As Eira slipped out, Noel turned to the group.
"Stay calm. I'll be right back… I need to check on Eira too. I'm going with her."
Ryan's eyes widened. "Are you insane? It's not safe!"
Noel met him eye to eye, unwavering. "Believe me. I'll be fine."
He stepped outside. The night air hit him, sharp and cold—but Eira was already gone. Just a faint rhythm of footsteps ahead. He followed it, each step measured, alert to every sound.
On the other side, Eira's fingers wrapped around her phone. "Damn it… pick up, damn it!" she hissed, eyes scanning.
And then she saw them—two figures moving with lethal intent. One's hand gripped a gun; the other fiddled with a phone, unaware of the storm about to hit.
No hesitation. Eira surged forward. In a heartbeat, she was a blur—darting between them, a shadow that defied reaction. Their eyes snapped to her, guns rising, but she was already past their line of fire. A swift pivot, a low roll, and her body slammed against the ground.
The first shot cracked through the air—too late. Eira's hands moved like lightning, pulling triggers, and two bodies dropped with sickening finality. Silence reclaimed, broken only by her rapid breathing and the faint thud of fallen weapons.
She rolled to her feet, still low, phone snapping to her ear. "Hey… what's up? Calling out of nowhere?"
"I need your help. ASAP," she said, voice tight, controlled.
"What happened?"
"There's… killing… rampage… at the college."
"They're targeting students now?"
"I don't know who ordered it, but it has to be stopped. Fast."
"Got it. I'm coming."
Eira slid the phone back into her pocket, eyes sharp, every muscle coiled and ready. Around her was a cage of shadows, and she knew the danger was far from over.
On the other hand, Noel stumbled through the corridor, his feet heavy, his body screaming against the weight of what was happening. Each step felt like dragging through quicksand. The carnage around him, the lifeless bodies scattered like broken dolls, made it impossible to accept the reality.
Dead weight… you have to fight back…
—the voice inside him pressed, sharp and urgent.
Summoning a flicker of courage, he grabbed a rusted pipe lying in his path. His eyes darted around, passing over lifeless bodies, a mix of fear and disbelief tightening his chest.
A whisper, venomous and cold, cut through him: Can you even save them? You're useless… nothing but a scared little boy.
Noel forced the thought away. He had to move. He had to find Eira.
Ahead, a figure appeared, moving cautiously. Instinctively, Noel melted into the shadows behind a wall, holding his breath as the killer's footsteps echoed. Timing was everything.
The moment the man passed, Noel struck. He swung the pipe with every ounce of strength, the metal connecting with bone in a sickening crunch. The body went rigid, dagger clattering to the ground.
Relief was fleeting. A sudden pressure gripped his neck from behind. A cold, mocking laugh echoed in his ears: Kill the man… kill him!
Warm, searing pressure pressed into his spine. Panic flared. His vision blurred, shadows melting into one another. Blood trickled from his nose, streaking down his face. The world tilted, spun, and then everything went black.
When he snapped back, the scene was horrifying. He was gripping the pipe, slick with blood. Below him, the man lay dead—head crushed, body twisted grotesquely under relentless, frenzied strikes he couldn't remember delivering. Horror clawed at his mind. Trembling, he flung the pipe away, chest heaving, heart hammering like a drum.
The corridor was silent now, heavy with death and adrenaline. Noel forced his ragged breaths to slow, tried to quell the storm of terror and fury inside him. Slowly, he pushed himself upright. Every nerve screamed. Every muscle tensed.
On the other side, Eira moved carefully down a dim hall. Ahead, a man was pointing a gun at a student, hesitation in his stance betraying his inexperience.
Eira's eyes locked on him. She grabbed a fire extinguisher and brought it down in a precise arc—not a rush, not a blur, but a controlled strike calculated to force his reaction. He dodged, raising the gun toward her.
She stepped in, her movement deliberate and measured. Every motion was calculated, each strike practiced and precise. With a sharp, controlled sweep, she sliced across his arm. The gun clattered to the floor. He hit the ground with a grunt, unbalanced and exposed.
Eira crouched slightly, dagger in hand, eyes fixed on his face. "Make one wrong move," she said, her voice cold, cutting, "and this dagger will be in your throat." Her stare was merciless—predatory, unblinking, dark.
The man froze. His skin paled, eyes wide, the weight of her presence pressing down on him. "S-spare me…" he stammered, shaking.
Eira didn't blink. "Tell me—who's behind this? Who's ordering you?"
The man hesitated, then gasped out, "The boss—he's at the main building. Waiting for someone to show… maybe the principal. We were ordered from above… to make him come by killing students."
He went silent. She leaned closer, dagger tip poised, controlled and threatening. "By killing innocents… why? How many of you are there?"
The man shivered, fear overtaking him. "Eight… eight men… and one more—our boss."
"Please—spare me—" he pleaded again.
"No hesitation," she said, voice steady as steel, and drove the dagger home.
She straightened, scanning the corridor. "Turn off the hall lights. Hide somewhere. Don't come out until help arrives," she ordered the trembling students, authority and calm threading through every word.
Then she moved—methodical, lethal—toward the main building.
On the other side, Noel—still reeling—ran through the corridors, eyes scanning, senses on fire. Suddenly, A sharp blow struck the back of Noel's head. Darkness surged, pain flashing through his skull, and the world tipped sideways. His knees buckled, vision blurring, consciousness slipping away.
One of the killer who had been watching. Seeing Noel kill one of their men, leaned close, voice low and cold as he spoke into his radio. "Hey boss… I found a suspicious man. He's unconscious right now, but he killed one of our men. Should I bring him in, or finish him?"
A deep, calm voice crackled back: "Bring him over here. I want to enjoy this myself."
The killer dragged Noel through the corridors, every step brutal and unrelenting, until they reached the main building. The doors swung open, and Noel's body hit the floor again. Darkness clawed at the edges of his vision as he struggled to regain consciousness.
Vennrik's voice cut through the tense silence, loud and commanding. "Hey—updates on our man?"
One of the henchmen shifted nervously. "I… I can't reach anyone," he muttered, eyes flicking nervously between Noel and the massive figure before him.
The room seemed to shrink around Noel. Every gaze—Vennrik's and the two henchmen flanking him—locked onto his trembling form. Pain, fear, and exhaustion gnawed at him, but he forced his eyes open.
He saw him. A giant of a man, muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike, a cruel, smile curling across his face.
"Kid," Vennrik said, voice low, deliberate, dripping menace. "Did you really think you could run after killing my men?"
Noel's mind spun. Shock, fear, and disbelief collided inside him, freezing his movements. Before he could even react, a fist crashed into his stomach, stealing the air from his lungs. He doubled over, pain radiating like fire, and collapsed to the floor with a harsh grunt.
Vennrik grabbed him by the hair, yanking him upright with a bone-jarring force, then flung him across the room. Noel slammed against the ground, pain exploding through every nerve ending.
A scream tore from his throat, raw and desperate. One of the henchmen stepped forward, looming over him, hands reaching down…
Then, suddenly, Eira burst into the room. All attention snapped toward her. Without hesitation, she fired, and one of the henchmen crumpled, a stunned grunt escaping him.
She swung the gun toward the second, squeezing the trigger—but nothing. The magazine was empty. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second.
One of the remaining henchmen reacted instantly, drawing a knife and pressing it to Noel's neck. "Move, and he dies," he hissed, voice sharp and cold.
Eira froze. She caught sight of Noel, slumped and bloodied on the floor, his breathing ragged. Her chest tightened, rage and fear clashing inside her. For a heartbeat, she went blank, every thought vanishing.
Then, with deliberate control, she dropped her weapon and lifted her hands, tense and trembling.
Vennrik's gaze snapped to her, cold and mocking. "Don't play fool games here, girl," he warned In the same instant, his hand darted for a gun. A shot rang out. Eira reacted, twisting her body—but the bullet tore into her shoulder, ripping a red streak across her shirt. Pain bloomed, sharp and burning, yet she forced herself to stay upright.
"Didn't we tell you not to move?" Vennrik's voice echoed, cold and precise. "Now, bear the consequences." He stalked toward Noel with deliberate menace. Eira's scream tore from her throat. "Noooo! Stoooop!"
Vennrik seized Noel by the neck, lifting him into the air as if he weighed nothing. Noel gasped, clawing at the air, desperate for breath. Then, with a brutal swing, the man slammed him onto the floor. The impact drove blood from Noel's nose, pooling and streaking across the tile.
Noel lay there, chest heaving, eyes rolling back, his body slack. Silence hung for a heartbeat—then the room seemed to hold its breath. Probably
....
…..
Dead…