Vaelor and Robert stood near the side doorway of the apartment building while Caeson, Junwell, and James were outside in surrender position, hands raised, watching everything unfold. Junwell, however, was subtly nodding his head while glancing toward the opposite side of the street, calculating something.
Inside the building, chaos continued. Men armed with knives and short weapons rushed down from upper floors in large numbers. Vaelor and Robert fought efficiently; the attackers were many, but still manageable. Vaelor's movements were sharp and controlled, each strike precise. Robert used his stick to keep distance, knocking weapons out of hands.
Then two Senate men with long hair and thick beards appeared from the stairwell holding rifles.
Robert quickly whispered, "Stop, Vaelor!"
But Vaelor was already in combat mode.
The riflemen aimed directly.
Robert slowly raised his hands. "We surrender. You guys were the ones who captured us first."
Earlier, when Senate Division men had ambushed Vaelor and Robert, they dragged them into a hidden room inside the apartment. Five or more men were inside. They tied both of them and began questioning.
"Who are you? You don't look like locals."
Robert answered, "We're from Special Investigation."
"Spying on us?"
Robert said, "No. We got information someone might attack this place. Believe us."
One man pointed at Vaelor. "Why is he quiet? Thinking something? Ignoring us?"
Another said threateningly, "Talk. Or you die."
Vaelor finally spoke calmly, "Like those factory workers' families?"
The room went silent.
"What?" one man snapped.
Robert hurried, "Sir, he's new. Doesn't know what to say."
Vaelor continued, "Maybe I asked the wrong question."
One of other man with white hair snapped, "What question?"
"In the place where I live, powerful people take advantage of their position and harm others without knowing what lower-class people suffer."
A ponytailed man smirked. "That's how the world works. And honestly? I don't care what others suffer, they deserve it because they are in low class."
That was enough.
Vaelor's expression changed. In one sudden movement he snapped the rope binding his hands. One punch—first man down. Second—crashed into wall. Within seconds all five men were unconscious.
He untied Robert.
Robert stared. "You've got serious guts and strength."
"We should leave," Robert urged.
Vaelor replied coldly, "No. They need a finish touch."
"Finish touch?"
Back to present—The two riflemen now stood facing Vaelor and Robert in the hallway. Outside the doorway, Vaelor noticed Caeson, Junwell, and James still surrendering.
Why are they still standing there? he wondered.
Caeson muttered, "How long are we supposed to stand like this?"
Junwell calmly replied, "Ten seconds. If calculations are correct."
"Ten seconds?"
Junwell began counting backward under his breath. "Ten… nine… eight…"
As he reached "two… one…"
The red sniper laser marks disappeared from their foreheads.
They looked toward the rooftop.
Something had happened.
James frowned. Caeson looked confused. But Junwell's expression showed he expected this.
On the rooftop stood a man with curly brown hair and spectacles.
It was Alfred.
He had already taken down one sniper with a surprise strike from behind.
The remaining two riflemen aimed at him instantly.
Alfred muttered, "Oh… I think I've done my job."
He ran and jumped across the rooftop edges, dodging bullets. At short range their accuracy dropped. He disappeared beyond the adjacent building.
On the roof, the remaining snipers shouted, "Goffey! Goffey!"
One of them slowly regained consciousness—it was Goffey. He blinked in confusion. "Who…? was that"
On the ground, Junwell lowered his hands. "Let's move."
The three rushed toward the apartment entrance where Vaelor and Robert were facing the riflemen.
Vaelor noticed them approaching and made a quick hand gesture to Robert: Why are they coming here?
The riflemen were momentarily distracted by rooftop chaos.
Robert seized the chance and threw his stick directly at one rifleman's face. He stumbled.
Vaelor lunged forward instantly, knocking both riflemen down with heavy strikes.
At that moment Junwell, James, and Caeson entered.
They faced each other.
Robert whispered in Vaelor's ear, "They're here."
Caeson cracked his neck. "I think it's time to settle the debt."
James stepped forward. "No. He's is like perfect match for me, I have a feeling to fight him."
Vaelor looked at Caeson. "You."
Then he looked at James. "And who are you?"
James smirked. "Already forgot? Kaspus Bar. You messed with my brother."
Vaelor noticed the sword tattoo on James' arm. "Oh. Now I remember."
James replied, "You're not walking out this time."
Vaelor said calmly, "Sorry. I'm busy with something else today."
Junwell stepped between slightly. "We have a job to finish."
Meanwhile, on a nearby street, Alfred was walking calmly while checking a small tracking screen device.
"What are they doing? Sniper game?" he muttered.
He thought aloud, "Junwell called me. How did he get Dr. Howard's number? Probably from my room."
He checked the blinking dots on the tracker. "Good thing I implanted trackers in their shoes."
He smiled faintly. "When Junwell nodded during surrender, that was the signal.If he don't give that I was also jump at the scene."
"Well I climbed from the backside pipe, reached the roof, surprise-hit one sniper. I think the skilled one—Goffey—was pure luck."
Back on the rooftop, the remaining snipers were saying Goffey's name while helping him up.
Inside the apartment, second floor—
Nine armed men with rifles were positioned defensively.
In front of them stood a muscular man with bare hands, calm and composed. It was Derent.
The close-combat executive of the Second Division.
And now the real battle was about to begin.