The sharp, metallic sound of Ali pulling the empty triggers on his desert eagles resonated throughout the room, a hollow clicking that marked the end of gunfire and left a heavy silence in its wake. He lowered the firearms slightly, his grip still firm, as the air grew thick with tension. Every inch of the floor was littered with bodies, the scene one of brutal efficiency and absolute finality. The silence felt almost tangible, like a fog settling over the carnage.
Suddenly, there was a faint creak as the barricaded door on the far side of the room began to open slowly, pushing inward from the other side. Ali's gaze lifted, his posture shifting as he watched with steely eyes. Keeping his weapons steady, he prepared himself for whoever might be coming through.
Emerging from behind the door was a young girl, her petite frame silhouetted against the hallway beyond. She looked to be no older than seventeen, her straight, pure blonde hair cascading over the shoulders of a red, battle-worn suit emblazoned with the insignia of the Fire Guild across her chest.
With an air of cautious determination, the girl moved forward, her bright blue eyes scanning the room with a mix of trepidation and authority. Standing at five foot six, she led with her right hand, her fingers extended slightly as if feeling the atmosphere for danger.
Behind her, two handguns were drawn, held firmly by an older man who followed closely, his every movement suggesting practiced skill. He wore a black vest over a dark shirt, two short swords crossed against his back in a manner that spoke to a readiness for combat.
A pair of dark sunglasses concealed his eyes, giving him the aura of a seasoned professional, a bodyguard perhaps, and one who was used to assessing risk with caution.
Both members of the Fire Guild surveyed the room with wary caution, taking in the sight of the bodies scattered all around. It was clear to them that this was not merely a fight—it was an execution.
The man behind the teenage girl analysed the scene, his mind racing as he took in the sheer devastation. 'It's a massacre,' he thought, his instincts alert as he pieced together the violent scene.
"Who are you?" the girl demanded suddenly, her voice sharp yet underpinned with the high-pitched innocence of youth. Though trying to sound commanding, her tone carried the telltale traces of her age—a young voice, perhaps still unaccustomed to authority.
Ali looked up from where he stood, memories stirring as he recalled the words of the Wind Apostle. Jacob had mentioned a young girl within the Fire Guild, warning that she wielded far too much power for her age. 'What was her name again? Ah, yes. Fire Falcon.'
"Who are you, kid?" Ali replied, his voice measured but slightly mocking, as he adjusted his grip on the black desert eagles. His eyes darted to the man standing behind her, assessing him.
The man seemed poised and dangerous—'a true professional, at least in appearance'.
With an air of pride that seemed well-rehearsed, the young girl drew herself up. "I'm the Apostle of the Fire Guild," she announced, her voice carrying a blend of arrogance and conviction. "My name is Fire Falcon, and you've probably heard of me in the Slum. Now, put your guns down and follow my orders if you want any chance of getting back to Paradise safely."
Ali raised an eyebrow, a faint smile creeping onto his face as he shook his head in quiet amusement. 'Jacob was right,' he thought to himself. 'The kid's crazy.'
Without a hint of hesitation, Ali met her gaze. "I'll give you until the count of three. If you don't drop your weapons by then, you're both dead," he declared calmly, his tone so assured that it sounded less like a threat and more like a simple statement of fact.
The girl's eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across her face. "What? Do you even know who I am?" she retorted, her voice rising in indignation.
Behind her, the bodyguard's eyes widened beneath his sunglasses as he stared at Ali, a cold shiver running down his spine. In all his years, he had encountered dangerous men, but this one… there was something chillingly different about him. 'I've met killers and mercenaries,' he thought, 'but this one… he's on a different level of dangerous entirely.'
"One… Two…" Ali began to count, his voice steady and unyielding.
"CLACK CLACK."
The sound of the bodyguard's weapons hitting the floor cut through the room as he dropped them without hesitation. Guns, swords, and even the small knives he kept hidden in his boots were discarded in quick succession. The man lowered himself, making it clear that he understood the stakes.
"What are you doing, Mark? Have you lost your mind? You're really going to do what he says?" Fire Falcon—turned to her bodyguard, her face flushed with frustration. Her voice trembled with the anger of seeing her usually stoic protector submit so willingly.
"Shut up," Mark shot back, his voice laced with a rare edge of anger. "If you want to die, go ahead. But I'm not ready to throw my life away just yet."
"Good choice," Ali's voice came from behind Claire, startling her so much that she nearly jumped. She hadn't even noticed him moving. In a flash, he was suddenly closer, his movements so swift and silent that she hadn't registered his approach.
Her heart pounded in her chest as her mind raced. 'Just how fast is he?' she wondered, her thoughts whirling as she realised the magnitude of his skill.
With a burst of defiance, she raised her hand, her fingers igniting with an intense, red-hot flame that crackled with raw power. She unleashed it with all her strength, the fire roaring out with a force that exceeded the intensity of any flamethrower Ali had ever seen.
But in an instant, Ali caught her wrist, redirecting her hand upward so that the blast went straight into the ceiling. The impact left blackened scorch marks, with deep cracks splintering across the plaster above.
He could feel the intense heat against his skin, impressed by the sheer ferocity of her magic. 'It was more than just fire—it was like an explosive force, compressed and then released with violent power'. Ali thought impressed by her magic but still, he remained calm.
The young Apostle, now visibly shaken, struggled in his grip. Glaring, she held out her other hand, gathering a deep red light in her palm, ready to unleash another attack.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Ali warned, his voice icy. He raised the barrel of one of his desert eagles, pressing it gently against the centre of her chest, right where her heart would be. His gaze was cold, resolute.
"What's your name, kid?" he asked, his tone relentless, his expression showing no hint of leniency.
"I'm not a kid! I'm seventeen!" she shouted back defiantly, trying to wrench her hand free. "Now let me go, you're hurting my arm!"
Ali's expression darkened slightly. "Name," he demanded, tightening his grip ever so slightly, enough to elicit a wince from her.
"Stop! Stop—fine! It's Fire Fal—Aw Aw Aw it's Claire! My name's Claire!" she stammered, the bravado melting away as tears began to well in her eyes, more from frustration than pain.
Satisfied, Ali released her. She took a step back, cradling her arm with a mixture of anger and humiliation, casting him a glare filled with resentment. She hated that she had been made to feel small, powerless.
Ali turned his attention to Mark, the gun still in his hand as he gestured for the man to speak. "You. Tell me what happened here."
Mark exchanged a wary glance with Claire, who was now sulking, rubbing the purple bruise forming on her arm. She muttered under her breath, "Mark, how could you let him do that to me? I swear, I'm reporting you to the Guild Leader when we get back."
Mark sighed, shooting her a weary look. "Claire, when we get back, I'll tell the Guild Leader exactly how I kept you alive." He turned to Ali, meeting his gaze with a mixture of respect and wariness.
"The dead man behind you-the one formerly known as the Captain of the Guards at HOPE-was never fond of us players from the beginning. Claire here only made things worse with her quick wit and sharp remarks aimed right at him," Mark explained, glancing at Claire as he recounted the story to Ali.
"That guy was getting on my last nerve," Claire muttered, rolling her eyes at the mention of the captain. "I was about ready to burn him to ashes myself if you hadn't beaten me to it."
Mark shot her a brief, exasperated look before continuing. "Anyway, apparently a player from our side killed one of the guards. That was all it took-the guards cut that player to pieces on the spot, and it sparked an all-out fight between us. In the end, we managed to take control of the upper floors, with some locals who were loyal to the original leader-before the captain murdered him. Meanwhile, the remaining guards holed up in the lower floors, keeping prisoners-other players and some locals."
"They're dead," Ali replied, his tone calm and unwavering.
"What do you mean?" Claire asked, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him in confusion.
"I mean," Ali said, with a faint but cold smile, "I killed them All"
A stunned silence filled the room as both Mark and Claire stared at him, trying to comprehend what he had just revealed. "Wait-what?" Claire stammered, disbelief etched across her face.
"You killed them all? Every guard from the ground floor up to this level?"
Ali gave a slight nod, his expression betraying no hint of arrogance, only the calm certainty of his words.
Both Mark and Claire exchanged incredulous looks. 'He killed them all?' Claire's mind raced, struggling to grasp the sheer magnitude of his statement. 'How in the world did he manage that? Even I couldn't pull that off... Just what kind of power does this guy have?'
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