The cacophony of the turning wheel on the twenty-fourth floor was so loud that it drowned out the sounds of slaughter below. The soldiers pushing the massive wheel, their muscles straining, and sweat dripping from their brows, had no idea that death had claimed their comrades just a few feet beneath them.
Ali waited patiently, listening to the rhythmic creaking of the machinery until he heard the distinctive thud of the lift locking into position on the floor and the scuffling sounds of soldiers stepping off the platform.
Taking a deep breath, Ali steadied himself. His grip was tight around the two machetes he had seized from the soldiers earlier. His waist was loaded with weapons: the knife he had thrown into a man's skull earlier now back in its sheath, plus two additional medium-sized knives taken from the other fallen soldiers-blades that had never even seen combat. With a single, forceful motion, Ali kicked down the door, announcing his entrance to the room with an echoing crash.
The soldiers, now alerted, snapped their heads toward the door, expecting an ally
—only to find a towering, muscular stranger staring back at them.
Ali's eyes were intense, flickering from target to target, assessing the room with a cold, calculating gaze.
Without hesitation, he hurled the machetes. The first found its mark in the face of a soldier bending down to collect some loot, the blade burying itself deep in the man's forehead. The second machete sliced through the air, hitting another unsuspecting soldier square between the eyes. Blood sprayed the floor as the men dropped like sacks of grain.
Ali didn't stop. In one fluid motion, he drew the remaining three knives at lightning speed. His expert throws hit their marks with deadly precision, each knife piercing the skulls of three more soldiers. All five collapsed, lifeless, before the echo of the door's crash had even faded.
The room seemed to freeze in time as the giant leader, who had been about to issue orders, watched five of his men drop dead in an instant. For a split second, he was stunned, but then his instincts kicked in, and he reached for his shotgun.
His two captains reacted with equal speed, their hands darting for the machine guns strapped to their sides. They raised their weapons in a frantic attempt to return fire, but their target was no longer there.
"Where did he—?" the captain's voice was cut short by a wet gurgling noise.
UGH
One of the soldiers, positioned behind the lift, convulsed as his own machete was rammed upward through the soft tissue beneath his jaw, piercing his skull and emerging out the top. His eyes bulged, and his knees buckled as he slumped to the ground. His groan was a final, pitiful gasp.
Without hesitation, the three armed soldiers-leader and captains alike-unleashed a barrage of gunfire, the room erupting in a deafening hail of bullets.
They shot wildly, without care for the corpse of their comrade, who was caught in the crossfire and riddled with fresh bullet holes. Each shot rang out, ricocheting off metal surfaces and sending debris into the air, but their attacker had vanished again.
Ali was crouched in the shadows beneath the lift, the gunfire screaming overhead. His eyes caught the expansive gap in the wall, leading to a breathtaking view of the ruined city skyline outside. A slow, smirk spread across his face as he moved silently toward the opening, waiting for the moment to strike.
Upstairs, the soldiers hesitated, nervously scanning the space in the aftermath of their blind assault. What they saw, instead of Ali's corpse, was the shredded body of their comrade, skewered by a machete driven clean through the skull. Blood pooled beneath him, forming dark rivulets that stained the floor.
"Come out, you BASTARD!" the leader roared, his deep voice booming as he motioned to one of his men to investigate. The trembling soldier nodded, swallowing his fear, and cautiously approached the area behind the lift, eyes darting left and right.
He found nothing. No sign of Ali. Feeling a rush of relief, he started to turn back, prepared to deliver the all-clear, but his words died in his throat. His eyes widened in shock, and his finger shot upward, pointing frantically toward the gap in the wall.
Ali launched himself through the opening with a powerful leap, soaring from the empty air outside the skyscraper back onto the floor. In his hands, he wielded the quinque-a massive, muscle-like blade that seemed to ripple with a crimson glow.
He descended upon the unsuspecting soldiers, and before they could react, his first strike tore through four men in a single, brutal motion.
The quinque cut through both flesh and metal as if they were nothing more than paper. Blood sprayed in an arc as their bodies crumpled, their severed torsos collapsing with a sickening thud.
One soldier's upper half flew off, propelled by the force of the swing, and landed in front of the giant leader and his captains, bloodied fingers still twitching. The soldier's eyes were wide with terror, intestines spilling out as he died mid-air, leaving his bisected corpse to greet his superiors.
It was all the distraction Ali needed. As the leaders hesitated, caught off guard by the grotesque sight, Ali closed the distance with blinding speed.
His longsword flashed downwards, the blade slicing through one soldier's feeble attempt to block with a machete. The sword cut cleanly from shoulder to stomach, the man's internal organs spilling out in a steaming heap as he dropped, lifeless.
With two rapid, precise movements, Ali dispatched the next pair, his strikes so swift that their deaths were simultaneous—a spray of blood marking the end of their existence. The three leaders, now finally regrouped, raised their weapons in unison.
"Got you now, you slippery cunt!" the giant bellowed, his shotgun aimed directly at Ali's chest.
Ali's smirk deepened, a hint of darkness flickering in his eyes as black veins crawled up his thighs and his thighs muscles pulsed.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The guns roared, but Ali was gone. His leap was so powerful that the ground where he had stood cracked and splintered, sending a shockwave through the room. The bullets struck empty space, pulverising the floor tiles as they missed their mark.
UGH
The giant's eyes rolled back, his mouth opening in a silent scream as he felt something foreign inside his skull. Ali's arm, black-veined and unnaturally strong, was lodged deep into his head, fingers penetrating the helmet and skull with shocking ease. The leader's body convulsed as Ali withdrew his hand, slick with blood and brain matter, and the giant toppled to the ground, dead before he hit the floor.
DRIP DRIP DRIP
For a moment, the room was silent save for the slow drip of blood from Ali's fingers, pooling at his feet. The two captains, along with the few remaining soldiers stood frozen in terror. The captain's hands were shaking as they dropped their spent guns to the ground with a metallic clatter.
CLACK CLACK
In a desperate move, they reached for the machetes strapped to their waists, their eyes never leaving the figure standing over their fallen leader. But the terror in their eyes made it clear-they already knew they were outmatched.
"You are all FUCKED," Ali said coldly, his voice carrying a finality that sent a shudder through the hearts of the remaining men. It was a voice devoid of mercy.
Two and a half minutes later.
The floor was a battlefield of carnage. Ali sat calmly on the corpse of the giant leader, wiping the blood off the edge of his longsword with a piece of torn fabric.
His expression was calm, almost serene, as if he had merely completed a routine chore.
Around him lay the mangled remains of twenty-six bodies-soldiers who had thought themselves safe, who had believed they were untouchable in their fortress.
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