ponytail held up a red hammer and waded over. "Found it! Now what?"
Ethan glanced at her, then at the water level—it was only waist-high. He replied calmly, "Not yet. If we smash it now, the pressure difference between inside and outside is too great. The window won't break easily. Wait until the water's at chest level—then it'll be easier."
Just as he finished, a burly man growled, "I'm not waiting to die." He snatched the hammer from the woman and stormed toward the window.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The hammer slammed into the window corner. In the dead silence of the car, each blow struck like thunder in everyone's heart.
All eyes were on him. No one breathed.
After a few attempts, the window remained intact. The man gave up, panting.
Water kept pouring in. The level rose slowly, and the shadow of death loomed heavier and heavier.
When it finally reached chest height, Ethan shouted to the man, "Now! Smash it!"
The man reacted instantly, lifting the hammer again and swinging hard.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
CRACK!
The glass fractured. Ethan's eyes widened. What came through wasn't clean water—it was a shadowy, muddy torrent.
"No—STOP!" he screamed.
But it was too late. The man's arm moved faster than words, and the hammer struck once more.
The window shattered.
In the next instant, a wave of mud and river water surged into the car like a beast unleashed—devouring everything in its path.
In the engulfing darkness came chaos, pain, suffocation, and fear. Ethan was swept up in the mudslide, his body tumbling, lungs seizing.
And then—everything went black.