Clang!Clang!Clang!
Bullets tore through the corridor, only to be deflected effortlessly by my weapon.
Some slammed into walls, others arced back midair, striking the shooters before they realized their mistake, and ceased fire.
That hesitation gave me an opening.
I flashed forward, never breaking my balance. Bullets screamed toward me, only to be cut half, their trajectories bent just enough to miss—or turn lethal.
Bodies fell one after another, the corridor echoing with the heavy, wet thuds of headless corpses hitting the floor.
I made a point of targeting their heads—ending things cleanly, and sparing them the trouble of a slow, painful death.
Soon, the real fighters arrived.
Seekers.
D- to B-ranks took the front, while a handful of A-ranks hung back to command the formation.
In the outside world, this lineup would be a formidable force.
Here?
