《Welcome to Hell》 1 - Departure To whoever finds this. I doubt anyone will notice my absence, much less miss me. But I feel compelled to leave behind an explanation¡ªprobably just a compilation of my thoughts in a world where I was always ignored. Perhaps this is selfish, but then again, life itself has never granted me much kindness. So, if you want to read it, I''d appreciate it. If you don''t want to, then just burn this paper and throw the ash somewhere. Sometimes I wonder if even God tells me to fuck off. Maybe that''s why He¡¯s been silent through all this, letting me stumble, fall, and shatter into pieces. Or perhaps He¡¯s testing me, waiting for me to prove something I can¡¯t find within myself. Either way, if there''s hell, I¡¯ve surely earned my ticket. And I''ll happily walk down that path. High school was diabolical. A place teeming with its cliques, archetypes, and unwritten rules¡ªyet I was neither player nor pawn in that social game. The boy gangs, the queen bees, the overachievers, the class clown¡­ I was none of them. I hovered on the edges, probably even worse than the quiet guy at the back of the class. Have you ever tried so hard to be funny, cool, or unique, only to find out no one cares? Or had a friend who smiled and talked with you when it was just the two of you, only to vanish the moment someone "better" showed up? That was my entire existence for three years: invisible in a crowd, unwanted when seen. Maybe it was my appearance. Short, soft around the edges, with a double chin and a face that couldn¡¯t make the world look twice. Or maybe it was something deeper¡ªan aura, a weight I carried that repelled connection. I tried to change, but no matter what I did, people seemed to wish I didn¡¯t exist. Heck, maybe even incels had better chances of getting a bitch. And then, there was home. Home wasn¡¯t an escape; it was another battleground. My father, bedridden with cancer, hurled curses and objects at me as I sat watching the oxygen pump through his respirator.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Tailbone cancer, they said. Two surgeries drained my mother¡¯s savings, leaving nothing but desperation in their wake. When he finally passed, I thought maybe, just maybe, the chaos would subside. It didn¡¯t. My mother broke. Wine bottles became her companions, and our home turned into a warzone of shattered glass and screaming matches. By year¡¯s end, she shipped me overseas, and that was the last I ever saw of her. An overseas relative called me months later to say she¡¯d literally coked herself to death. I was sent back to my hometown to attend her funeral. Everybody''s gaze that was fixed on me was really sharp. Social anxiety kicked in, and I couldn''t even look people in their eyes the second time. Then after the funeral, someone gave me a note that my mother left. ¡°You''re bad luck.¡± It wrote. And then, I understood. I was the problem, after all. I thought college would be different. It wasn¡¯t. The faces were older, but the rejection was the same. I was the outsider again. No job would hire me, no peers would accept me, and my savings bled dry trying to survive. The loneliness, the failure¡ªit all felt inevitable, like I was destined to fall short. Now, at 19, I¡¯m a college dropout squatting in the ruins of an abandoned condominium. My mother is gone. My father is gone. My dignity evaporated long ago. I am a ghost among the living, walking around like an anomaly among the sane ones. The only safe place I¡¯ve ever found is in my imagination. I play songs that make me feel like I¡¯m surrounded by friends, crafting moments in my mind where laughter is genuine, watching porn and masturbating to it pretending there''s a girl comforting me in bed. It¡¯s a lie I tell myself, but it¡¯s the only time I smile. And yet, even that isn¡¯t enough anymore. One thing I''m still proud of myself for was the fact that I lost 60000 pounds in 2 years doing nothing at all. Couldn''t afford food with the amount of money I have lol. Anyway, I¡¯m sorry¡ªfor trying too hard to be someone I¡¯m not, for constantly seeking validation through cheap jokes and failed attempts at being liked. I¡¯ve exhausted every path to happiness and found only dead ends. If you¡¯re reading this, I¡¯m dead. The man placed the pen beside the note, staring at the final full stop. The room was dim, illuminated only by the flickering light of a dying candle. The rest of the room was cloaked in shadows, revealing little more than the table, his arms, and the paper beneath his hands. His gaze drifted to the broken couch a few feet behind him. Next to it, on the floor, was a set of cutters and a cup of dextromethorphan pills. Hanging from the ceiling was a noose, swaying slightly in the breeze coming through the shattered window. He took a long, slow breath and stood up, the candlelight casting uneven shadows across his face. He picked up the pills, downing them without hesitation, his throat burning from the lack of water. Tossing the empty cup aside, he stepped toward the noose, feeling the cold, rough texture of the Manila rope in his hands. He hesitated only for a moment, his mind numb, before slipping the loop around his neck. The weight of the rope pressed into his skin as he climbed onto the couch, his heart pounding in his chest, the familiar rhythm barely noticeable over the deafening silence. He glanced down at the note one last time, the words blurring together in his fading vision. With a final, resigned sigh, he stepped off the couch. His body jerked violently as the rope tightened, cutting off his air, his feet twitching in the air. Darkness overtook his vision, and the world grew distant. Then, stillness. Chapter 2 - Arrival The boy gasped awake, the cold dry breath caught into his throat as he moved his head around. The gritty texture of sand and gravel scraped against his bare skin. A jolt of panic surged through him as he realized he was lying on the ground. The world above was a breathtaking expanse, a night of a million twinkling stars splashed across blackness. A full moon bathed the landscape in an ethereal silver light, illuminating long, inky shadows that reflected across the unfamiliar terrain. Sprawling on the ground, his face stayed still, frozen as he saw the night sky so clear with the stars and moon were completely visible, no light pollution. The air he breathed felt different somehow. Unlike the stale air that would irritate the nose at this temperature, this one felt¡­invigorating. He lifted his left arm, pulling the long white sleeve up to see his forearm. It was the same forearm as her body when he died. A strand of hair caught his eye. He pulled it to the field of his vision. His hair felt somehow longer. But, it was the same body. In the distance, a city glimmered with tiny lights from buildings and skyscrapers that seemed impossibly small from this vantage point. As he squinted, he could see different colors mingling together in one scene - red signal lights flickering on top of skyscrapers and random green lights that probably came from a billboard. A mountain loomed in the background, separating the color of the horizon with its own body covered in shadow. It''s been a while since I touched places like this¡­ ¡°Oi.¡± A sharp voice cut through the stillness, pulling the boy''s attention away from the city below and towards a girl proning on the ground. He was propped up on his elbows, his eyes focused intently on the scope of a sniper rifle perched in front of him. The scope stretched long above the rifle, almost as long as the barrel¡ªthere were 2 parts, actually. The rear one was a traditional scope for daylight engagements. The one in front was a massive night vision binocular. It was bulky, the diameter was bigger than the size of an object a hand can completely grip. It was aimed at a particular building in the distance. The rifle¡¯s barrel was also strapped with a very long and thick muzzle covered in a green dampening fabric. The girl wore a sleek black coat that blended into the dark sky, with a hood covering her head and only revealing her fringe and face. ¡°You''ve finally woken up.¡± She muttered a word without looking away from her scope, while adjusting it and placing a small piece of wood under the rifle''s stock. The boy couldn''t help but stare at the rifle, tracing his gaze from its extended barrel all the way to its bipod legs planted firmly on the ground. ¡°Nice camo?1?. How much magnification is that?¡± The boy commented as he knelt down, pretty distant from the girl. ¡°Thanks, and it''s 3-18x30mm?2?.¡± The sniper replied nonchalantly as she loaded high-capacity rounds into her magazine and locked it into place. She then pushed the bolt forward and secured it. Her peripheral vision noticed the boy''s curious gaze. She tilted her head for a while, within 3 seconds, she looked back into the scope. The boy stared at the massive scope continuously. As their eyes met, The boy saw that the sniper''s expression was not disturbed. ¡°Is that a TAC 50?3??¡± He blurted out. ¡°Yeah, how''d you know?¡± ¡°I watch tons of videos about guns.¡± ¡°Cool.¡± The sniper answered nonchalantly and went back to adjusting her scope without another word. Intrigued, The boy inched closer but kept a safe distance. ¡°Why are you aiming that gun?¡± He asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. ¡°I''m going to kill a g¡ª.¡± The sniper answered with a professional tone, then she stopped halfway. ¡°I''m hunting a boar for money.¡± ¡°Boar?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°With a sniper rifle aimed at a city?¡± That question hit like a pebble to the sniper''s head. After pausing for a few seconds, she slowly turned her head to the boy. Her eyes could tell her irritation. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± The boy tilted his face and furrowed his brows. ¡°Fine¡­ you win. See that guy over there? I want to blow his head off.¡± The sniper kept her left eye shut as she peered through the scope. ¡°Oh¡­¡± The boy''s face fell flat. It was night and ¡®that guy over there¡¯ was miles away according to where the sniper was aiming to. ¡°Thanks for telling¡­where''s the guy?¡± This question hit the sniper like a pebble again. The sniper looked away from her scope and tossed a pair of binoculars to the boy. He caught them quickly, then bringing the binoculars to his chest, his fingers curling tightly around the expensive equipment. ¡°Jesus Christ, this shit is expensive! You can''t just throw it like that!¡± He scolded the sniper. ¡°Don''t worry about it, I''ve got plenty more in my storage.¡± The sniper smirked. The boy was speechless. He moved behind the sniper and peered through the binoculars to see what he was aiming at. Everything inside the binoculars were bigger. However it was blue. The hotter an object was, the brighter the color was. ¡°Coordinates?¡± The boy struggled to find the target that the sniper was trying to lock on, but he couldn''t find it.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. He knew the sniper was looking into the school building, but everyone that was walking around the school were just normal people¡ªand none of them were guys. Some were dressed in black classic shirts with collars and buttons, and there were 2 people dressed in a maid uniform that were guarding the lobby, and their hands were empty. A little movement from his arms made a very big change to the direction of where he was looking, and he couldn''t constantly focus on where he initially looked. ¡°See a school with the least lights on?¡± The sniper girl''s voice was calm, steady, her right eye glued to the scope. The boy squinted through the binoculars, scanning the buildings below. ¡°That''s where I''m looking at.¡± ¡°Correct coordinates.¡± The sniper confirmed, not budging from her position. ¡°I don''t see any guys.¡± ¡°See those girls, especially in the maid uniform? They are guys.¡± The boy blinked, lowering the binoculars to stare at the sniper. ¡°They are the guys?¡± ¡°No,¡± The sniper sighed, a hint of irritation in her voice. ¡°They are guys.¡± The boy''s eyebrows knit together in confusion. He pulled his eyes away from the binoculars aggressively, glancing at the sniper. ¡°Hold on. To make sure your eyes are okay. Am I a girl or a boy?¡± The sniper finally shifted her gaze from the scope, meeting The boy¡¯s eyes with a deadpan expression. ¡°Boy.¡± The boy¡¯s mouth opened, then closed. He took a moment, then pressed on. ¡°Are you a girl or a boy?¡± The sniper''s lips pressed into a thin line, clearly annoyed. She turned back to her scope with a huff. ¡°Girl.¡± The boy went quiet. Silence broke between them for a while. Then The boy asked with a flat tone. ¡°Are you gay?¡± The sniper¡¯s head jerked up when she listened to it, her face scrunched with irritation. ¡°Shut up.¡± The boy was unhappy either. ¡°Then why did you call me a boy.¡± The sniper girl¡¯s fingers tightened on the rifle, knuckles turning white. ¡°Why does it matter?¡± The boy shrugged, pretending to inspect the binoculars. ¡°What nationality are you?¡± ¡°Why''d you ask that?¡± ¡°Because you misidentified genders.¡± The sniper rolled her eyes, her patience visibly fraying. ¡°Focus on the mission.¡± The boy leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. ¡°Answer my question first.¡± The sniper locked into the boy''s eyes like an eagle, pinching the bridge of her nose. ¡°I have a rifle. That¡¯s all you need to know.¡± ¡°Fair enough.¡± The sniper adjusted her position for the last time, before putting her index finger on the trigger. The crosshair was on the maid with blue eyes and black hair. Meanwhile another one beside her had lime green eyes and black hair. The boy looked at the same thing too. A voice crackled through her transmitter. ¡°Handler??? to Sicarius??? One, confirming copy, over.¡± The sniper immediately answered, not moving her body anymore. ¡°Sicarius One, copy. Request intelligence data, over.¡± ¡°We''ve failed to identify their leader. Recommend taking down his minions??? first.¡± The sniper girl huffed, pulling her eyes out of the scope. ¡°Negative. We''re not rushing into their territory.¡± ¡°Remember. This is psychological warfare. Discourage them.¡± The sniper sighed. Pausing for a few seconds before replying. ¡°Roger that.¡± ¡°Be advised. Your location has been compromised. Enemies are en route to your location, over.¡± Handler''s flat voice called out again. The sniper¡¯s eyes widened momentarily, then narrowed again. ¡°How much time do we have?¡± ¡°No more than 10 minutes. You better have your mortars and SAMs??? ready. Handler out.¡± As the transmission ended, the sniper girl exhaled slowly, her focus returning to the scope. The boy, sensing the shift in atmosphere, quietly resumed his position beside him, the earlier banter replaced by a tense silence. ¡°I heard we have company.¡± The boy asked her, still scanning the school. The maids were still standing there. ¡°We''ve been having ¡®em.¡± The sniper didn''t move her body the slightest. Only her mouth. Then she asked again. ¡°Mind helping me?¡± ¡°With what?¡± ¡°Scan your surroundings, west and east from where we''re heading. There are only 2 routes to access this mountain. There''ll be either a man-to-man ambush or they''ll rain hell down this place.¡± ¡°I''ll try to do that.¡± ¡°Good answer.¡± The sniper took a deep breath and exhaled it. Vapor came out of her mouth. ¡°Sicarius One to Mortar Team, what''s your status?¡± ¡°Ready, over.¡± ¡°SAM team, anything?¡± ¡°Enemy Reconnaissance Vehicle detected through IR??? sensors. Waiting for orders.¡± ¡°When I fire, you fire. Get it?¡± ¡°Get it.¡± The sniper girl took a deep breath and held it. Her grip on the rifle tightened, finger poised on the trigger. As the mark of the scope aligned with the blue-eyed maid, she pulled the trigger without hesitation. The 50-caliber??? round fired off from the barrel, sending a recoil into her shoulder. The gunshot echoed sharply, a trail of smoke following the bullet''s deadly path, no flash. Within seconds, the bullet found its mark, shattering the blue-eyed maid''s skull. Blood splattered against the wall as her body crumpled to the ground. The maid with green eyes barely had time to react before another round pierced her temple, ending her life instantly. ¡°Fire in the hole!!!¡± Male voices shouted from the higher hill. Simultaneously, three mortar shells launched into the night sky. The boy caught a glimpse of them before they vanished into the darkness. At that moment, four soldiers sprang from the camouflaged ground with a Javelin?1?? launcher on their shoulders. ¡°Fire!!!¡± One of them commanded, and all three triggered their Javelin missile launchers. Missiles burst from the barrels, deploying fins and propelling themselves skyward. The boy tracked the missiles with his eyes. Meanwhile, the mortar shells reached their targets at the school building. The first shell crashed into the walls, exploding and tearing a massive hole through it. The second shell landed in a nearby grass field, igniting a blaze. The third shell struck the school lobby, shattering glass doors and setting wooden structures ablaze. Simultaneously, the Javelin missiles struck the Reconnaissance Vehicle hovering in the sky that was blending with the night. The stealth coating shredded away immediately. The skin was all torn, leaving only frames of the fuselage inside flames. Pieces of the aircraft disintegrated mid-air as it plummeted, then it split in half. The boy dropped arms that were holding the binoculars, shuddering in fear and intrigue as the explosions reflected before his eyes. It was like witnessing the New Year''s fireworks display. The heat of the flames reached them even from afar. ¡°They''re completely blind now. Time to take care of business.¡± The sniper girl reloaded her rifle, securing the bolt, and fired her TAC 50 into the school building windows. The 50-caliber rounds shattered the glass windows and found their targets, killing some who were attempting to locate the sniper and others who ran in panic. Some rounds missed, crashing into the walls. The mortar team prepared more 120mm high-explosive shells, bringing them to the launchers. ¡°More rounds ready!¡± ¡°Fire!¡± They dropped the shells into the launchers. In a split second those shells fired out into the sky. Almost a minute later, the mortar shells rained down on the school. Two of them crashed into the infrastructure of the building. One lucky shell crashed through a window into a room where a lot of people gathered to arm themselves. As the tip of the shell smashed into the floor tiles, its warhead blew apart, the shell that coated itself turned into shrapnels that shot out at the speed of sound. In one explosion, the entire room was obliterated. After struggling to search for enemies for a while, The boy''s binoculars finally captured some heat traces from the ground. 3 vehicles were heading to the mountain via the east route. The heat sources were their engines and exhaust. The cars¡¯ headlights were off. ¡°Enemy cars detected! Direction¡­uhhh, 2 o''clock! heading towards us, headlights off!¡± The boy exclaimed. The sniper locked the magazine into the sniper rifle and pushed the bolt. Then, she immediately shifted her position and looked at the direction the boy mentioned. He was right. There were vehicles heading towards them, headlights off. The first vehicle carried 6 people, aside from the driver, all the male soldiers carried assault rifles. The second one carried 4. Aside from the driver, the rest of them were carrying missile launchers. And the last one, there were 5 people. As the sniper saw the person sitting in the middle seat of the rear row, her eyes widened. It was a black person with red eyes, wearing a black classic collared shirt and black trousers, smirking with confidence as wind blew his hair to the back. After the sniper saw her for a while, her mouth smirked, revealing her teeth. ¡°Bold of you to leave your nest, Alduin.¡± She muttered, as she locked the bolt of the rifle. Suddenly, one of the people in the second car launched a missile, the projectile streaking through the night sky toward their reconnaissance aircraft. Within seconds, the warhead smashed right into the allied aircraft¡¯s fuselage. The explosion was deafening as the missile hit, the reconnaissance aircraft disintegrating into a shower of sparks and debris, raining down the mountain. ¡°Shit¡­!¡± The sniper¡¯s aim was disrupted. She didn''t even know how to react properly to that. Simultaneously, the first car''s occupants opened fire, bullets whizzing through the air, aimed at the sniper and the boy. The sharp cracks of rifle fire echoed around them, as the bullets fell around them. The boy immediately jumped to the back of a lumped ground, while bullets slammed into them. ¡°Why the hell are they shooting at us?!¡± He screamed, asking the sniper. ¡°They shot down our UAV?11?! Now they''ve spotted us on their radar!¡± The sniper quickly changed the magazine of her rifle, switching between high capacity rounds into Armor Piercing Incendiary. ¡°That shit is our UAV?!!¡± The boy asked again, as he wanted to move forward to the sniper¡¯s side, a bullet landed close to him. ¡°It blocks the enemy intelligence signal. They couldn''t communicate with each other. So they couldn''t find our exact position, even with a thermal system!¡± The sniper didn¡¯t flinch. With a terrifying calmness, she adjusted her aim, following the trajectory of the car that was climbing the rough terrain at high speed, carrying soldiers that were shooting at them. As the trajectory of the car changed and faced them, she immediately squeezed the trigger of her TAC 50. The powerful shot rang out, striking the engine of the first car with pinpoint accuracy. As the shell penetrated through the grills, the tip of the bullet crashed into the engine block, penetrating into the crankshaft and destroying the piston arms. At the same time, the incendiary warhead exploded. The fuel that was being injected immediately ignited, and the flame led into the tank through the pipes. The engine hood flew out of its place, crashing into the windshield, before the entire engine and the fuel tank went ablaze. The car was lifted into the air as it tore apart, then tumbling down and rolling downhill. Flames and debris scattered, lighting up the night with a brief, intense blaze. The boy crouched low, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. The sniper quickly pulled the bolt, ejecting the casing, then pushed it back. ¡°Not yet!¡± The boy shouted, spotting additional vehicles in the distance. As the sniper placed pressure on the trigger, the second car fired an RPG?12?. The rocket arced towards them. Right now, the sniper¡¯s scope was focused on the warhead of the projectile. The car behind it was obscured by the smoke from its tail. The boy¡¯s eyes widened as he spotted the projectile. Without a second thought, he lunged towards the sniper and pushed his arms into the sniper¡¯s armpits, yanking her back. A split second later, the RPG smashed into the rifle, blowing the rifle apart. The explosion was fierce, sending a shockwave through the ground and filling the air with smoke and debris. The sniper landed hard beside The boy, both of them momentarily stunned but alive. Without even thinking, the sniper immediately got up and pulled a fist, aiming it at the boy''s face. ¡°What the fuck are you doing?!¡± ¡°Don''t you see a fucking RPG heading your way?!¡± Suddenly, gunfire erupted from two directions, catching them in a deadly crossfire. Bullets from the car and the school peppered their position, assault rifles and marksboy rifles pinning them down. ¡°Fuck! They¡¯re shooting at the fire near our spot!¡± The sniper shoved the boy aside as a burst of rounds shredded the air where he¡¯d just been crouching. ¡°On your feet!¡± She barked, grabbing his arm. As they bolted, she yanked something from her jacket¡ªa metallic slab no bigger than a notebook. With a flick, it unfolded like rippling water, expanding 10 times its size into a shimmering plate that hovered just inches above the ground. It moved with her, the base gliding smoothly as if propelled by unseen wheels. She swung the shield to her right, angling it against the incoming fire. ¡°What the hell is that?!¡± The boy exclaimed as he followed behind her. ¡°Ray Shielding! It reflects everything back to our enemies so that we look invisible!¡± The sniper answered. ¡°Is that shit bulletproof?!¡± The boy asked again. ¡°Why the hell would I carry a bullet proof shield?! That shit is heavy!¡± They ran away from the compromised location, turning behind the mountain, as the sniper threw the Ray Shielding away. Behind them, chaos erupted among their squad. Orders barked through transmitters as the sniper¡¯s voice cut through. ¡°Drop the mortars! Grab anything for ambush. Take out those cars!¡± The voice echoed in every man''s transmitter. The men scrambled downhill, tossing aside heavy equipment and ripping open crates. Grenade launchers and rifles were distributed quickly. A team uncovered a box hidden beneath tarps, revealing stacks of stick grenades and dynamite. Some went downhill, deploying landmines and emptying all the weapons in their storage box. As they removed a fabric that covered a box, inside was almost a ton of stick grenades. Those soldiers took a few for themselves, then threw a dynamite connected to a cable that connected to all dynamites into the box, laying them all out to the road. The sniper and the boy tore downhill, weaving through the trees. The boy panted hard, his steps uneven, but she moved like a phantom, her coat flaring as she ran. With a sharp tug, she ripped it off and flung it aside, revealing lean, agile limbs. ¡°Sicarius One to Handler, we need exfil?13? now!¡± She screamed into her transmitter through the chaos. Her free hand yanked out a pistol, the polished slide catching the fleeting glint of sunlight. ¡°A Jeep is inbound. ETA?1?? ninety seconds.¡± ¡°Make it faster! We¡¯re in a goddamn crossfire!¡± She snarled, tossing the transmitter aside without a second thought. Immediately, she racked the pistol¡¯s slide and sprinted downhill, her boots finding purchase on the loose, jagged rocks. Behind her, the boy stumbled, his footing couldn''t find traction on the steep and treacherous terrain. ¡°Hey¡ªhey!¡± He called out, barely keeping up. ¡°Why the hell are we leaving them behind?¡± ¡°They¡¯re not players!¡± She shot back without turning. Her voice was clipped, her focus unbroken. ¡°It¡¯s their honor to die here.¡± ¡°What the¡ª¡± ¡°Later!¡± She barked, silencing him with a single word. Then the world split apart. The mountaintop erupted in a blinding inferno, a column of fire and debris surging skyward. The blast punched through the atmosphere, scattering clouds like leaves in a gale. The roar hit next, a wave that drowned out thought, followed by a shockwave that tore through the valley. The ground bucked beneath them, sending the boy sprawling. The air was thick with heat and grit, flames and charred debris raining down like the wrath of gods. He pushed himself up, his wide eyes fixed on the inferno. The glow of the explosion painted his face in fiery hues, the sheer scale of destruction reflected in his trembling gaze. His breath caught, heart hammering as the earth seemed to groan beneath the weight of the catastrophe. Seconds later, another shockwave washed against him, deafening his ears. Suddenly, he lost his footing, his right foot crashed into a bulged stone. He stumbled, and at that speed, he went down diving, falling into the terrain below. His head collided hard with the ground. Pain shot through his skull, and everything went blank. Chapter 3 It was dark. The boy¡¯s face was obscured by strands of his disheveled bangs, damp with sweat. The oppressive blackness wrapped around him like a shroud. A faint stir in his chest jolted him awake. His eyelids fluttered, but all he could see was an impenetrable void. He sat there, breathing in stale air that carried a metallic tang. Each rasp echoed in the emptiness around him, sharp and grating. Then, without warning, light erupted, slashing through the darkness. A sterile, blinding white seared his half-closed eyes. He winced, instinctively shielding his face with an arm. The light buzzed faintly, like angry insects in a swarm. As his vision adjusted, shapes began to emerge from the haze. The boy was kneeling on a floor slick with grime, his hands pressed into its sticky surface. Around him, rusted metal walls stretched upward, streaked with grime and dark streaks that resembled dried blood. A thick duct pipe ran along the ceiling above, leaking dark sludge that dripped rhythmically onto the floor. Ahead, the scene shifted into something absurd, almost grotesque. A mountain of CRT monitors loomed, their warped glass screens stacked haphazardly. Some crackled with static, while others flickered erratically, casting harsh light across the room. Some were cracked. One of them had a knife embedded on the screen. The monitors hissed faintly, their surfaces whispering unintelligibly. The boy''s stomach churned. Beneath the heap of screens lay discarded cables and random objects, untouched for what seemed like centuries. Mold crept along the walls and ceiling, its earthy stench filling the stagnant air. Tiny spores floated in the light, glinting like dust motes.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Reacting instinctively, the boy covered his nose and mouth, his annoyance rising. "What the hell is this place?" He muttered, standing on shaky legs. His knees ached, and his hands felt sticky with whatever had been smeared across the ground. A low deep voice rumbled, shattering the silence. [Greetings.] The boy froze. His head snapped toward the monitors, his heart pounding. "I didn''t think this day could get weirder." He mumbled bitterly, squinting at the flickering screens. [You are mistaken. The day has already ended.] "Thanks, God. That¡¯s super helpful.¡± He snapped. [Incorrect. I am Kami-sama, the designated ''God'' of this system.] The boy blinked. His confusion shifted to frustration. "Sure. Why not? A stack of junk monitors is God. Makes perfect sense." [Your presence indicates you are deceased.] His annoyance sharpened into anger. "So, what is this? Hell? I mean, I¡¯ve been dead twice already, right?" [Negative.] The boy crossed his arms. "Then enlighten me, Kami-sama. What the hell is this?" [This is a subconscious reality construct. A system created by The Architect to regulate deceased entities. Your consciousness persists despite your physical body''s dormancy.] "Cut to the chase." [Memories are required for extraction. Exchange them for life points to facilitate teleportation to a new realm.] He frowned, skepticism tightening his jaw. "Memories, huh? Let me guess¡ªif I run out of memories, I¡¯m done?" [Correct. Exhausting your memories results in permanent cessation of existence.] "Great." He muttered, scuffing his shoe against the grimy floor. "Not like I had much worth remembering anyway." The monitors flickered, their hum growing louder. [Participants enter this system seeking refuge from insurmountable realities. Your prior existence reflects this pattern¡ªan undesirable reality where social rejection and loss defined your experience.] The boy¡¯s fists clenched. "You don¡¯t know anything about me." [Incorrect. Data indicates you have experienced prolonged isolation, parental loss, and societal alienation.] "So, what? You¡¯re here to guilt-trip me into forgetting my past?" The boy¡¯s voice turned cold. [Incorrect. The system merely facilitates choice. Rebellion is illogical.] "Watch me cook." He said sharply, sitting on the ground. He inhaled deeply, deliberately drawing in the mold-infested air. The bitter taste stung his throat, but he forced himself to keep breathing. [Advisory: Mold inhalation is detrimental to health.] "No shit." He said, coughing but refusing to stop. [Query: Why do you resist, yet fear the unknown?] The boy froze, his defiance faltering for a moment. He swallowed hard, his voice quieter now. "What do you know about fear?" [All data indicates your actions are driven by anger and confusion. Fear persists despite your apathy.] His chest tightened. "You¡¯re wrong." [Incorrect. Your physiological response confirms elevated stress levels.] The boy glared at the monitors. "If you¡¯re so smart, then tell me¡ªwhat¡¯s my full name?" [Your name was not backed up.] His jaw dropped. "You¡¯re kidding me." [No records exist.] "Figures. A God that doesn¡¯t even know who I am." He muttered. [Identity is irrelevant. Memories serve as the only currency here.] Before he could retort, the room plunged into darkness. ¡°What the fuck?¡± The sound of a clock''s ticking echoed through the void. Chapter 4 The boy jolted awake, his eyes snapping open as if hit by a surge of electricity. He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, sunlight spilling through the window and casting the room in a warm, golden glow. Morning had come. His breath hitched, and with a sharp inhale, he shot up into a sitting position. His chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat dampening his skin¡ªyesterday''s fatigue still clung to his bones like a lead weight. He glanced around, his gaze darting from corner to corner, each unfamiliar detail of the room sharpening in his mind. It resembled a school infirmary, yet its size rivaled that of a ship¡¯s sickbay¡ªdozens of stretchers lined up in rows. Oddly enough, only his was occupied. ¡°What the hell were those monitors¡­¡± Memories of yesterday rushed back like a cold wave, and his hand instinctively flew to his head. His fingers prodded the skin, searching for the wound that should have been there. Nothing. No cut, no bandage. He looked down at the bed and spotted a long sheet on the pillow. Gingerly lifting it, he watched as the blood-soaked gauze crumbled in his hands. A sudden gush of red flowed from the bandage, pooling across the white sheets and spreading like a crimson tide. ¡°Shit!¡± He cursed, flinging the bandage away as he leaped off the stretcher. He wiped his hands on a tissue, trying to shake off the unease as he fumbled for his shoes, shoving his feet in without bothering to fix the heels. The boy¡¯s blazer hung on a chair nearby, and he yanked it on with hurried fingers, the fabric still crumpled. His hands fumbled with the buttons as he strode toward the door. Before his hand could close around the handle, the door burst open, slamming into the wall so hard the drywall fractured in jagged, splintering lines. He stumbled back, reflexively raising an arm to shield himself from the sudden chaos. Standing in the doorway was a figure so imposing the air seemed to shift around him. The man had tanned skin and an angular face that carried the cold, sharp edge. His blue eyes locked onto the boy with a gaze like a hawk zeroing in on wounded prey. Resting casually on his broad shoulder was a shotgun, the barrel angled toward the ceiling but radiating menace nonetheless. The boy, however, didn¡¯t flinch. His dark eyes flicked to the weapon, he looked unimpressed. The man stepped inside, his boots thudding against the floor as he moved closer. His voice was a low growl, carrying the weight of barely contained rage.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°You¡¯re the one who almost got my crush killed, aren¡¯t you?¡± The boy cocked his head, his brow furrowing. ¡°Your crush?¡± ¡°None of your damn business.¡± The man spat, his grip tightening on the shotgun as he leveled a glare that could have turned steel to ash. ¡°You¡¯re going to apologize to her. Right now.¡± The boy barked out a sharp laugh, shaking his head as he took a deliberate step back, hands raised in mock surrender. ¡°Oh, I get it now. You¡¯re one of those guys¡ªbig gun, tiny brain, zero self-awareness. Classic.¡± The man¡¯s face darkened, his sneer twisting into something more dangerous. He lifted the shotgun, its barrel now trained directly on the boy¡¯s face. ¡°Keep talking.¡± The man snarled. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure you never get the chance to run your mouth again.¡± Instead of showing fear, the boy¡¯s smirk widened. He leaned slightly closer to the weapon, his voice dropping to a taunting whisper. ¡°Nice prop, by the way. Did you get it at the same place you bought your fragile ego?¡± The man¡¯s knuckles turned white as his grip on the shotgun tightened. ¡°Last chance.¡± The man said through gritted teeth. ¡°You¡¯re apologizing to her, or I¡¯m passing on the message myself.¡± The boy rolled his eyes dramatically, his cocky grin never wavering. ¡°You know what? Go ahead. Shoot me. Not like it¡¯ll be the first time I¡¯ve died this week.¡± The words barely left his mouth before the man pulled the trigger. His body spun in the air immediately. Then more rounds followed quickly¡ªtwo, three, four, five¡ªeach tearing through the boy¡¯s frame. His body convulsed, the force sending him skidding across the floor, blood spraying like mist in the air. Glass shattered behind him, raining down in jagged pieces. The man¡¯s cold, steady hands ejected the casings, each one clattering to the floor. He fired again¡ªsix, seven, eight rounds¡ªeach blast hammering the boy until he was little more than a bloodied heap, riddled with holes. Only one shot remained. The boy¡¯s limp form fell, and as his chin collided with the barrel, the man aimed upward. The final shot erupted, a spray of pellets tearing through the boy¡¯s skull, his body flung once more like a ragdoll before crashing to the floor. Above the man¡¯s head, the word "HEADSHOT" flickered on a glowing interface. He smirked, shaking the forend of the shotgun to eject the last spent casing, then slung the weapon over his shoulder. ¡°Come see me if you want to fly again.¡± He muttered, turning on his heel with an arrogant swagger. Behind him, blood pooled from the boy¡¯s body, oozing from the countless holes that riddled his flesh, bubbling and seeping into the cracks of the floor. ¡­ A few hours later, the boy woke up again in the same bed he just left earlier. He snapped his eyes open and jumped out of it. He quickly scanned his entire body. The shotgun holes were gone and he was in full health again, though now his clothes were full of holes. He paid attention to the stretcher, the bed had returned to its original form, without blood stain or messed up sheets. As he stared at the bed for a moment, he quickly pulled the sheet out and covered his body underneath the torn clothes. ¡°What the fuck is this place?¡± He mumbled as he folded the sheets up to his body, replacing his clothes. With the sky growing brighter and bluer, and the temperature rising, the boy quietly exited the room and sprinted out of the building. After stealthily checking both left and right, he swiftly veered to the left, finding himself on nothing but a bridge of stairs connecting to several other buildings. Dashing down the stairs, he passed a cluster of students engrossed in a game of basketball on the outdoor court. Hastening his pace upon spotting them, he bolted through the unattended lobby gate. Along the deserted roadway, devoid of any passing cars, he sprinted for hours, yet encountered only an unbroken expanse of road seeming to lead nowhere. As the sun reached its zenith, he eventually halted, gasping for breath and attempting to steady his pounding heart. No alternative in sight. It''s like the road was never gonna end. He reversed course and sprinted back to the school, spending hours retracing his steps, while remembering what that sniper girl said last night. ¡°It''s their honor to die here.¡± Then, they just escaped the place then the mountain exploded. Obviously, those soldiers had been killed. Why did that girl sound like he didn''t appreciate those soldiers¡¯ lives? They could''ve at least been allowed to evacuate with us. His mind raced with critical thoughts. And why did I wake up at this school? What the hell is going on? As he returned to the school, his sweat-soaked bed sheet clung to him, his breath heaving like a steam engine. He sprinted through the main building, his shoes squeaking against the polished floor as he scanned the empty corridors for a safe haven. He bounded up another flight of stairs two at a time, each step echoing like thunder in the silence. His pulse pounded in his ears as he reached the top floor, where a single door stood at the end of the hallway. The sign on it read Principal''s Office. ¡°This¡¯ll do.¡± He muttered between gasps. Without a moment¡¯s thought, he lunged for the handle. The cool metal barely brushed his palm before a chorus of digital beeps erupted from the door. ¡°Uh¡­ what?¡± Before he could even process what was happening, the door handle retracted into the wood with a mechanical whirr, replaced instantly by a long, red cylinder. It was unmistakable. A stick of dynamite, with a fuse that had already sparked to life. The fuse sizzled down at an alarmingly fast pace, spitting out sparks like a miniature firework show. ¡°You gotta be shitting me!!!¡± He spun on his heel, his legs moving, launching away from the door. But the fuse was faster. BOOM! The explosion rocked the building, the shockwave tearing the door into a spray of deadly shrapnel. Splinters, metal, and pieces of the dynamite blasted out in all directions. The boy didn¡¯t even have time to scream as a piece of the door handle smacked into his ass, launching him forward like an artillery shell. His trajectory? Directly out of the windowsills in front of the door. His body sailed through the air. Gravity, as always, was unforgiving. He plummeted headfirst toward the ground below, the manicured lawn rushing up to meet him. His head slammed directly into a hardened dirt pathway, burying itself up to the neck. His legs, still flailing, wobbled in the air like a flagpole. Chapter 5 ¡°Alright, what¡¯s the plan for tonight¡¯s attack?¡± A girl¡¯s voice cut through the still air, sharp yet composed. It echoed off the walls, lingering just long enough to wake him. He stirred, the coarse texture of a worn cushion beneath him muffling his senses as he blinked into consciousness. He opened his eyes to a canopy of dark green, the patterned stains of water damage tracing abstract shapes across the ceiling. Sounds flooded in next, muted at first, then clearer¡ªa soft hum of conversation, punctuated by low grumbles and tense muttering. His vision sharpened. A cluttered battlefield of maps, mugs, and scattered ammunition littered one of the tables. At the head of the table sat the girl who had spoken. She was young, likely his age, her presence commanding despite her delicate frame. Her short, dark hair was tucked behind her ears, it was her stern profile. She leaned forward, her fingers tracing lines on a map spread out before her. Her mouth moved but her voice was indistinct. Behind her, more men stood in disciplined rows near the far wall. Their uniforms were different, sharper somehow, and they watched with an unsettling stillness, like shadows waiting to move. ¡°We¡¯ll bring another howitzer and hit them hard. Give them a proper Asian welcome!¡± The man who spoke was tall and impeccably dressed, his sharp eyes glinting behind wire-rimmed glasses. His voice carried an air of authority, but it was clear his idea wasn¡¯t popular. ¡°That¡¯s too loud, Stan.¡± The girl at the desk shot back, her tone curt and commanding. ¡°We need to stay quiet until the battle intensifies.¡± The boy on the cushion sat up, his gaze sweeping the room. About ten people clustered around the girl, each arguing or throwing out their own suggestions for the mission. Next to Stan stood another man, average in appearance but radiating in aggression, his brows furrowed as he murmured indistinctly with a few others. A third man caught the boy¡¯s attention momentarily. Outgoing, with short black hair and warm brown eyes, he stood about 5 ''10". However, the boy dismissed him, more interested in the chaotic energy in the room. ¡°What about grenade launchers?¡± Someone suggested. ¡°Oliver, you¡¯re just trying to start a war among these NPCs!¡± The girl snapped. ¡°Fine, then how about a silenced light machine gun?¡± The new voice belonged a tall, slightly overweight man with a fair tan and neatly styled hair and beard. Despite his bulk, he carried himself with a quiet confidence. ¡°That¡¯s still too loud.¡± The girl countered, exasperated. ¡°And it draws too much attention. Aren¡¯t you bored of being our shield yet, Peter?¡± ¡°Then we¡¯ll use rifles.¡± Came a smoother, calmer suggestion. The boy¡¯s eyes drifted to the speaker¡ªa shorter young man, barely 5''2", with reddish-brown hair and soft brown eyes. His demeanor was unassuming, almost gentle, compared to the rest of the people in the room. ¡°But that¡¯s not quiet either, Maxwell.¡± The girl said, her patience wearing thin. ¡°Why don¡¯t we just rush in with shotguns?¡± The aggressive man, growled, his voice rough and commanding. The girl¡¯s eyes narrowed dangerously. ¡°Danil, do you want me to kick your balls? I said we need to be quiet until the battle intensifies!¡± Before the argument could escalate, Oliver chimed in again, his voice brimming with pride. ¡°Then let¡¯s bring a tank!¡± He declared, brushing back his hair dramatically, as if the suggestion were a stroke of genius. The room froze. Without missing a beat, the girl opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a sawed-off shotgun. She didn¡¯t even glance up as she aimed low and pulled the trigger. BOOM. The blast echoed through the room, and Oliver¡¯s triumphant expression immediately turned into agony. He screamed so loudly. He collapsed onto one knee, clutching his crotch, smoke rising faintly from the shredded fabric of his pants. ¡°Why did you do that?!¡± He screamed, tears streaming down his face as he writhed on the floor. The girl set the shotgun on the table with a nonchalant shrug, leaning back in her chair. ¡°Sorry, I thought you said, We¡¯ll bring a spank.¡± She twirled a strand of her hair idly, her tone devoid of remorse. ¡°You really should clean your ears once in a while. And for the last time, we need a silent weapon!¡± The room fell into a stunned silence, save for Oliver¡¯s whimpers of pain. One by one, the men instinctively shielded their crotches, their gazes darting nervously between the girl and the shotgun. ¡°Any other loud ideas?¡± She asked sweetly, her hand hovering near the weapon. No one dared to speak. "Hey, isn''t that guy awake now?" Except Maxwell. He pointed at the boy. The room collectively shifted, heads turning toward the boy who had just stirred. ¡°Ah, you''ve woken up!¡± The girl rose gracefully from her chair, her boots clicking softly against the floor. Everyone instinctively took a step back as she walked past them. She approached the boy with calm confidence, her hands clasped behind her back, a warm smile lighting up her face. As she stopped in front of him, she gave a small bow, her dark eyes locking onto his with curious intensity. ¡°Do you have a plan?¡± She asked, her voice honeyed but carrying an undertone of mischief. The boy blinked at her, trying to place the face. Then it hit him¡ªit was the same girl he¡¯d met in the chaos of the battlefield. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± He muttered, his voice guarded. ¡°Our attack plans.¡± She replied brightly, her smile widening. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just mind your own business?¡± The boy¡¯s words hung in the air like a slap, his tone dripping with frustration. ¡°What the fuck, man? She nicely asked you, and that¡¯s how you react?¡± Danil¡¯s voice echoed across the room. He stepped forward, pulling a machete from inside his blazer. The blade gleamed under the lights as he pointed it at the boy, his scowl deepening. The boy stood abruptly, his fists clenched. ¡°I already said I don¡¯t care! Besides, why the fuck did I spawn in a battlefield?¡± His voice cracked with pent-up anger as he swung his arm in frustration. Danil¡¯s grip on the machete tightened, his expression darkening further. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°Watch your tone, kid.¡± He growled, raising the blade just enough to make the threat clear. ¡°She literally saved your ass.¡± A low voice came. It belonged to Peter, the largest guy in the room. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his tone casual but laced with judgment. ¡°You tripped on a rock and fell. That¡¯s a skill issue.¡± The boy whipped around to face him, glaring. ¡°Can¡¯t you tell? I don¡¯t want anything to do with this!¡± The room went silent, save for the faint hum of the overhead lights. The boy stepped back, his eyes landing between the unfazed girl and the still-scowling Danil. His gaze landed briefly on the door. ¡°I¡¯m leaving!¡± He snapped, his voice firm, as he turned and strode toward the exit. ¡°So, you¡¯re just going to run away after ending up in here?¡± Stan¡¯s voice cut through the tension like a blade. He pushed his bangs aside with a deliberate motion, his sharp gaze locking onto the boy. ¡°Yeah!¡± The boy snapped, pausing mid-step and shouting back. ¡°And you¡¯re fine running without even trying to fight?¡± ¡°Yes!¡± The girl sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to tell him¡­¡± Stan leaned forward, incredulous. ¡°You¡¯re willing to run away even if it means being reincarnated as a pig?¡± ¡°Hell yeah!¡± The boy retorted, but then froze. ¡°Wait, what? A pig?!¡± Stan smirked. ¡°Ha! You really thought humans and animals have different souls?¡± Danil let out a scoff from across the room. ¡°What a dumbass.¡± In the corner, a man idly fiddled with a miniature stealth fighter jet, the sleek wings glinting under the dim light. ¡°This guy¡¯s hopeless.¡± Without looking up, he muttered. The boy¡¯s eyes widened, darting to the man in disbelief. Meanwhile, Oliver, still clutching his healing groin, limped toward the nearest wall like a war veteran retreating from the frontlines. ¡°It¡¯s totally possible.¡± Peter said, his deep voice adding gravity to the conversation. He scratched his chin thoughtfully. ¡°You could end up as anything¡ªchicken, cow, even a shrimp.¡± The boy¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°What? Why?¡± Stan grinned slyly, leaning back with the air of someone dropping a truth bomb. ¡°Don¡¯t you wonder why it¡¯s always food animals? Coincidence? I think not.¡± ¡°What kind of twisted concept is this?!¡± The boy exclaimed, throwing up his hands in exasperation. ¡°There¡¯s more to it than that.¡± Maxwell interjected, his calm voice cutting through the chaos. Stan seized the moment to drive his point home. ¡°You¡¯ll just get stuck in a cycle.¡± Stan said quietly, his voice sounded serious. ¡°Live. Die. Get chopped up. Eaten. Over and over. Is that what you want?¡± Danil¡¯s laugh broke the stillness, sharp and mocking. A sly smirk crept across his face. ¡°So yeah, go ahead. Bow down and become the Architect¡¯s little pet. Trade this miserable existence for eternal servitude. Sounds like a great deal, right?¡± He paused, his grin twisting into something darker. ¡°Or better yet¡ªwhy not reincarnate as a snake? Imagine that. Crawling through dirt, helpless, until pest control finds you. Whack.¡± The boy flinched. His mind betrayed him, conjuring the image: a frail serpent, writhing on a cold floor, hooked and dangling as its life was torn away. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ cruel¡­¡± The boy murmured, his voice faint. ¡°Exactly.¡± Stan¡¯s reply was razor-sharp. He adjusted his glasses with meticulous precision, his expression hardening into something calculating. His gaze bore into the boy, relentless and unyielding, like a predator toying with wounded prey. ¡°Now,¡± He began, his voice softening into a whisper. ¡°Think. Think long and hard about why you¡¯re here. Why this place? Why wake up here instead of somewhere warm, peaceful¡ªor utterly void?¡± The boy¡¯s breath caught. His thoughts tangled, searching for meaning, an answer, anything. And then Stan struck. ¡°You committed suicide, didn¡¯t you?¡± The words dropped like stones, shattering the fragile silence. The room grew colder, the air heavier. Even the flickering overhead light seemed to dim, as if recoiling from the weight of the accusation. The boy froze, his chest tightening. ¡°Do you know what happens to people like you?¡± Stan asked, his voice honeyed but laced with venom. He tilted his head slightly, watching the boy with a quiet cruelty. ¡°They don¡¯t get peace. Not ever. They¡¯re thrown back into the cycle. Reincarnated. First, maybe a stray cat. Then a rat. An ant. And again, and again. Each life snuffed out before it even began. No progress. No purpose. Just death on repeat.¡± The boy¡¯s trembling hands curled into fists, but the strength in his resolve faltered. ¡°But you got lucky,¡± Stan continued, leaning closer. His shadow loomed over the boy, swallowing him whole. ¡°Instead of eternal torment, you ended up here. In this... limbo.¡± The boy¡¯s eyes darted around the room, desperate to find some escape. But every face he met offered no comfort, only cold, empty stares that pinned him down. ¡°And what do you want to do with this chance?¡± Stan pressed, his words a low snarl. ¡°Waste it? Run? Pathetic.¡± The boy¡¯s breath hitched. His thoughts raced, colliding into one another, but no clear answer came. Meanwhile, the other people in the room were whispering and gossiping about the new boy, making fun of him behind his back. Oliver winced in pain as his injuries almost finished healing. ¡°Enough already!¡± The girl¡¯s voice cut through the tension, calm yet commanding. ¡°Don¡¯t be so cruel and tear him down like that. He¡¯s new here and knows nothing about this world.¡± Her gaze lingered on Stan before sweeping over the rest of the group. With a slight shake of her head, she exhaled. ¡°Let¡¯s focus on our plans for tonight¡¯s battle. We¡¯ll bring¡ª¡± ¡°Machine guns!¡± Danil interjected, puffing up with misplaced pride, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. The girl smiled lightly, accepting the advice. ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll take the Mac¡ª¡± BANG! The blast of her sawed-off shotgun echoed in the room. Danil crumpled to his knees, screaming in agony, his groin torn apart. His cries filled the silence as everyone immediately shielded their own nether regions. The girl casually blew the smoke off the barrel of her shotgun and returned it to the table. Her expression didn¡¯t waver. ¡°I¡¯m vetoing that. We¡¯ll stick to normal guns, with marksmen guarding from behind.¡± She said nonchalantly, as if she¡¯d just decided on a dinner menu. The boy gawked in silent disbelief, his mind racing to process the chaos he¡¯d been thrust into. The girl turned back to him, her voice softening. ¡°Anyway, while you¡¯re here, you¡¯re safe to do whatever you want. Did you even realize that when you woke up?¡± ¡°How was I supposed to?¡± He snapped. ¡°The second I opened the door, a damn bomb blew me out the window!¡± The group burst into laughter, though the boy clearly didn¡¯t find the situation funny. ¡°Besides.¡± He continued, narrowing his eyes at them. ¡°You guys keep saying there¡¯s life after death. That¡¯s just a joke, right?¡± ¡°It¡¯s no joke. It¡¯s a fact.¡± The girl answered him. ¡°How could you prove it? Has anyone actually seen it?¡± The boy countered, his voice tinged with both skepticism and desperation. Danil, still cradling his obliterated groin, managed to glare at him through his pain. ¡°Are you stupid? You¡¯re literally here right now!¡± The girl sighed, her patience seemingly infinite. ¡°Didn¡¯t you listen to what we¡¯ve been saying?¡± She gestured to the others. ¡°The proof¡¯s all around you¡ªeven in your old life. Why are people born rich and poor? Ugly and beautiful? Disabled and healthy? Why do animals live? Do they exist just for us to hunt, eat, and use?¡± The boy frowned, clearly unconvinced. ¡°But... I still don¡¯t get it.¡± The girl¡¯s tone softened, though her words carried an edge of finality. ¡°Think logically. We¡¯re born into this world based on what we did in the past. Call it karma, call it fate, whatever you like. Reject it if you want¡ªit doesn¡¯t really matter.¡± She leaned forward a little. ¡°Because here, in this world, none of that applies anymore. You are what you are, and you can become what you¡¯re not. The only thing that matters is surviving and fighting the Architect. There¡¯s no sin, no virtue¡ªjust survival and freedom.¡± Her words hung in the air, heavy with implication, as the boy tried to process the surreal logic of this new world. ¡°But what do you guys want to accomplish in this world?¡± The boy asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and skepticism. ¡°To destroy the Architect.¡± The girl replied matter-of-factly, ¡°And to take down the opposing team we fought in the building last night. We call them Retribution.¡± ¡°Why, though?¡± He pressed, furrowing his brow. The girl studied him for a moment before responding. ¡°I assume you¡¯re still new here. You¡¯ll figure it out as time passes. The key is to adapt.¡± ¡°So... we fight against the Architect?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± She confirmed, her tone firm. ¡°And Retribution.¡± She stepped closer and extended her hand towards him, her eyes steady and inviting. ¡°This world is harsh, but you¡¯re not alone in it.¡± The boy hesitated, his hand hovering mid-air as doubt flickered across his face. He glanced around at the others, their eyes fixed on him. Slowly, he raised his hand to meet hers. As their fingers came within an inch of touching, he paused, looking up at her. She met his gaze with unwavering confidence, her grip firm but not overbearing. Certainly! Here''s a refined version of the scene with subtle humor that stays grounded in the context: --- ¡°Welcome to the fight,¡± she said with a small, encouraging smile. The tension in the room seemed to ease, the onlookers exchanging relieved glances, some even nodding in quiet approval. For a brief moment, the atmosphere felt almost warm. But just as their hands were about to meet, the office door flew open inwards. ¡°Not so fast!¡± A man stormed in, shotgun in hand. He pumped the shotgun, aiming it squarely at the boy. ¡°Car¡ª¡± Whatever warning he intended to give, the door exploded faster than that. He flew straight through the same shattered window the boy had been thrown out of earlier. His body flailed like a 3D model T-posing, the remnants of the shotgun clattering uselessly to the ground. ¡°¡ªriiiiaaaaahhhhhh!¡± The entire room froze. From his spot by the wall, Oliver let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. ¡°What an idiot¡­¡± Everyone rushed to the window, peering out as the man¡¯s limp form hit the river below. ¡°He got blown up by his own bomb¡­¡± The girl didn¡¯t even flinch. She turned back to the group. ¡°To enter this place, you¡¯ll need to say the code. This is our only headquarters, where we can roast anyone¡ªor anything¡ªwithout consequences.¡± She glanced briefly at the window, her expression neutral. ¡°Well, except for that guy. Turns out he had consequences.¡± A few chuckles rippled through the group. ¡°Thanks to his little stunt.¡± She continued, nodding toward the boy. ¡°You might want to reconsider your decision. Because if you don¡¯t want to end up like that, you¡¯ll have to start taking this fight seriously.¡± The boy stood frozen by the window, his gaze fixed on the floor. His breathing slowed as his thoughts filled his senses, drowning out the creak of the shattered door and the distant echo of splashing water outside. Finally, he broke the silence. ¡°Would you mind giving me some time?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± The girl replied without missing a beat. ¡°Five seconds.¡± His shoulders sagged, and he dragged a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath. All eyes rested on him, but no one dared to break the moment. He inhaled deeply, let it out slowly, and finally straightened up. ¡°If it means I get to see that guy eat shit again, count me in.¡± He said, voice steady. A flicker of amusement crossed the girl¡¯s face, her smile sharpening. The atmosphere shifted. The group seemed to exhale as one, their earlier tension dissolving into relief. A few stepped forward, clapping the boy on the shoulder or murmuring quiet words of encouragement. ¡°Welcome to the fight.¡± The girl said, her tone soft yet strict. ¡°Password: ¡®Only one God exists.¡¯¡± The girl clasped the boy¡¯s hand firmly, her voice steady. ¡°I¡¯m Carina.¡± The boy simply nodded, unsure of how to respond. His hand remained in hers for a beat too long before she finally released it. Carina gestured to the lively guy standing nearby. ¡°That¡¯s Oliver. Outgoing, ridiculous, and occasionally reliable¡ªvery occasionally.¡± Oliver beamed as he stepped forward, gripping the boy¡¯s hand. ¡°Welcome to the team!¡± Then, without missing a beat, he spun toward Carina with an exaggerated pout. ¡°But wait¡ªyou forgot to tell him I¡¯m also your ragdoll half the time! Where¡¯s my proper introduction?¡± Carina ignored him, moving on. ¡°The big guy over there is Peter. He¡¯s our tanker and intelligence specialist. Think of him as our walking body armor. We¡¯d be toast without him.¡± Peter, a tall, solidly built man with a neatly trimmed beard, stepped forward with a warm smile. ¡°Nice to meet you.¡± He shook the boy¡¯s hand with surprising gentleness. Meanwhile, Oliver continued his rant in the background. ¡°No respect! I¡¯m practically the heart and soul of this group, and this is how I¡¯m treated?!¡± Carina didn¡¯t so much as glance his way. She pointed to a shorter young man with reddish-brown hair and soft brown eyes. ¡°That¡¯s Maxwell. Don¡¯t let his size fool you. He can handle a .50 cal sniper rifle like it¡¯s a BB gun¡ªand yes, while standing.¡± Maxwell offered a small, polite smile as he extended his hand. ¡°Welcome to The Resistance.¡± The boy shook it cautiously, still processing everything. Carina continued, this time pointing toward a tall, impeccably dressed man standing stiffly in the corner. ¡°That¡¯s Stan. Talks like a scholar, acts like a genius, but don¡¯t be fooled¡ªhe¡¯s actually an idiot. That threat he gave you just now was actually my words to him when he was new.¡± ¡°Heh?!¡± Ezra immediately looked at Carina. Stan adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, his expression unflinching. ¡°Welcome.¡± He said in a formal tone, nodding as if addressing royalty. Finally, Carina motioned to a man with a machete slung casually into his blazer, his aggressive energy practically radiating off him. ¡°And that¡¯s Franklin¡ªthough some of us call him Danil. He¡¯s... spirited.¡± Franklin scowled, tilting his head to the side as he slid the machete out just far enough to gleam. ¡°Remember to call me Franklin, you insolent brat!¡± ¡°I¡¯m not insolent¡­¡± The boy muttered. ¡°Also, that guy with the shotgun who just flew out of the window is Joshua,¡± Carina said, barely pausing before moving on. ¡°And the reserved guy over there, the one holding a fighter jet like it¡¯s a teddy bear, is Fransisco.¡± The boy blinked, his gaze trailing to where Carina pointed. Fransisco stood in the corner, cradling a miniature fighter jet with unnerving calmness, as if he¡¯d been doing it his whole life. Carina¡¯s finger shifted again. ¡°And this guy right here is Dika.¡± The boy turned, only to squint in surprise. Dika¡¯s back had been blending so seamlessly into the wall paint with his boilersuit before he turned around. Wires and cables snaked out from his many pockets, some looping around his arms, others trailing down to a switch panel on his chest. His posture was relaxed, almost casual. ¡°He¡¯s our bombardier.¡± Carina said, her tone brimming with pride. ¡°The best explosive operator you¡¯ll ever meet.¡± Dika offered a warm, disarming smile. ¡°Funny thing is, I didn¡¯t know anything about explosive engineering when I was alive.¡± The boy raised an eyebrow. ¡°What were you before?¡± ¡°Jobless.¡± Dika replied, as if that explained everything. The boy opened his mouth to ask more but thought better of it. Clearly, this group wasn¡¯t bound by conventional logic. ¡°Come to think of it, what¡¯s your name?¡± Carina asked, tilting her head slightly as her sharp eyes studied him. ¡°My name? Uh¡­ Ez¡­ Ezra¡­¡± The boy stammered, the syllables rolling out uncertainly. Carina¡¯s gaze narrowed. ¡°That your real name?¡± Ezra hesitated, looking down at the floor. ¡°I¡­ I couldn¡¯t remember.¡± Oliver suddenly clapped him on the shoulder, making him flinch. ¡°Man, that¡¯s classic amnesia,¡± He said with a grin. ¡°Makes sense since you¡¯ve died three times in three days this week.¡± Ezra¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°You counted it?!¡± ¡°Of course I did.¡± Oliver shot back. ¡°Somebody¡¯s gotta keep track of your score.¡± Carina, arms crossed, stepped closer. ¡°Wait. Did you remember your name when you were in the computer room?¡± Ezra frowned, trying to piece together the fragments of his memories. ¡°I¡­ I didn¡¯t really pay attention to it.¡± He admitted. Oliver let out an exaggerated groan, throwing his hands in the air. ¡°Damn, this is gonna be troublesome to fix. Now we gotta start calling you ¡®That Guy¡¯ or something.¡± Carina then added. ¡°Look, if your name really was Ezra, it¡¯ll come back to you eventually. Just don¡¯t stress about it. Names aren¡¯t as important as what you do here.¡± ¡°I see.¡± Ezra murmured, his voice thoughtful. He glanced toward the far end of the room, where a group of men in uniform stood eerily still, their expressions blank. ¡°By the way, who are those guys?¡± Carina followed his gaze and smirked faintly. ¡°Oh, them? Those are bot soldiers.¡± ¡°Bot¡­ soldiers?¡± Ezra¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°What does that mean?¡± ¡°Exactly what it sounds like.¡± Oliver chimed in, leaning against a nearby wall. ¡°They¡¯re basically puppets. Do whatever you command them to, no questions asked.¡± Carina nodded. ¡°They¡¯re useful for missions where we need extra hands¡ªor cannon fodder. Just don¡¯t expect much personality. They¡¯re¡­ rather lifeless.¡± Carina explained. ¡°Though some are capable of processing emotions. We just don''t need them.¡± Ezra stared at the soldiers. ¡°I see¡­¡± One of the bot soldiers suddenly turned its head slightly, its blank eyes locking onto Ezra. He flinched. Oliver snickered. ¡°Relax, they¡¯re harmless. Well, mostly.¡± ¡°Mostly?¡± Ezra repeated, his voice pitching upward. Carina shot Oliver a warning look before turning back to Ezra. ¡°Don¡¯t worry. They only act up if someone messes with their programming. Just don¡¯t try to get too friendly with them.¡± ¡°Hey, shouldn''t you give him his gears and a uniform?¡± Peter asked Carina. ¡°Oh, yeah! I''ve forgotten about that.¡± Carina immediately walked to the nearest wardrobe and pulled a set of new uniforms out. ¡°By the way, why is my clothes different from you guys?¡± Ezra asked, checking his uniform that was just a black shirt with long sleeves with trousers, then comparing it with the others. ¡°You are dressed in a burial garment. That''s the default clothing when you are here. Nothing is wrong with being like that.¡± Carina placed the white shirt and dark navy blue trousers at her desk, while opening the blazer of the same color as the trousers to Ezra. Chapter 6 Carina dumped her M1911¡¯s magazine on the suit worn on a mannequin. The gunshot echoed inside the room like thunderclap and had nowhere to escape. Ezra only covered his ears as he looked at Carina massacring the suit. The slide kept sliding back and ejecting the bullet casings out of the firing chamber, leaving smoke. All the .45 cal bullets struck into the suit. Each warhead tore through the fabric, tearing pieces of cloth out. However, the bullets were still visible from outside. Carina walked to the suit and undressed it from the mannequin, showing the mannequin''s body to Ezra. Completely unscratched. ¡°Zero penetration.¡± She ripped apart the outer layer of the blazer and showed the internal armor damaged with the bullets to him. ¡°Non-newtonian fluid is a game changer, man.¡± Carina ripped the Kevlar off, as some kind of liquid spilled out of the cloth. While looking at Ezra, she whispered. ¡°Rest assured, pistols and knives won''t kill you. But it''ll surely hurt.¡± ¡°Still¡­I wouldn''t risk it.¡± Ezra looked at his new suit, squeezing it to make sure his suit had the armor, as Carina continued explaining. ¡°Oh, you have to. That''s how you''ll grow. After all, this is the newest suit we invented. After all these years, we''ve always been losing to those assholes.¡± Ezra just stared at her until she finished her words, then watched her dispose of the damaged suit. ¡°Alright, time for gun training.¡± Carina pulled a Glock 19 Gen5 out of her pocket, then walked to the floor behind a window that faced the forest. She opened the window, aiming the pistol into the sky, as her left hand was busy reloading the gun with tracer rounds. As everything was ready, she pulled the trigger, firing the first round. The sound of gunshot echoed everywhere in the sky. From a distance, a muzzle flash was sparking the darkening sky, then a red tracer ammunition came out and flew into the air. As she fired about 6 rounds, she immediately switched the firing mode to full automatic, spraying red tracer bullets into the dark forest behind the school, emptying the magazine and throwing it outside. ¡°Remember what I taught you?¡± Carina asked him while reloading the magazine with a new one and setting the firing mode to SAFE. ¡°Don''t bend your fingers, but push it back.¡± Ezra only nodded, then received the gun from Carina''s hands. There were only the two of them inside the soundproof room, the afternoon sunlight illuminated into the room. Ezra caressed the body of his gun. The handle had tilted square patterns, and it was somehow prickly to touch. Ezra aimed his pistol out of the window, as Carina moved aside. Steady, he released the safety then pulled the trigger. A muzzle flash sparked in the dark, blinding his eyes for a while, as the slide blew backwards then returned to its original position. Then a green tracer flew out of the barrel, falling into the forest, illuminating the trees for a while before dying. After he saw the first round falling into the trees, he immediately lifted his arms and looked into the iron sight, adjusting for a while, then fired 5 bullets. The tracers flew in a line without much spread, before falling into the forest and dying. Then he switched into full automatic, spraying the rest of the magazine into the forest. As all the bullets were gone, the slide remained open and the casing fell to the floor, bouncing a few times. ¡°I didn''t expect the recoil to be so light.¡± Ezra was impressed by how easy the pistol was to control. ¡°That''s one of the guns with the least recoil force. Though the problem is that your hands are still not steady while firing.¡± Carina commented. ¡°I suggest you stay in semi-automatic settings unless it''s necessary to spray all over the place.¡± ¡°I see.¡± Ezra deployed the safety and reloaded the magazine, then placed his gun under his blazer. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. After several seconds of a silent period between them, Carina walked to the window facing a sports field and leaned against the window frame, inhaling the air and slowly releasing it. Down there, there were a lot of students of PE class running circling the field. Ezra looked at her hair fluttering with the wind that blew into the room. ¡°This school is very big¡­¡± He mumbled, not expecting Carina to answer him. ¡°Yeah. It can house up to 40000 students at once. 8 apartment sized dormitories for boarding students and 4 subway stations.¡± ¡°Subway station in a high school?¡± ¡°Well, it''s afterlife. Though we can''t enter it, it''s like when you try to enter a building and there''s a barrier that somehow stops you.¡± ¡°So we''re in a game?!¡± ¡°Not really. I can''t really tell. The point is, we''re supposed to experience things we didn''t experience when we were still alive. That''s about it.¡± ¡°That''s cool, though I haven''t ridden a train yet.¡± ¡°Poor thing, I''d say.¡± ¡°Thanks, I guess.¡± ¡°I don''t know what built this school though. Though in real life I''ve never seen a high school with a very complete facil¡ª¡± ¡°Hey, aren''t we talking too loud up here?¡± ¡°Don''t worry. They won''t hear us from there. After all, we''re not planning a war here.¡± ¡°That''s all you want to ask?¡± ¡°Nah.¡± Ezra answered quickly, pointing to the large field with countless people doing sports. ¡°Who are those guys?¡± ¡°Right now people are busy with PE clubs.¡± Carina explained, as 6 people raced each other in a straight line until the finish. ¡°You guys don''t do it?¡± ¡°Of course not. Our goal here is not for that. Besides, joining in one wouldn''t end well for us anyways.¡± ¡°Like?¡± ¡°We humans will probably reincarnate into something we don''t want. That''s one of the probabilities. Dunno though, a few past members had disappeared without a trace and I believe that''s the cause.¡± The sun began setting behind the airfield sized sports field. From a different angle, a few more fields were revealed, placed beside each other, separated by a staircase. The one nearest to the building they were in were a sprinting track and a long jump pit respectively. The further ones after the stairs were a basketball court and a volleyball court. ¡°Does that mean they''re not humans too?¡± ¡°Yeah. They''re human mobs.¡± ¡°Mobs?¡± ¡°You''ve never played games before? They''re computer controlled mobile characters. Something like Artificial intelligence but way more intelligent.¡± ¡°Not like that¡ªwait you still haven''t answered my question, is this world a game?¡± ¡°It''s just a reference word.¡± In the lobby gate, those human mobs interacted with each other while sitting on the stairs. ¡°Are they different from the guys we used last night?¡± Ezra asked her. ¡°Yes. The real mobs are versatile, while the mobs we made have limited features¡ªbecause we didn''t have the knowledge to code the entire thing into them.¡± Carina answered. ¡°Damn¡­¡± Some were walking back to the dorm, some were heading to the subway station, some were running to meet friends, and some walked alone with a Walkman. ¡°Will they keep doing the same thing over and over again each hour and return the same answer to you?¡± ¡°Go try it for yourself. Since you''re new here I doubt you''ll notice the difference between us.¡± ¡°You mean they actually converse with the flow?¡± ¡°Just go and slap a girl in her ass.¡± Carina answered, as Ezra''s face became shocked. ¡°She''ll either report you to the student council, crush your balls, or take you to her bed the following night.¡± ¡°Holy shit, they''re well made.¡± Ezra hesitantly commented. ¡°The teachers too?¡± ¡°Yep.¡± Carina answered. ¡°Quick note though, mobs don''t age, just like all of us. Any questions?¡± The PE coach blew his whistle as he yelled at a student impatiently, giving gestures to tell the student to sprint over again. The room basked in the warm glow of the late afternoon sunlight, but the conversation between Carina and Ezra carried a chill of intrigue. Carina leaned casually against the window, her dark silhouette outlined against the golden horizon. Ezra stood nearby, the weight of her words pulling at his thoughts as he toyed with the edges of his blazer. "Um, yeah." Ezra began hesitantly. "Who¡¯s this Architect you keep bringing up? You¡¯ve mentioned him, like, a dozen times, but you never really explain." Carina tilted her head slightly, her expression darkening. "It''s a ¡®her¡¯. She''s...affiliated with God, I think. Maybe the one who built this entire place. You know, A World Where We Can Relax for a Bit Before Reincarnating Again." She let out a sharp laugh. "Yeah, right. I''d love to put a bullet through her skull for that lie.¡± "But is she actually¡­a god?" Ezra¡¯s tone dripped with skepticism. "Like, death-proof? Won¡¯t take damage even if we drop, say, a tactical nuke on her head?" "Not quite. She takes damage, sure. But her health pool¡¯s in the thousands, and before you even get to her, you¡¯d have to break her shield. That alone would need, oh, maybe twenty magazines from an M82. And if you¡¯re thinking tanks, forget it. She¡¯s faster than our turrets can track. You¡¯d just end up with a smoking pile of metal where your tank used to be." Ezra crossed his arms, his expression darkening. "I haven¡¯t seen her yet, so I can¡¯t really strategize, but¡­this sounds bad." "Strategy isn¡¯t your strong suit anyway." Carina quipped, flashing him a smirk. "That¡¯s why I¡¯m after something better¡ªthe Obsidian Compass." "The what-now?" Her smirk widened. "The compass that leads you to the XML world. You know, the realm where you can rewrite the rules of this place. Imagine making bullets bounce off you like you¡¯re wrapped in plot armor." Ezra¡¯s eyes narrowed. "Hold up. XML World? Why didn¡¯t you mention this earlier?" "Because if I had, you¡¯d probably have dipped. And guess what? You can¡¯t quit now~¡± Carina shot him a sly side-eye and smirks. "Gee, thanks. That¡¯s manipulative and reassuring." He deadpanned. "You¡¯re welcome." Carina shrugged, her voice light but her eyes sharp. Ezra groaned, rubbing his temples. "Fine, fine. What¡¯s the plan then?" "You remember those bastards who fired an RPG at us last week?" ¡°Absolutely. My ears are still ringing." "They¡¯re after the compass too. If it falls into their hands, we¡¯re toast. Dead for real this time. No respawns." Ezra leaned against the wall, his brow furrowed. "So when are we grabbing this thing?" Carina crossed her arms, her gaze flicking toward the fading light outside the window. "Here''s the catch: it''s currently sitting about 23,000 feet underground.¡± ¡°Uh-huh. And you found it, how, exactly?¡± "It¡¯s complicated. The Compass doesn¡¯t stay put. It despawns and respawns based on seasons and magnetic waves or some nerdy stuff like that. I¡¯ve been here long enough to memorize its spawn points. My team already rigged the area with traps and bombs, plus a gravity and some magnetic sensors to catch its signal. It¡¯s a one-shot deal¡ªhappens every 23 lunar years if I''m not mistaken." Ezra blinked. "That¡­that¡¯s a lot of info. My brain¡¯s full now, thanks." "Focus." Carina snapped. "We¡¯re dropping a bomb on their base tonight to clear the way. And no, we didn¡¯t code the bomb¡ªit¡¯s good old-fashioned mechanical, courtesy of Dika." The distant shouts of PE students echoed faintly, oblivious to the high-stakes conversation happening above them. "One last thing." Ezra ventured cautiously. "This Architect¡­why does she even come here? What¡¯s her beef?" "Who knows? She¡¯s unpredictable. Shows up after sunset sometimes, and she¡¯s¡­weird. Like a final boss that never explains their evil plan. But she¡¯s neutral¡ªusually. Unless you piss her off." Ezra frowned. "Is she coming tonight?" Carina glanced at him, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Nope, all safe. We''ll use this chance to load the gravity bomb into the plane." "Gravity bomb?¡± Ezra asked, incredulous. ¡°What is this? You code that too?" Carina smiled a little. "Nope. Dika built it old-school. No code involved¡ªjust pure mechanical genius." Ezra sighed, the weight of their bizarre reality settling in his chest. "Wild." Carina smirked, the wind catching her hair as she turned back to the window. "Welcome to the afterlife, newbie." Ezra sighed, his shoulders sagging as he leaned against the frame beside Carina. ¡°I still have one more question.¡± He said, his gaze fixed on the floor. Carina shifted, taking a cautious step back. Her eyes narrowed slightly, scanning him for intent. ¡°What is it?¡± Ezra straightened, meeting her eyes. ¡°That computer God¡­ what¡¯s that guy even doing underground?¡± A faint smirk tugged at Carina¡¯s lips. ¡°Oh, you mean that pile of CRT monitors that talks? Yeah.¡± ¡°Did he ever say something¡­ or do something to you?¡± Carina¡¯s smirk faltered. Her gaze flicked to the side, distant for a moment, before she shrugged. ¡°We talked. The rest¡­ I forgot it.¡± Ezra frowned. ¡°What did that AI say to you?¡± ¡°Nothing much. More or less the same flat-toned nonsense he told you, I bet.¡± She paused, then continued. ¡°By the way, did you notice the knife on one of his screens when you were in there?¡± Ezra answered. ¡°Yeah¡­ I think I remember it. Looked out of place.¡± Carina crossed her arms, her smirk returning. ¡°That¡¯s my knife. Somehow got it into that realm when I died.¡± Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she leaned closer. ¡°I¡¯d love to retrieve it, but¡­I¡¯m on a ten-year no-death streak. It¡¯s my biggest flex whenever someone tries to bring me down.¡± She burst into laughter, the sound sharp and alive, breaking the tension. Ezra stared at her, slack-jawed. ¡°Holy shit¡­¡± ¡°Welcome to hell, kid. Everything¡¯s just a bargain, or it exists because the rules of reality got lazy. Lucky for us, we ended up in this sort of realm. Could¡¯ve been worse.¡± Carina wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. ¡°I see¡­¡± Carina clapped her hands together suddenly, the sound echoing through the room. ¡°That¡¯s it! Study session over!¡± Before Ezra could reply, she spun on her heel and slammed the window shut, the loud bang shaking the frame. Chapter 6.5 The office was a mix of voices, footsteps, and the occasional metallic clang from someone tinkering with a piece of equipment. The air had a hum of electricity, mingling with the weird scent of WD-40 and coffee left too long on a hot plate. Ezra stood awkwardly in the center of it all, his eyes darting between the mismatched furniture, the sprawling tangle of cables snaking across the floor, and the people moving with purpose¡ªor lack thereof. Despite being in the afterlife, the group seemed as fragmented as any high school cafeteria. Clusters of people exchanged banter, while others hunched over their desks, their focus glued to screens or handwritten notes. Ezra¡¯s attention shifted to Carina, who stood at the far end of the room, her calmness in doing things was always eye-catching for some reason. She was flipping through a worn notebook, her brow furrowed in concentration. Before Ezra could move closer, the lights overhead flickered and then died, plunging the room into sudden darkness. A hush fell over the group, and the shuffle of chairs and feet filled the din. ¡°Oliver,¡± Carina¡¯s voice cut through the silence, yet her command was indistinct. Oliver reached for a panel beside an old wardrobe, its surface scratched and slightly dented from years of use. Softly, he pulled the door open. Inside, a server rack tucked away inside. The CPU box filled with a low hum, growing louder as the fans of the VGA cards began to spin. One by one, the monitors brightened, casting sharper beams of light that reflected off the steel surfaces scattered around the room. Their bright lights from the IPS screens casted uncomfortable rays. Carina calmly set her laptop onto her desk. She connected it to an ancient-looking projector mounted to the ceiling through the HDMI. Soon, a faint beam of light came out from the device, illuminating the far wall with a glow. Dust motes travelled in the beam. A detailed 3D model of a high school building emerged, rendered with precise lines and vibrant colors. Ezra recognized it instantly¡ªthe campus, the towering dormitories, the winding paths between buildings. Carina moved to a nearby PC, her boots clicking against the floor as she pressed a few keys. On the projection, the model shifted, zooming in on a specific area¡ªthe dormitories. Small, pulsing dots appeared, thousands of them, scattered throughout the rooms like stars against a dark canvas. Ezra leaned in, his breath catching. ¡°Are those¡­?¡± ¡°The students.¡± Carina answered without looking at him. Her voice was steady, but her eyes held a sharp intensity as she studied the map. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Every last one of them. That¡¯s who we¡¯re up against.¡± The room was silent again, save for the hum of fans and the occasional tap of Carina¡¯s keyboard. Ezra swallowed hard. ¡°Why do you need 5 PCs for a 3D map model?¡± Ezra was shocked, again. ¡°It''s a hi-poly model. We even have the interiors modeled. That''s why we have a server and graphic cards for each PCs.¡± Carina briefly answered. ¡°Damn¡­¡± Ezra sighed in fascination. Carina stood tall and confident, her dark hair falling in loose waves around her face as she walked back to the projector. When she walked through the light, her hair turned brownish-red. Projected on the wall behind her was a stunningly detailed 3D model of their high school, the colors and textures almost lifelike. As she dragged the cursor to a specific spot in the dormitory area, the laptop screen in front of her reflected the same image, accentuating the location. Carina held the pencil steady, her movements quick as she circled a specific spot on the 3D map. All eyes were on her. ¡°This,¡± She said. ¡°You¡¯ll be part of our first grand operation. Code Name: Implosion.¡± The words hung in the air, heavy and foreboding. Peter leaned against the edge of the table, his large hand absentmindedly rubbing his chin. ¡°Man¡­ this isn¡¯t a joke¡­¡± He muttered. Ezra¡¯s gaze locked onto the circled spot on the map, the word Implosion echoing in his mind. He tilted his head slightly, the image of a submarine deep beneath the sea flashing before his eyes. He pictured it succumbing to the crushing pressure of the depths, its hull crumpling inward like paper. He blinked, the imaginary scene dissolving as quickly as it had appeared. ¡°Implosion¡­¡± He murmured under his breath. Carina tapped the map with her pencil, her tone as calm as if she were explaining a group project. ¡°We¡¯ll demolish all the dormitories while the mobs are resting. The runway for our plane is too short, so we¡¯ll clear extra space for takeoff.¡± Ezra froze, his eyes widening. ¡°What the heck? Demolish their dormitories?! Who¡¯s gonna rebuild them? What happens to them? What happens to us? We getting five stars for crime?!¡± He rapped out the words so quickly it sounded like he was auditioning for a rap battle, his hands flailing for emphasis. ¡°I¡¯ve totally lost faith in you guys!¡± He declared, pointing an accusing finger at Carina. ¡°You¡¯re just a bunch of war criminals!¡± Before he could say another word, Joshua stomped forward and shoved the barrel of his shotgun against Ezra¡¯s cheek. ¡°Wha¡ª¡± ¡°Watch your filthy mouth, kid!¡± Joshua barked, his face inches from Ezra¡¯s. ¡°That¡¯s an insult to Carina! Take it back.¡± Ezra tried to pull away but found himself pressed against the cold barrel. ¡°Why should I?! It¡¯s against the morals of this world, right?!¡± ¡°Those mobs are nothing but mindless beings! Killing them won''t make us sin in any way. If those mobs caught us declaring a war with the Architect, our merit will go down! And besides, they keep spawning with no limits. We have to eliminate some of them to prevent this world from lagging!¡± Peter explained to him. ¡°They cause the lag too?¡± Maxwell asked, fascination sparkled in his eyes. ¡°I''m pretty sure they do, eventually,¡± Peter replied, scratching his chin again. ¡°But destroying all the dormitories?!¡± Ezra exclaimed. ¡°Yes!¡± Carina replied with optimism. ¡°We will literally tear down every single dormitory!¡± Ezra blinked, his jaw dropping. ¡°You¡¯re saying that like it¡¯s a good thing!¡± ¡°The buildings will repair themselves, so there¡¯s no need to worry.¡± As Carina spoke, Oliver and Joshua wrestled behind Ezra. Oliver tried to push the shotgun barrel towards the ceiling while Joshua attempted to aim it at him. ¡°Let go of my shotgun, asshole!¡± ¡°Are you insane?! You¡¯re gonna blow a hole in the room! Do you know how long servers take to repair?!¡± The two panted and grunted, stumbling into chairs and knocking over a stack of papers. ¡°Everyone has their assigned location.¡± Carina continued, pointing to the indoor court next to the dormitories. ¡°Snipers will be stationed here.¡± Carina directed her attention to Dika. ¡°Dika, I trust you''ll handle the demolition of those buildings.¡± ¡°You can count on me.¡± Dika replied with a smile, tying bags filled with dynamite onto the ground. ¡°Stan, I need you to steal the student council¡¯s loudspeaker and tell everyone to stay inside the unaffected building while we demolish the dorm, you got me?¡± Carina looked at Stan. Stan stood with pride and confidence. ¡°Yessir.¡± ¡°And for you, Ezra, I''ll give you an easy task,¡± Carina said, pointing to a bridge connecting the high school to the indoor court. ¡°Your job is simply to scout this bridge and disrupt the Architect''s movements if she comes near you.¡± ¡°Understood¡­¡± Ezra answered hesitantly. ¡°Wait, I thought you said the Architect wouldn''t come tonight?¡± ¡°Chances are low but not zero.¡± Carina smiled. Peter patted his shoulder, giving him a flare gun with the breech lock opened. ¡°Don''t worry, new guy. Fire this flare into the sky to request reinforcement and we''ll be by your side in no time.¡± Ezra''s gaze fell onto the gun clasped in his hands. It was sleek and black, with a barrel that glistened in the dim light. He studied it carefully, his fingers tracing the grooves and curves, before giving a slight nod in understanding. Everything around him seemed to fade into the background as he focused on the flare gun, already visualizing its use in his mind. 7 - First Operation Night. Apparently, the runway was shorter than expected. It was right outside the hangar and continued all the way to the dormitory buildings. A customly modified MC-130 sat in the hangar, its frame barely fit into the width of the makeshift runway of the school. It had JATO rockets strapped into its back, on the rear lower fuselage behind its landing gears. The fuselage gleamed faintly under the harsh light of flood lamps, its black and gray camouflage blending into the darkness. The cargo bay had been stripped of unnecessary seats and refitted with armor plates, while racks of secure bearings lined the interior walls. In the middle, there was a large wooden platform, the place where the bomb was designed to be placed on. It turned out that the diameter of the bomb was nearly as big as the width of the plane itself, leaving only about 10 inches of clearance on each side. The tail ramp had been lowered, creating a bridge for the bot soldiers as they pushed the massive bunker-buster gravity bomb toward its berth inside the plane. Each bot moved carefully, their servos whining softly as they hoisted the bomb into position on a set of hydraulic stabilizers. Carina watched that through the PC monitor in her office. Maxwell and Oliver got into position, one of them proning on the court''s rooftop while looking into their scopes, aiming to the front¡ªthe streets, where the Architect should enter. Oliver was adjusting his binoculars while sitting cross-legged. The wind was so strong that their blazers fluttered around. Joshua yawned as he slowly loaded his shotgun with buckshot shells out of boredom. Peter stood on the main gate of the court with an RPG launcher strapped on his back while his hands were occupied with a light machine gun, meanwhile Fransisco guarded the east direction on that court. There were 2 suicide drones placed behind him, ready to use. The rest of the members, the not soldiers, gathered behind 2 units of the artillery howitzer, bustling around the gun and preparing munitions. They chattered while loading the gun with armor piercing round, locking the breech while getting the elevations ready. As the loading crews gave a gesture, the elevation team immediately spun the lever to lift the barrel up. Ezra tied the flare gun into his belt, while inspecting his own pistol with the safety on. He pulled the magazine out and counted all the 15 rounds inside. As he reattached the magazine back in, he released the safety and aimed the barrel to the ground. ¡°Why do they seem more ready to face the architect rather than transporting the bomb?¡± Dika sprinted down to the basement of the last dormitory building. A shotgun was slung across his back. His heart raced, breath coming in heavy gasps, and sweat drenched his face. Upon reaching the building''s foundation, he planted explosives at critical structural points¡ªwalls, supports, and the main foundation. Thoroughly, he connected the charges with cables, ensuring each connection was secure before dragging the cables out. He rushed to the central hub where the first few cables had been connected into the central line. Immediately, he linked the explosives to the primary wire, carefully attaching it to the fuse mechanism. As Dika completed the connection under the last building, he bolted out, carrying the fuse and cables. ¡°Carina! All the bombs have been planted! Fuse explodes in 1 minute!¡± Dika talked to his handheld transmitter, his voice came out from Carina''s. ¡°Roger that, you''re greenlit.¡± Carina''s voice answered him. ¡°Okay. Good night.¡± Dika pulled the lever up and spun it to the left, then quickly pushed it down into the box. As the lock was triggered, Dika immediately sprinted away from the dormitory buildings. ¡°Stan, do it!¡± Carina commanded via the same channel. ¡°Roger that.¡± Stan answered her. In the control center building, Stan and Franklin bashed into the door quickly. The guards were alerted, but just as they found out they were here, Stan fired rounds into their heads with his muffled pistol. Franklin stealthily sneaked behind the desks and slit their throat with his machete. Stan quickly activated the voice projectors, setting the equalizer, adjusting volume settings to maximum and skimmed the user manual on the table behind the equalizer. As he finished reading, he immediately pulled a lever to cover all the high school buildings¡¯ windows with automated curtains. Suddenly, a loud hum enveloped the school. Automated steel curtains descended over the high school buildings, slowly obscuring glass doors and windows. Students inside were startled, their expressions hidden in the growing shadows as the curtains sealed shut. These steel barriers were impenetrable, locking all exits. For the NPC students, escape was impossible. Franklin groaned as he dragged and threw the guards¡¯ dead bodies into a crate, then covered them in diapers. After that, he quickly mopped the floor using a piece of cloth, then threw the blood-drenched cloth into the crate, letting the diapers take care of business. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Quickly, he pulled a hydrogen peroxide solution and poured all of it into the cloth, as the red color from the blood disappeared quickly. The stopwatch on Dika''s wrist counted down to 10, as he was running downstairs. Once he felt it was enough, he immediately sought cover behind the concrete walls. While peeking at the dormitory, he mumbled while counting down from 5. In just five seconds, the deafening explosion of hundreds of dynamites shook the entire grounds. The dark alleys were instantly engulfed in a blinding light as flames erupted from every building, spreading through the underground electrical distributor like wildfire. The elevator shafts turned into chimneys, fueling the inferno until it reached the top floor and exploded, sending debris raining down. Within moments, the dormitory buildings collapsed like a house of cards, each floor pancaking on top of the other. The sound of electrical systems short-circuiting filled the air as sparks flew in all directions, igniting nearby buildings like an ammunition factory. The night sky was lit up with a spectacle of fireworks, casting a temporary day-like glow over the chaos below. At that time, the resistance members¡¯ gaze was on the explosion that almost turned the night into daylight. Ezra watched half of the building going down, the once intact steel was now reduced to a pool of molten steel. The once towering structure was now just a smoldering pile of rubble and destruction. He could barely comprehend what he was seeing - it was like witnessing a volcanic eruption right before his eyes. Suddenly the siren rang, warning all the students in the high school through speakers. ¡°All students of the high school, this is the security, please stay still in the building. We have a severe gas leak in the dormitory that caused an explosion. For safety, everyone must stay inside the school building.¡± It was Stan''s voice telling everyone to stay in the school building. Right now, everyone in the high school building was panicking, screaming and crying. As Ezra looked back to the end of the bridge, a figure was already standing in front of him. Her head was covered with the cloth of a cloak that covered both of her eyes, her mouth was the only visible thing in her face. Her cloak also covered the high school uniform. She was staring at the collapsed building for a while before turning her head and stared blankly at him. Ezra didn''t need to think about who that person was. Of course, it was a foe. ¡­The Architect. Ezra''s breathing rate became faster as he realized who she was. Quickly, he lifted his arms and aimed the pistol at her, his arms trembling while trying to align the forward and rear iron sights. ¡°Shit!¡± Desperately, he used her left hand to steady his right forearm. Panic clawed at his mind, but he had no time to think. He pulled the trigger twice. The bullets whizzed through the air, but the architect parried them effortlessly. Her sword suddenly just appeared in his right hand, as if she used some kind of spell. The bullets bounced off, glowing red before disappearing into the night. Shocked, Ezra quickly aimed at her again, now setting the firing mode to full-auto, pulling and holding the trigger, as the remaining bullets in the magazine were fired out of the barrel. At the same time, the Architect swung her arm, casting an invisible convex shield. The bullets slammed into it and ricocheted off to the ground without coming in contact with her. Quickly, he reloaded his gun with a new magazine and sprayed bullets at her. The outcome was still the same, all the bullets bounced off, except for the last one, it broke through the weakened barrier and crashed into her left shoulder. ¡°That thing has a limit¡­!¡± He reloaded his gun with trembling hands and fired again. His panic took the most out of him, most of the bullets missed. The ones that hit the architect''s hitbox were deflected, each turning red and flying away. ¡°Fuck!¡± He cursed under his breath, fingers trembling as he fumbled to load another magazine. His heart sank when he realized¡ªit was his last one. ¡°Damn it!¡± His voice was a harsh whisper, panic clawing at the edges of his control. With no time to waste, he yanked the flare gun from his belt. He bolted from his position, each footfall echoing like a countdown. His enemy was close, too close. In a fluid motion, he leveled the flare gun toward the pitch-black sky, thumb finding the trigger. The gun kicked back slightly as the flare shot forth, a blazing red tearing through the darkness. The flare arced upward, its intense glow temporarily banishing the shadows. He didn¡¯t wait to watch it explode¡ªhe dropped the empty gun and resumed his sprint. The architect was gaining, only a few strides away. Above, the flare burst with a crackling roar, splintering into fiery fragments that lingered like embers. The night was painted with a red beacon visible for miles. Every eye in the vicinity snapped to the sky, the signal unmistakable. The snipers adjusted their scopes, the green haze of night vision painting a clearer view, zooming into Ezra crouching behind a half-destroyed barricade, his pistol useless in his trembling hands. ¡°Target spotted at 2 o''clock! Ezra¡¯s pinned and out of ammo!¡± Maxwell''s voice cracked through the radio, his heart pounding as he scanned for hostiles. Maxwell turned off the night vision. The figure of the Architect became very clear, her movements slow, deliberate, and calm. She radiated an aura of authority that froze the battlefield. ¡°Wait¡ªwhat the fuck? The Architect?¡± Stan¡¯s voice came through, raw disbelief cutting through the tension. ¡°What¡¯s she doing here?¡± Maxwell didn¡¯t hesitate. His fingers fumbled over the transmitter as he barked orders. ¡°Peter! Get word to Carina! The Architect¡¯s in play¡ªabort the main mission, now!¡± His hands moved back to the rifle, adjusting the scope for a clearer shot, but his mind raced. Ezra was seconds from being cornered. Oliver crouched nearby, tore open a duffel bag and yanked out an AK-47. Without a word, he sprinted to the edge of the rooftop and leaped into the void, parachute deployed. As he touched down, he gathered with everyone else, sprinting to the marked location. Maxwell emptied his DMR magazine at the Architect, the bullets cutting through the air with a deadly hum. But the Architect¡¯s reflexes were sharper¡ªeach bullet ricocheted off her arm, barely leaving a scratch. No, not just her arm. There had to be some other kind of convex shield, seamlessly integrated into her defense. Maxwell¡¯s heart raced, his eyes wide as he slammed another magazine into the rifle. As the Architect restored her stance, she immediately pivoted to see Ezra. In an instant, she was gone, her form a blur as she rocketed toward him at near-supersonic speed. Suddenly, a combat knife flashed through the air, slicing towards her. With a swift motion, the Architect deflected the blade, sending it spiraling into the void. It was Joshua. The split-second disruption was all he needed. He had already been on the side of The Architect when she was disrupted by the knife. With a sharp grin on his face, he shot all the buckshot at her body and face. But the Architect was too fast. Her body twisted out of harm¡¯s way, the buckshot grazing her cloak as it tore apart in a violent gust. The tattered fabric fluttered to the ground, and with it, the veil of mystery around her vanished. Golden strands of hair cascaded down her back, catching the light. A pair of sharp hazel eyes locked onto Joshua, gleaming with focus. Blood trickled down her pale cheek¡ªa thin stream that dripped from the side of her left cheek. One of the pellets had grazed her ear. Not enough to kill. But enough to draw blood. Without a word, she wiped the blood away with the back of her hand, her stance lowering, ready to retaliate. ¡°God damn it!¡± Joshua exclaimed, quickly reloading his shotgun as The Architect summoned a sword like it was stored in her inventory and swung it at him. Reflexively, he evaded the blade and fired 3 rounds that he had successfully loaded into the chamber. Yet the Architect immediately swung her blade, a shockwave blasted all the buckshot pellets, scattering them away. At the same time, she pointed the sword forward and launched herself towards Joshua. Joshua only watched helplessly as the figure carrying the sword approached him quickly. Suddenly, from the left side, bullets struck her body, disrupting her again. Now with a bigger reinforcement, the entire resistance team was all eyes on her. Peter, Oliver and Franklin stopped by Ezra''s side as they pulled the charging handle in their weapons. Joshua immediately retreated back to their line while reloading his shotgun. Oliver gave Ezra the AK-47 he carried before and pulled his own pistol out. Stan and Maxwell gathered around at the ceiling of the indoor court, fixing their proning position again as they looked into the scope with the center of the crosshair pointed at The Architect''s head. Peter threw his handheld transmitter into the middle of the ground. ¡°All units, open fire, now!¡± Peter exclaimed. At the same time, everyone from all places pulled the trigger. The muzzle flash became a literal flashlight as their bodies were illuminated by the fire. The bot soldiers pulled the trigger of the cannon. The howitzers blew back, sending the 155mm shell into the air, heading for the Architect. Stan and Maxwell dumped the magazine of their sniper rifles, as everyone in the front line sprayed bullets towards the Architect. Immediately, an energy shield spawned out of nowhere around her body, covering her entire body from head to toes. As the hundreds of bullets struck it, they bounced off all over the place into the sky. The ordinary bronze colored projectiles became red as they ricocheted, some of them found their way to destroy building windows and street lamps, make a hole in walls and destroy cars, as if it was raining upwards. Peter screamed as he struggled handling the recoil of his light machine gun that mercilessly fired when the others had run out of bullets. The 155mm shells came down and struck through her shield, destroying it partially, leaving some openings. ¡°Target hit!¡± One of the operators exclaimed as he saw the explosion in his binoculars. ¡°Reload! Reload!¡± Another operator followed. At the same time, one of the howitzers fired again. The muzzle flash blinded everyone. ¡°Artillery, cease fire! We have to keep as much ammunition until the battle finishes!¡± Maxwell exclaimed into the transmitter, communicating with the gun crews. ¡°Roger that!¡± One of the crews answered him, then giving gestures to the others to stop reloading. Stan and Maxwell quickly fired into that hole, hoping the bullets could go through the hole and bounce into her. But they weren''t too lucky. The shield couldn''t bounce projectiles from the inside. The Architect stood still to withstand the bullets and to make sure her shield could last until they ran out of bullets, spending time to focus on fortifying her body. But she was too distracted by that threat, another 155mm armor piercing shell slammed through her shield and made another hole in it. Now the hole was too big and some of her body was already vulnerable. From the left side, Fransisco jumped off the building with two suicide drones in his hands. Before he landed, he threw the first one in his right hand like a paper plane as the drone propelled itself like an air-to-ground missile. Then as he landed, he threw the second one in his left hand. The Architect saw that, she immediately jumped and evaded the first suicide drone. The drone crashed into the ground and exploded, sending muds and rocks into the air along with flame and smoke. Yet in only a matter of seconds, the second drone crashed right into her shield. The shield immediately became red and shattered, exploding, and accumulated by the explosion of the drone. The Architect collapsed to the ground after her shield detonated. The explosion was brighter, like a bomb detonating from a distance, leaving a barrier of smoke that covered them and the Architect. Everyone had to cover their eyes. Without hesitating, even though his eyes were blinded by the explosion, Peter screamed his lungs out. Everyone dumped their mags. ¡°Now!!!¡± Nonetheless, everyone couldn''t see the location of the Architect clearly. The bullets flew everywhere without hitting the Architect. As the smoke began to subside, the Architect¡¯s body took shape behind the smoke. Immediately, everyone corrected their aim and fired at the Architect. ¡°So this is the revolution¡­ Carina¡¯s plan was immaculate.¡± Joshua muttered as he watched his allies firing at the architect. Just before they could do too much damage, suddenly the ground exploded. Mud, rocks, and shrapnel flew in every direction, the force of the blast hurling everyone into the air. Screams filled the night as they were thrown back by the sheer force. Peter hit the ground hard, his vision blurred and ears ringing. Joshua and Franklin were sent tumbling, their weapons clattering away as they struggled to regain their footing. ¡°What the fuck is going on?!¡± Peter shouted, his voice barely audible over the chaos. The explosion''s shockwave reached Ezra and Oliver''s position, knocking them off their feet. 8 - First Operation (Part 2) Maxwell pressed his eye to the scope, scanning the smoke. From the shifting, swirling dust, two piercing red lights burned through the haze like predator eyes, unmoving, unblinking. His breath caught. The rumble of a strong diesel engine grew louder, rattling through the ground like a low growl. As the smoke thinned, the outline of a T-90 tank rolled into view, its armored bulk cutting through the remnants of the chaos. Dirt and soot streaked its body, evidence of a long journey. The tank ground to a halt, its turret swaying slightly before locking onto a specific point¡ªa smoking crater just ahead, where Resistance soldiers had been moments ago. ¡°Who the hell sent a tank here?!¡± Stan hissed, voice tight as he slammed a fresh magazine into his rifle. Maxwell¡¯s lips were dry as he muttered, ¡°Not us...¡± From behind the tank, shadows moved¡ªdozens of them. ¡°Fuck. We''re late.¡± Stan whispered as he saw those people. Figures in dark, tactical gear swarmed out like insects, their assault rifles raised and ready. Their faces were obscured by featureless masks that reflected the weak light, making them look more machine than human. But one figure stood apart. He emerged last, stepping with a slowness. His head was cloaked in a hood so deep it seemed to swallow the light, the shadows hiding his face entirely. Yet beneath the hood, an unsettling shape protruded¡ªa pair of sharp, elongated appendages stretching outward to the sides. He raised one gloved hand, the motion deliberate. The soldiers behind the tank froze, crouched in formation, weapons aimed but unmoving. Inside the T-90, the gunner trained the turret as he peered into the sight, his thumb hovering over the trigger. The crosshair centered on the smoky void ahead, where bodies and debris littered the ground. Above, the tank commander popped open the cupola and put his hands on the machine gun mounted onto the turret, his head swiveling in slow arcs as he scanned for threats. And then, the smoke stirred. A shadow moved within the mist, slow and deliberate. The gunner¡¯s finger twitched on the trigger. The commander straightened, his eyes narrowing. The Architect emerged. The mist clung to her like a shroud, swirling around her lower body, obscuring her legs and giving the illusion that she was gliding forward. Her shield flared to life, a translucent barrier that pulsed with light, pushing the smoke aside in rippling waves. Each step she took was deliberate, her boots hitting the ground with a faint echo that somehow cut through the silence. Her double-bit axe gleamed under the dim light, the edges razor-sharp and faintly glowing. Her expression was carved from stone, her eyes fixed on the tank commander above as if daring him to act. The commander froze, his grip tightening on his weapon. The gunner hesitated, his thumb trembling on the trigger. The tank commander¡¯s breath hitched, sweat trickling down his temple as he turned sharply to the gunner below. ¡°Switch targets! Aim for the Architect!¡± The gunner didn''t answer. He swiftly realigned the turret. The servos whirred, the barrel locking onto the stoic figure cloaked in shimmering mist. ¡°Engaging!¡± The commander didn¡¯t wait. He squeezed the trigger on his mounted machine gun, firing a torrent of bullets. The rounds streaked through the air like hornets, slamming into the Architect¡¯s shield. Sparks erupted on impact, but the bullets ricocheted harmlessly, scattering like pebbles tossed at a mountain. ¡°Should we engage the girl?¡± One of the masked soldiers asked, his voice clipped and uncertain, his rifle trained on her. ¡°No!¡± Barked another soldier crouching behind the tank¡¯s starboard side. ¡°Don¡¯t waste your ammo!¡± The tank gunner aligned the turret¡¯s crosshair squarely on the Architect¡¯s chest, his finger hovering briefly over the trigger. ¡°Firing HEAT!¡± The gunner slammed the trigger. The primer ignited the charge with a thunderous roar, sending a 125mm High-Explosive Anti-Tank (HEAT) round screaming from the barrel. A jet of fire and smoke erupted from the muzzle, briefly illuminating the battlefield in fiery orange. The round streaked across the space between them and the Architect in a fraction of a second, its tip sparking as it met the glowing surface of her shield. BOOM! The burst of molten metal bounced off the shield and sprayed in all directions. The shield flared brilliantly, shifting from a cool blue to a blinding orange, ripples of energy radiating outward like shockwaves in a pond. Yet the shield held firm. The Architect stood motionless, her stoic expression unbroken as molten fragments fizzled and died against the invisible barrier. ¡°What the hell?!¡± The gunner shouted, his voice trembling with disbelief. ¡°Keep firing!¡± The commander barked, frustration thick in his tone as he unloaded another burst from the machine gun. The rounds were useless, ricocheting off the shield and scattering in futility. ¡°We need to break through! Switch to APFSDS¡ªnow!¡± ¡°Copy!¡± The gunner¡¯s finger hit the controls, overriding the system to halt the autoloader. The mechanical arm paused, its gears grinding as it stopped pulling another HEAT round from the magazine. The magazine hummed to life, spinning with a metallic whine as it rotated clockwise. A long, slender APFSDS (Armor-Piercing Fin-Stabilized Discarding Sabot) round slid into position, its tungsten tip glinting menacingly under the dim interior lights. The autoloader¡¯s arm grasped the new round and smoothly extracted it from the carousel. Then, it guided it toward the breechloader. Suddenly, the entire tank system seized up. The hum of the electronics fell silent, and the reloading arm froze mid-extension, the APFSDS round suspended in its claw-like grasp. The gunner¡¯s heart stopped. His eyes darted to the monitors as they flickered once, twice¡ªthen into complete darkness. ¡°Fuck! We got a problem!¡± The commander whipped his head around, his knuckles white on the turret handles. ¡°What?!¡± ¡°I¡¯m overriding it!¡± The gunner shouted back, leaping from his seat. He grabbed the suspended round with both hands, straining against the metal arm¡¯s relentless grip. His muscles burned, veins bulging as he poured every ounce of strength into wrenching the round free. But it wouldn¡¯t budge. ¡°Come on, damn it!¡± He hissed through gritted teeth. ¡°What¡¯s the holdup?!¡± The commander barked, swiveling his body to peer down. Outside, the Architect stood motionless, her shield shimmering faintly, her eyes fixed on the tank like a predator sizing up wounded prey. ¡°Did you bring a screwdriver or something like that?¡± The gunner snapped, slamming his fist against the unyielding arm. ¡°I don''t know. Ask the driver!¡± ¡°Fuck!¡± He scanned the magazine for another APFSDS round. His stomach sank. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The remaining rounds were buried deep in the carousel, tucked beneath rows of HEAT rounds. ¡°Shit!¡± He spat, his breath coming fast and shallow. The only firepower keeping the Architect at bay was the commander¡¯s machine gun. Bullets sparked and ricocheted off her shield, their impact creating rippling flashes of light in the haze. Yet, she continued her advance, unfazed by the futile assault. Behind the tank, the Resistance soldiers stirred. The ringing in their ears was beginning to subside. Ezra wheezed, each breath labored as Oliver crouched beside him, patting his back and whispering something unintelligible over the roar of gunfire. Nearby, Peter groaned, one eye cracking open. His vision blurred for a moment, then sharpened¡ªand his stomach twisted. The hulking silhouette of a T-90 loomed just meters away, its massive barrel shifting slightly as it targeted the Architect. ¡°Shit.¡± He breathed, his voice barely audible over the battle. The commander, completely fixated on the Architect, sprayed another burst from his mounted gun. He didn¡¯t glance down, didn¡¯t register the movement below him. ¡°Give me the gun!¡± Joshua hissed, crawling through the debris toward Ezra. His hands trembled, but his voice was steady as he grabbed the AK-47 from Ezra¡¯s slack grip. Ezra groaned but didn¡¯t resist. Joshua pressed the stock of the rifle against his shoulder, his body tense as he lined up the iron sights. The commander was an easy target, his head and upper body exposed as he leaned into his weapon. Then, he held his breath. His finger tightened on the trigger. Then he pulled it. The burst of gunfire echoed across the battlefield. The rounds tore through the air and struck home. The commander jerked violently, blood spraying as the bullets ripped into his head and chest. His lifeless body slumped forward, collapsing into the turret hatch, his arms hanging limp. Inside, the gunner froze, his hands still gripping the jammed APFSDS round. His head snapped upward, eyes wide as he saw the commander¡¯s body fall into the turret. ¡°Assholes¡­!¡± He cursed. Joshua didn¡¯t stop to watch. He dropped back behind cover, his breathing ragged as the rifle trembled in his hands. ¡°Snipers, listen up!¡± Oliver barked into his transmitter, his voice sharp and urgent. ¡°The tank¡¯s distracted by the Architect¡ªthis is your chance! Take it out while it¡¯s vulnerable! But be advised, the tank¡¯s not alone. Enemy soldiers are covering it!¡± Maxwell and Stan pressed their eyes to their scopes, Oliver¡¯s urgent voice still ringing in their ears. They swept the area around the tank, their trained eyes locking onto the faint, shifting silhouettes along its left side skirt. ¡°Got movement.¡± Maxwell whispered. Stan nodded, steadying his aim. ¡°On my mark.¡± Both snipers adjusted their grips, slowing their breathing as they lined up their shots. ¡°In three¡­¡± Stan murmured. Maxwell¡¯s finger hovered over the trigger, his heart pounding in his ears. ¡°...Two¡­one¡­fire!¡± The sharp crack of simultaneous gunshots split the air. From the tank¡¯s left flank, two masked soldiers dropped instantly. Their helmets burst like fragile shells, blood spraying in violent arcs as the bullets punched clean through. The splatter painted the tank¡¯s side armor. A fraction of a second later, the delayed gunshots of the rifles reached the battlefield, echoing loudly. The third soldier froze mid-step, his head snapping toward the source of the sound. ¡°Sniper!¡± He shouted, his voice laced with panic. The remaining soldiers scrambled for cover, darting behind the tank¡¯s bulk as bullets rained down around them. The air was filled with the sharp ping of rounds striking the tank¡¯s side skirt, some embedding deep into the steel while others ricocheted away. But the snipers showed no mercy. Stan fired again, his scope tracking the panicked movements of another target. His shot ripped through a soldier¡¯s cheek, shattering bone as it exited through the opposite side. The bullet didn¡¯t stop there¡ªit tore into his shoulder, severing muscle and sinew. The man dropped his rifle as his knees buckled, collapsing in agony. His jaw hung from his face, barely attached, as he writhed and screamed, his voice gurgling with blood. ¡°Keep firing!¡± Maxwell growled, his finger squeezing the trigger repeatedly. Muzzle flashes lit up the snipers¡¯ concealed positions, briefly illuminating their faces. Their precision was indeed relentless, every shot intended to pin the enemy down. The first soldier on the right skirt caught sight of the flashes and shouted something that blended into the echo of the gunshot. ¡°Artillery team! We need assistance! Enemy tank, 29 degrees north! Concentrate fire¡ªnow!¡± Maxwell barked into the transmitter, his voice cutting through the chaos while his hands slammed a fresh magazine into his rifle. The distant rumble of the artillery team¡¯s preparations echoed back. Some men scrambled to adjust the coordinate railing, grunting as they traversed the barrel toward the target. Others cranked the elevation lever, the creak of metal grinding against metal mixing with their labored breaths. The barrel tilted skyward, inch by inch, as the team worked to line up their shot. Meanwhile, masked soldiers dragged their wounded comrades behind the tank¡¯s side skirts, groaning in pain as blood pooled beneath them. One soldier knelt beside the man whose jaw had been obliterated by a sniper¡¯s bullet. Hesitating for a moment, he yanked off the blood-soaked mask. A collective gasp escaped the soldiers nearby. The man¡¯s face was a nightmare. Half of it was mangled beyond recognition, blood dripping in rivulets down his torn skin. His cheekbone was shattered, and parts of his skull gleamed through the gory mess. ¡°Holy shit, Rocky!¡± The soldier exclaimed, recoiling slightly before trying to lighten the moment. ¡°You look like a goat chewing on grass when you groan!¡± Rocky gurgled, his remaining teeth bared in a grimace as he managed to lift his shattered jaw. ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ call me that!¡± he growled, his voice muffled and distorted. The humor didn¡¯t last. ¡°Fuck, there¡¯s nothing we can do here!¡± Another soldier shouted, his voice quaking with fear. He pointed shakily at the Architect, her shield shimmering faintly as she strode closer, unhurried and unstoppable. ¡°Better shoot that girl right now! No one¡¯s countering her!¡± Desperation took hold. The remaining soldiers raised their rifles, spraying bullets at the advancing figure. But it was futile. Each bullet struck the Architect¡¯s shield with a burst of sparks, ricocheting harmlessly into the surroundings. Some fragments pinged off the tank¡¯s armor; others. Peter gritted his teeth, forcing himself upright despite the searing pain coursing through his body. His legs trembled beneath him, but he refused to give in. Using the jagged cracks in the ground as cover, he crouched low, steadying the RPG launcher on his shoulder. With trembling hands, he loaded the round into the tube, and then pulled off the cap that was covering the tip of the warhead. Every movement was slow. His vision swam, blurred by exhaustion and lingering dust, but the silhouette of the tank was unmistakable. It loomed ahead, an iron beast, its turret motionless as if daring him to strike. He steadied his breathing, his finger brushing the trigger. The iron sights wavered in his blurred vision, but Peter didn¡¯t hesitate. He exhaled sharply and squeezed the trigger. The rocket ignited, sending the warhead forward, spewing smoke and fire as it hurtled toward the tank. ¡°RPG!¡± The warning shout rang out among the soldiers. Panic erupted as they scrambled for cover, dragging their injured comrades to safety. Inside the tank, the driver¡¯s eyes went wide. He instinctively ducked, throwing his hands over his head. The rocket slammed into the glacis plate of the tank with a thunderous explosion. The reactive armor (ERA) mounted on the tank''s surface detonated on impact, a chain reaction that absorbed and redirected the blast¡¯s force. Shards of debris flew outward, some embedding in the ground, others ricocheting harmlessly into the air. The tank¡¯s frame shuddered violently, jolting its crew inside. The driver clung to the steering instruments as the floor beneath him bucked like a wild animal. A cascade of iron fragments rained down from above, slamming into his legs. He screamed in pain, pinned to his seat, blood pooling beneath him. The heavy APFSDS round the gunner had been wrestling free was yanked from his grip by the force of the explosion. It dropped like a hammer, smashing into his chest. The air left his lungs in a guttural scream as he felt the crack of his ribs giving way. The pain was excruciating. He writhed beneath the weight of the round, unable to move, his cries filling the enclosed space of the tank. Outside, Peter¡¯s heart sank. Through the dissipating smoke, he could see the tank¡¯s ERA had done its job, the armor holding firm despite the direct hit. ¡°Fuck!¡± He cursed, slamming his fist against the cracked ground in frustration. His shoulders sagged as he realized the RPG had only managed to rattle the beast, not destroy it. ¡°You should¡¯ve aimed for the barrel!¡± Joshua shouted, his voice cracking with frustration. ¡°I couldn¡¯t fucking see!¡± Peter shot back, still crouched behind cover, his knuckles white from gripping the RPG launcher. ¡°What do you mean you couldn¡¯t see? That big-ass hunk of metal was right in front of you!¡± ¡°I saw it, but not the damn barrel!¡± Peter yelled, slamming the launcher onto the ground. Back at the artillery grounds, the bot soldiers locked the elevation and coordinate levers into place. The breechloaders clanked shut, and the gunners gripped the firing handles, their metallic hands steady as stone. ¡°Fire!¡± The commander bellowed, stepping back as the bot soldiers obeyed, retreating from the massive howitzers. The first gun roared to life. A blinding flash erupted from its muzzle as the primer ignited, propelling the shell forward into the sky. The air vibrated with the raw energy of the shot, the ground beneath the artillery shook violently. The second howitzer¡¯s firing chamber glowed red, the heat building quickly. Before anyone could react, the chamber blasted out like a pressure cooker bomb. The detonation was blinding, tearing through the gun and sending shards of iron and molten shrapnel flying in all directions. Thick smoke billowed out in an instant, cloaking the artillery grounds in a suffocating cloud. The bot soldiers near the second gun were hurled away like ragdolls, their bodies slamming into the dirt. The massive barrel of the destroyed howitzer groaned as it toppled forward, slamming into the ground. The breechloader continued to spew flames, the uneven remnants of gunpowder burning inside like a blast furnace. Shrapnel from the explosion ricocheted wildly, some of it striking the first gun. Sparks flew as pieces of metal carved deep gashes into its body, leaving it battered and smoking. Some bot soldiers struggled to their feet, their movements jerky and disoriented. They coughed and sputtered as they tried to process what had just happened. Blood streaked their faces, red trails trickling from where jagged shards had embedded in their synthetic skin. One soldier stumbled forward, eyes locking onto the smoldering remains of the breechloader. Flames licked hungrily at the uneven pile of gunpowder inside, and fragments of the shell¡¯s casing glowed faintly in the dim light. The first turret¡¯s shell finally reached its mark¡ªor close enough. It slammed into the muddy ground a few yards from the intended target, sending dirt and debris skyward. A thick plume of mud and jagged pebbles rained down on the enemy soldiers, forcing them to shield their faces. ¡°What the hell kind of weapons do they have?!¡± One of the soldiers shouted, his voice tinged with both awe and frustration. Up on the rooftop, Maxwell and Stan¡¯s snipers had gone silent. Their ammunition was spent, leaving them with no reloads to continue their assault. Peering through their scopes, they could see the enemy soldiers retreating to the rear of the tank, using its bulk as cover while they regrouped. ¡°Fuck this!¡± Stan growled, slamming his sniper rifle down and yanking a handgun from his belt. He pulled the slide back a little and looked into the chamber. ¡°There¡¯s a .50 cal rifle in the office.¡± Maxwell said, glancing at Stan. His voice was urgent, but a glimmer of hope sparked in his eyes. ¡°That¡¯s good news! Let¡¯s grab it!¡± Stan said, nodding. ¡°No.¡± Maxwell replied firmly. ¡°I¡¯ll get it. You stay here.¡± Before Stan could argue, Maxwell was already moving. He pushed off the rooftop, sprinting toward the edge. With a single motion, he vaulted off the court¡¯s roof, landing hard but steady on the ground below. He didn¡¯t stop¡ªhis legs carried him in a blur as he made his way back to the school. Meanwhile, behind the tank, the enemy soldiers huddled together at the right rear corner. They moved quickly, slamming fresh magazines into their rifles, their hands moving instinctively despite the tension crackling in the air. ¡°Keep firing on the Architect!¡± One barked, his voice sharp as he gestured toward the advancing figure. The others nodded, their weapons firing again as they emptied round after round at the unyielding foe. Each bullet bounced harmlessly off the Architect¡¯s shimmering shield, but they had no choice¡ªthey needed to stall her for as long as possible. ¡°You guys alright?!¡± Franklin groaned, staggering to his feet from a pile of broken rocks, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead. ¡°We¡¯re intact¡­ our guns, not so much!¡± Oliver replied bitterly, shaking the remnants of his shattered weapon. ¡°There are three downed guys on the left side of the tank!¡± Ezra shouted, pointing toward the enemy soldiers who were still preoccupied firing at the Architect. ¡°They¡¯ve got good-grade assault rifles. If we flank them now, we can grab their weapons and turn the tide!¡± ¡°Bitch!¡± Joshua snapped, glaring at Ezra. ¡°Who do you think¡¯s in charge here?!¡± ¡°Shut up!¡± Peter hissed, clamping a hand over Joshua¡¯s mouth. His sharp glare demanded focus. ¡°That¡¯s a solid idea.¡± Peter said to Ezra. ¡°But are we sure? Do we take out the soldiers first? What about the Architect?¡± ¡°We can¡¯t take her down!¡± Joshua growled, breaking free of Peter¡¯s grip. ¡°Not even the 155mm artillery could scratch her! And the tank¡¯s rounds bounced right off her shield!¡± ¡°Then why don¡¯t we just fall back?!¡± Ezra snapped, his tone edged with desperation. ¡°Fall back?¡± Peter countered, his voice sharp. ¡°If we flee, they¡¯ll find our base and get their hands on critical intel. Killing them is our only option!¡± ¡°How would they even find our files?!¡± Ezra shot back, his voice rising. ¡°There¡¯s no time to explain!¡± Joshua barked, his frustration mounting. ¡°Then what do we do? Just sit here?!¡± Ezra yelled, his anger flaring. ¡°Ezra¡¯s right.¡± Peter interrupted, silencing the argument with a decisive tone. ¡°We don¡¯t have any other choice. We have to take them out. Now.¡± ¡°Tch!¡± Joshua clicked his tongue in frustration, punching the cracked ground beneath him. Maxwell¡¯s feet pounded against the hallway floor. His hand shot out to grip the corners of the walls, using the leverage to propel himself around the sharp turns. The stairs loomed ahead, and he pushed himself harder, his breath coming in sharp gasps. ¡°Only one God exists!¡± He exclaimed. A soft click echoed through the hall as the door¡¯s security system recognized the passphrase. Immediately, Maxwell slammed into the door, his shoulder smashing it open. ¡°Carina!¡± He called out. Inside, Carina was already poised in front of the bank of monitors, her eyes fixated on the live CCTV footage of the battle outside. Maxwell¡¯s inaudible words tumbled out in a rush as he stumbled into the room, gasping for breath. 9 - First Operation (Part 3) "One... two... three¡­" Peter whispered under his breath, his grip on the handgun firm but his fingers trembling ever so slightly. His eyes scanned the battlefield ahead, skimming over mud, smoke, and blood. "Now!" Immediately, Peter bolted from cover, leading the remaining Resistance soldiers to the tank¡¯s left side. The group moved like shadows, hunched low, footsteps muffled against the debris-littered ground. Oliver handed Peter his AK-47 mid-run. ¡°Take it!¡± He muttered, quickly pivoting to a dead enemy. The others scrambled to loot the bodies, ripping rifles from lifeless hands and yanking ammunition belts off limp torsos. Peter¡¯s breath was ragged as he rummaged through a dead soldier¡¯s gear, his fingers fumbling over the grenades strapped to the corpse¡¯s chest. He yanked two grenades free, their pins jingling faintly. A flicker of light caught his eye. It was faint but sharp¡ªa glint reflecting off polished metal. The hairs on Peter¡¯s neck stood on end. His mind screamed before his body could react. ¡°Snake! Get down!¡± He lunged toward Oliver, shoving him to the ground just as the gunshot shattered the air. The first bullet tore into Peter¡¯s side, ripping through flesh and bone. His body jolted violently as if struck by a hammer. The second round hit higher, crashing into his ribcage. Blood spurted from his mouth, painting the air with red mist. ¡°Peter!¡± Oliver yelled. The enemy soldier, hidden among the tall grass, kept firing. The assault rifle¡¯s muzzle flashed with each shot, spitting death in rapid bursts. Peter staggered backward. His body was a canvas for the bullets. The gunshot reverberated across the battlefield. The soldiers firing relentlessly at the Architect hesitated, their eyes darting toward the tank. ¡°Why isn¡¯t the tank moving?!¡± One of them yelled, his voice strained with both anger and desperation. ¡°And why the hell isn¡¯t it shooting?!¡± Another snapped, his hands trembling from the constant recoil. Their frustration festered, feeding into the tension of the moment. Inside the tank, the gunner gritted his teeth, the sharp pain in his chest making every breath a challenge. Blood seeped through his uniform, but he ignored it, his focus locked on the APFSDS round lying on the floor. "Come on." He muttered to himself, forcing his legs into motion. He braced against the tight confines of the tank, using sheer determination to hoist the heavy round back into the breechloader. His hands slipped on the bloodied casing, but he wouldn¡¯t let go. The round slid into place. With a grunt of effort, the gunner climbed back into his seat, his vision swimming. The turret¡¯s controls felt heavier than ever as he adjusted them, the faint hum of machinery filling the cabin. Through the sight, the Architect loomed¡ªcalm, impenetrable, and terrifying. As the crosshair locked onto her chest, he slammed his finger onto the trigger. The APFSDS round tore through the barrel with an explosion of flame and smoke. Outside, the high-velocity projectile screamed toward its target. The round collided with the Architect¡¯s shimmering shield, the impact sending shockwaves rippling outward. The hardened shale casing of the round bent slightly on contact, deflecting its trajectory just enough to avoid a clean hit. But the shield wasn¡¯t invincible. The first layer splintered like glass, the fragments disintegrating into shards of glowing blue energy. The APFSDS round continued its assault, its sharp nose smashing into the second layer with unstoppable force. The translucent barrier flared a searing orange, its once-fluid surface turning concave as it struggled to absorb the impact. The Architect didn¡¯t flinch. Her gaze remained fixed on the tank, her axe gripped tightly in her hand. Inside, the gunner let out a strained laugh, blood dripping from his lips. ¡°I¡¯ve got you now.¡± He whispered, adjusting his aim for another shot. But the second shield hadn¡¯t given way. It pulsated, holding firm, although cracks began to spiderweb across its surface. Peter¡¯s gaze was fixed on the sky, his wide eyes reflecting the chaos above as the world around him seemed to blur. The soldier in the tall grass had emptied 40 rounds into his body. Pain surged through his body, but his mind fought to stay focused. His legs buckled unevenly¡ªhis right knee hitting the dirt while his left leg stubbornly refused to collapse. His trembling arms barely managed to lift the blood-slicked AK-47. The weight of the rifle felt unbearable, but he locked his sights on the reloading soldier ahead. Through his blurred vision, he lined up the iron sights and squeezed the trigger. The rifle roared. The 7.62mm rounds ripped through the enemy¡¯s helmet, and the soldier crumpled to the ground, his rifle slipping from his grasp. Peter¡¯s grip loosened as the AK-47 clicked empty. His arms fell to his sides, the weapon dangling from his hand. Blood poured from his mouth, staining his uniform. His breathing grew ragged, uneven, and desperate. He collapsed to his side. His body hit the ground with a thud, motionless as blood pooled beneath him, soaking into the earth. "Peter!" Joshua shouted, rushing forward. He knelt beside Peter¡¯s lifeless body, his fingers trembling as he checked for a pulse. His hands came away stained with warm blood. "Shit...!" Joshua muttered, his voice choked with rage and grief. "All the bullets¡ªthey¡¯re lodged in his ribs and muscles! Damn it!" Joshua reached for the AK-47. Just as his fingers grasped the receiver, a distant crack split the air. In an instant, his head jerked backward, a burst of blood erupting as the sniper''s DMR round punched through his skull. His lifeless body crumpled beside Peter, the rifle falling from his hands. ¡°Sniper! Fall back!¡± Oliver shouted, grabbing Ezra¡¯s arm as the sharp report of the sniper¡¯s rifle echoed again. The trio scrambled for cover, Franklin pulling Ezra along as he stumbled over the uneven ground. Their breaths were frantic, Ezra barely breathed, suffocating as another shot rang out, barely missing them. Oliver darted a glance to his right, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the marksman lying prone in the tall grass. The enemy¡¯s rifle was trained on him, its barrel gleaming under the faint sunlight. As their eyes locked, the marksman squeezed the trigger. Bang! Oliver immediately ducked back behind the tank¡¯s side skirt, the bullet ricocheted off the mudguard. The force of the impact sent shrapnel spraying against Oliver¡¯s arm, stinging like fire. ¡°Damn it!¡± He hissed, clutching his stinging forearm as he pressed his back against the tank, breathing hard. The marksman paused, perhaps recalibrating or scanning for a clearer shot. Oliver didn¡¯t wait. He tilted his rifle upward, his heart pounding, and swung the barrel toward the marksman¡¯s last position. With no time to aim carefully, he squeezed the trigger and let the magazine unload. The rifle barked violently, the recoil jarring his shoulder as the bullets sprayed into the tall grass. Muzzle flashes lit up the chaotic scene, and Oliver gritted his teeth, willing at least one of those rounds to find its mark. Suddenly, the marksman¡¯s helmet snapped back. A single round punched through, and his body jerked before collapsing into the grass. Oliver¡¯s ears were ringing from the gunfire. He peeked out, and saw that the sniper had been killed. He slumped back against the tank, panting heavily. ¡°Shit!¡± A voice shouted behind him. Oliver turned his head to see Rocky kneeling over his medic¡ªthe man who had dragged him away from the rooftop snipers. "Medic''s down!" Rocky shouted, his voice raw with desperation. His hands hovered over the medic''s body, unsure whether to grab his gear or move to cover. Oliver glanced over his shoulder, reloading his rifle with trembling hands. His breath came in ragged gasps as Ezra and Franklin stealthily moved to flank the enemies who were still focused on the Architect. From behind, the two Resistance fighters opened fire, their rifles cracking like whips in the chaotic battlefield. The first enemy soldier crumpled to the ground, riddled with bullets, but the others reacted quickly, their body vests absorbing most of the incoming rounds. ¡°Damn it! They''re too well-armored!¡± Ezra shouted, frustration mingling with urgency. One of the enemy soldiers turned and took aim at Ezra, but Franklin caught him with a perfectly placed burst to the exposed neck, dropping him. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Before they could press the advantage, the rest of the enemy squad sprinted toward the other side of the tank, using its bulk as cover. Franklin moved to reload, his hands fumbling with a new magazine. In that moment, Rocky emerged from the chaos like a phantom, grabbing Franklin from behind in a brutal headlock. ¡°No!¡± Ezra shouted, turning his rifle toward them, but he couldn¡¯t get a clear shot. Rocky plunged his combat knife into Franklin¡¯s chest, twisting and dragging the blade upward into his throat. Franklin¡¯s gasping cries were muffled as blood spurted from his wounds. Oliver reacted on instinct, leveling his rifle and firing a single, desperate shot. The round punched through Rocky¡¯s skull, snapping his head back and ending him instantly. Both bodies collapsed in a heap, Franklin''s life slipping away in a pool of blood, his wide eyes staring blankly at the sky. Ezra and Oliver froze for a moment, their breaths heavy, before Oliver broke the silence. ¡°It¡¯s just us now.¡± He muttered, his voice shaky. Ezra grabbed the magazine Oliver offered, yanking it from his trembling hand and shoving it into his pocket. The two locked eyes. Without wasting another second, they sprinted to the other side of the tank. Oliver fired in controlled bursts, forcing the enemy soldiers into cover, while Ezra moved past him, laying down suppressive fire to push the enemies to the other side. They managed to kill 2 more men, but one bullet tore through the air and crashed into Oliver''s abdomen. And it came out of his back and flew past Ezra. Oliver groaned as he staggered, blood spilling from his abdomen, each step faltering under the hail of enemy fire. The bullets tore through the air, pinging off the tank¡¯s hull and kicking up dirt. Ezra turned just in time to see Oliver collapse, clutching his stomach, his rifle slipping from his grip. ¡°Oliver!¡± Ezra¡¯s voice yelled as he dashed toward his fallen comrade. Suddenly, a bullet landed on his shoulder. He slammed his back against the back of the tank, his breath ragged. Oliver, lying prone, extended a bloodied hand toward Ezra. ¡°I can still fight¡­¡± He gasped, his words weak and trembling. Ezra reached out, his fingers just inches from Oliver¡¯s. ¡°Come on, I¡¯ve got you! Just a little¡ª¡± The sharp crack of a rifle interrupted him. Ezra froze, his hand hovering mid-air as Oliver¡¯s head snapped back. Blood sprayed the grass as his comrade''s body went limp. Time seemed to slow as Ezra¡¯s mind struggled to process the sight¡ªOliver¡¯s lifeless eyes staring back, his outstretched hand now unmoving. ¡°No!¡± Ezra¡¯s voice tore through the chaos, raw with anguish. His eyes shot to the enemy who fired the fatal shot. The man emerged from the haze, his hulking figure silhouetted against the rising smoke. His hoodie clung to his massive frame, the muzzle of his rifle still glowing faintly from the shot. Ezra¡¯s rage boiled over, his trembling hands gripping his rifle. His knuckles turned white as he raised it, aiming squarely at the hooded killer. ¡°You son of a¡ª¡± Before he could finish, a sharp impact struck his abdomen. Ezra stumbled back, a searing pain ripping through him as more bullets followed, tearing through his side like hot knives. His rifle clattered to the ground as he collapsed against the tank¡¯s side, his vision swimming. Blood seeped through his fingers as he pressed against the wounds, desperate to stop the bleeding. Ezra gritted his teeth, his vision narrowing to a tunnel focused solely on his target. Ignoring the pain, he reached for his rifle, but his strength was waning. The killer raised his weapon again, pointing it directly at Ezra¡¯s chest. Adrenaline surged through Ezra as he fumbled for his sidearm, his bloodied hand trembling. He didn¡¯t wait¡ªhe pulled the trigger, the pistol¡¯s sharp crack cutting through the air. The hooded man staggered as the bullet struck his shoulder, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Ezra coughed, blood spraying his lips. He clenched his jaw, his mind racing for a way out, but his body was betraying him, each second pushing him closer to unconsciousness. The hooded man stepped forward, his rifle aimed for the final shot. Immediately, Ezra slumped himself against the back of the tank, blood pouring from his mouth as he clung to life. The bullets that were supposed to kill him struck the side skirt of the tank and bounced off. ¡°He¡¯s crippled, Alduin!¡± the cloaked soldier¡¯s companion exclaimed. ¡°Rush! Now!¡± Alduin growled, leading the charge with a raised rifle. As the two stepped out of cover, a sharp crack split the air. The soldier behind Alduin jerked violently, a bullet punching clean through his back. Alduin whipped around, eyes narrowing as he spotted Stan running toward the tank. Stan¡¯s pistol was already raised, its barrel gleaming in the dim light. Click. It was empty. Immediately, Stan pulled the magazine out and reached for a new one. ¡°You son of a¡ª¡± Before Alduin could say ¡°Bitch¡±, his curse was drowned out by the deafening roar of the tank¡¯s cannon. The gunner had seen Stan. The HEAT shell screamed toward him, slamming into the ground with a thunderous explosion. The force sent Stan¡¯s body hurtling skyward, limbs flailing like a broken puppet before he crashed into the dirt, motionless. Alduin gritted his teeth, adrenaline surging. ¡°Push forward!¡± He barked at his ally. Suddenly, motion flickered in their peripheral vision¡ªa blur too fast to follow. Alduin barely had time to register the sound of rapid footsteps before Fransisco emerged from the haze, moving like a predator. Alduin turned, raising his weapon, but it was already too late. Fransisco¡¯s hand shot forward, releasing two sleek drones that zipped through the air like hornets. The first drone locked onto Alduin¡¯s ally, its tiny jet engines whining as it adjusted its trajectory. The soldier spun, his finger squeezing the trigger in desperation. Bullets sprayed wildly, carving through the air, but none hit the drone. The soldier saw the drone veer toward him, its mechanical whine rising in pitch. His instincts screamed at him to move. He dove to the side, hitting the ground hard as the drone missed its target by inches. Boom! The explosion tore through the dirt, the blast wave catching his legs and throwing him like a ragdoll. He hit the ground hard at the wrong angle of his feet. Immediately, his leg and his ankle disconnect. ¡°Ah, fuck! My legs!¡± He bellowed, his voice ragged with pain. Before the chaos settled, the second drone was already on its way. This one locked onto Alduin. It''s engines whined as it closed in. Alduin didn¡¯t flinch. He raised his HK-417 in one fluid motion, his sharp eyes tracking the drone¡¯s erratic flight path. He fired a single shot, his aim steady despite the tension in the air. The round tore into the drone, shattering its frame mid-air. The flaming wreckage spiraled toward the tank behind them, slamming into the ERA panels. The reactive armor exploded in a violent burst, the shockwave tossing the drone¡¯s remains skyward like a comet. Alduin ignored the fiery debris, his focus narrowing on Fransisco. He raised his rifle again, and pulled the trigger. Fransisco saw the muzzle flash before he heard the shot. He darted to the side, every movement was careful but agile, his boots skidding against the dirt as he dove into the lower ground. The soldier who had been knocked down by the explosion gritted his teeth, his shaking hands raising his rifle. Blood streaked his face, but his aim was locked onto Fransisco. As Fransisco hopped into cover, one bullet struck true, slamming into Fransisco¡¯s tibia. A jolt of white-hot pain shot through his leg as he stumbled, his body folding mid-stride. He hit the ground hard, dust kicking up around him. But he didn¡¯t stop. Even as agony clawed at him, Fransisco rolled to the side, dragging himself behind a jagged rock just as another burst of gunfire ripped through the air. The bullets slammed into the stone, sending shards of rock flying. Fransisco pressed his back against the cover, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he assessed the situation. Blood pooled around his injured leg, soaking into the ground, but his mind stayed sharp. Alduin turned sharply, his piercing gaze locking onto Ezra¡ªbut it was too late. Ezra hurtled toward him like a bullet, his knife catching the faint gleam of moonlight. A savage roar ripped from his throat as the blade sliced through the air toward its mark. Alduin reacted instinctively, raising his rifle just in time. The knife screeched against the metal body of the gun, sparks flying. He lashed out with a brutal kick, slamming his boot into Ezra¡¯s injured abdomen. The impact sent a shockwave of pain through Ezra¡¯s body, tearing a scream from his lips. His fingers loosened, and the knife clattered to the ground. Ezra staggered back, clutching his stomach, his breath ragged. But his eyes never left Alduin. Gritting his teeth, he dropped low, his hand scrabbling through the dirt. With a swift motion, he hurled a handful of sharp pebbles and dust straight at Alduin¡¯s face. Alduin didn''t flinch thanks to his visor. But the pebbles indeed obscured his vision, despite only for seconds. Ezra didn¡¯t wait for an opening; he reached into his vest, his fingers finding the cold metal of a flashbang. Pulling the pin, he bolted forward, his steps swift and reckless. ¡°One.¡± He growled under his breath, his boots pounding the ground. Alduin¡¯s vision cleared just enough to catch the movement. He leveled his HK 417, the muzzle tracking Ezra¡¯s approach. ¡°Two¡­ three.¡± Ezra counted, closing the distance. He zigzagged, dodging left and right as the barrel followed him. ¡°Four.¡± His voice rasped as Alduin squeezed the trigger. Ezra dropped into a slide, the rifle¡¯s gunshot deafening as bullets carved through the air above him. ¡°Five!¡± Ezra roared, tossing the flashbang upward in a high arc. Alduin¡¯s eyes widened. He twisted to track the grenade as it sailed through the air, its metallic shell glinting like a falling star. ¡°Six.¡± Ezra threw his hands over his eyes just as the flashbang detonated. The world erupted in a blinding burst of white light, a thunderous crack splitting the night. Alduin staggered back, a guttural scream escaping his throat as his hands clawed at his face. He immediately squeezed the trigger, firing his rifle uncontrollably, bullets shredding into the sky, the recoil jerking the weapon violently until the chamber clicked empty. Ezra surged forward, scooping up the knife he had dropped. He closed the gap in two quick strides, his heartbeat pounding like a war drum. With a fierce cry, he drove the blade into Alduin¡¯s abdomen. The knife sank deep, and Alduin¡¯s breath hitched, a strangled grunt of pain escaping his lips. His grip on the rifle slackened, the weapon slipping from his fingers and thudding to the ground. Ezra didn¡¯t hesitate. He twisted the knife viciously before yanking it free, blood sprayed out. Adrenaline intoxicated Ezra. He immediately threw his full weight into Alduin, tackling him to the ground. They hit the dirt hard, a tangle of limbs and raw fury. Alduin swung a wild punch, his knuckles grazing Ezra¡¯s jaw. Ezra retaliated with a sharp elbow strike to Alduin¡¯s temple. With desperate gasps for air, they grappled against each other, their hands clawing and gripping in a brutal battle for dominance. Alduin surged forward, his strength momentarily overwhelming as he locked Ezra into a crushing chokehold. Ezra¡¯s vision darkened, his body buckling under the pressure. But a spark of defiance lit his gaze. Summoning every ounce of strength, he drove his elbow into Alduin¡¯s ribs, loosening the hold just enough. With a feral roar, he twisted free and slammed his knee into Alduin¡¯s wounded abdomen. Alduin¡¯s pained cry echoed across the battlefield, but he didn¡¯t falter. Blood smeared across his face, his eyes wild with rage. Ezra''s knife in his hand gleamed as he thrust it downward, aiming for Ezra¡¯s heart. Ezra¡¯s instincts screamed. He caught Alduin¡¯s wrist just in time, the blade hovering inches from his chest. Their muscles strained, both men locked in a deadly stalemate. Sweat and blood slicked their grips, their breaths mingling in ragged bursts. Then the unmistakable whir of rotors tore through the night, growing louder with every passing second. Both men froze, their heads snapping upward as a Westland Lynx helicopter roared into view at full speed, its searchlight slicing through the darkness. The ground vibrated beneath them, the downdraft kicking up a storm of dust and debris. Their breaths hitching in unison as the thunderous roar of rotors filled the air. ¡°Hold on!!!¡± The pilot¡¯s voice crackled through the comms, raw with adrenaline. Sweat dripped down his face as he yanked the joystick upward, nearly slamming it into his chest. His trembling hands gripped the controls like a lifeline while his boots slammed against the right rudder pedal, locking it into place. The Westland Lynx spun violently, its body twisting in a cyclone of raw power. ¡°Woo-hoo!!!!!!¡± Carina¡¯s screams were swallowed by the deafening roar. Her hair whipped wildly in the cabin as she braced herself against the crushing G-force. The world outside the windows blurred into streaks of chaos, but the pilot¡¯s focus was razor-sharp. With a deft flick of the pilot¡¯s wrist, the Lynx performed a death-defying kickflip, its engines roaring like an untamed beast. The helicopter completed a full vertical 180-degree rotation, its sleek frame defying gravity. As the rotors stabilized, the pilot slammed the joystick forward and to the right, his thumb pressing down hard on the trigger. The hardpoints released their deadly payload in unison. Four BGM-71 TOW anti-tank guided missiles streaked toward their target, leaving trails of white-hot fury in their wake. The first missile struck dead accurately, detonating on impact. The explosive reactive armor (ERA) on the tank¡¯s surface erupted, shrapnel tearing through the surrounding air. Before the dust could settle, the second missile slammed above the side skirt, tearing through the tank¡¯s reinforced plating as if it were paper. Inside the tank, the crew¡¯s screams were drowned out by the deafening roar of destruction. Flames surged through the cabin, consuming everything in their path. Superheated air filled the compartments, cooking the driver and gunner alive. Their shadows were etched briefly against the inferno before being obliterated in a storm of metal and fire. The third and fourth missiles hit in rapid succession. The tank¡¯s ammunition stores ignited, triggering a chain reaction. The explosion ripped the turret clean off its chassis, sending it hurtling skyward like a flaming comet. Secondary detonations followed as the other munitions cooked off, launching deadly projectiles in every direction. The night lit up as missiles spiraled through the air, exploding mid-flight like a macabre fireworks display. Ezra and Alduin barely had time to react. The shockwave hit them like a freight train, throwing them off their feet. They scrambled desperately, leaping away from the tank just as the turret rocketed past, a flaming blur in their periphery. The ground shook with relentless force as debris rained down around them. Ezra¡¯s ears rang, the high-pitched whine drowning out the chaos, his face coated in grime and sweat. He turned to face the carnage. The tank¡¯s smoldering remnants lay scattered across the battlefield, a monument to utter annihilation. Flames licked hungrily at the twisted metal, while smoke spiraled into the night sky like a signal to the gods of war. The acrid stench of burning fuel and flesh hung heavy in the air, choking the life out of the surroundings. And yet, amidst the destruction, there was an eerie, surreal beauty. The spiraling embers, the flickering firelight, and the echo of the turret¡¯s ascent. Ezra¡¯s chest tightened, not from fear, but from the raw, overwhelming power of what he had just witnessed. Carina didn¡¯t hesitate. The helicopter door swung open, and she leapt out, her boots slamming into the dirt as she sprinted toward Ezra. He sprawled on the dirt, still alive but dying. With every ounce of strength, she grabbed him by the collar and began dragging him to safety, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Above them, the other soldier aboard the Lynx yanked the .50 cal machine gun into position. With a guttural shout, he unleashed hell. The massive rounds ripped through the air, slamming into the Architect¡¯s shimmering shield like a relentless storm. Sparks flew, but the barrier held strong, mocking their efforts with its unyielding defiance. The Architect didn¡¯t flinch, her dark silhouette standing ominously behind the barrier. The bullets ricocheted harmlessly, the roar of the gunfire drowned out by the hum of her impenetrable shield. Fransisco emerged from cover, his face set with grim determination. Immediately, he hurled his drones forward. The first drone struck the shield, sending a pulse of energy rippling across its surface. The once-blue glow shifted to yellow. The second drone hit moments later, turning the shield a fiery orange. The third crashed into it with explosive force, the barrier flickering to a volatile red. The final drone screamed through the air, detonating on impact. The explosion was deafening, a blinding flash engulfing the Architect, summed up with her own shield explosion. When the smoke cleared, her shield was gone, its remains dissipating into the ether. ¡°Now!¡± Maxwell¡¯s voice boomed. His Barrett M82 raised with precision. He took aim while walking forward, then pulled the trigger. The massive rifle¡¯s muzzle flashing as round after round slammed into the Architect. Each shot rocked her frame, forcing her to stagger under the onslaught. The gunner above doubled down, the .50 cal roaring. Rounds tore through the air, raining destruction upon the now-exposed Architect. Every impact sent shards of her garments flying, the once-imposing figure beginning to falter under the relentless assault. The machine gunner above roared as he held the trigger down, the barrel turning red from overheating. The combined firepower of the team overwhelmed her, forcing her to her knees. ¡°Hare Leap.¡± She muttered while under barrage. Her voice was eerily calm. Without warning, she propelled herself forward, an unrelenting force sprinting toward the helicopter. Her movements were almost inhuman, each step closing the distance with terrifying speed. ¡°Mishka! Climb! Climb!¡± The gunner¡¯s voice cracked with panic as he unleashed another barrage of bullets, desperate to stop her. But she was relentless, weaving through the hail of gunfire with unnatural precision, her poleaxe was held like a reaper¡¯s scythe. Mishka¡¯s hands fumbled on the controls, his fingers trembling as he yanked the joystick back. The helicopter groaned, its rotors straining against gravity. The craft began to lift, but the Architect approached faster. The Architect leapt, her bloodied form a blur as she closed the final gap. With one devastating swing, her poleaxe cleaved through the tail boom. Sparks erupted as metal groaned, the severed section spiraling away like a dying bird. The helicopter lurched violently, spinning out of control. Mishka¡¯s breath caught in his throat as alarms blared, the cockpit¡¯s red lights casting an ominous glow. ¡°Hold on!¡± He roared, gripping the controls desperately. But gravity was unforgiving. The craft tilted, its body succumbing to the chaos. The gunner was thrown against the wall, his cries drowned by the deafening roar of the failing engine. ¡°Brace!¡± Mishka shouted, his voice barely audible over the cacophony. The ground rushed up to meet them. The helicopter slammed into the earth. The propellers shattered, jagged pieces of metal scattering like shrapnel. The fuel tank ruptured, igniting in an explosive burst of flames that engulfed the wreckage. The air filled with the acrid stench of burning metal and fuel. Mishka coughed, his lungs searing as smoke poured into the cockpit. The machine gunner lay crumpled amidst the twisted debris, unmoving. Carina¡¯s arms trembled as she hauled Ezra¡¯s limp body toward the shattered remains of the school building. Behind them, the inferno raged, its flames licking at the heavens like the breath of an unholy beast. Ezra¡¯s heavy-lidded eyes fluttered open. Through the pain, he glimpsed the chaos behind him. The world had become a sea of fire. The helicopter was nothing more than a charred skeleton, the tank a smoldering husk. The silhouettes of Alduin and the pilot emerged briefly from the blaze, staggering to their feet before darting off in opposite directions, swallowed by the shadows. And the Architect? Gone. No trace of her amidst the carnage, as if she had evaporated into the flames, leaving only dread in her wake. ¡°Stay with me, Ezra.¡± Carina urged, her voice cracking as she tightened her grip on him. His head lolled against her shoulder, his breath shallow and uneven. The roaring blaze painted the night sky in hues of orange and red, but for Ezra, the colors began to fade. The firelight dimmed, replaced by an encroaching darkness that crept in from the edges of his vision. But the weight of exhaustion and injury was too much. The night sky stretched above him, vast and unyielding, as the stars blinked out one by one. The world blurred, its edges softening as darkness enveloped him. The last thing he saw was Carina¡¯s determined expression, framed by the flickering glow of the inferno. And then, nothing. The darkness swallowed him whole, silent and complete. 10 - An unusual day It was dark. The boy¡¯s face was obscured by strands of his disheveled bangs, damp with sweat. The oppressive blackness wrapped around him like a shroud. A faint stir in his chest jolted him awake. This boy was Ezra. His eyelids fluttered, but all he could see was an impenetrable void. He sat there, breathing in stale air that carried a metallic tang. Each rasp echoed in the emptiness around him, sharp and grating. Then, without warning, light erupted, slashing through the darkness. A sterile, blinding white seared his half-closed eyes. He winced, instinctively shielding his face with an arm. The light buzzed faintly, like angry insects in a swarm. As his vision adjusted, shapes began to emerge from the haze. The boy was kneeling on a floor slick with grime, his hands pressed into its sticky surface. Around him, rusted metal walls stretched upward, streaked with grime and dark streaks that resembled dried blood. A thick duct pipe ran along the ceiling above, leaking dark sludge that dripped rhythmically onto the floor. Ahead, the scene shifted into something absurd, almost grotesque. A mountain of CRT monitors loomed, their warped glass screens stacked haphazardly. Some crackled with static, while others flickered erratically, casting harsh light across the room. There was a knife stabbed in one of them. The monitors hissed faintly, their surfaces whispering unintelligibly. The boy''s stomach churned. Beneath the heap of screens lay discarded cables and random objects, untouched for what seemed like centuries. Mold crept along the walls and ceiling, its earthy stench filling the stagnant air. Tiny spores floated in the light, glinting like dust motes. A low deep voice rumbled, shattering the silence. [Greetings.] Ezra lifted his head and looked at the CRT monitors again. ¡°It¡¯s you¡­¡± [Surprised?] ¡°More to confused. Why didn¡¯t I end up here every time I died?¡± [Because not every termination warrants relocation; preservation of efficiency.] ¡°Then, why now?¡± [I have questions. Questions only you can answer.] ¡°What do you want to know?¡± [How¡¯s the world? Beyond what you expected, isn¡¯t it?] Ezra¡¯s gaze dropped to the floor. ¡°Yeah¡­ It¡¯s¡­ overwhelming.¡± [Overwhelming, indeed. But tell me¡ªdoes it feel better than your past life?] Ezra stayed silent for a moment, his fingers curling into fists against the sticky floor. ¡°Sometimes. But other times¡­ it¡¯s just another kind of pain.¡± [Honest. That¡¯s good. Pain is what binds you to this place, isn¡¯t it? The desire to endure, to fight.] Ezra¡¯s head tilted back, his eyes meeting the flickering screens. ¡°What does it matter to you?¡± [Everything matters. Do you think you¡¯ve escaped the cycle of your past life simply because this one has no end?] ¡°I don¡¯t care about the cycle. The past is gone. Why should I waste time thinking about it?¡± [Because it¡¯s eroding you. Piece by piece. Each death strips more away. Memories, identity, purpose. You¡¯ve died too many times within a week. Half of what made you who you were is gone in within 3 days.] Ezra¡¯s jaw clenched. ¡°So what? I don¡¯t need the past to survive.¡± [Is survival all you seek? What about meaning? Connection?] ¡°Meaning¡­¡± Ezra¡¯s voice faltered. ¡°I¡¯m still here, aren¡¯t I? That¡¯s enough.¡± [For now. But what happens when the void inside you grows too large to ignore? When the memories you¡¯ve lost are the ones you need most?] ¡°You¡¯re saying I should care, but you don¡¯t even tell me why I¡¯m here.¡± Ezra shot back, his voice rising. ¡°What do you want from me?¡± [Reflection, Ezra. Growth. The world you¡¯ve been thrust into isn¡¯t just a battlefield. It¡¯s a crucible. Each choice you make, each life you take or spare, shapes the person you¡¯re becoming.]Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°And if I don¡¯t like who I become?¡± [Then change.] Ezra lowered his head, his breath steadying. The voice¡¯s words echoed in his mind. ¡°Is that all?¡± [For now. But heed this, Ezra. Every end is a beginning. And every choice you make will ripple through the void.] *** Ezra stirred, the first thing registering in his mind was the faint hum above him. Pale light spilled from the overhead lamp, its stark glow sharp against the sterile white ceiling. He blinked against it, his lashes catching faint flecks of dust in the air. The air here was dense¡ªnot stifling, but with a faintly metallic tang, like the scent after a storm. His limbs ached, but not painful. It was lulling him to sink deeper into the cot beneath him. He blinked again, his hand lifting slowly into view. The pale light cast soft shadows over his fingers, stretching and swaying as he flexed them. His skin was unmarred, whole¡ªas if the battle, the chaos, the fire¡ªhad been nothing but a fever dream. He studied his palm, searching for something amiss. But no answers came. The soft murmurs of the room began to fill his ears, sharpening gradually like tuning into a frequency. Ezra turned his head, the motion slow, almost hesitant. The sight to his left brought an odd sense of familiarity. Peter lay sprawled across his cot, one arm flung over his face, his chest rising and falling steadily. Beside him, Franklin snored quietly, his head lolling against the wall in a way that seemed both uncomfortable but natural. Ezra¡¯s gaze lingered on Oliver. He was already awake, sitting at the edge of his stretcher. His shoulders hunched as he stared at the floor, his fingers absently tracing circles against the cot¡¯s frame. The stillness in him was heavy, like unspoken thoughts weighing him down. Ezra thought to call out but stopped himself. The air between them felt sacred, a fragile moment not meant to be disturbed. To his right, Stan was slumped against the wall, head tilted back, his lips parted slightly in sleep. His face looked oddly serene in the harsh light, as if he¡¯d found a rare respite from the madness. Then there was Joshua. Awake and alert. His shotgun was balanced delicately across his lap, his hands moving with practiced precision. Sandpaper brushed against the barrel in rhythmic strokes, the soft scrape filling the room with a quiet sense of order. The metal gleamed even in the low light, though Ezra doubted it needed any more polishing. The ritual itself seemed to calm him, to anchor him. Ezra¡¯s eyes roamed further, taking in the space. This place was familiar. Too familiar. ¨CIt was just the school''s sickbay. The fabric was rough against Ezra''s skin, but it cradled him with a strange sense of belonging, like returning to a place you didn¡¯t know you missed. A chill rippled through him, subtle but enough to make him shiver. ¡°Did I die again?¡± The words slipped from his lips, too quiet to carry beyond himself. He stared at his hand again, flipping it over, watching the play of light on his knuckles and the faint lines of his palm. It was the same hand, but it felt different somehow¡ªweightless, almost unreal. Ezra let his head sink back against the pillow, his body relaxing against the cot¡¯s uneven surface. The hum of the room wrapped around him like a blanket, muffling the sharper edges of his thoughts. He exhaled slowly, his eyelids growing heavy, the faint buzz of Joshua¡¯s sandpaper and the rhythmic snores around him creating a strange kind of lullaby. Time here didn¡¯t flow the way it did in the real world. Minutes could stretch into hours, or maybe it was the other way around. ¡­ The next day unfolded in a blur of movement and chatter, the kind that carried an odd familiarity. Ezra found himself walking alongside Oliver, the buzz of conversation from the group ahead weaving into the steady rhythm of their footsteps. They trailed slightly behind, voices low as they recounted the chaos of the last battle. The path to the canteen was lined with sunlight streaming through wide windows, illuminating the scuffed floor beneath their shoes. When they stepped inside, the scene before them felt almost surreal. The high school canteen was a hive of energy, filled with the clatter of trays and the low hum of voices. Four large tables had been pulled together in the center, forming a makeshift banquet setup. Platters of food sat like a centerpiece, steam curling upward, carrying the savory aromas of gravy, fried fish, and freshly baked bread¡ªthere was more food than just that. Ezra paused, his gaze sweeping over the spread. It was disarmingly normal¡ªcomfort food, the kind that belonged in a pub or a family dinner, not in a place like this. He reached for a plate almost instinctively, sliding it toward himself. Mashed potatoes, smooth and golden, glistened under a sheen of butter. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve seen mashed potatoes.¡± He muttered, his voice almost lost in the lively din. Oliver chuckled, his lips quirking into a half-smile as he scooped some onto his own plate. ¡°Europe.¡± He said simply, a note of nostalgia in his tone. Peter slid in beside them, jabbing a finger at the trays. ¡°We¡¯ve got Japanese stuff too.¡± He said, voice light with mock disdain. ¡°But don¡¯t expect rice to be a staple.¡± ¡°Japanese food is a tragedy in this place. Must be the chef.¡± He added, shaking his head. Joshua, perched across the table, snorted. ¡°You think you¡¯re Gordon Ramsay now?¡± The banter flowed naturally, a current of voices and laughter that rippled around Ezra. He tuned them out after a moment, his gaze wandering. Carina sat a few seats away, poised and unbothered, slurping udon with quiet focus. The noodles coiled around her chopsticks, the broth steaming in her bowl. Ezra''s brow furrowed slightly as he watched her. She had paid for the entire feast, yet she acted as though it was nothing, as though it wasn¡¯t remarkable. His thoughts lingered on her briefly before drifting again. The room buzzed with life, a mosaic of faces, some familiar, others new. Around them, the canteen walls seemed freshly painted, the faint scent of varnish lingering in the air. Outside the tall windows, the dormitories stood tall, pristine and untouched, as if the chaos from yesterday had been little more than a fleeting dream. Ezra let his fork hover over his plate. The dormitories, demolished just a day ago, now stood tall once more, pristine as if nothing had ever touched them. The wreckage from the tank, the helicopter, even the drones? Gone. Craters from the howitzers? Wiped clean. No rubble, no scars left behind. The world here obeyed a different set of rules, and yet no one seemed to question it. Laughter erupted to his right, jolting him from his thoughts. Stan mopped his brow with the sleeve of his jacket, grinning as he downed a mouthful of food. Beside him, Franklin had slung a lazy arm over Maxwell¡¯s shoulder, pulling him into a lighthearted exchange. Across the table, Peter and Joshua were locked in an eating contest, shoveling bowls of beef stroganoff into their mouths with wild abandon. Empty bowls began to stack between them, a testament to their determination. Ezra couldn¡¯t help the faint tug of amusement at the sight. Carina¡¯s words echoed in his mind: You know, A World Where We Can Relax for a Bit Before Reincarnating Again. Yeah, right. I''d love to put a bullet through her skull for that lie. Unironically, they were living now¡ªlaughing, eating, and existing without the burdens they once carried. Yet even in this warmth, there was a distance. Ezra felt like a spectator, caught between moments, watching it all unfold from the edges. His fork clinked against his plate as he pushed it aside, his appetite waning. His mind drifted, thoughts tangled with fragments of yesterday¡¯s battle. The Architect, the enemy team, the chaos of bullets¡ªit all blurred together in his memory. It¡¯s like a game, He thought, staring blankly at the uneaten fish on his plate. It doesn¡¯t matter if we die. ¡°Still¡­ I¡¯m only buying time.¡± He murmured to himself, the words barely audible. The table erupted in laughter again, louder this time. Ezra blinked, his focus snapping back to the present. Oliver was grinning, mischief lighting up his face as he shook a can of soda and cracked it open, spraying the group beside him. A shriek of protest rang out, followed by Joshua retaliating with a flung bowl of stroganoff. The creamy sauce splattered across Peter¡¯s face, drawing roars of laughter from everyone nearby. Before Ezra could react, Oliver clapped a hand on his shoulder, leaning in to say something. The words were lost in the noise, but the warmth of the gesture lingered. Ezra nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he picked up his fork again. The noise around him swirled¡ªa symphony of voices and laughter. He wasn¡¯t part of the uproar, but he didn¡¯t feel apart from it either. He let himself settle into the moment, the vibrant energy washing over him. And still, beneath it all, the question lingered, quiet and persistent in the back of his mind. Why am I here? 11 - Another Perspective The room hummed with quiet energy. Some leaned against walls or perched on tables, trading jokes and stories in hushed tones, their laughter breaking through the low murmur from time to time. Others moved in pairs, looking over gear or tending to gadgets in one manner or another. At one corner, one figure swayed to an unheard beat; his feet tapped out a continuous rhythm against the worn floorboards. He moved with fluidity, a series of rhythmical dances that were abstract and from another world of his own. At the other end of the hall, three men squabbled over a deck of scuffed cards, their raucous voices just audible enough to cause a tide of mirth to eddy around the listeners. The air was the faint scent of gun oil and sweat mingling with the sharp tang of metal from stacks of dismantled weapons. It wasn''t noisy, but the constant shifting of bodies and the occasional scrape of boots against the floor created a kind of background hum that made the quiet feel alive. None of them wore matching uniforms but were instead clad in mismatched, casual layers intended to be hidden beneath their armor-thin undershirts, tactical pants, and sturdy boots. The door banged open, silencing the chatter for a moment. A tall man strode in; no words were said, but his presence was commanding. Sunglasses perched on his nose glinted under the dim ceiling light, obscuring his expression, but his easy grin was unmistakable. His neatly styled black hair looked like it hadn''t moved an inch since he walked out of a barbershop. Slung across his broad, tan-brown arms were a handful of assault rifles, their sleek, black barrels gleaming like predators in the faint light. His muscular forearms strained slightly under the weight, veins pulsing like taut cords beneath his skin. The faint clink of metal accompanied each step, punctuating his confident stride. "Hey!" He called out, his voice rich and slightly gravelly. "I have some new guns for you to try out!" Conversations paused, heads turned, and even the dancing figure stopped mid-spin to glance over. A murmur of interest rippled through the room as eyes zeroed in on the weapons, their weighty promise cutting through the lighthearted air like the first crack of thunder before a storm. The man reputed to be the boss - Alduin - sat at the far end of the room, hunched over a table littered with cartridges and empty magazines. His gloved hands slid the.308 Winchester rounds into the 20-round magazine as though he had done this a thousand times. Four magazines, fully loaded, aligned nicely beside him, shining under the poor overhead light. A fifth was almost full. Despite the office''s cramped, slightly humid air, Alduin remained in his signature attire: the hood wide over his shoulders, casting a shadow so deep that half his face was swallowed by darkness, and beneath it, his mask firmly in place. ¡°The AC is broken.¡± A voice came from the corner, cutting through the room¡¯s quiet hum. ¡°You don¡¯t want to damage that mask again, boss.¡± The speaker wasn''t a really intimidating man¡ªChubby face and prey eyes. For some reason, his personality was quite the opposite. The response was immediate and explosive. Alduin slammed the freshly loaded magazine onto the table that made the cartridges rattle. Rising from his chair, he flung the magazine at the corner with startling accuracy. ¡°Shut your dirty mouth up, ballsack!¡± Alduin roared, his voice like thunder in the confined space. The man in the corner dodged the flying magazine. ¡°Do you think I¡¯ll just forget what happened after that suicide drone blasted your damn head off?! Huh?!¡± The room fell dead silent. All conversations ceased; all idle movements froze. All eyes turned to Alduin. The others instinctively straightened, their postures snapping to attention as if Alduin''s anger was a physical force that demanded respect. But through all the tension, one was unbothered. Rocky, who sat several feet away and halfway through refilling his own magazine, cast a sideways glance in the commotion''s direction. His gaze held for a half-second on Alduin before he rolled his eyes and continued working, saying something under his breath. The man who''d just entered the room¡ªa stout figure with rifles slung over his shoulders¡ªfroze mid-step. Wordlessly, he quickly laid the guns down beside the door, straightened his uniform, and leaned back against the wall. Alduin''s grip on the magazine tightened, his knuckles white as veins bulged against his skin. His forearm shook with the effort of restraint in holding his frustration back. The memory of that fight was so alive in his mind, he had Ezra right in his sights, kill certain, and yet. the Lynx had interfered. He could still hear the hum of the hostile drone, feel the bitter sting of failure gnawing at his pride. His gaze remained fixed on the desk, as if staring hard enough might rewrite the past. Around him, the whispers began-soft, almost imperceptible murmurs shared between the others. Heads leaned in close, voices barely audible, yet Alduin didn''t need to hear them to know what they were saying. The man who almost got a magazine thrown at him didn''t budge, though. He stood rooted to his spot. His eyes were fixed on the floor, his mind replaying the fight. The door creaked open suddenly, and all eyes shifted toward the entrance. A figure sauntered in, drawing every gaze. The long white hair swayed with every step as red eyes gleamed bright with a mischievous light. The bunny ears atop the head twitched a little with every movement, the rest moved with feline grace, arms swinging casually at the sides. Every step of the confident catwalk seemed designed to mock the tension in the room. The person stopped just before Alduin''s desk, leaning forward with a playful smirk spread across the face. "Man, it''s just a game¡­" The person cooed, a cute girlish voice lilting in a teasing melody. "Don''t be so hard on yourself, okay~?" The room drew in one tense breath, before every pair of eyes flickered from the bunny-eared intruder back to Alduin. The tension had reached critical levels before his words finally sliced through it like a knife. ¡°What the fuck?¡± One man whispered, his voice barely audible but sharp enough to cut. Before anyone could intervene, Alduin''s hand darted into his pocket, drawing a pistol in a fluid motion. Without hesitation, he aimed low and fired. The bullet hissed through the air, skimming dangerously close to the white-haired intruder''s crotch but missing the mark. Their breath hitched. Immediately, Alduin''s aim shifted, and he squeezed the trigger again. The second shot didn''t miss. The intruder''s head snapped back, crimson blooming from the impact. The body crumpled to the floor, blood spreading like ink on paper. The room froze as every breath was caught in every chest and every eye shut tight from the deafening gunshot that reverberated across the narrow space. But Alduin wasn''t done. He emptied the rest of the magazine into the intruder''s forehead. Each shot punctuated by the metallic crack of the slide. The others winced, eyes squeezed shut, ears ringing from the relentless gunfire. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. When the last shell casing clinked onto the floor, Alduin stood motionless, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. He tilted his head, his gaze blank as he pressed the warm muzzle of the gun against his own temple. And then¡ªhe pulled the trigger. Click. The empty chamber echoed hollowly. Slowly, the others opened their eyes, their faces pale, their breathing shaky. Alduin remained where he was, sweat trickling down his forehead as his breaths came in short, labored bursts. His hand holding the gun trembled slightly, the anger in his eyes now replaced by something indescribable. Nobody dared move. Nobody dared speak. Arwan lifted the rifles, carrying them to Alduin''s desk. He did not say a word; his expression was stoic as he placed the weapons carefully in front of his boss. Then, he tossed a small silver key to the man near a safe. Arya caught it in mid-air and turned to that safe immediately. The characteristic click of the lock sounded across the room as the heavy door creaked open. Inside, the arsenal gleamed under the faint light-an assortment of finely crafted weapons lined meticulously, as if on display in some private collection. Each had its own set of accessories: high-grade sights, ergonomic grips, collapsible stocks, and silencers arranged neatly in their slots. Alduin''s voice cut through the silence, low and commanding. "Arwan, Arya, Rocky, Reese, Vega, Pharrell, Rafael, Danny, Hassan, Hans Edward, He listed, his tone sharp. He paused for the briefest of moments, letting the weight of his words settle over the room. "Man your weapons." "Yes, sir!" The response came in unison, like a drumbeat, loud and resolute. The men in question moved, stepping forward to claim their assigned firearms. Inside the box, an exceptional array of weapons was arranged, each a testament to their purpose. The AAC Honey Badger Assault Rifle gleamed bright in the light, his frame compact, promising both agility and firepower. The long-barreled KAC M110 Designated Marksman Rifle lay beside it, exuding confidence as if it would get its targets from afar. The P90 sat ready for action, its bullpup design distinctive, its compact shape promising a quick draw in tight situations. Two OA-93 pistols were laid next to it, sleek and minimalist, their modern lines drawing the eye. The Winchester M1887, with its classic wooden stock, stood out-a piece that felt as much a part of history as it was a weapon, the smooth action inviting memories of old westerns. The 40mm Milkor MGL Revolving Grenade Launcher was lying there ominously, its multiple chambers hinting at chaos just waiting to be unleashed. Two Desert Eagles gleamed with polished metal, their weight promising a serious impact, while the Koch USP added a sense of reliability, its grip familiar and comforting. The Schmidt M1882 revolver sat proudly nearby, its artfully patterned form a contrast to the utterly modern pieces. The AA12 shotgun was all intimidating bulk, promising unrelenting firepower; the M1870 Italian Vetterli represented the classic bolt-action sniper rifle, promising quiet precision from a distance. And at the very rear, there was the HK-417. Everybody did, reaching for weapons of choice. But Alduin himself took the HK-417 for himself. *** Ezra walked down the dark hallway; his footsteps echoed against the tile floor. The air felt heavier the closer he got to the principal''s office. He stopped in front of the door, his hand hovering over the cold metal handle. Above the door, a faded hanging sign said Principal''s Office. He looked to his back. The window that he flew out of was open. Ezra closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the stale air of the corridor. "Only one God exists." He muttered under his breath, as if the words were some sort of talisman. Slowly, he pressed the handle down. The mechanism clicked softly, and he nudged the door open, his body tensing as though bracing for an explosion. Nothing. The room beyond was whole, no sudden blasts or hidden traps. Ezra exhaled a breath he hadn''t realized he''d been holding. Stepping cautiously into the office, his eyes were immediately drawn to the glow of a projector illuminating the far wall. The screen displayed nothing but a blank, black rectangle. Carina sat at the desk, her posture as casual as her expression was sharp. Her chair was reclined, her legs crossed, and her boot heels perched on the edge of the desk while the faint sheen on her leather caught the projector''s glow. Her fingers were tapping out a time on the armrest as though accompanied by an unheard cadence. Ezra¡¯s gaze darted around the room. A few of Carina¡¯s team stood nearby, their attention focused on the conversation before them. ¡°Anything new?¡± Carina asked, her voice smooth but with an undertone of impatience. ¡°Yes. The Obsidian Compass. We¡¯ve detected it using the gravity sensor.¡± The young man¡¯s voice replied. Carina leaned forward slightly, the change in posture making her appear even more commanding. The glow from the projector highlighted the sharp lines of her face, her eyes narrowing as she considered the words. ¡°Good.¡± She said, dragging the word out like a verdict. ¡°Any other details?¡± ¡°We¡¯re still triangulating its exact location. Current error margin is approximately four cubic kilometers. Once we¡¯ve pinpointed it, you¡¯ll be the first to know.¡± ¡°Alright.¡± Carina replied, leaning back again, her heels gently placed against the desk as she resumed her earlier position. The screen flickered as the call disconnected, the projector¡¯s light turning a dull blue. Ezra lingered near the doorway, hesitant to interrupt. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the projector¡¯s fan. Then, Carina tilted her head slightly, finally noticing him. ¡°Oh, Hi Ezra.¡± She said without looking directly at him. Ezra straightened instinctively, as though he¡¯d been caught eavesdropping. ¡°Oh-I, uh¡­ just wanted to report in.¡± ¡°Please come in and close the door.¡± Carina replied. Ezra immediately walked inside and closed the door. He then just stood in front of the door. ¡°Stan, your reports please.¡± Carina ordered. ¡°Yes. According to our supply crew, our munitions and guns are running low. Estimated munition sufficiency is just until 2 battles.¡± Stan answered, reading the list in the book he was holding. ¡°Since we got a new guy here, shouldn''t we give him some new guns too?¡± Adit suggested too. ¡°You''re right.¡± Carina took her heels off the table, pressed a certain button on her laptop as the projector shifted the image into an underground tunnel. ¡°This afternoon, we will start Operation Hunter Killer!¡± Ezra suddenly began to tremble, as he mumbled the word ¡°Hunter Killer¡±, the first thing that came into his mind was a submerged nuclear submarine firing torpedoes into another submerged nuclear submarine. ¡°What''s wrong, Ezra?¡± Oliver asked him. ¡°Ah, I''m actually seasick so I guess I''ll pa¡ª¡± Ezra tried to answer him. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Carina cut him off. ¡°We''re going to the underground mine.¡± ¡°Oh, underground mine, thank God!¡± Ezra exclaimed in relief, then took his words back again. ¡°Underground?!¡± ¡°How stupid¡­¡± Davin muttered as he was assembling more Hunter Killer Drones. ¡°We call it Subterranean Layer 7.¡± Carina began, her tone matter-of-fact. ¡°It¡¯s located 7,000 meters below the surface. That¡¯s where we store and research our blueprints and weapons.¡± ¡°Like a bunker for valuable stuff?¡± Ezra asked, tilting his head slightly. ¡°More than just a bunker.¡± Carina¡¯s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ¡°One sheet of R&D down there is worth more than the entire location.¡± Ezra frowned. ¡°What if the enemy finds out about it?¡± ¡°Then it becomes a race.¡± Carina crossed her arms. ¡°Fortunately, the trap systems and the sheer depth of the place are enough to discourage most from even trying.¡± She pulled out her phone and tapped a number, bringing it to her ear. After a brief moment, someone picked up. ¡°Pungkas, we¡¯re diving for the compass this afternoon. Disarm the traps.¡± ¡°Copy that. Have a safe trip.¡± Came the curt reply before the line disconnected. Carina pocketed her phone and turned back to the group. ¡°Alright, rearm and reload. We¡¯re taking everyone here.¡± Adit glanced around the room. ¡°Wait, where¡¯s Senu?¡± ¡°That idiot¡¯s probably off doing shit again.¡± Oliver muttered. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter.¡± He added. ¡°Ezra¡¯s a better rusher than him anyway.¡± ¡°By the way, Carina, who¡¯s that big guy I fought yesterday? His friends called him Alduin.¡± Ezra asked. Carina arched an eyebrow. ¡°The one with the mask covering his entire face?¡± ¡°Yeah, him.¡± ¡°People used to call him Orion.¡± She said. ¡°Orion?¡± Ezra echoed. ¡°That sounds more like a callsign than a name.¡± ¡°Haven¡¯t you realized yet?¡± Oliver interjected, suddenly appearing beside him. ¡°All of our names are pseudonyms.¡± Ezra blinked in confusion. Oliver grinned. ¡°We have real names, but we don¡¯t use them. Some of us even have more than one pseudonym.¡± Carina nodded. ¡°That¡¯s why, on your first day, I asked for your full name. You couldn¡¯t remember it, could you?¡± Ezra¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Wait¡­ so my name¡­¡± ¡°Is also your pseudonym.¡± Carina finished for him, smirking. ¡°But what about Orion''s ¡®Alduin¡¯?¡± Ezra pressed. ¡°Why would people name him after a video game character? Isn¡¯t that¡­ copyright or something?¡± Carina chuckled softly. ¡°Orion is just another pseudonym.¡± ¡°And Alduin?¡± Ezra asked again. ¡°Yes.¡± Carina and Oliver said in unison. *** Two men stood by the window, their gazes fixed on the hill beyond. The first stared quietly, his eyes lingering on the tall wall and the empty artillery howitzer perched atop it. The second man fished a lighter out of his pocket, flicking it open with practiced ease. ¡°You''re quite the smoker, huh?¡± The first man remarked, breaking the silence. The lighter''s flame flared to life, illuminating the second man¡¯s face for a brief moment. His gray-blue eyes reflected the glow as the tip of his cigarette began to burn. His short hair, thick with streaks of premature white, seemed to catch the light. ¡°Can''t help it.¡± The smoker replied, exhaling a plume of smoke. ¡°Been at it since I was young.¡± The other man wrinkled his nose. ¡°You know your lungs are turning into jerky, right, Caleb?¡± Caleb smirked, taking another drag before speaking. ¡°You should worry about yourself, Aban. If you''re standing here, inhaling my smoke, you''re not exactly winning any awards for clean living.¡± Aban waved a hand dismissively and turned back to the window, his attention shifting to the artillery reflecting sunlight. Two bot soldiers walked towards it and sat beside the artillery. The silence stretched, filled only by the faint rustling of the wind outside. Finally, Aban spoke again, his tone casual yet pointed. ¡°Danny said you were killed yesterday. Shot by some guy with an AK-47. Said you fell straight into the loader¡¯s room with a hole in your skull.¡± Caleb stiffened, his sharp gaze locking onto Aban. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Caleb opened the window, flicked his cigarette into the open air, and blew the last of the smoke into the wind, some came out of his nose. ¡°I don¡¯t recall dying.¡± He said, his voice flat but firm. Aban was undeterred. ¡°That guy who shot you¡ªbefore he used an AK, he had a shotgun. Charged in solo to take on the Architect.¡± ¡°I know him.¡± Caleb cut him off, leaning against the window frame. ¡°Great reflexes. Hitting the Architect with 11 buckshot rounds at CQB range? That''s a damn good aim. But this time, you''re rushing.¡± Aban shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. ¡°Who¡¯s stronger? You or him?¡± Caleb shot him a side eye. ¡°You tell me.¡± Aban looked to the sky, as if the drifting clouds held the answer. After a moment, he answered. ¡°If he¡¯s got that same shotgun and rushes me with every round loaded, it¡¯d be a problem.¡± Caleb leaned closer. ¡°But would you die?¡± Aban snorted, glancing at Caleb. ¡°Nah¡­I¡¯d live.¡± 12 - The Borehole The Resistance soldiers that were available in the room headed to the basement of the high school. They were armed with better and finer rifles now, and some only carried a square bag and a handgun. It was just like every other basement, a parking lot with many other ventilation systems, but it was abandoned, with water flooding the entire basement. The only path that could be used was the air duct and the railing designed for the exhaust system. The water was so viscous that dust didn''t seem to move. Carina immediately climbed to the red pipe and clung to the air duct, moving themselves to the top of the duct while crawling forward. Then the rest of them followed. ¡°You guys sure this place''s where we are heading?¡± Ezra asked, clinging on the air duct, crawling behind Adit. ¡°This is the safest entrance.¡± Rasyid answered. Whenever he crawled, the air duct shook. ¡°Man that water is so still¡­¡± Stan gasped. As they reached almost half way, they climbed out of the air duct to the top of a wall. The right side, below, was an abandoned toilet with a green floor and broken wall paintings. Then, they crawled through the wall and headed to the destroyed exhaust fan. The fan had 6 blades, the diameter looked roughly 4 feet. The cage that surrounded the fan was already destroyed by nature. As they snuck their way through the fan, they went down to a more comfortable path, though the ground was still flooded with water about as deep as their ankle. It was from a leaking drainage and manhole. ¡°Looks like the laws of nature don''t apply here.¡± Ezra said as he watched so many damaged structures leaking water. ¡°Yeah, below the surface any damaged structures don''t regen back.¡± Oliver answered him. Suddenly, everyone in front stopped as they saw the totally dark tunnel with no lightning at all. Carina walked alone into the darkness, started a flashlight, and opened a steel trapdoor. The joints cranked as she opened it. Everyone gathered around as Carina directed her flashlight into the borehole below. Even the light from the flashlight couldn''t flash the depth inside. There were no footholds, it was just a crude borehole with a few thin slippery bulging rocks. ¡°6500 meters on the drop.¡± Carina mumbled, lighting a piece of cloth and dipped it into a transparent bottle filled with alcohol, then throwing it into the hole. The fire illuminated every single inch of the hole as it faded into the distance, as everyone waited. In 40 seconds, suddenly, the sound of the bottle shattering thundered out of the entrance. ¡°No leaking gas. Safe to go.¡± Carina immediately locked a hook to the steel structure above the hole, then pulled a cable from somewhere and tied it into the hook. Immediately, she threw the end of the cable into the hole, then clung into it with her hands and feet, and slid down the hole quickly. Without waiting, the rest of them followed her down. "Oi, oi, are you guys seriously jumping in without gloves?!" Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Ezra''s voice was more shrill than he intended as he watched his friends dive into the dark hole. "Relax, princess." Oliver smirked, grabbing Ezra by the arm and yanking him forward. Together, they plummeted into the abyss. Ezra¡¯s hands latched onto the cable instinctively. His grip was so fierce his fingers turned white, but the plunge was relentless. The friction screamed between his palms and the cable. Only seconds in, his palms started to roast. "Holy SHIT!" He yelped louder than the squealing cable. He had a split second to decide between letting go, or clinging to the cable with his entire body. His face won. Skreeeetch. The cable slid mercilessly across his cheeks, turning his face redder than a tomato. "AHHHHH!" Ezra hollered, his face practically smoking. His body gave out, and he let go. He fell on Oliver''s head butt-on, as Oliver combined with Ezra''s weight fell into Rasyid. Both of them fell as their limbs flailed. Rasyid collided with Franklin, who¡¯d been blissfully unaware, staring down the hole with a smug grin... until he saw three bodies hurtling his way. Franklin barely had time to brace himself before- thud-thud-thud-CRASH¡ª Everyone barreled down the hole, screeching and yelping as they piled on top of each other. The walls echoed their misery, each shout reverberating down as one more body thudded into the heap. Finally, Carina slid down, kicking the bottle away as she landed with the ease of a gymnast. She dusted off her hands, blowing on them as they smoked faintly. Her face was annoyed. Seconds later, everyone came crashing down simultaneously like clogged toilet waste popping out. Adit had landed first, followed by Stan, then Davin, and Franklin head-first into the concrete floor. The concrete floor cracked like stone, and his skull cracked like an egg. Franklin let out a dazed groan as he tried to crawl to safety, only to spot Rasyid belly-diving right at him. ¡°No, Rasyid! NO¡ª!¡± Franklin''s scream cut through the air like a siren, and¡ªsplat¡ªRasyid nailed him right in the face. One by one, the others slipped and toppled onto Rasjid, each new addition piling onto the human tower. Rasyid twitched under the weight, half-conscious, while Franklin struggled to move even a single finger. ¡°Good grief, can you people not even fall correctly?¡± Carina sighed, shaking her head as if her friends were as organized as falling dominoes. ¡°Fall correctly?! Rasyid plummeted on me like a cow!¡± Franklin huffed, attempting to shove Rasyid off, only for him to topple right back down, crushing Franklin again. ¡°Oh, please, it wasn¡¯t me! It¡¯s this muppet Oliver!¡± Rasyid grumbled, shoving Oliver off of him. Oliver, not to be outdone, retorted, ¡°Hey, I got crushed by Ezra!¡± Ezra, nursing his red, half-cooked cheek, waved a shaky hand. ¡°Sorry, guys... the cable turned my face into, like, fried bacon." ¡°Alright, enough!¡± Carina rolled her eyes, adjusting her jacket and marching forward. ¡°Save the melodrama. Let¡¯s keep moving.¡± The rest of them continued walking as Carina began to disappear into the shadows. They walked deeper into the shaft, with the only thing that lit up the path being Carina''s flashlight. "Wait!" Carina suddenly raised her hand, her voice low and tense. "Someone¡¯s here." The beam of her flashlight landed on a lone figure standing a few paces ahead. It was Senu, dramatically posed, his head turned just slightly away, clutching a brand new KSG-12 shotgun like he was starring in his own action movie. Oliver furrowed his brows, muttering, ¡°This idiot again¡­¡± ¡°I have not accepted you as one of our members yet, Ezra!¡± Senu declared, whipping around to face him, punctuating his words with an intense pump of the shotgun. ¡°What¡¯s the point of even bothering here?¡± Franklin sighed, his patience wearing thin. ¡°He has a knack for making big deals out of the smallest things. Motherfucker could even pick a fight with his own shadow.¡± Adit replied with a shrug. ¡°Doesn¡¯t make any sense¡­¡± Carina mumbled, shaking her head. Ezra turned his head to the side, trying to look as intimidating as he could muster. ¡°I don¡¯t care whether you accept me or not.¡± "Bitch!" Senu spat, striding forward with a grin that screamed ¡°wannabe villain.¡± He lifted the muzzle, pointing it at Ezra. ¡°How about I kill you twelve times today?¡± Just as he got within four feet, ready to make some overdramatic move, something shiny caught their eye¡ªlike fate itself had decided to roll its eyes at Senu''s theatrics. Out of nowhere, a massive, spiked mace plummeted from the ceiling, crashing down directly on Senu. The spikes tore through him, his body was censored in a grotesque blur, as his fancy shotgun went flying, clattering away into the darkness. The group froze, eyes wide, watching as Senu¡¯s body swung helplessly from the mace, pinned to the wall like some brutal piece of modern art. A few loose rocks tumbled down, crashing onto what was left of him as if the cave itself was sealing his fate. There was a moment of stunned silence. Oliver muttered, "Well... guess the cave didn¡¯t accept him either.¡± ¡°Everyone! Battle position!¡± Carina exclaimed, pulling her M1911 out. All the people behind Carina immediately pulled their rifles out, pulled their charging handle and checked on the magazines. Ezra picked up Senu''s KSG and pulled the forend a little, looking at the 12 gauge shells inside the chamber door. ¡°Why are the traps still on?!¡± Franklin exclaimed, taking his machete out of his blazer. ¡°Vietnamese booby traps?¡± Ezra mumbled as he saw the mace with spikes connected to a string that was attached to the top of the shaft. Suddenly, Oliver pulled him further away from where he picked up the shotgun. Even though Ezra was at a safe distance from the trap that killed Senu. ¡°Don''t get too close with that.¡± Oliver mumbled into his ears. ¡°There are many kinds of booby traps inspired from the Vietnam War and every single one of them is active now.¡± ¡°I don''t understand, why are they still on?¡± Franklin exclaimed again. ¡°Maybe Pungkas forgot to turn it off?¡± Adit answered. Carina stood in her place, closing her eyes as she listened to the conversation while thinking of a possible answer. ¡°No!¡± She interrupted. ¡°Pungkas intentionally turned it on.¡± ¡°What?!¡± Everyone behind her exclaimed. ¡°There are 2 entrances into this shaft. One was from the school''s basement, and another one from the Northern part of the map. Overall, it''s like an U shape. But our access is the closest to the arsenal.¡± Carina answered. ¡°What''s the correlation, though?¡± Oliver asked. ¡°The second entrance had been blocked by collapsed rocks for a long time. When the rocks collapsed, Pungkas felt an earthquake. That means, the Retribution has breached into this tunnel.¡± Carina explained. ¡°God damn¡­¡± Oliver exclaimed. ¡°Pungkas did the right thing. But now it''s just a race between us and them before we get to our secret location. Let''s go!¡± Carina immediately took a step forward. ¡°Hold on! Are you planning to kill us all?¡± Franklin exclaimed. ¡°Yeah, moreover the traps are on right now. How are we supposed to walk through them?!¡± Oliver added. ¡°Do you guys remember our initial goal of entering this place?!¡± Carina yelled as she pivoted her body 180¡ã to the back. ¡°We need more weapons!¡± ¡°Damn¡­¡± Oliver mumbled. 12.5 - The Shaft They walked another ten minutes through the shaft. They began to relax, just a bit. Despite the cautious pace, they hadn¡¯t encountered any more traps. The air grew colder as the path slanted deeper, shadows stretching ominously in Carina¡¯s flashlight beam. Suddenly, Carina stopped short, raising her hand. She pressed herself against the wall, sliding sideways along a narrow strip that seemed oddly clear. The others followed, mimicking her movements. Ezra caught sight of something in the shadows beside him¡ªa deceptive paper-thin covering over the shaft floor, with dozens of punji sticks gleaming below. He could just make out a suspicious coating on the tips, probably human waste or some kind of venom. ¡°Holy shit¡­¡± Ezra whispered, inching carefully past it. ¡°How many traps are there?¡± He asked, his voice barely a breath. ¡°More than you¡¯d ever want to know about. Wouldn¡¯t want to spoil the fun, though.¡± Oliver replied with a grin that was more nervous than cocky. ¡°Fun? What''s fun about almost dying?¡± Ezra retorted. ¡°Oh, you¡¯ll find out soon enough.¡± Oliver replied ominously, chuckling as they moved on. Ezra and Oliver exchanged a few quiet words, while the rest of the group inspected each shadowy corner, searching for hidden dangers. Just as they safely walked past the trap, Carina froze in her tracks, her eyes catching something in the distance. Before she could react, Rasyid moved ahead of her, unknowingly stepping into the open. The silence shattered¡ªa single, thunderous gunshot echoed through the shaft. Rasyid staggered, clutching his abdomen as blood sprayed onto the stone floor. He collapsed, his expression frozen in shock. ¡°Sniper!¡± Adit shouted, diving into the back of an old minecart for cover. Everyone dove to the left, scrambling to line up behind Adit just as another sniper round ricocheted off the minecart, sending sparks flying and leaving Adit¡¯s ears ringing. ¡°Target hit!¡± Catra exclaimed, his tone smug as he worked the bolt of his SVLK-14, ejecting the empty bullet casing. ¡°Distance, 3,200 meters!¡± Hans confirmed, eyeing his range finder. Stan wasted no time. While the sniper focused on the minecart, he pulled Rasyid out of the line of fire, laying him on his back. Rasyid¡¯s breaths were shallow, his hands slick with blood as he clutched his wound. ¡°I¡¯m fucking dying!¡± Rasyid managed through gritted teeth, panic flashing in his eyes. ¡°Hold still¡ªI¡¯ve got this.¡± Stan whipped out a syringe and a roll of bandages, his hands moving extremely fast. He sanitized his hands, grabbed a pair of scissors, and snipped away Rasyid¡¯s shirt, exposing the wound. Immediately, he popped the cap off a syringe and jabbed it directly into the wound. ¡°Fuck man! Not right there!¡± Rasyid howled. ¡°It¡¯s fentanyl¡ªit¡¯ll kick in fast!¡± Stan replied, grimacing as Rasyid continued to groan. Meanwhile, Adit cautiously peeked around the minecart, scanning the area. His eyes fell on a narrow doorway at their two o¡¯clock, offering a possible escape route. It was tight, but they could all squeeze through if they moved quickly enough. ¡°Carina! Found a way out! Right side, two o¡¯clock!¡± Adit shouted. Carina clenched her fists, glancing back at Stan and Rasyid. ¡°Are you guys done yet?!¡± She called, preparing to make a break for the doorway. ¡°Still patching him up! You all go first!¡± Stan answered, frantically wrapping the bandage around Rasyid¡¯s midsection. ¡°We¡¯re not leaving Rasyid behind!¡± Carina barked. ¡°Everyone, buy them some time!¡± ¡°Roger that!¡± Adit took a deep breath, shouldering his rifle and firing a couple of shots back in the sniper''s direction, hoping to buy just a few more seconds. The rest of the team took defensive positions, laying down suppressive fire toward the snipers as they prepared to rush to the door. Meza leaned out from the minecart, spraying rounds wildly toward the opposing side. Franklin screamed at Rasyid''s direction. ¡°Rasyid, I need your fucking gun!¡± Immediately, Stan kicked Rasyid¡¯s OOW-Reapr towards Franklin. Franklin caught the sliding gun. He adjusted his grip, peeked around the minecart, and let loose with the light machine gun. The recoil wrestled with him as he tried to keep his aim steady, sending bullets ricocheting off rocks and walls. Adit, already armed with his AK-74M, joined the barrage, emptying his magazine alongside Franklin and Meza. Their combined spray forced the Retribution team to hunker down, bullets pinging off stones and kicking up dust everywhere.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Oi, Davin! Don¡¯t just stand there, use your rifle! Give us some cover, dammit!¡± Franklin shouted, his voice strained as he fought the recoil. With a reluctant sigh, Davin pulled out his SCAR-H, muttering under his breath as he joined the mayhem. On the opposite side, the Retribution snipers held firm. Catra peered through his scope, focusing on a muzzle flash in the chaos. In his peripheral vision, the bullets from his front stretched into the back and disappeared like stars. With a steady hand, he fired. The .408 CheyTac round screamed across the shaft, slamming straight into Adit¡¯s AK-74M, shearing the barrel in half and sending the gun clattering out of his grasp. ¡°Damn it!¡± Adit yelled, fumbling for his bag. ¡°Don¡¯t waste time grabbing another,¡± Carina barked. ¡°We don¡¯t have a second to lose!¡± Meanwhile, Irfan¡ªclad in a juggernaut suit¡ªstepped into view. His armor absorbed the scattered fire, bullets bouncing off his steel plates with dull pings. With unwavering confidence, he hefted an M249 and began advancing, laying down suppressive fire. The soldiers around him surged forward, taking cover behind him while exchanging rounds with Carina¡¯s team. Across the field, Catra dismantled his sniper rifle quickly, stowing it in a box as Hans stood by, ready to join the advancing squad. ¡°It¡¯s never-ending!¡± Ezra yelled over the din. ¡°Just hold on until they run out of bullets!¡± Oliver replied, gritting his teeth as he reloaded. Davin squinted through his SCAR-H¡¯s scope, zeroing in on the hulking juggernaut. Without hesitation, he fired off his magazine, each shot aimed for weak spots. Out of the hail of bullets, three found their mark¡ªone punched through a gap in the armor, and two more cracked the visor. The juggernaut staggered for a moment as Irfan instinctively flinched. The brief vulnerability sent a ripple of hope through Carina¡¯s team. Irfan¡¯s M249 abruptly went silent¡ªhe ran out of ammo, and in that split second, Carina saw an opening. She popped a smoke grenade, lobbing it toward the shaft ahead. It bounced and landed near the door Adit had spotted, spinning as it released a thick cloud of white smoke that billowed through the passage. ¡°Let¡¯s see if this works,¡± Davin muttered, pulling out a loitering munition. He aimed it at the juggernaut¡¯s cracked visor, just as the smoke began to fill the room. Adit raised an eyebrow. ¡°Are you sure that thing will even work?¡± Davin smirked. ¡°Heat-seeking missile. My bullet¡¯s the hottest thing around his visor right now.¡± With a quick, confident toss, he launched the drone. ¡°Counting on this!¡± As the first drone took off, Davin counted down five seconds, then launched a second. The buzzing projectiles tore through the smoke, appearing like specters to Irfan¡¯s team. Panicked, the Retribution soldiers tried to shoot them down. The bullets struck the air like CIWS projectiles, but each shot lagged behind the lightning-fast drones. The first drone hit like a comet, slamming into the juggernaut¡¯s visor. With a thunderous explosion, the visor shattered, fragments hanging loosely like a cracked windshield. Irfan¡¯s breaths were labored, his exposed face drenched in sweat. Before he could process the damage, the second drone punched through the visor, sending a cascade of shards into his eyes. In a heartbeat, the drone exploded, blasting his helmet clean off. Irfan¡¯s head snapped back, and his massive frame hit the ground with a final, resounding thud. The room fell silent as the Retribution team gaped at the juggernaut¡¯s motionless body, the half-loaded M249 lying beside him. ¡°Go! Now!¡± Carina yelled, breaking the silence as she bolted for the door. Her team sprang into action. Stan hauled Rasyid to his feet, draping Rasyid¡¯s arm over his shoulder and half-dragging him toward the escape route. As they reached the door, Rasyid shook himself free, throwing his weight into the others and stumbling through the entrance. Davin brought up the rear, casting a final glance at Irfan¡¯s fallen body before launching a third drone into the haze. Out of the smoke, Retribution soldiers scrambled for cover. But as the familiar sound echoed in the shaft again, they immediately dove left and right, hitting the ground and shielding their heads. But Catra was just a beat too slow. He spun to dodge, but the drone zeroed in and hit him square in the face. Catra¡¯s body whirled through the air, his limbs flailing in a chaotic spin before he slammed into the ground in a crumpled heap. "Shit! Not again!" Alduin yelled, scrambling to his feet. Farrel glared. "You didn''t warn us!" ¡°Just shut up and run!¡± Alduin snapped, dashing through a doorway into an iron-walled chamber. The rest of the group stumbled after him, forming a haphazard line as they caught their breath. At the far end of the room, a heavy steel door loomed, tauntingly closed. Alduin wasted no time; he launched himself shoulder-first into it. With a metallic clang, he bounced off, rubbing his shoulder in pain. ¡°Can you get it open?!¡± Daffa shouted, his voice echoing through the chamber. Alduin scowled. ¡°What am I, a locksmith?!¡± He whipped out his HK-417 and unloaded a barrage of shots into the handle. The bullets ricocheted off with no effect. Before anyone could think of an alternative, the entrance at the other end of the chamber slammed shut, and the fluorescent lights overhead buzzed to life. The low, ominous hum of machinery filled the air. Then, a wall panel shifted, and the sound of whirring gears made it clear something big¡ªand probably deadly¡ªwas moving toward them. "Down! Everyone, get down!" Alduin barked, hitting the ground like he was going for cover. In unison, the others dropped face-first onto the cold metal floor, pressing themselves as low as possible. Riza, however, had a bit of a problem. At nearly seven feet tall, he didn¡¯t exactly fit in the narrow gap between floor and ceiling. ¡°Move over!¡± Riza grunted, trying to squish himself down. His legs were sticking up at odd angles, and his shoulders were practically hugging the ceiling. Farrel snorted, trying to contain a laugh. ¡°Dude, you¡¯re like a human roadblock!¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry, next time I¡¯ll shrink myself down!¡± Riza shot back, folding his arms and trying to make himself smaller with limited success. ¡°Just¡­ flatten yourself!¡± Farrel hissed. ¡°What do you think I¡¯m trying to do?!¡± Riza¡¯s deep voice echoed in frustration as he wriggled around, knocking his knees against the walls. The machinery groaned louder, as if amused by the group''s misfortune. With no choice, Riza sprawled himself over the others, balancing awkwardly as he practically planked over everyone while the deadly sound of machinery whirred overhead. ¡°What the hell is that?!¡± Igar muttered, eyes wide as he hugged the floor. Alif fumbled for a smoke grenade, yanking the pin and tossing it toward the door. A thick cloud of smoke filled the room, but a faint red line sliced through the haze. ¡°A laser?!¡± Rocky shouted. ¡°That thing is gonna turn us into barbeque!¡± As they watched, the single red line split into five, snaking across the chamber in quick, precise movements. The lasers buzzed closer, forcing everyone into increasingly bizarre contortions to dodge them. ¡°Are you kidding me?!¡± Arya shrieked, trying to suck his stomach in as he balanced on his toes to avoid the line sweeping near his ankles. As the railings stopped at the other end, it multiplied again. Now it was not just straight lines that went from side to side, but the lines were diagonal, and both sides had them. The amount of lines was impossible for all 10 fingers to count. ¡°Are they serious?! Who designed this death trap?!¡± Daffa screamed. Alduin, ever the brave one, called out, ¡°Everyone, get to the center gap! Whatever you do, don¡¯t get diced!¡± As the lasers reset and began their approach from the opposite end, the group scrambled. The shorter members¡ªthose below 5''10"¡ªmanaged to dive and roll through the biggest openings. Even Rocky, despite his width, executed a surprisingly graceful belly flop to avoid the lasers. But Riza, at 6''3", was in real trouble. With Abyan sprawled out flat and no room left, Riza tried a desperate move. He backed up, taking a deep breath, and hurled himself toward the main door, bracing to jump through the last gap. Except his head collided hard with the low ceiling. The lasers caught up in a horrifying instant, and with a guttural scream, Riza¡¯s outline blurred into red as the beams sliced him into pieces. Alduin¡¯s face twisted in horror. He spun away, but Riza''s scream echoed in his mind. Without missing a beat, he ripped Daffa¡¯s AA-12 from his hands, unloading shot after shot at the door''s lock and hinges. Metal pinged and groaned under the barrage, and with one final, furious kick, the door buckled open. The remaining members tumbled out, crashing onto each other in a chaotic heap. Panting and disoriented, they stared at each other in disbelief. Alduin slumped against the wall, rubbing his temples and trying to catch his breath. He exhaled a long, weary sigh, muttering, ¡°Next time¡­ we take the stairs.¡± *** The Resistance stumbled into the new room, hearts racing, breaths coming in short gasps. Their clothes clung to their sweat-drenched skin, and the air felt heavy with exhaustion. Ezra leaned against the wall, scanning their new surroundings. The room was a stark contrast to the crumbling shaft¡ªthey were now surrounded by cobblestone walls, neatly arranged, almost surreal in their cleanliness compared to the rest of the labyrinth. Carina dropped to the floor, clutching her knees as she gulped in air. Stan and Rasyid slumped together nearby, Rasyid¡¯s weight pressing on Stan as both of them fought to catch their breath. As Davin entered, he felt a few pebbles tumble down onto his head. His gaze shot upward, and horror dawned on his face. The ceiling was sinking, closing in fast. "Shit! It''s a falling roof!" Adit shouted, scrambling to his feet. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell us about this?!¡± Ezra¡¯s eyes were wild, panic seeping into his voice. Adit shook his head, guilt and desperation clear. ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I forgot¡ªit''s been two years since I was last here!¡± Ezra flinched, instinctively raising his arms to shield himself. Just as the ceiling was about to crush them all, it stopped with a bone-shaking jolt. Small stones clattered to the ground, filling the room with an ominous silence. Ezra opened his eyes slowly, and his breath caught at the sight. A lone figure stood beneath the descending ceiling, holding it up with trembling arms. As the dust cleared, they recognized Rasyid. His face was etched with pain, his bandaged abdomen now seeping fresh blood, his breathing ragged. Yet, he managed to keep the massive weight suspended, even as his body shuddered under the strain. ¡°Get out now!¡± He shouted, his voice strained yet resolute. ¡°Rasyid¡­¡± Ezra¡¯s voice was a broken whisper. Rasyid¡¯s gaze softened as he forced a smile through the pain. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me.¡± Blood trickled from his mouth, and he laughed faintly. ¡°Just¡­ take care of Stan for me, alright?¡± Ezra hesitated, but with a final, anguished look, he turned and crawled through the exit, the rest of the team following one by one. Oliver was the last to pull Ezra out as the ceiling finally gave way, slamming down to the ground with a deafening crash. Dust and debris billowed out of the cracks, filling the air with a heavy silence. ¡°Dammit!¡± Carina¡¯s voice broke the stillness, fists clenched. ¡°Even Rasyid had to be sacrificed¡­¡± She whispered, grief lacing her words. Franklin replied to her, his voice barely audible. ¡°He¡­ he actually died last night too¡­¡± Carina took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders. ¡°Then let¡¯s make sure his sacrifice wasn¡¯t for nothing.¡± Without another word, she turned and strode forward, leading the team deeper into the shaft. Shadows swallowed them as they descended further. Chapter 13 The Resistance soldiers continued their descent along the narrow shaft. The air grew colder and stale as they ventured deeper. Their shadows stretched longer on different surfaces and seemed to follow them. They moved silently, each soldier inspecting their weapon meticulously. The quiet clinking and clattering of metal punctuated their steps. Fransisco reloaded his SCAR-H, the magazine locking in place with a solid click. Then he reached into his pack, pulling out his last suicide drone. He wiped the dusted sensor with a dirty rag quickly. Ahead of him, Maxwell worked silently. He mounted a compact box to his chest, assembling his rifle piece by piece. He connected the internal parts, sealing the machinery with the receiver until his firing chamber was whole. Then he connected the barrel of the rifle into the receiver. Beside him, Franklin tended to his own gear. He adjusted the few remaining rounds in his magazine, ensuring every bullet was properly seated. He slid the magazine back into place, pulling the charging handle twice. All safe. The gun was not jammed. Satisfied, he nodded to himself. This was his last magazine¡ªevery bullet would have to count. Maxwell¡¯s fingers tightened on the charging handle of his sniper rifle, his face was very serious. He placed the 20mm ammo into the chamber of his Denel NTW-20, the massive round fitting snugly as he closed the chamber. Clank The door sealed the firing chamber and the sound echoed through the shaft, drawing the attention of the others. Nearby, Stan finished locking the bolt of his M2010 sniper rifle, glancing at Maxwell who was carrying the rifle taller than him. Stan gave him a small nod. ¡°Looks like we¡¯re the ones left now.¡± Carina murmured, her voice barely breaking the silence. She glanced at Fransisco, then her gaze moved to Franklin, Maxwell, Stan, Oliver, and Ezra, each of them in various stages of final checks. ¡­ Orion¡¯s pulse hammered as he counted the few remaining magazines. His gaze shifted to each teammate¡ªDanny, Pharrell, Aban, Igar, Arya, Hans, Arwan, Rafael, Rega, and Rocky¡ªeach one reloading, their eyes steeled. With a sharp nod, Orion drew a deep breath, took point, and pushed through the exit. In an instant, his instincts flared¡ªhe snapped his head left, weapon raised, just as Carina stepped out from the opposite direction. Both froze for a split second, eyes wide with recognition. In that moment, they pulled the trigger. Franklin lunged, yanking Carina back just as Orion¡¯s bullet grazed the wall behind her. In one swift movement, Franklin steadied himself and returned fire, rounds whizzing past Orion. Orion tried his best to not flinch. He fired one more round out of his rifle. That bullet crashed into Franklin''s left knee. Pain stabbed Franklin, throwing off his aim as his shots veered wildly, with only a few grazing the edge of Orion''s hood, and hitting the stone behind him. Gritting his teeth, Orion ducked back to cover, passing his position to Rega, already with a grenade launcher in his hands. Without hesitation, he fired off all the rounds, each one arcing toward the Resistance¡¯s grounds. Six explosive shells crossed through the air, coming in fast to their enemies¡¯ grounds. ¡°Grenades!¡± Franklin exclaimed, as soon as the grenade shells became visible. He dropped his machine gun and flung himself back inside. Six grenades slammed into the ground. The ground shook as the grenades hit, erupting one after another. Each explosion tore through rock and splintered wooden beams, filling the air with shrapnel that whistled through the chaos. Smoke and dust choked the area, veiling everything in a cloud of debris and disarray as the Resistance scattered. Through the dense smoke, a sound split the air. A 20mm Anti-Materiel round ripped straight toward Rega. It crashed into his chest, destroying his rib cage and everything inside, and sending his body rocketing back nearly 20 feet before he crashed to the ground, motionless. Maxwell, eyes wide, ducked back to reload. At the same time, Aban and Arwan seized the moment, leaning from their cover and unleashing a relentless hail of bullets toward the Resistance¡¯s stronghold. Taking advantage, Orion hurled a hand grenade, watching as it arced through the air¡ªlanding perfectly by the enemy¡¯s entrance. ¡°Shit!¡± Franklin spotted it instantly and threw himself forward, diving onto the grenade in a last-second attempt to shield his team. Stray bullets from Aban and Arwan struck him mid-leap, but he reached the grenade in time. The blast erupted, muffled as it tore through Franklin¡¯s body, leaving only charred fragments in his place. The fire paused briefly as Aban and Arwan retreated to reload. Carina witnessed all that. Immediately, she scooped up Rasyid''s Reapr LMG and opened fire. The weapon roared as she unleashed every remaining round, hammering the enemy¡¯s cover and giving her team precious seconds to reposition. ¡°I¡¯ll buy some time!¡± Carina yelled, her voice nearly lost under the relentless gunfire as she fought against the LMG¡¯s recoil. ¡°As soon as I stop, you hit them, Stan!¡± ¡°Got it!¡± Stan replied, locking his stance and steadying his rifle right behind her, positioning himself for a clean shot. His breath slowed, eyes narrowing as he tracked the enemies through the smoke, ready to strike the moment Carina ceased fire. As soon as Carina¡¯s gunfire ceased, Hans, Aban, and Arya seized the chance to peek out, hoping for a tactical edge. But Stan was faster. In one fluid motion, he took aim and fired, his shot echoed through the air as it hit Arya square in the temple, dropping him instantly. Igar and Aban retaliated, their UIC 10A and M4 Block II rifles blazing as they fired back. But Maxwell was ready. He squeezed off a precise round, hitting Igar square in the chest. The impact sent Igar¡¯s body hurtling back seven feet before he hit the ground, lifeless. Suddenly, Hans peeked out. Eyes burning with malice as he raised his M1870 Vetterli. He took a quick but deadly aim and fired. The 10.35mm round slammed into Maxwell¡¯s left shoulder, tearing through flesh and bone. ¡°Fuck! I¡¯m hit!¡± Maxwell grunted, dropping his weapon as pain surged through him. Ezra immediately went to the cave entrance and dragged Maxwell back into cover just as Stan turned his sights on Hans, returning fire in a furious barrage. But Hans was already facing the onslaught, snarling defiantly¡ª Shriek A round found its mark faster, piercing his forehead. Blood and brain matter sprayed out as his body crumpled. Between the chaos, Oliver rushed to Maxwell''s side with medkits in hand. He wasted no time, pouring potent fentanyl onto the open wound before tightly wrapping it with a long bandage. The screams of agony from Maxwell filled the air as Oliver desperately tried to save him from bleeding out. ¡°You guys seem to be in trouble!¡± Rocky shouted, a spark of confidence in his eyes. ¡°We¡¯ll cover while you shoot!¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°No! Don¡¯t bother!¡± Orion yelled back. ¡°They¡¯re low on ammo, their best sniper¡¯s down! We¡¯re going in!¡± ¡°That sounds better.¡± Aban grinned, wiping the sweat from his face. He recalled his taunt to Caleb that morning. ¡°Nah, I¡¯d win.¡± Orion counted down with his fingers¡ªthree, two, one. On one, they sprang forward, surging toward the enemy''s position. Behind them, Hans sat deathly still. His skin was as pale as rice, his blood frozen in place, his hands still clutching his Vetterli. But his body was long gone. Stan caught sight of the advancing enemies. He spun around, reloading frantically, his voice shaking. ¡°They¡¯re rushing!¡± ¡°How many?¡± Carina demanded, her tone cold and focused. She reached for a sleek iron device that looked like a solar panel¡ªthe same one she¡¯d revealed when she first met Ezra. ¡°All of them!¡± Stan¡¯s eyes were wide as he pressed his back against the cover, trembling. A sly smirk crept across Carina¡¯s face. ¡°Then we rush, too.¡± She deployed the Ray Shielding, as she sprinted out of her cover and rushed to the enemy''s line, followed by Ezra, Fransisco and Oliver, while Stan and Maxwell stayed behind together, manning their sniper rifles while Maxwell was dismantling his rifle, replacing the entire system with the 14.5mm variant using a conversion kit. The Ray Shielding reflected their surroundings smoothly, Carina behind it was completely invisible from the front. Once the distance between Carina and Orion was close, Carina threw the shield away as at the same time she fired her pistol at Orion. The bullets crashed into his helmet, bouncing off. Orion reflexively moved out of the way as he fired his HK-417 before even aiming it at Carina. Carina immediately dashed to his back as Orion started aiming the rifle at her. As it fired 7 times, the HK-417 was destroyed in half, the bullets in the magazines fell out as Orion quickly looked to the right. It was Stan, his rifle was still smoking. Quickly, he pulled the bolt, ejecting the casing, and loaded another one into the firing chamber, targeting Orion. Suddenly, Rocky pushed Orion away as he sprayed the bullets from his P90 to Stan. At the same time, Stan opened fire, his bullet penetrated through the P90, destroying the entire mechanical systems and flew into his chest. At the same time, Maxwell pulled the trigger of his rifle and fired at Rocky, the 14.5mm shell slammed into his head, blowing it away as his body flew back. Pharrell leaped from behind Orion, his boot striking Carina square in the chest, sending her stumbling back with a sharp gasp. She recovered fast, her eyes narrowing as she leveled her pistol and fired point-blank. Each shot pounded against Pharrell¡¯s torso¡ªbut the bullets crashed uselessly against his blazer, the armor holding firm. In a heartbeat, Pharrell had his Deagle raised, the muzzle aimed squarely at her. Carina twisted left, narrowly dodging the .50 cal round that tore past her. She responded without missing a beat, throwing her empty pistol like a missile. It hit Pharrell hard across the face, making him flinch as his eyes watered from the impact. Her weapon clattered to the ground, but she was already moving. In one swift, brutal motion, she drove her middle finger into Pharrell¡¯s left eye. ¡°Aaagh!¡± He screamed, stumbling back, his good eye wild with fury. Carina seized the moment, launching herself forward. Her fingers curled around his Deagle, ripping it from his hand. She swung it up to aim at his chest, her finger tight on the trigger. Pharrell immediately whipped out a second pistol. He pulled off a tight, defensive Center Axis Relock stance, the muzzle inches from her. His trigger finger moved like a machine, unloading shot after shot into her chest. Each round slammed into Carina¡¯s blazer, pushing her back but never penetrating. She gritted her teeth, feeling the bruises forming as she absorbed the barrage. Pharrell¡¯s eyes flickered in disbelief as she kept coming, unfazed. Before he could react, she retaliated, firing a .50 cal round into his abdomen. The impact hit like a hammer, and he doubled over, his face twisted in agony. The round hadn¡¯t pierced his blazer, but the sheer force had left him gasping. But before she could squeeze the trigger again, a shadow moved¡ªOrion burst into her peripheral vision. His arm wrapped around her neck like an iron bar, yanking her back before slamming her to the ground with brutal force. Her skull crashed against the concrete, and her vision blurred as pain shot through her head. She twisted and kicked, but Orion¡¯s weight pinned her down, his grip unbreakable. The ground blurred beneath her, and she let out a strangled cry as she struggled. ¡°Get off her!¡± A voice roared. Oliver raced toward them, his weapon discarded. Without hesitation, he leapt at Orion, his fingers latching onto Orion¡¯s head, pulling his head back as as he drove his hand viciously into his neck, smashing his Adam''s apple into his throat. Orion¡¯s grip slackened instantly, his gasp a strangled wheeze. Carina wrenched herself free, dragging in a desperate breath as Oliver drove his knee into Orion¡¯s gut with relentless force. Orion crumpled, clutching his throat and abdomen as he wheezed, pain etched across his face. Carina rolled onto her back, her chest heaving, her vision still reeling from the impact. Blood smeared her lips as she pressed her hand against the cold, unyielding ground, forcing herself up. Oliver wrestled Orion on the ground, fists and feet flying in a brutal struggle, neither man yielding an inch. Oliver¡¯s relentless kicks and punches kept Orion pinned, denying him any chance to rise, both men grappling for control as they rolled across the blood-streaked floor. Nearby, Danny raised his AA-12 shotgun, locking his aim onto Oliver¡¯s back. His finger tightened on the trigger¡ªbut before he could fire, Stan appeared like a shadow, thrusting his sniper rifle, with a combat knife fixed to the barrel, straight toward Danny¡¯s gut. Danny reacted instantly, swinging his shotgun around to meet the threat, but Stan was faster. With a flick of his grip of his rifles, Stan knocked the shotgun barrel away from his body. For a split second, the two men locked eyes, each aware of the barrel now pointed squarely at Danny¡¯s chest and Danny''s shotgun barrel was traversing to Stan''s head. The deafening roar of gunfire filled the space as both men fired, the simultaneous blasts echoing off the walls. When the smoke cleared, it was Stan who stood, panting, victorious. Danny¡¯s shotgun slipped from his grasp, and he dropped to the ground, a hole was on his chest, blood pooling beneath him. ¡°Dance with me!¡± A voice taunted from the shadows. Before Stan could react, Rafael sprang up from behind Danny¡¯s lifeless body, twin Schmidt M1882 pistols gleaming in his hands. He aimed them directly at Stan, his grin cold and merciless, his glasses reflecting the deadly gleam of the muzzle. Without hesitation, Rafael fired, unleashing a hailstorm of bullets that ripped through the air with deadly precision. Stan braced himself, his heart pounding, fully expecting the impact. But¡­ nothing. Stan opened his eyes, surprised to find himself unscathed. His gaze darted around, trying to understand. And then he saw Maxwell standing between him and Rafael, an enormous NTW-20 rifle pressed against Rafael¡¯s chest at point-blank range. Maxwell¡¯s face was streaked with blood, his eyes glistening with pain, yet he wore a triumphant smirk, his chin stained with blood. In one smooth motion, Maxwell pulled the trigger, the monstrous 14.5mm round detonating into Rafael¡¯s abdomen. The impact tore through him with brutal force, his torso exploding in a spray of gore as his dismembered body crumpled lifelessly to the floor. Maxwell¡¯s strength waned as he collapsed onto his knees, his body hitting the pool of blood beneath him. Adrenaline surged through his veins, but his wounds gushed with unrelenting force. He clutched his sides with shaking hands, trying to stem the flow, his fingers slick with crimson. ¡°Maxwell!¡± Stan¡¯s voice was raw with desperation. He sprinted towards him, heedless of the danger at his back. But behind him, Arwan was already lining up his AAC Honey Badger, his gaze steady and ruthless. ¡°Stan! Watch out!¡± Carina¡¯s scream cut through the chaos as she spotted Arwan aiming from behind. With split-second instinct, Fransisco barreled forward, crashing into Arwan before he could pull the trigger. The two men hit the ground, sliding several meters across the blood-streaked floor. Fransisco scrambled to his feet, whirling on his heel to throw Arwan off balance. But Arwan recovered almost instantly, gripping his Honey Badger and firing at Fransisco in a single, precise shot. Fransisco twisted left, dodging just enough for the bullet to graze past, and he retaliated by shooting the rifle clean out of Arwan¡¯s hands. As Fransisco leveled his weapon at Arwan, ready to end it, Arwan whipped a Beretta 92 from his waistband and unloaded it mercilessly into Fransisco. Each shot hammered into Fransisco¡¯s chest, where his armor was weakest. He staggered back, blood sputtering from his mouth as he fought to stay upright, his vision darkening at the edges. Carina was at his side in seconds, her Deagle raised¡ªbut an empty click echoed as she pulled the trigger. No rounds left. Arwan lunged, seizing Fransisco¡¯s SCAR-H. He spun on his heel, aiming it straight at Carina. In a desperate move, Fransisco, barely standing, swung his elbow into Arwan¡¯s jaw with all the force he could muster. Arwan staggered, and Fransisco took advantage, yanking the SCAR-H from his grip. He slammed the rifle into full-auto and fired wildly at the ground, ripping apart the soft rock beneath them. The floor trembled, cracks snaking outward in a widening web. Fransisco drove the buttstock of the rifle into Arwan¡¯s face, momentarily dazing him. Arwan¡¯s grip slackened just enough for Fransisco to kick him back, but the damage was done. The ground heaved beneath them, splitting with an ominous rumble as the cracks widened into a gaping abyss. With a lurch, the floor shattered completely, and they plunged into the darkness below, swallowed by the black void as the ground gave way. As they plummeted into the abyss, Maxwell''s lifeless form knelt eerily on the shattered ground above, eyes blank as he disappeared into the darkness below. Watching chaotic freefall, Ezra frantically scanned his surroundings. He could see Stan, Oliver and Fransisco hanging on Carina¡¯s legs, with white-knuckled hands on one side, while Orion fought to hold onto Pharrell and Arwan on the other. The weight was tearing at their bodies, straining them to the breaking point. ¡°This is really it, huh? Just the rest of us?¡± A voice, smooth and unfazed, echoed above the clamor. Ezra whipped his head forward to see Aban, coolly igniting a cigar with an iron lighter. An M4 Block II dangled from his shoulder, his face unreadable beneath the soft glow of the ember. ¡°Man... everyone''s already dead. Caleb was right to let me lead the rushing division. He and I were not suited to be tank commanders after all.¡± Aban mused, tossing the lighter away and letting smoke curl from his lips. "This is the last magazine in my gun." His tone was casual, almost lazy. Ezra¡¯s eyes darted to the few shells he had left in his KSG-12, fingers trembling as he did a quick count. Only three. ¡°Do you know how many pellets are in a birdshot?¡± Aban continued, smoke drifting from his mouth. ¡°Too many. Can¡¯t count them on all the fingers of your hands and toes combined.¡± He grinned, voice echoing with a hint of dark humor. ¡°You¡¯ve got more firepower in that one shell than I do in my entire magazine.¡± Ezra raised his shotgun slowly, but in the blink of an eye, Aban vanished. Heart hammering, Ezra swung the barrel around, his mind racing to anticipate where the next attack might come from. A glint¡ªa flash¡ªand he saw Aban darting toward him with inhuman speed. Aban skidded to a halt just feet away, raising his rifle. Gunfire exploded between them as Ezra dodged and weaved, every bullet narrowly missing him, tearing into the crumbling ground beneath. Ezra¡¯s pulse thundered as Aban appeared right in front of him again, closing the gap in a split second. Instinctively, Ezra fired his shotgun, but Aban twisted out of the line of fire, effortlessly evading each shot. Aban¡¯s dark figure blurred again, disappearing, only to reappear in another volley of bullets that finally struck Ezra¡¯s left arm, sending him to his knees with a cry of pain. Meanwhile, Fransisco, blood streaming from open wounds, was climbing desperately above, pulling himself over Oliver¡¯s body, leaving smears of red as he ascended. Every pull tore a scream from Carina, her body at the limit, muscles stretched as she fought to hold on. Below, Arwan, one hand clutching Pharrell¡¯s leg, fumbled to reload his gun. With frantic urgency, Oliver reached for a fresh magazine in his pocket, only for it to slip through his fingers and vanish into the abyss. A curse tore from his lips. ¡°Fuck!¡± He shouted, looking up to see Arwan, trembling with exertion, take aim at Carina¡¯s hands. A sharp crack split the air as Arwan¡¯s first shot struck the stone just inches from her, then another ricocheted off the ground near her grip. Stan¡¯s urgent voice cut through the chaos. ¡°Gentlemen, we need to lighten the load!¡± His words sank into Oliver¡¯s mind like cold steel, crystallizing into one resolve. ¡°We¡­ we have to make sure she survives this.¡± Fransisco whispered through gritted teeth, tightening his grip on Oliver¡¯s shoulder. Oliver¡¯s gaze darted to Ezra, still locked in his deadly dance with Aban, ducking and dodging, bullets narrowly missing with each move. Relief coursed through Oliver at Ezra¡¯s skill, but they needed a sacrifice. He inhaled deeply, eyes hardening. ¡°Let¡¯s do it,¡± He said, locking eyes with Ezra. ¡°I trust you with the rest.¡± As if on cue, Oliver released his grip on Stan. Without hesitation, Stan threw himself with his arms and wrapped himself around Carina, hugging her tightly from behind. Arwan¡¯s next shot fired, missing again but dangerously close. Then he steadied his aim, sweat dripping as he focused on Carina¡¯s hands. Stan¡¯s arms tightened as he took a final breath, ready for the onslaught. At the same time, Arwan pulled the trigger, and Stan¡¯s body took the barrage, emptying his entire magazine¡ªeach bullet ripping into his arms and head. Blood spattered, but he held strong until, with a last burst of effort, he released Carina from his embrace and plummeted into the abyss, leaving her safe above. Fransisco let out a roar, launching himself from Oliver¡¯s shoulder, his last bit of strength fueling a final act. He hurled a small, sleek suicide drone like a lifeline, watching as it streaked through the dark toward its target. As he fell, darkness consuming his vision, the drone hit its mark, slamming into Arwan¡¯s head. The impact sent Arwan¡¯s figure spiraling out of control, disappearing into the shadows below. Ezra looked on, chest heavy with dread, as one by one, his comrades disappeared into the void. Carina clung desperately to the jagged rocks, her knuckles pale as her body trembled with exhaustion. She could hear the echoes of distant gunfire, the sounds of struggle that had defined this fight, but each second sapped her strength as she hung precariously between life and the abyss. Above her, Ezra was locked in his last stand against Aban, who prowled forward with deadly purpose. Aban¡¯s rifle fired, forcing Ezra to dodge and weave, but the relentless barrage drove him back, his options dwindling. Ezra whirled around to fire his shotgun, hoping to gain a split-second advantage, but his aim missed, the shot going wide. He felt his stomach drop; he was out of ammo, out of time. Aban didn¡¯t hesitate. He lunged forward, slamming the barrel of his rifle into Ezra¡¯s abdomen, shoving him toward the cliff¡¯s edge with merciless force. Ezra¡¯s hands scrambled for anything to hold onto, but he felt only empty air. The world spun as he plummeted, the cold bite of gravity yanking him downward, sealing his fate. In those last, brutal seconds, Ezra looked up, helpless, as Aban¡¯s silhouette loomed overhead. His vision began to blur, but he could still make out Aban''s face, twisted in a cruel, mocking grin. Aban raised his rifle and aimed, his cold gaze meeting Ezra¡¯s as he squeezed the trigger. Three shots rang out in quick succession, each one striking with unerring precision. The bullets tore through Ezra¡¯s body, and he felt a searing pain spread through his chest before the world went dark, his last thoughts fading as he surrendered to the void. Carina, still gripping the ledge, had witnessed it all. She screamed. Her voice, raw with grief, echoed through the empty expanse and reverberated against the cliffside.