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The speaker, blasted to pieces, had a few remaining wires still twitching, flickering with faint sparks before falling into total silence.
Only the steady breathing of the group remained in the room, along with the heavy, musty smell of dust and damp cardboard unique to such places.
Leon's voice broke the brief silence, saying lazily, "Hey, Claire, I have to say, your 'physical way of shutting someone up' communication technique is becoming more and more charming."
Claire lowered her mp5 submachine gun, a faint wisp of blue smoke still rising from the muzzle.
She turned to roll her eyes at Leon, but her lips couldn't help but curl into a pretty smile: "To deal with a madman, you have to use a madman's methods. I just didn't have the patience to listen to him finish his ridiculous script."
"True." Ada leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed, glancing at the ruined speaker on the ceiling, her tone flat but with a hint of approval.
"Wasting time on the self-indulgence of a patient with histrionic personality disorder is the most inefficient behavior."
Noah walked to Claire's side, reached out to help her tuck a strand of red hair that had fallen over her forehead during the quick action, and said softly: "Nice job. But next time, let me handle this kind of rough work."
Claire enjoyed his intimacy, slightly tilting her head and letting out a soft "Hmph," with a touch of girlish coquettishness only shown in front of Noah: "What? Afraid I'll steal your thunder?"
Noah smiled helplessly and said no more.
The four didn't linger, wordlessly passing through the storage room left with Alfred's one-sidedly embarrassing monologue, pushing open another heavy iron door leading to the unknown.
"Creak—"
Accompanied by the tooth-aching sound of metal hinges grinding.
A blast of even colder, damper air rushed towards them.
Behind the door was a completely different world.
They found themselves standing on the second floor of a giant abandoned warehouse.
Beneath their feet was a long, narrow steel walkway built along the mottled concrete walls.
The walkway's railing was covered in a thick layer of greasy dust and rust.
This warehouse was very high.
The towering dome disappeared into the darkness, with only the faint, grotesque outlines of crisscrossing giant pipes and load-bearing steel beams visible.
The only light in the entire space was a high-powered searchlight hanging in the center of the empty concrete floor below, emitting a dim yellow glow.
Yet it only made the surrounding darkness seem deeper.
Countless giant shipping containers were stacked around the warehouse, casting large, distorted, and grotesque shadows.
The sound of water dripping from somewhere unknown echoed, "Drip... drip...", sounding exceptionally clear in the empty, silent space.
"Looks like this is a Cargo Transit Station on the island." Claire lowered her voice, alertly scanning the giant space below shrouded in shadows.
Just then, a body in a security uniform near the corner on the left side of the walkway caught their attention.
The body was curled on the ground in an extremely distorted posture.
His Face was covered in a layer of dried black-purple blood, his eyes wide with terror, as if he had seen something unspeakable before death.
The state of his death was strange.
There were no obvious gunshot or bite wounds, but his chest was eerily caved in, as if crushed head-on by something massive.
In his hands, he still tightly gripped two submachine guns that were compact yet filled with the beauty of violence.
(In the game, the submachine guns are picked up directly from the ground; the The Leaper is encountered by Claire on the second floor of the warehouse.)
The barrels of the two guns still reflected a cold metallic luster in the dim light.
Noah's eyes lit up.
He stepped forward and crouched down, ignoring the nauseating stench from the corpse, and reached out to take the submachine guns from the corpse's stiff, pincer-like hands.
They were two Ingram MAC-10s, short and compact, equipped with retractable metal stocks and specially designed high-efficiency silencers.
This gun is known for its insane rate of fire and terrifying fire suppression capability at close range, a favorite urban warfare Sharp Weapon for many special forces and gang assassins.
Noah skillfully checked the condition of the firearms, dropped the magazine, and nodded in satisfaction seeing the.45 ACP rounds packed inside.
He weighed the two guns in his hands; they felt cold and heavy.
"You actually like these 'little guys'?"
Claire walked over, raising an eyebrow with some amusement at Noah's look of being unable to put them down.
In her view, these "water pistol" like weapons were useless except for their rate of fire, far inferior in power and range to the four-shot Grenade Launcher on her back.
Noah stood up, holding a MAC-10 submachine gun in each hand, pointing them diagonally upward in a classic dual-wielding pose, a confident smile playing on his lips.
"Don't you think," he looked at Claire sideways, "that holding them with both hands feels very cool?"
"..." Claire was somewhat between laughter and tears by his sudden attempt to look cool and his serious reason.
She shook her head helplessly, patted the menacing, heavy-firepower four-shot Grenade Launcher on her back, and said with even more pride: "Being cool doesn't solve problems. But this does."
Leon watched with amusement, flicking his smooth blond hair stylishly, and chimed in: "Hey guys, don't argue. In my opinion, only a weapon that can blow an enemy's head into a brilliant firework is the coolest."
As he spoke, he pointedly patted the shiny "broken butterfly" at his waist.
Ada just glanced at them silently, not participating in this slightly childish discussion on weapon aesthetics.
Her gaze remained alert, scanning the darkness below where danger lurked.
The four carefully walked down to the first floor along the creaking steel stairs.
Stepping on the cold, hard concrete floor, the solid feeling made the insecurity from the suspended walkway fade slightly.
However, the moment they stood firm.
"Clang—clatter—clatter—"
A harsh sound of chains grinding suddenly came down from deep within the warehouse dome.
The sound echoed countless times in the empty space, sounding particularly heart-pounding.
Everyone jerked their heads up.
They saw that above them, in the darkness dozens of meters high, a steel shutter hidden in the shadows was slowly rising!
As the shutter rose, an even thicker, more pungent smell of blood poured down from behind the door.
Then.
Under the dim yellow searchlight in the center of the warehouse.
A giant, sanity-draining black silhouette suddenly leapt out from behind the newly opened shutter!
"Thud—!!"
A heavy, wet thud.
The giant shadow fell from the sky, slamming heavily onto the concrete floor less than twenty meters away from them, splashing a patch of dark red viscous liquid.
Its skin seemed to have been completely stripped off by some extremely cruel means, revealing a layer of sickly yellow, even slightly twitching muscle tissue underneath.
Countless thick blue-purple veins, like twisted ugly earthworms, throbbed wildly on the surface of the muscles, clearly visible.
Its left arm was withered and degenerated into a disgusting tumor.
Its right arm, however, had mutated into a two-meter-long, bone-lustered, giant sickle-like claw.
The tip of that claw was as sharp as a scalpel, reflecting a chilling, cold light in the dim illumination.
Its head was completely rotted and liquefied, like a puddle of melted yellow wax, with no facial features discernable.
Only two pupil-less, murky pale eyeballs protruded from that mess of rotten meat, "staring" fixedly in the direction of Noah's group.
Its shoulders and chest were connected by several thick and powerful muscular chains, seemingly used to assist its movement.
"The Leaper..."
Ada said the name of this monster.
She had seen this ultimate killing machine mutated from the t-virus.
She knew how agile and lethal this thing was.
The newly landed The Leaper didn't seem to have fully adapted to the new environment yet.
It crouched on the ground, its liquefied head swaying slightly, seemingly locating the prey's position through superior hearing and perception of air currents.
The giant sickle-like claw lightly brushed across the concrete floor.
"Screech—"
A tooth-aching, harsh friction sound rang out.
The hard concrete floor was like soft cheese, easily carved with a deep scratch several inches deep.
"Gurgle... gurgle..."
A low growl came from deep within its throat.
The next second.
Its limbs suddenly pushed off the ground, and its entire body, like a cannonball, turned into a yellow-red blur, pouncing towards the four!
However, it was not facing ordinary people.
It was four battle-hardened, top-tier monster hunters.
Almost at the same instant the The Leaper pounced.
"Boom!!"
Leon still had that cynical, lazy expression on his Face, but his speed in pulling the trigger was as fast as lightning.
The shotgun in his hand let out a deafening roar.
Countless searing steel pellets formed a fan of death, slamming violently into the The Leaper's massive frame.
"Splat—!!"
The The Leaper's muscle tissue was instantly blown open into a terrifying, basin-sized blood hole; dark red flesh mixed with yellow fatty tissue sprayed backward frantically.
The immense impact caused its forward momentum to come to a sudden halt.
"Rat-tat-tat!!"
Just as it stalled,
the tmp submachine gun in Ada's hand also spat out tongues of fire.
A long string of dense bullets accurately covered the The Leaper's intact supporting leg.
The bullets easily tore through its seemingly tough muscle fibers, shattering its leg bone inch by inch.
"Boom—!!!"
An explosion rang out, more muffled and filled with a more destructive aura than Leon's shotgun.
The Grenade Launcher in Claire's hand had already been aimed at the target.
A high-explosive grenade accurately hit the The Leaper's high-raised, massive sickle claw!
The fire from the explosion instantly swallowed that hideous claw.
The violent shockwave, mixed with countless high-speed fragments, blew that lethal weapon made of bone to smithereens from its base!
"Hrr-ah—!!!"
Successive heavy blows caused this Vicious Beast of a killing machine to let out a shrill howl of pain.
It completely lost its balance, its massive body falling heavily to the ground, twitching and struggling helplessly.
However, it wasn't over yet.
A black figure appeared silently before its already liquefied, ugly head.
The two MAC10s in Noah's hands hadn't fired a single shot during the previous concentrated fire.
He looked at the The Leaper struggling in its death throes on the ground without the slightest mercy.
Raising his hands, the two dark muzzles equipped with silencers were aimed at the The Leaper's sludgy head, which was still swaying slightly.
"Rat-tat-tat—!!!"
There was no deafening gunfire.
There were only the muffled sounds of two suppressed shots, a series of "putt-putt-putts."
Two chains of fire made of bullets poured out sixty rounds from two entire magazines in less than a few seconds.
The The Leaper's large, ugly head was like a rotten watermelon being repeatedly hammered at high speed.
In the dense storm of bullets, it was instantly torn apart, shredded, and finally exploded into a flying mixture of yellow-white brain matter and dark red flesh.
The stinking liquid splashed everywhere.
Noah slowly lowered his dual guns, their muzzles still emitting billowing blue smoke.
The entire warehouse fell back into a blanket of silence.
From the moment the The Leaper appeared to the moment it was completely blown into a pile of indescribable mangled meat,
the entire process took no more than ten seconds.
Leon listlessly reloaded his shotgun, then ran a hand through his blonde hair, which was a bit messy from the gunsmoke of battle, a hint of disappointed dissatisfaction on his Face.
"Is it that it was too weak," he analyzed seriously while looking at the pile of monster remains on the ground that no longer resembled its original form, "or that we are too strong?"
This humblebragging joke made Claire roll her eyes at him again.
However, just as Leon finished his remark,
"Crash—!!!"
A piercing sound of breaking glass suddenly rang out from the other side of the second-floor corridor they had come from!
The bodies of the four people instantly tensed up again.
They turned and raised their guns almost reflexively, pointing their muzzles toward the source of the sound.
Had another monster appeared?
On the side of that steel corridor on the second floor, a large glass window that was originally intact was crudely smashed from the inside.
Countless glinting glass shards fell from above.
A young figure wearing a denim jacket printed with exaggerated graffiti suddenly jumped in through the broken window!
He performed an extremely cool, yet extremely impractical front flip in mid-air.
Then his feet landed steadily on the steel corridor.
He immediately followed up with a clean roll to dissipate the impact, finally coming to a halt in a superhero pose with one knee on the ground.
In his hands, he also held two beretta pistols.
He stood up and gave his head a sharp toss, his unruly short brown hair tracing a stylish arc in the air.
He was just about to start slaughtering the imaginary enemies, showing off his highlight moment of saving the beauty (if he could save a beauty in the process).
However... the expected situation did not occur.
The expected monster roar did not occur either.
He only saw four pairs of eyes downstairs staring straight at him.
The four of them crossed their arms in unison, like four bored passersby watching a street performance, watching his entire flamboyant display with calm Faces.
And next to them lay the corpse of a giant yellow monster, larger than a car and horrifying to the extreme, still emitting wisps of heat.
The air seemed to freeze at this moment.
The expression on the Face of the young man who had just completed his stylish entrance also froze.
He blinked, seemingly not quite understanding the situation before him.
The feeling was like a magician who had painstakingly prepared a grand fireworks display, only to find that the audience had already finished watching a much more shocking nuclear explosion.
The atmosphere was so awkward that one could have dug out an entire Ashford Family Private Residence with their toes.
"Uh..."
In the end, it was Noah who broke this suffocating silence.
He lowered his crossed arms, looked at the young man upstairs who was still frozen in his stiff pose, and asked with a harmless, curious smile, "How did you get in?"
A flash of panic at being seen through crossed the young man's Face, but it was quickly replaced by the forced composure and arrogance unique to teenagers.
He walked down the stairs, cleared his throat, and said in a flippant, punchable tone, "Want to know? Ha, maybe I'll tell you when I'm in a good mood."
He thought this personality-filled answer would dominate the scene.
However, what he saw were Noah's black eyes, which had originally held a hint of a smile, narrow slightly in an instant.
An indescribable icy chill suddenly shot up the young man's spine to the crown of his head, making every hair on his body stand on end!
"Then right now," Noah's voice remained calm, yet carried a terrifying sense of pressure, "how is your mood?"
"Ah... ahahaha..."
A smile that looked worse than crying was instantly squeezed onto the young man's Face.
"I... right now, my mood is... is great! I'll tell you right away!" he blurted out incoherently.
"Over there! There's a freight elevator over there! I got a keycard off a damn zombie! That's how I got down! Hey, do you guys need this card? I..."
As he spoke, he hurriedly pulled a blood-stained electronic keycard from his pocket and handed it over like he was presenting a treasure.
"No thanks."
A cool and pleasant female voice interrupted his somewhat comical performance.
Ada didn't even bother to give him a second look.
She simply said flatly, "All the doors have been opened with our friend's help."
The smile on Steve's Face froze completely.
He felt like a clown who had painstakingly climbed dozens of flights of stairs to show off a room key he'd found, only to discover that someone else had already used a master key to open every door in the building.
He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something more to salvage a bit of his Face, which was already shattered all over the floor.
"Ha... great! That... that's just great!" He gave a couple of dry laughs, forcing himself not to look so awkward. "In that case, then... let's raise some hell!"
He took a deep breath and tried to put on a cheerful front, extending his hand to everyone. "Let's start over. I'm Steve, Steve Burnside."
Leon walked over, flamboyantly tossing his signature blonde hair, and said in an equally flamboyant tone, "You can call me Leon."
Ada simply shrugged expressionlessly. "Ada."
Claire, on the other hand, appeared much friendlier, waving at the poor boy and giving him a consoling smile. "I'm Claire."
Noah just gave Steve a slight nod and said calmly, "Noah."
Steve's gaze subconsciously met Noah's for a tenth of a second.
In that instant, he felt as if he had been glared at fiercely by a prehistoric Vicious Beast.
A bone-chilling dread surged wildly from the depths of his heart once again.
He withdrew his gaze almost as if he'd touched an electric wire, then quietly shrank back and pursed his lips, not daring to look at Noah again.
He swore he would rather go and solo ten more of those disgusting giant yellow monsters from before than be looked at for one more second by that Eastern man named Noah with those eyes.
That feeling was just too fucking terrifying.
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