The stairwell door creaked open with a low metallic groan.
The third floor was chaos. Smoke hung thick in the air — the remnants of a recent gunfight. Bullet holes peppered the walls, and sparks jumped from a half-destroyed circuit box. Somewhere in the distance, someone screamed, then went silent.
Sol motioned for silence. The team slipped inside, fanning out automatically — instincts honed by repetition.
They didn't have to look far.
A squad of assassins — six, maybe seven — was already sweeping the floor, rifles up, flashlights slicing through the haze.
One of the beams swept across Sol's position. He ducked behind a broken workstation, heart pounding. Too close.
Masayoshi raised his silencer, took aim —
—but before he could shoot, one of the assassins barked something in a foreign tongue and opened fire.
The corridor exploded in gunfire.
Bullets tore through partitions, shredding paper, glass, and plaster. The noise was deafening in the enclosed space.
Sol popped out from behind the workstation and returned fire — short, efficient bursts. Two assassins went down immediately, collapsing in a tangle of limbs. Asahi moved like liquid shadow, rolling into position behind an overturned desk. His rifle barked twice — precise, surgical shots — dropping another target.
Takahara ducked behind a filing cabinet as rounds slammed into the metal, sparks flying. "They're trying to pin us down!" he shouted.
Albert grinned grimly. "Let's pin them harder."
He yanked a smoke grenade from his belt, pulled the pin, and hurled it down the hallway. The canister clattered, hissed, and filled the air with thick gray smoke.
The assassins' flashlights cut through the haze, confused and disoriented.
Masayoshi advanced low and fast, firing blind through the smoke. One round found its mark — a cry of pain, then silence.
Sol saw movement — an assassin sprinting through the mist toward Asahi's flank. He didn't think; he surged forward, slamming into the man mid-stride. They crashed to the floor, struggling for control of the rifle. Sol twisted hard, disarming him, then drove his knee into the man's chest before finishing it cleanly with a single suppressed shot.
"Left side clear!" Sol called out, voice ragged over the crackle of gunfire.
Takahara rose from cover, tossing a frag grenade across the hall. It landed perfectly —
BOOM!
The blast shook the walls. Shrapnel tore through the last of the resistance.
Then — silence.
The smoke hung heavy, drifting lazily through the beams of flashlight still lying on the ground. The air smelled of burnt metal and cordite.
Asahi stepped out first, scanning the room with steady hands. "All neutralized," he said quietly.
Albert kicked one of the bodies aside, reloading his weapon. "They knew we were coming up," he muttered. "They were waiting."
Sol wiped the sweat and grime from his face, eyes narrowing. He could feel it too — the shift in the air, the weight of something bigger at play.
"This isn't random," he said. "Someone's feeding them our location."
Masayoshi looked up from checking a fallen assassin's gear. "Inside intel?"
"Maybe," Sol replied. "But we find out after we clear the top floor."
He reloaded, snapped the magazine into place, and raised his rifle.
"Move out. Fourth floor. Stay tight."
The fourth floor loomed above them like a promise of hell.
The stairwell opened into a vast executive suite — marble floors cracked from earlier explosions, wide glass panels overlooking the storm-lit city. The air was eerily quiet, except for the faint hum of machinery and the slow drip... drip... drip of water from a broken pipe.
And standing at the far end, framed by the glow of the city lights, was Raphael.
He looked almost out of place — a young man in an immaculate white suit, barely touched by the chaos that surrounded him. His blond hair was slicked back, his expression calm, almost bored. He held a pistol loosely in one hand, as if it were an accessory rather than a weapon.
When he saw them, his lips curled into a slow smile.
"Albert," Raphael said, his voice smooth and lazy. "You actually came back."
Albert froze mid-step. The others fanned out instinctively, weapons up, but Sol raised a hand. This wasn't just another fight — this was personal.
"Where's the rest of your people, Raphael?" Sol asked, his voice low.
Raphael shrugged. "Gone. Dismissed. They served their purpose. This—" he gestured around the room "—was never about them."
His eyes fixed on Albert. Cold. Possessive. "It was about you."
Albert's jaw clenched. "You set this up. The infiltration, the assassins… all of it."
Raphael smiled wider, tilting his head. "Of course I did. You really think I'd let you leave that easily? You belong here. With me. My father paid good money for you, Albert. I don't take kindly to thieves — even if they think they're family."
Masayoshi took a step forward, fury in his eyes. "He's not your property."
Raphael's calm didn't waver. "Isn't he? He was bought. Raised. Trained to obey. You think because he ran away and found a new pack, he suddenly grew a soul?" He chuckled, low and cold. "He's a dog. A loyal one. And I always get my dog back."
Albert's hand trembled around his weapon. Memories flickered behind his eyes — the mansion, the commands, the collar. The feeling of being less than human.
"Not anymore," he said.
Raphael sighed, almost disappointed. "Then I'll have to remind you what happens to disobedient pets."
He snapped his fingers. Hidden panels in the walls slid open with a hiss. A dozen black-armored guards poured into the room, rifles raised.
"Positions!" Sol barked.
Gunfire erupted instantly. The room filled with muzzle flashes and smoke. Bullets shattered glass, ripped through furniture, sent sparks cascading across the marble floor.
Takahara ducked behind a column, returning fire. Asahi dropped two guards from across the room with flawless precision. Masayoshi covered Albert's flank, but the guards kept pressing forward — relentless, mechanical.
Albert barely noticed the noise. His focus was locked on Raphael, who watched from behind his guards, utterly calm, as if the chaos were entertainment.
Albert broke from cover, charging through the smoke. Bullets whizzed past, one grazing his shoulder, but he didn't stop. He slammed into one of the guards, ripped the rifle free, and fired point-blank into another.
"Raphael!" he shouted, his voice hoarse.
Raphael raised his pistol — but Albert was faster. He grabbed Raphael's wrist, twisting hard, sending the gun clattering to the floor.
The two crashed into the glass wall, cracking it from end to end. Rain from the storm outside sprayed through the fractures.
Raphael laughed, breathless. "You really think you're free, Albert? You're nothing without me."
Albert drove his fist into Raphael's stomach, then his jaw. "You're wrong," he growled. "I'm finally something without you."
Raphael spat blood, sneering. "Then die as nothing."
He lunged, reaching for a knife hidden in his sleeve — but Sol's rifle barked once. The bullet hit Raphael's shoulder, spinning him backward.
He stumbled toward the glass, one hand clutching his wound, eyes wide in disbelief. The city lights flickered across his face as he whispered, "My father… will never let this go."
The floor trembled. The glass gave way.
Raphael fell — disappearing into the rain and darkness below.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The thunder outside was the only sound.
Sol lowered his weapon slowly. "It's over."
Albert stared out through the broken glass, chest heaving. Lightning flashed across his face, revealing the tears he hadn't realized were there.
"No," he said softly. "It's just beginning."
Meanwhile Hinata and others were becoming restless as all they could here was silence.
Seems like Albert made this place soundproof. It took every fiber in their body to remain calm as they knew that it could turn dangerous if they went out which will be impossible cause the basement was securely locked.