Old Ashvarn was turned completely upside down as a savage hunt tore through its streets.
Ethan Heart swung again and again between rooftops, moving from one to the next—sometimes sprinting across them in a desperate attempt to stay alive, and at other times leaping away the moment he found himself cornered by the city's inhabitants who had appeared out of nowhere.
In such a dire situation, his Legion Arm was nothing short of a lifeline.
Using the grappling hook, he swung like a spider from building to building, barely escaping each time.
Throwing himself through a narrow window—one that barely allowed his body through—Ethan landed inside and gasped for air, struggling to breathe.
But nothing entered his lungs…
Except the stench of clotted, rotting blood.
Peering out the window, exhaustion written clearly across his face, he saw more and more of them rushing toward him, surrounding the very building he had entered.
