"Everyone, get down!"
"Everyone, get down!"
As soon as the words leave our mouths, a deafening explosion shakes the entire building. The roar of a machine gun follows.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
The window shatters violently, sending shards of glass flying like a swarm of gleaming daggers. The air fills with the sharp scent of gunpowder and a cloud of shattered glass particles.
I raise my hands at lightning speed to shield my face, feeling the sting of tiny shards against my skin. The force of the blast pushes me backward, stumbling three steps as I struggle to regain my balance.
Narco does the same, his face twisted in a mix of shock and rage. I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end, as if my body senses the looming danger before my mind fully grasps it.
In a desperate, swift move, I flip the heavy table, hoping it might offer us some protection. The sound of bullets tearing through it tells me our shield is far from reliable.
"Doom! Doom! Doom!"
Bullets rain down relentlessly, slicing through the air with a deadly whistle. Smoke rises around us, filling our noses with the choking stench of burnt gunpowder that makes breathing nearly impossible.
The ground trembles beneath us with every explosion, and screams of terror echo in the air. My heart pounds violently in my chest, cold sweat dripping down my back.
As if all this chaos isn't enough, Narco suddenly screams beside me, his voice brimming with rage and defiance:
"Who dares fire on the king?!"
I sigh in frustration. Are the bullets hitting the table behind my back not enough? And now I have to deal with the screams of this lunatic next to me?
Among the relentless gunfire, angry shouts from the attackers reach our ears.
"Shut up, you fake king!"
"There's no king but Faceless!"
"Why waste time? Let's kill these spies once and for all!"
As their words end, the hail of bullets intensifies. Sparks fly through the air with every shot, and the sounds grow louder, becoming like war drums.
I glance at Narco, trying to make sense of the situation.
"Didn't you say you killed Faceless? Then who are these men?"
He looks at me with wide eyes, a strange smile spreading across his face.
"I cut off the head, but the tail still wriggles."
I take a deep breath, trying to ignore the idiot beside me. But how can I, when he won't stop talking?
"Heartless scum with no morals, is this how you honor your leader's memory? Show some dignity and stop shooting! Face me like men, and let our fists decide the winner!"
I narrow my eyes suspiciously.
"Did Faceless ever follow rules?"
"No."
"Are you the kind who obeys rules?"
"No."
His quick replies make my blood boil. Anger rises in my chest, mixing with frustration and fear.
"Then why are you talking?"
I cautiously shift my position, trying to catch a glimpse of the source of the gunfire. But the moment I lift my head slightly, I duck down again with lightning speed.
"Boom!"
The bullet I just avoided slams into the wall behind me, leaving a hole that serves as a stark reminder of how fragile our position is.
It's a good thing the table is made of Ebonyon steel, or we'd have been dead by now. Damn this situation.
Narco moves closer to me, his eyes gleaming with a strange look as he whispers in my ear.
"Did you see anything?"
I'm on the verge of losing it. If the cramped space didn't restrain me, I'd have ripped his tongue out by now.
I turn to Hank, trying to gather my thoughts.
"Hank, didn't we bring any weapons with us? Isn't that right?"
He replies with cold composure, despite the chaos around us.
"In response to you, sir, we didn't expect anything as bold as this."
"What about the car?"
Dexter adjusts his stance and answers.
"Sir, I gave the key to one of the house guards. It should be out back."
"Then there's an exit at the back".
Suddenly, Narco jumps into my discussion with my men.
"Do you want to run away? Damn, and I was starting to admire you. You've disappointed me."
I glare at him with disdain, holding back the urge to choke him.
"If you want to die, be my guest."
"Die? Hah! They'll run out of bullets."
"And how will you stay alive until then?"
His eyes gleam with a crazed look, and with pride, he slaps the table we're hiding behind.
"It'll hold! It's made of Ebonyon steel. Don't worry."
As if the universe wants to prove him wrong, a bullet pierces the table at that exact moment, grazing Narco's nose. His face contorts in a mix of shock, pain, and fear.
I look at him with barely concealed glee. After all, even Ebonyon steel has its limits, especially when crafted into a thin table.
Keeping my smug expression, I open my mouth.
"What were you saying?"
He swallows hard, as if swallowing his pride along with it.
"How do we move? Bullets are raining down on us like a storm."
I glance around, trying to assess the situation. There's no safe spot to retreat to except this fragile table. The far wall seems like an oasis in a desert, but reaching it would mean crossing a bullet-filled death zone.
Suddenly, an idea strikes me. I turn to Narco.
"Did you hide your men nearby? When will they arrive?"
I don't miss the look of confusion that crosses his face.
"I didn't bring anyone with me except this idiot."
He gestures toward the servant.
"I'm sure I heard the engines of three cars when you arrived."
Finally, realization dawns on him.
"They were empty. And before you ask, I get bored of cars quickly, so I bring three spares to switch between."
I stare at him with deep frustration. As the gunfire continues pounding in my ears, I entertain the thought of throwing him over the table. At least I'd be rid of him and his stupidity.
But suddenly, another idea pops into my mind. What if I kill him here? Wouldn't the attackers stop? After all, they came for him.
In the midst of these conflicting thoughts, the servant whose name I still don't know interrupts.
"My lord."
I look at him, noticing the fear in his eyes. He seems to have something important to say. "Say what you have to say."
"I just wanted to mention that I have a gun. And last month, my lord, I placed a small rifle in the bathroom coat."
I cast a glance at Narco, who starts patting himself eagerly. Suddenly, he feels something and pulls it out, revealing a small rifle.
Oh, I feel like killing him.
Are he and Dexter drinking from the same garbage dump, or did the author design them to give me a heart attack?
Narco turned to the servant as if he's about to devour it.
"Why didn't you say anything sooner?"
"You told me… not to speak no matter…"
"Just shut up."
Ignoring their exchange, I grab the pistol from the servant's hand, feeling its weight. It's heavy, heavier than I expected. My heart races as I realize what I'm about to do.
"Cover me. I'm moving to that wall. Once I'm there, I'll cover you. The same applies to everyone else."
I give the instructions to the group.
Narco eyes me intently, and just as I'm about to start moving, he opens his fucking mouth.
"I don't know how to cover. All I know is how to strip."
I take a deep breath, trying to control my nerves. I can now understand the suffering of that Scum Null when I used to crack jokes at the worst times. It seems karma has finally come around.
Before I can respond, the ground shakes violently. A deafening explosion echoes through the space, followed by a terrifying cracking sound. It seems one of the building's main supports has been hit by the explosions.
Suddenly, the ceiling begins to collapse. Debris rains down around us like a waterfall of destruction, and dust fills the air, making it nearly impossible to breathe.
The gunfire doesn't stop. The only difference now is that the attackers can no longer aim accurately. But it doesn't make much of a difference—armed with machine guns, they don't need precision to hit us.
I look at Narco, trying to ignore the chaos surrounding us.
"Am I your babysitter or something? The moment I move, you stand and start shooting like a lunatic. Which, I'm sure, isn't hard for you. Got it?"
I finish my directions to him, feeling my pulse quicken. This is the moment.
In a swift motion, I crouch slightly, ready to dash. I feel adrenaline coursing through my veins, my senses heightened to the limit.
I lunge forward, sliding on my knees. Bullets whistle past my ears, the heat of their trajectory grazing my face.
Behind me, I hear Narco standing up and firing randomly. His voice rises above the clamor of the fight:
"So, you've got big balls now? Great! I've been looking to remove a few these days!"
As if luck favors us for a moment, the attackers' ammunition starts to run out. I hear their frustrated cries as they duck behind their vehicles, frantically reloading their weapons.
I seize this precious moment. With one final leap, I reach the wall, pressing my back against it, my breaths coming in rapid gasps. A light pain courses through my legs from sliding across the ground, but I ignore it.
"Move now!"
I yell at the top of my lungs.
I see Hank and Dexter charging forward, followed by the servant. My heart pounds wildly with every step they take.
But time isn't entirely on our side. Just as they reach the wall, the attackers finish reloading and resume their relentless firing. Narco is forced to retreat, taking cover behind the table again.
I look around, trying to assess the situation. The problem now is that I can't see the attackers clearly, and on top of that, I only have a pistol. There's not much I can do with it.
A devious thought crosses my mind. I'm in a relatively safe spot now. I could leave with my men and abandon Narco here. It's not a bad idea—we're enemies, after all.
But I quickly realize the consequences of such a decision. If rumors spread about what happened—that I left him and ran—then the plans I have in mind will become nearly impossible to execute. Even if I succeed, the difficulty would be doubled. No, the losses would outweigh the gains.
As these conflicting thoughts churn in my head, I take a quick glance around. I spot Mopheus unconscious in a corner of the room, with the waiter beside him, his face pale with fear.
"Where can I get a better view of the attackers?"
With trembling hands, he points to a distant hallway. I nod, making up my mind.
"Hank, Dexter, stay here."
"Sir, we'll come with you."
"Does either of you know how to aim?"
I ask, already knowing the answer.
Their silence confirms my suspicion.
"That's what I thought. Stay here and make sure nothing happens to the old man."
Leaving them behind, I dart toward the hallway.
my mind works quickly to analyze.
They attacked in the evening, just as the city's police patrols are about to begin their rounds. They have no intention of leaving. They don't plan to survive. They've brought heavy weaponry. There's no way they'll surrender. In other words, they're a suicide squad.
Whether or not they succeed in killing Narco, they'll kill themselves either way.
Who exactly is this Faceless, and how does he have such control over his men? Could someone like him really have fallen at the hands of a clown like Narco? I find it hard to believe.
At the end of the hallway, I find a staircase. I quickly climb to the second floor and head toward the nearest window. It's in no better shape than the others, already shattered, but it allows me a clear view of the scene outside.
Crouching low, I move cautiously. approach the edge of the window, trying to peek out onto the street in front of the house without exposing myself.
On the sidewalk, I see four cars lined up in a row. Behind them, masked men take cover. Their masks are black, each adorned with an "X" on the forehead. There are more of them than I expected.
They continue firing, their eyes glowing red and wide grins stretching from ear to ear. They look insane, reveling in the chaos they're creating.
"What's wrong with your guts? Hiding like girls."
"He doesn't know his place. How dare he spread rumors that he killed the leader—in his dreams!"
"I did kill him, you scum. If you don't believe me, just wait until I send you to him!"
"Really? When will you come out? Come on and show yourself. So why are you hiding?"
I realize I need to act quickly before Narco charges at them recklessly. I quickly count the attackers: one, two, three, four... ten. Ten heavily armed men.
Three of them stand exposed, while the other seven are sheltered behind the cars. I wonder why they don't alternate—why don't the ones in the back fire while the ones in the front reload, and then switch?
Well, if they did, I wouldn't have had a chance to survive. I'm not sure if this is luck on my part or some piece of a larger plan I don't yet understand.
What do I do now? If I start shooting, they'll notice me immediately. One of them, at least, would target me, and with this small pistol, I wouldn't stand a chance.
deep breath, trying to calm my frayed nerves. A particular idea crystallizes in my mind. There's no other way.
But just as I make my decision and prepare to stand, my body freezes. A troubling thought suddenly strikes me:
I've never killed anyone before.
Since waking up, I may have broken bones and severed limbs, but killing... I haven't done it yet. The original owner of this body might have, but I... I haven't.
I feel cold sweat trickling down my back. Damn it, this is not the time for hesitation or fear.
I try to convince myself: Am I weak? Am I a coward? No, I have to do this. It's better to do it while I'm alone. No one will be around to witness my pathetic reaction.
I'm no longer that little boy. I'm no longer the person who depends on anyone's pity. I have everything I need now.
I can hear Narco's voice from below, still provoking the attackers.
"You filthy scum, who do you think you are? All this just because I let you play with me for a bit?"
His nonsense only adds to my tension.
I have to do this. I have to do this.
I gather all my courage and resolve. Standing tall, I try to control the trembling in my hands. raising the pistol, aiming at the fuel tank of one of the cars.
Time seems to stop. I can see every detail with startling clarity—the sparks flying from the barrels of their guns, the slow motion of their bodies, even the tiny particles of dust suspended in the air.
With a shaking finger, I pull the trigger.
"Bang!"
The sound is louder than I expected. My bullet flies, and as if I were a marksman, it hits the target with stunning precision.
A deafening explosion shakes the entire area. Flames leap from the targeted car, engulfing everything around it. The bodies of the attackers closest to the explosion are flung into the air, burning like meteors.
"Boom!"
"Boom!"
The first explosion triggers a chain reaction. The other cars catch fire one after the other, turning the street into a blazing inferno.
I watch the scene in shock, unable to believe what I've just done. The entire street transforms into a sea of flames.
The fire spreads rapidly, consuming everything in its path with terrifying speed. Thick black smoke rises into the sky.
In the midst of this hell, I find myself waiting. Waiting for what exactly? Maybe a knot in my stomach, an urge to vomit, or even tears to stream down my cheeks in sorrow for my lost innocence.
But none of that happens.
Instead, I find myself standing there like a statue, staring at the flames devouring everything before me. Without even realizing it, a smile begins to form on my face.
Yes, I smiled. I don't know if it was the sight of the fire that pleased me, the destruction, or perhaps the muffled cries. I can't say for sure.
The only thing I know for certain is that I felt a kind of release. It was as if a heavy chain had fallen from my shoulders, and I was finally free.
I lower the pistol slowly, my eyes still fixed on the scene in front of me. The heat brushes against my face, and the smoke fills my lungs, but I feel no discomfort.
Suddenly, I notice movement in one of the nearby buildings. My eyes focus on a window on the third floor.
There, amidst the smoke and flames, I see a man. He's wearing a black mask with a prominent "X" on his forehead. His face—or the part visible beneath the mask—bears the same smile I feel on my own.
His voice reaches my ears, rough like the creak of a rusty door:
"Do they really think they're a match for me?"
For a moment, our gazes lock. His eyes gleam with something indescribable—perhaps admiration, perhaps defiance, or maybe a mix of both.
Then, in the blink of an eye, he vanishes. It's as if he was never there at all.
I return to reality.
I take one last look at the burning street. The image etches itself into my mind—the dancing flames, the billowing smoke, the utter destruction.
And deep in my heart, I know something has changed. Something irreversible.
I was reborn.