"Go to hell! Bastard!"

He let out a hoarse roar, pulled a machine gun draped with ammo belts from his space, and with extreme skill, swiftly set up the heavy weapon on the half-collapsed wall, aiming into the thick smoke that still gave no response.

The voice in his earpiece continued, but he dared not listen any longer.

"I preset this message in the comms. If you hear it, don't be sad for me... Thank you for taking care of me ever since I entered this world..."

The middle-aged man, looking utterly worn, pulled the trigger with a nonchalant smile. His eyes were wild and cruel. The voice in his earpiece pierced his ears bit by bit through the thunderous gunfire, making him want to cry. The anger in his heart only burned fiercer.

"...John Baker did it for everyone's good, I don't blame him... It's just, if I die, he'll definitely go mad. So I'll leave it to you, Uncle Clark... I've always been afraid. If you hadn't given us all your points to strengthen ourselves, I might have died long ago... I secretly installed a bomb in my heart without telling you all, I'm sorry... But whoever dares to fight me is definitely dead too, haha... In the end, Uncle Clark, thank you, and... farewell forever..."

"Thank! You! Thank! You!" The middle-aged man swung the gun wildly, pouring a torrent of bullets into the lingering smoke, but tears welled up at the corners of his eyes. "What's the use of saying thank you! If you want to die, just die already! Go die!"

"I said I'd lead everyone to survive together..."

At last, tears seeped from the corners of his eyes. He frantically pulled the trigger, the deafening noise drowning out his choked sobs. "Bastard..."

Henry Clark stood right beside him, listening to the faint metallic clatter inside the machine gun and the roaring gunfire. Perhaps he heard the middle-aged man's low sobs. With a blank expression, he pulled the pin from the grenade in his hand and hurled it fiercely toward the end of the corridor.

Amid the continuous explosions, he could feel the sorrow in Uncle Clark's heart, but didn't know what to say. All he could do was keep throwing chemical grenades without pause.

The once-sturdy building was now as ruined as a wasteland. The walls were riddled with bullet holes, battered by grenades and rockets, and scoured by machine gun fire, now on the verge of collapse.

Fortunately, it had been built to wartime standards, with load-bearing beams and pillars supporting the rest. The only part close to collapsing was this small corner of the second floor.

When the scorching machine gun finally stopped spinning and firing, the barrel was already glowing red-hot from the heat.

The middle-aged man, Uncle Clark, panted heavily, watching the smoke slowly dissipate in the distance. He braced himself against the wall and stood up, clutching an AK pulled from his private space, aiming at the slowly emerging dark figure.

Like a fearless hero, the middle-aged man who had never exchanged for any enhancements let out an angry roar: "You bastard, come on!"

※※※

Violent shockwaves erupted again and again in the narrow corridor, the clash between flesh and playing cards stirring up a raging wind.

A battered, bloodied figure darted rapidly through the corridor, dodging the stabbing cards at the very last moment.

His breathing, like a bellows, poured from his throat. Every muscle on his body bulged, even the fibers beneath his wounds twitching constantly. Steam rose from his body, and an inhuman aura radiated from him.

Just standing there, he exuded an aura even more monstrous than the vampire facing him.

With a swing of his palm, he could tear through the storm, giving Tobarukain the illusion of a mortar slowly turning to aim at him.

Despite his wretched state, his bearing was as steady and immovable as a mountain, radiating immense pressure.

A playing card shot toward him, but the force from his palm struck it dead on, crushing it to drifting ash between the two powers.

From John Baker's body, an aura no weaker than the vampire's was emanating—if anything, it was even more overwhelming.

Heavy breaths poured from deep in his chest. In the vampire's eyes, John Baker was no longer human; closing his eyes, he could almost feel the terrifying presence of a giant beast breathing.

B-level martial art: Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms, an enhancement from the Hong Kong comic "Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils."

"This is 'Regret of the Soaring Dragon'!" A deep roar burst from John Baker's throat. The card thrown by Tobarukain was shattered to dust by his overwhelming force.

The move is inspired by the Qian hexagram in the I Ching. Qian represents heaven; the phrase "A soaring dragon has regrets" means that although the soaring dragon is invincible in the world, its strength will eventually be exhausted, and when that happens, regret comes too late. The move emphasizes regret over arrogance, with endless follow-through.

The howling wind rippled from his palm, like subtle waves brewing in the ocean. The heavy gusts roared like a giant dragon!