It had been less than two minutes from the moment they detected the situation to their arrival as reinforcements. In that short time, two positions, twelve fully-armed elite soldiers—all dead!
My God! What kind of enemy are they facing?
「...」
Kill all the soldiers guarding the door.
Dean casually discarded the empty Gatling gun, drew a pair of submachine guns, and quickly ran towards the corridor.
As he approached the hall, a strong stench of blood wafted through the air.
Dean slowed his pace.
Around the corner, a scene akin to Hell unfolded before his eyes.
Humanoid beasts, clad in standard prison garb, lay on the ground, feasting voraciously. All manner of viscera and filth were scattered about; long intestines dragged along, sticking to the bloody corridor floor, painting a grotesque oil painting from Hell...
Beneath the mask, Dean pursed his lips and silently raised his guns, pulling the trigger.
RATATAT!
Bursts of orange flames sprayed forth.
