Chapter 272: It Doesn't End That Easily
The path was littered with corpses, and the sounds of fighting still echoed faintly from deeper within.
Paradoxically, that was exactly what reassured him that they weren't too late.
After all, if the squirrel had already been dealt with, these assassins would've long since retreated, not stayed to encircle the building like this.
Their presence meant the target was still holding out.
Sure enough, as he reached the floor reeking most strongly of blood, he spotted a familiar figure surrounded by black-clad attackers.
Fresh wounds marked the girl's recently healed body, and from the way she clutched her arm, her condition was far from good. But even so, she wasn't the one in the worst shape right now.
That honor belonged to the ring of assassins—not affiliated with the Armorless Union, but dressed entirely in black—who were desperately trying to subdue a different threat altogether.
And that threat stood like a reaper incarnate.
In front of Steven, Specter stood with chainsaw in hand, her nun-like outfit soaked in so much blood it had turned nearly black. The chainsaw, effective as it was, had one big flaw: it turned every kill into an explosion of gore. Naturally, her once-pristine white hair was now stained a deep crimson.
But judging by the blissful look on her face, she was thoroughly enjoying herself.
"You're gonna need another bath after this," Steven muttered, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder—only to think better of it when he saw the blood caked across her whole body and pull his hand back.
"Heehee~ What? Don't like me like this?"
Specter wiped the blood from her cheeks and flashed him a dazzling smile, clearly riding high from the carnage.
"Not gonna lie—I don't. I prefer you clean," Steven said, waving a hand dismissively.
"Kill all you want, just... leave a few alive for questioning."
He didn't have a blood phobia or anything, but he did have standards. A girl covered in someone else's guts? Not exactly appealing. The aesthetics of violence were one thing; being physically close to it was another.
Unfortunately, the assassins weren't about to sit still while the two chatted.
Seizing the moment, they swarmed forward like a well-trained strike team, their arrows darkening the air while their melee fighters charged in a thunderous rush.
Steven didn't even flinch.
These arrows? Please. Even without enchantments like Projectile Protection, they'd barely tickle him.
And as for Specter? If she couldn't handle this, she had no business calling herself an Abyssal Hunter.
Sure enough, the chainsaw-wielding girl didn't hesitate. She met the incoming wave of enemies with unbridled glee, charging straight into the fray with a wide, eager grin, her weapon roaring to life once more.
The arrows barely grazed her—each one deflected by a chainsaw that was anything but nimble. But once Specter dove into the crowd, she became a wolf in a pen full of sheep, tearing through them with wild, gleeful abandon.
It took only minutes—less, even—for the once-crowded room to open up into a blood-soaked void. The assassins were no more than chunks of flesh and scattered limbs.
Had Steven not reminded her earlier to leave a few alive, the handful of crossbowmen near Sona would no doubt have shared the same fate as the rest, reduced to meat by the roaring blade.
Steven remained unfazed.
He'd grown more than used to Specter's brand of brutality. But the surviving crossbowmen? And Sona?
They were frozen in place, stunned into silence.
Not just shocked—but shaken.
The kind of horror that shuts your brain down, makes you forget what you're even supposed to be doing.
As the last gurgling screams died out, Steven strolled over to the trembling assassins, who hadn't even tried to move.
He casually plucked the crossbows from their hands like a teacher confiscating toys.
"Alright then, boys," he said with a faint smile, clapping his hands to snap them out of their stupor. "Anyone feel like sharing who sent you?"
The men flinched, finally snapping back to reality.
But when they saw Specter sauntering over with her chainsaw still humming—her blood-drenched form like something straight from a nightmare—they screamed in unison and huddled together in terror.
"I-It was the K.G.C.C!" one of them stammered. "They told us to clear out this gathering of Infected—to leave no survivors. They said they'd handle the excuses, that we just had to do the killing!"
Steven wasn't surprised in the slightest.
Of course it was the K.G.C.C again.
Get the Armorless Union to take care of someone troublesome like Sona, then hire throwaway assassins to wipe out the rest of the Infected associated with her. Neat, efficient, deniable.
He shook his head and left the whimpering killers alone.
They were already broken and are no longer a threat.
Instead, he walked over to the red-haired girl who had been standing at the base of the stairs this entire time, still clutching her longsword in a white-knuckled grip.
"I told you," he said, glancing at her battered figure, "you didn't have to carry all this alone. If we'd arrived any later, this would've been even more of a tragedy."
He looked up at the stairwell she'd been guarding.
On the minimap, a cluster of white dots—neutral parties—were still marked within the building.
Survivors. And not just a few.
Holding out all night against an organized hit squad? That couldn't have been her doing alone.
"Thank you," Sona whispered, finally pulled from her daze.
Her smile was weak, but real. Her grip on the sword eased at last.
Just then, a grey-haired girl came running down the stairs behind her and caught Sona in her arms before she could collapse from exhaustion.
The newcomer had a large, fluffy tail just like Sona's—but unlike the reddish tones of Sona's, hers shimmered with a soft, silvery-gray hue.
It was so plush and cotton-candy-like that Steven felt an inexplicable urge to reach out and squeeze it.
"So this is the companion you mentioned?"
Steven looked the girl up and down, then turned to Sona for confirmation.
Sona, now lying weakly in the silver-haired girl's arms, gave a faint nod and glanced back toward the staircase.
"Tell Iwona to get the others out while we still have time. We can't stay here anymore."
Even though her body was on the verge of collapse, Sona forced herself upright just enough to give the order to her companion.
If these assassins had been hired by the K.G.C.C, then once they learned the operation had failed, they wouldn't simply let things go. No, the General Chamber of Commerce wasn't the type to give up so easily.
Just because Steven and Specter had eliminated this wave didn't mean the danger was over.
"Huh? Why?" the silver-haired girl asked, clearly confused.
She glanced at the carnage in the corridor and the blood-covered Specter, who was finishing off the last of the crossbowmen.
"What she means," Steven interjected with a shrug, "is that now that the assassins are dealt with, the next ones to show up will be the officials. And with this many bodies lying around, guess who they'll blame?"
That was the cruel reality of those in power. Send in the killers, let them make a mess, and once it's done, slap a label on the survivors—'rioters,' 'terrorists,' 'dangerous infected'—whatever it takes. No one was going to challenge the narrative.
After all, who really cared about a bunch of infected nobodies from the slums?
The silver-haired girl finally understood, biting her lip in frustration before she turned and rushed off to alert the others.
Steven reached out and helped steady Sona, who looked like she might collapse at any moment.
He glanced over the wounds she'd sustained.
They may have been just ordinary assassins—untrained and unorganized—but holding them off for an entire night had left her body in shambles.
If he and Specter had arrived even a little later… she might've died here.
Still, judging from the situation, she likely hadn't been alone the whole time. It would've been impossible for one person to defend this stairwell all night.
"You shouldn't have come," Sona said bitterly, leaning on Steven for support.
She hadn't expected the K.G.C.C to strike so decisively, so mercilessly. They hadn't even waited—they attacked that very night, giving the infected community no time to evacuate.
And now Steven and his crew were dragged into the mess too.
Maybe they had saved her, but it only pulled them deeper into the chaos. There was no turning back anymore.
"It's not like I wanted to," Steven replied with a wry smile. "They kicked us out. And where else could we go? I figure this was all part of their plan—drive us here, trap us, and take us all out in one sweep."
He pinched his chin thoughtfully, then glanced out the open window beside Sona.
In the very next moment, a flash of black light tore across the sky like a meteor falling from orbit—hurtling straight toward their building.
There was no time to react.
A thunderous crash echoed through the air as the impact struck, engulfing Steven and Sona in an explosion of smoke, rubble, and darkness.
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