Harrison picked up more of the fallen metal sticks and slipped the extra into his pants. He used one metal stick in his right hand to bash the opponents, while his left arm, covered by the leather jacket, blocked attacks coming at him.
Because his swing was too strong, the metal stick in his hand became crooked after several impacts. He had to throw the beat-up stick away and replace it with the new one he stored in his pants.
In a short time, all the thugs on the second floor were routed. As the last person fell, Harrison heard many steps from the direction of the ramp going to the third floor. They must have heard the commotion on the second floor, and after they confirmed it was the sound of fighting, they all rushed down here.
Harrison looked around the place. People were whimpering in pain. Most were unconscious or dead. He couldn't tell. He couldn't afford mercy in this situation. They came at him with the intention to kill. He returned their intention in kind. Any half-hearted attempt would just backfire.
He looked at the metal stick in his hand. It was bent out of shape. He threw that stick away and reached behind him. All the sticks were gone, so he walked around the place. The group from the third floor was still confused. They just stared as Harrison walked around the place. They were trying to make sense of the absurd scene before them.
Harrison successfully scavenged four good-conditioned metal sticks. With those arsenals, he walked toward the group that was still staring at him near the ramp to the third floor.
Some in the group finally snapped out of their trance. They yelled, which roused the others. Everyone started charging forward while shouting at the top of their lungs.
The brawl resumed. The group from the third floor didn't fare better. The difference was that some of these lots carried sharp weapons. Some used knives, and a few wielded machetes.
However, these sharp weapons failed to cut through the bundle of leather jacket protecting Harrison's left arm. The jacket was made of reinforced hardy leather. It was highly resistant to tears. Without the ability to draw blood, the sharp weapons were even less effective than the metal sticks. The metal sticks at least made Harrison feel some impact on his arm if the people swinging them were strong enough. He hardly felt the impact of these knives and machetes.
The fight against the third floor's thugs lasted as short as the group originally on the second floor. The area before the ramp to the third floor was filled with a mound of whimpering bodies. Only Harrison remained standing. He was panting. He looked down and saw a knife protruding from his side.
He grabbed the knife and pulled it out. Blood spurted from the wound when the knife left his body. The blood slowed to a small leak before stopping altogether. His body had the natural ability to stop bleeding instantly. Still, he ripped his shirt and tied it around the wound.
"Damn it… Looks like I have truly gone old," Harrison cursed.
He stood still for around one minute to gather his breath. Once his breathing was steady again, he picked up a machete and walked up the ramp.
The third floor was empty. It was understandable since the thugs here had rushed downstairs. He walked peacefully to the other end of the parking floor, where the ramp to the fourth floor was located. He walked up that ramp.
Arriving on the fourth floor, he saw many thugs just goofing off on that floor. The closest group was even playing a card game. This group stopped playing and looked at him with bewildered expressions when he came up. Unlike those on the third floor, the ones on this floor didn't hear the commotion happening on the second floor.
"Hey! Who do you think–Hrgghh…!!"
One thug who was leaning on a nearby pillar came to demand that Harrison explain himself, only to be answered with a hard kick on the belly before he even completed his question. The thug flew to the rail and had the same fate as the one on the second floor. Except the one here fell three floors down to the ground below.
This incident finally let everyone on that floor register Harrison's presence. They immediately got into ready mode. They picked up the weapons lying next to them.
"I see…," Harrison muttered. While only a few thugs on the second and third floors carried weapons, all the thugs on this floor carried one.
"Who the hell are you?!" Asked one of the thugs playing cards earlier.
Harrison chuckled. What's the point of asking that question? He still answered, however. "I'm your daddy!"
He rushed forward and crashed hard into the thug. The thug's nearby friends didn't expect the old man with the huge frame to move that fast. By the time they could respond, their friend had flown away from the collision. Even then, their response was late.
Harrison swung the machete in his right hand. His swing was wide but fast. That one swing sliced through the necks of all the thugs around him. One even had his head sliced clean off. This took everyone who was about to rush at him aback.
"No mercy to your enemies," Harrison uttered. Some blood from the thugs he had just killed splattered his face, making him appear savage. "If you want to regret this, regret that you ever joined the syndicates…!!!"
Harrison charged forward, slicing and dicing the enemies he passed through. His jacket-covered left arm served as a shield while the machete in his right hand took down whoever was brave enough to approach.
When his machete became dull because it was covered in blood and flesh, he threw it away and picked a new one from the fallen thugs.
Before long, most of the thugs on the fourth floor were down. This time, there was no whimpering because all the downed ones were dead. A few still alive cowered at the sides of the room. They didn't dare to come near.
"Leave," Harrison said.
Hearing that was like hearing the message of an angel. They threw the weapons in their hands and ran to the ramp going down to the third floor. They quickly disappeared to the floor below.