Blood of the Fallen

Chapter 8 Final Moments Underground

Eryndra’s breathing was racing against the ticking clock. The Maheswara Plaza basement was pitch black, lit only by the strobe of a flickering red emergency light. Thick, suffocating smoke from the evacuation filled the air, but he didn't slow down. His expensive shoes slammed against the rough concrete, echoing through the eerie, underground tunnel.

Past trauma, the dark memory of his first death in this very spot, flashed in his mind, but Eryndra shoved it aside with nerves of steel. History won't repeat itself, he thought, burning with rage. This time, I’m the one writing the ending.

His phone vibrated hard in his pocket. The screen lit up with an incoming video call from an unknown number. Without stopping, he swiped to answer.

Raka’s face appeared, looking pale in the dim light of a flashlight. Behind him, Livia Arundhati was tied tight to an old metal chair. She was gagged, her eyes wide with terror, staring into the camera as tears streamed down her face. Right beneath the chair sat a pile of dynamite with tangled red and blue wires, emitting a sickening, rhythmic beep.

"See her, Ery?" Raka’s voice crackled, sounding like a total madman. "Pretty, isn't she? Your bridetobe, sitting pretty, waiting for her prince to come save her."

Eryndra skidded to a halt at a corner, gasping for air. "Raka! Let her go! Your beef is with me, not Livia!"

"It’s all about us, Eryndra!" Raka screamed, shoving the phone into Livia’s face, making her thrash around. "You stole my family's company! You humiliated me in front of the investors! And now, you think you can just live happily ever after on the ruins of my life?"

"Don't touch her!" Eryndra growled, his voice radiating a lethal threat that made the air in the corridor turn freezing. "If even one hair on her head is harmed, I’ll make your death slower than hell itself."

Raka burst into wild, insane laughter. "Nice threat, Mr. Maheswara! But let's see how your genius brain holds up under pressure. We’ve only got... four minutes left!"

Raka flipped the camera around to show a huge digital clock on the damp concrete wall. The red numbers glowed: 04:12... 04:11...

"You’ve got a choice, Ery," Raka hissed triumphantly. "On the dynamite panel, there’s a red wire and a blue one. Cut the wrong one, and boom! Livia gets blown to bits along with you. Or... turn back now, save your own skin, and let her keep me company in hell."

Livia struggled harder against her bonds, shaking her head as if telling Eryndra not to listen to Raka's nonsense. Her eyes showed total resignation mixed with incredible strength in the face of death.

Eryndra squinted at the screen. His brain was spinning a thousand miles an hour, analyzing the building's structure, the layout of the old control room at the end of the hall, and the psychopath holding the detonator.

"Four minutes is more than enough to send you to your grave, Raka," Eryndra said coldly, cutting the call before Raka could even answer.

The screen went black. Eryndra shoved the phone back into his pocket, pulled a pistol from under his jacket, and sprinted back through the smoke. His memory of the old Maheswara Plaza blueprints guided him straight ahead. The old control room, the secret place where his family’s dynasty was built and broken.

Three minutes and fifty seconds.

Eryndra kicked the heavy metal door to the control room, swinging it open with a deafening bang. Inside, surrounded by dust and broken servers, Raka stood holding the detonator remote, while Livia sat tied in the corner, just a few meters from the dynamite.

"You... how did you get here this fast?!" Raka gasped, his face draining of color as he saw Eryndra standing in the doorway, his gun pointed straight at Raka’s forehead.

The countdown on the wall hit four minutes. Negotiation time was over. Eryndra stepped toward Raka with a lethal gaze, ignoring the final seconds ticking away above their heads.