Marcus cackled—a wild, untamed sound that echoed off the scorched stone walls of the corridor. His twin pistols rested in his palms like extensions of his own body—smooth, deadly, humming with latent power.
Without hesitation, he surged forward, flames licking at his boots as he darted across the blackened floor, covering vast distances in mere seconds. Trails of flickering embers marked his path like a blazing comet streaking through the darkness.
Then, from the swirling dust and shadows, four figures emerged. Their identities no longer mattered. Predator and prey was the only language Marcus understood now. The glint of steel and the cold hum of firearms told him everything: one wielded a sword, two hefted rifles, and the last gripped a heavy axe—each weapon reflecting the dim flickering light like a promise of imminent violence.
