```
Donald was counting down the minutes of his life.
Even though there were no gunshots from downstairs at the moment, and the streets were still bustling with people, he instinctively felt that the enemy had reached the second floor and was sweeping room by room.
This safehouse wasn't just for the Guild; beneath its facade lay a world teeming with the strong and the sly, thieves and con men. The occupants of this inn enjoyed the safety it provided and were naturally expected to make the necessary sacrifices for Guild members when required.
Each guest was merely a pawn.
Now they were being put to full use.
As Donald held his rifle, the countdown reached zero. He didn't see the signal from across the street, nor did he see the target enter the scene.
Damn it, where was Casaman?
He began to count anxiously—if no one came by sixty, he would have to leave, or else when the battle mages arrived, he would truly be trapped with no way out.
