"You, pick up your weapons and head down to the ground floor. There, you'll find a player named Natalya—tell her the guards are coming and help her secure the entrance," Ali ordered firmly, his tone leaving no room for questions. Mark nodded without hesitation and followed Ali's command with precision.
Claire watched her bodyguard fall under someone else's command, a flicker of anger flashing in her eyes, but she held her tongue, unwilling to confront Ali directly.
Once Mark had disappeared down the staircase, Ali turned his gaze back to Claire, his cold, steely eyes locking onto her. "You're with me. Show me what's upstairs," he commanded, and Claire complied, leading him up the winding staircase.
They climbed in silence until they reached a door on the next floor. Claire knocked three times, a deliberate rhythm that seemed like a signal between her and whoever was on the other side.
The door creaked open, and a man holding a spiked baseball bat peered out cautiously. His tense expression relaxed when he saw Claire, but his face paled as his gaze shifted to the imposing figure behind her.
"Oh, it's you—thank God," the man said, exhaling in relief as he stepped aside. At Claire's urging, he fully opened the door, allowing both her and Ali to step into the room.
'Without Claire, they'd all be dead by now,' Ali thought as he took in the scene before him—a ragtag group of players, each clutching makeshift weapons like small knives and crude wooden spikes. They looked as though they'd never encountered real violence in their lives.
The group stared at Ali with a mix of caution and awe, taking in his stern, formidable presence. Claire glanced at them dismissively. "These guys were all we had left after the initial fight. They're not much, but they could serve as human shields if necessary," she said to Ali, her words harsh and direct, echoing through the room. The players heard her but only lowered their heads in quiet shame, not daring to speak up.
"Where's the rest?" Ali asked, surveying the small group with an eyebrow raised.
"Some escaped using the bridge before it was destroyed, but the others are still upstairs. Follow me," Claire explained as she moved towards another door.
"You all, listen up. Head down and arm yourselves with new weapons from the fallen guards below. Do not throw the bodies out to the horde; we have enough zombies around this building as it is," Ali ordered, his voice carrying authority. The players nodded, grateful for the chance to replace their flimsy weapons with real ones.
"Oh, and once you're finished handling the bodies, keep going down to the ground floor and help reinforce the barricades at the entrance," he added, watching as the players filed out, their excitement evident as they moved to upgrade their weaponry.
With that, Ali and Claire ascended another flight of stairs, arriving on a floor occupied by the elderly, women, and children. The few men on this floor were sprawled on the ground, covered in bloodstained clothes, their faces etched with pain as they struggled with their wounds.
A somber atmosphere blanketed the room, but upon seeing Claire, spirits lifted slightly. Her presence seemed to offer a glimmer of hope as she was the strongest fighter they had left after the guards' brutal onslaught.
"Everyone, this is Ali," Claire announced, her voice strong. "He's taken out all the guards in the building, including their captain. You're all safe now, and you can move around Hope freely once again." Her words brought smiles and relieved cheers from the crowd, who looked at Ali with expressions of deep gratitude, though they had no idea what thoughts were brewing in his mind.
'Should I just kill them all?' Ali mused coldly as he observed the group.
If he were the only one left in the skyscraper, it would guarantee that the building remained secure until the third day's final moments. But before he could entertain the idea any further, he felt a tug on his thigh.
A small child had hugged Ali's leg and was looking up at him with innocent, wide eyes. "Thank you, mister," the boy said softly, moments before his mother rushed over, pulling him away.
"I'm so sorry!" she stammered, glancing nervously at Ali's unreadable expression.
"It's fine. You can go," Ali replied with an icy tone, and the woman quickly led her son down the stairs, joining the others as they began moving to the floors they previously occupied.
'I suppose they can stay alive… I'll just have to make sure they don't screw things up until these three days are over,' Ali thought, deciding against his initial impulse.
"Wow, you really are made of stone, aren't you?" Claire commented dryly, watching him with a mix of irritation and respect.
Ali looked down, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I did hear about you from someone before."
Claire puffed up with pride, her expression smug. "Of course you have. I'm the Fire Falcon, one of the strongest newcomers to set foot in the Slum!"
"Actually, no, that's not what I heard," Ali replied, smirking slightly. "I heard the Apostle of the Fire Guild was just an obnoxious brat with more power than she could handle."
Claire's face turned red with anger, but her expression shifted to confusion as she met his gaze. Her bright blue eyes widened. "Wait… do you know Jacob?"
Ali shrugged dismissively. "I don't know who you're talking about," he replied coldly, walking over to inspect the wounded on the ground.
"Oh, Claire! I'm so glad you're okay—" A young voice called out from the side, but the speaker froze mid-sentence upon seeing Ali, her face turning pale with recognition.
"It's… it's you," the young woman stammered, taking a step back in fear.
"You know him?" Claire asked, looking between Ali and the woman in surprise.
"I saved her from being raped," Ali said bluntly, his gaze lowering to the bandages wrapped around the young woman's leg.
"Oh," Claire replied, taken aback. Trying to ease the tension, she changed the subject abruptly. "So… how are the others doing?"
The young woman nodded, though her voice shook slightly as she turned to explain the injuries of the wounded to Ali and Claire. As she described each injury, Ali's gaze drifted to her leg, noting the slight limp in her walk.
He noticed a scarf wrapped around her neck, though it had slipped slightly, revealing a faint green vein. Ali's eyes narrowed as he observed her carefully, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face.
The young woman, oblivious to Ali's scrutiny, continued explaining the conditions of the injured to Claire, who nodded thoughtfully, clearly concerned by the injuries of her men.
In the background, Ali remained silent, his expression as cold and impenetrable as ever, watching as the scene unfolded around him.
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