Michael had taken down several guards, either knocking them unconscious or leaving them too battered to continue fighting.
Alexia had handled her fair share of enemies too.
By now, the mansion’s courtyard was covered with bodies. There were no casualties… yet.
But instead of thinning out, the number of guards kept increasing.
More and more guards kept rushing out endlessly, swarming Alexia and Michael, not giving them even a second to breathe.
What’s worse was that the guards were gaining ground, pushing the duo back.
Their attack formation was highly efficient.
Dozens of them were using automatic rifles to unleash a hail of bullets from a distance.
Others were trying to creep closer with pistols or enchanted artifacts, attempting to engage in close-quarters with the intruders.
Michael gritted his teeth. He was crouched behind an earthen barrier he’d conjured using one of his defensive Cards.
Alexia dismissed her pavise shield and re-summoned it into her grip, which she was now using to deflect the incoming storm of bullets.
Both of them were unharmed but pinned. They were forced to be on the defensive.
It was a bad situation.
And it was about to turn dire.
Above, on the terrace, the automated turrets flared to life. The moment they came online, they opened fire… and the bullets started raining down from the sky like rain.
The brutal impact of the shots, combined with the need to shield herself against attacks from every angle, drove Alexia to one knee.
Since Michael was not using a physical shield, he was holding up much better. But his earthen wall had fractured under the torrent of gunfire as well.
Michael’s earthen barrier was riddled with gaping holes. Large chunks of it kept crumbling away every time a bullet hit it.
Yeah, it was a dire situation, no doubt.
Alexia somehow scrambled her way over to Michael and ducked next to him.
When she spoke, her tone was almost casual, as if they weren’t in a life-or-death situation. “Hi, Mikey! What’re you doing?”
Michael gave her his usual deadpan glare. “Oh, you know. Trying not to die. You?”
“Same, same,” Alexia giggled. But a grunt escaped her lips a second later when a bullet grazed her shoulder.
“What? Are you shot?!” Michael asked with genuine concern in his voice.
“Nah,” Alexia shook her head while wincing slightly. “Just a scratch. But seriously, why aren’t these guys ending? We’ve taken down, like, fifty guards already, and they are still coming at us! How many of them are there?! And how’d they react so fast? It’s like they were expecting us!”
She was not wrong.
The guards had mobilized way too quickly.
They’d been ready with rifles, ammo, and a practiced formation. It indeed felt like they were expecting something like this to happen.
But how?
Michael’s first thought was that maybe they hacked the radio channel he and his group were using to communicate earlier today.
But that was impossible. That channel was encrypted.
Unless someone had leaked the decryption key, no one should’ve been able to eavesdrop on their plans.
…Wait.
Could Samael have done it?
Could he have betrayed them?
Maybe he told the Overlord they were coming and— no!
Michael immediately shook his head, putting aside that thought.
That was a ridiculous accusation.
Sure, that jerk had a grudge against him, but would Samael really sabotage the whole mission?
He wouldn’t risk Alexia and the others just to hurt Michael, right?
That would be too low, even for him.
…Right?
Alexia snapped him back to reality. “Mikey, I’m asking you something! Do you have an armor Card?”
Michael blinked at her.
Her already high-pitched voice was nearly drowned out by the thunder of gunfire. It took him a second to register what she was saying.
Finally, he nodded. “Yeah, I do. But I didn’t want to use it this early.”
Armor Cards were a type of item Card.
Just like some Cards could summon swords or spears, these ones materialized full-body armor onto their user’s body.
But most lower-ranked Awakened avoided these types of Cards.
Why? One simple reason.
It took way too much Essence to maintain a full suit of proper armor.
Every joint, every plate, every inch that covered the body drained up Essence.
In fact, most full-body armors drained more Essence than high-tier spell Cards. So, a shield or barrier Card was far more efficient.
That’s why low-level Awakened rarely kept armor Cards in their Soul Arsenal.
Some people opted for lighter gear like a chainmail or a breastplate, but most fought unprotected — unless they were Brawlers, who needed the bulk for close combat.
Of course, there were Anomalies who didn’t need armor at all.
Like Samael.
He could create shields or reshape terrain using his innate power just by touching the ground. He doesn’t need to carry a Card that could grant him protection.
Samael…
Michael’s mood soured just by thinking about him.
If that insufferable golden-haired brat were here, he could’ve raised walls or barriers to shield them from the gunfire.
Then this situation could’ve been so much less dangerous.
Different abilities are useful to fight against different threats.
Michael knew he and Alexia were stronger than him in a direct confrontation, but right now, Samael’s power would’ve been useful.
“Haaa,” Michael sighed, forcing himself to focus.
Alexia misread his frustration and shrugged. “Look, I didn’t want to burn my Essence this soon either, but we’re stuck here!”
“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “Besides, they’re about to bring out the heavy artillery. We’ll need to armor up soon anyway.”
“…What?” Alexia stared at him, baffled.
“Oh, right. You can’t see.” Michael clasped his hands, then peered through a bullet-riddled gap in the barrier. “Some guys at the back are loading bazookas.”
Alexia froze. Then she shrieked, “Excuse me?! Why the hell do they have those kinds of weapons on them?!”
Michael shrugged. “Who knows. But let’s hurry up—”
A deafening explosion cut him off as a rocket slammed into the ground nearby, hurling debris into the air.
Before he could react, another projectile struck his earthen barrier and exploded. The wall shattered into dust almost immediately.
A third rocket hit Alexia’s shield and detonated. The booming impact knocked her backward.
Thundering explosions erupted like fireworks.
The earth shook as more rockets continued to rain down on them or in their general direction, blasting craters into the courtyard.
Guards who’d been lying unconscious weren’t spared. Some were caught in direct blasts, their bodies reduced to little more than a scattering of burnt flesh and shattered bones.
Some weren’t lucky enough to die instantly.
A few guards were thrown back by the explosions. They crumpled to the ground like broken dolls. A few others were lying in the dirt with their limbs bent unnaturally.
Some were struck by shrapnels, blood pooling beneath them. Others simply vanished in the firestorm, burnt to ash.
The courtyard was filled with screams and cries and dust and debris.
When the firing stopped and the smoke somewhat cleared, the air reeked of scorched earth, blood, and gunpowder.
Those who were wounded groaned weakly, but most were silenced by death. The courtyard was now a smoldering ruin.
It was a scene of hell.
One of the guards who’d fired the bazookas shook, then fell to his knees.
He was young — barely past his teens. And his face was pale as he gasped for air like a fish out of water.
“Hey, get your shit together, Rowan!” barked the man beside him, an older guard whose rank insignia glinted harshly on his uniform.
But the young man — Rowan — didn’t move.
His wide eyes kept staring at the carnage ahead. Smoldering craters, severed limbs, and the charred remains of men he’d shared meals with.
Men he’d joked with during drills.
A massacre.
This was a massacre.
The people who died were killed by their own comrades.
“Rowan!” The older man gripped his shoulder, shaking him. “This ain’t your fault! Orders are orders! The Overlord will pin the blame on them — we’re just following procedure!”
Procedure. The word curdled in Rowan’s throat. Procedure couldn’t justify killing their own friends. It couldn’t unburn the faces he recognized in the ash.
He didn’t answer. His chest hitched violently, breaths coming in ragged, shallow bursts.
The older guard glanced around. It wasn’t just Rowan.
Others were trembling too. Their hands were slack on rifles, faces slick with sweat and guilt.
None of them had signed up for this.
Hell, half of them were hired for crowd control, not… this.
The older man sighed.
He himself was feeling sick to his stomach. But orders were orders. This was his job. The only one he’d ever been good at.
A shaky voice spoke up from his left. “A-At least we got them, right? Those Apex Academy Cadets?”
The older guard turned to the man who said that. “You idiot!”
“W-What?!” The man flinched, bewildered.
“How long have you been in this line of work, huh? You should know to never jinx shit like that!”
But before he could berate him further, he noticed something flickering in the drifting smoke ahead.
“Fuck,” he hissed.
And immediately, a figure clad in lustreless black armor emerged from the haze.