Aren gripped the knife tightly. His eyes sharpened, like those of a predator zeroing in on its prey. The commander raised his hand and barked an order at the soldiers.
"Fire!"
Gunfire erupted, a deafening roar that tore at his eardrums. Aren instinctively dove behind the island counter. Bullets slammed into the marble, sparking on impact and shredding cabinet doors.
Rainwater began seeping through the shattered windows, pooling across the floor. Aren crouched, knees bent, holding his breath. The sting in his stomach and the spreading warmth told him his wound had reopened, but he ignored it.
They fired without even confirming whether I was the real culprit. Their goal is to kill me? But why?
"Two men, flank from the right!" the commander ordered. The pounding of boots grew closer.
Silently, Aren pulled a serving pan from beneath the counter. As one soldier approached, Aren hurled it at his head. The pan struck hard, and in that opening, Aren drove his knife deep into the man's thigh. The soldier groaned, collapsing to his knees.
The second soldier raised his gun, but Aren was already rolling across the floor. With a sharp strike, he smashed the man's wrist. The gun clattered onto the tiles, its metallic ring echoing through the corridor.
"Seize him!"
Two more soldiers rushed forward, but Aren snatched up the fallen weapon with one hand. A quick check of the magazine—half full. He tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a cold smile.
"Well, things are getting interesting."
Without pulling his finger off the trigger, Aren stepped back and fired twice. Both shots landed true—one to the heart, one to the forehead. The soldier crumpled instantly. His comrade froze, staring at the boy in horror. Aren's breathing was steady, his eyes cold, as if he were reading the man's confusion and fear.
At that moment, the storm outside struck the windows with a violent gust. Lightning flashed, flooding the hall in white light.
Aren seized the moment, sprinting to the left. He fired at the lamp overhead, plunging the hall into darkness. The gunshot echoed off the stone walls, his shadow flickering away.
"Damn it, he shot the light! We lost him!" the Avalon Warden shouted. Aren pressed himself against the corner, listening. Footsteps—three men were closing in.
"Damn it! They said his threat level was B! This is at least A+—maybe S!"
"Shut it, idiot!"
"The commander must've already contacted them. Once Aegis arrives, it won't be our problem."
"Exactly. Hunting down corrupted Nyx isn't our job anyway."
Hearing their hushed voices, Aren's brows furrowed. He slipped behind a column, drove his blade up under a soldier's chin, and dropped him instantly.
Before the others could react to their fallen comrade, Aren slashed one's wrist—but the other unloaded his weapon in panic. Aren darted aside, narrowly avoiding the hail of bullets.
"You son of a bitch!" the soldier roared, spraying fire with his rifle.
"Hey, if you shoot like that—" Before he could finish, a stray bullet grazed his arm. At the last second, the commander yanked him back by the neck, saving him from death.
"Everyone, fall back!" the commander barked. He struck the panicked soldier in the back of the head. "Get a grip, fool!" Then he turned to the rest. "Take the wounded and retreat."
The soldiers carried the injured and left the dead behind as they withdrew toward the doors.
Just as Aren moved for the back exit, the doors and windows sealed shut—metal vines coiling like serpents.
"What the hell—?" Aren muttered, frowning. A spike of metal shot up from the floor, piercing his right foot and pinning it to the ceiling. He cried out in pain, collapsing to one knee. Another spike burst up, impaling his shoulder and driving into the wall.
In an instant, metal spears erupted all around him, skewering his body from every angle. They anchored him in place, his body spread like a specimen pinned in the center of the hall.
Blood spilled from his mouth. He forced himself to stay conscious. But when someone yanked his hair and snapped his head back, his blurred gaze met the man holding him.
"Quite cunning, aren't you?" the man mocked. His ash-gray hair slicked back, his eyes burned with killing intent. "Mobilizing this many men to capture a brat like you…"
He clicked his tongue. "Don't worry—you won't die."
"If you didn't want him dead, you shouldn't have skewered him with your damn spikes, Logan," a woman's sharp voice cut in from behind.
"I avoided his vital points, didn't I, Mary?" Logan smirked.
"These are your non-vital points?" Mary snapped, pointing at Aren, who looked more like a hedgehog than a human.
"Tsk. You're no fun," Logan sneered, retracting the spikes. Aren's body nearly collapsed, but Mary caught him, lowering him gently onto his back.