Everyone fell silent for a few seconds. Breaths were held. The tense air in the narrow corridor felt like it had been swallowed by time. Even the torch flames seemed to hesitate, afraid to flicker and break the tension.
Then Derek locked eyes with the elite soldier. Blood trickled down from a split brow, but his gaze remained sharp. In a cold, defiant voice, he said, "Ask the ones you've already sent to the ground."
The elite soldier raised his axe slightly, replying flatly, "Then... die."
Without warning, the towering figure moved—far faster than a man his size should. The axe sliced through the air and smashed into the ground where Derek had stood just a split second earlier. Derek had leapt to the side, but even the shockwave from the strike was enough to send him sprawling.
Ren, seeing Derek nearly struck down, immediately jumped into action. In his hand—a Glock 17. He fired at the man, but the elite simply swatted the bullet away with his axe like brushing off a mosquito.
