Asahara Shoko scrambled to his feet, overwhelmed with urgency. He was no longer interested in taking risks or asserting authority—those things could wait until he survived.
As long as he lived, as long as he survived this hour, he could still summon storms and sweep away those deceitful villains later…
Surrounded by the sect's core members, he fled frantically towards the top floor.
Gunshots, screams, and cries echoed endlessly behind him, as if pursued by fiends. Asahara Shoko dared not glance back, only feeling death's presence creeping closer with each step he took, each headlong rush bringing the scythe nearer...
Faster... Faster!
Soon, they'll be there!
They raced up the corridor's stairs towards the upper floor, passing through the flat-level hall where several core members became separated, attempting to hide inside a flat-level room, only to be gunned down by a barrage of bullets.
