SPARTAN WARLORD SYSTEM: CONQUERING EMPIRES AND BEAUTIES

Chapter 4: Betrayal in the Old Building

The muzzles of five automatic rifles on the fourth-floor landing were locked straight at Nathan. There was no room to maneuver. The air in the narrow hallway felt frozen. It was heavy with the thick scent of gunpowder and despair.

"Get down!" Nathan roared. He yanked Cleo behind the concrete partition wall. 

RAT-TAT-TAT!

A storm of bullets swept the fifth-floor landing. Concrete shrapnel flew like shattered glass. It tore through Nathan's tactical sleeve and grazed his cheek until fresh blood flowed. Nathan dropped his empty MCX rifle. He then pulled a backup SIG Sauer P226 pistol from his waistband with his soot-covered right hand. 

Beside him, Cleo crouched on the floor covered in broken glass. Her trembling hands unlatched the silver briefcase with a panicked motion. 

CLICK! CLICK!

The briefcase popped open. Inside, resting on high-tech vibration-dampening foam, sat a pitch-black velvet box. Cleo opened the box with intensely shaking fingers.

Instantly, the air around them turned bone-chillingly cold. It was as if an Arctic winter had suddenly invaded the stuffy old building. 

A thick gold ring lay there. The metal didn't shine like regular gold. Instead, it emitted a dim reddish-copper glow. Its surface was densely engraved with intricate and sharp Ancient Persian cuneiform. From the crevices of those engravings, an aura of death seeped out. It was so thick, heavy, and ancient. It was a micro-frequency vibration that directly struck the primal human nerves.

Nathan flinched backward. His pupils constricted. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. As a soldier who had been through hundreds of life-and-death battles, he recognized the smell of death. But this thing. This thing radiated the aura of millions of slaughtered souls trapped in a single small loop of metal.

Beside him, Adam, who stood near the emergency door, also stumbled back two steps. His hand reflexively rose to cover his chest as if the oxygen around him had been sucked dry.

"What the hell is that thing," Adam hissed hoarsely. His voice caught in his throat. But his fear only lasted two seconds. As his eyes locked back onto the ring, that fear was instantly swallowed by the wild flames of greed. Adam's lips twitched wildly. His hands at his sides clenched tightly. His nails dug into his own palms.

Cleo glanced at the glint in Adam's eyes. The woman's instinct worked faster than her panic. She noticed something horrifying in the slight smirk at the corner of Nathan's partner's lips.

Without wasting a single second, Cleo snatched the ring from its box. She shoved it into the small leather sling bag attached to her waist. She then slammed the silver briefcase shut until it locked again.

"What are you doing?!" Adam snapped. He stepped forward to grab the briefcase.

Cleo didn't answer. With all her remaining strength, the woman lifted the now-empty silver briefcase, stepped to the edge of the stair railing, and threw it straight down. It crashed through the emergency stairwell toward the ground floor!

CRASH! CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!

The sound of metal slamming against the steps clanged deafeningly. It echoed loudly to every corner of the factory.

"The briefcase fell down! Secure the main cargo!" the assault commander's voice yelled from the fourth floor. The sound of rushed footsteps was heard as most of the Black Dragon mercenaries turned around. They ran down the stairs to chase the briefcase they thought still contained the trillion-dollar artifact.

"Good job, Cleo! Get to the roof door right now!" Nathan shouted.

Nathan jumped in front of the iron emergency door blocking their exit. Refusing to use his last bullets, he spun his body and launched a full-power sidekick straight at the rusted hinges.

BAM!

The rotting lock gave way. The iron door flew open. It allowed the stormy wind and heavy rain to slam into their faces instantly. 

The three of them burst out onto the open rooftop. The dark New Jersey evening sky was covered by thick, rolling gray clouds. Lightning struck in the distance. It illuminated the wet concrete floor and puddles of rainwater that began mixing with drops of Nathan's blood.

Nathan swept his gaze in all directions. There was no sound of helicopter rotors. There were no landing light coordinates. There was only the rumble of thunder and the roar of the wind sweeping across the roof of the thirty-story building.

"Where is your air extraction, Nathan?!" Adam yelled over the roaring rain. Both of his hands held his Glock pistol as he stood half a step behind Cleo. "You said HQ was sending an iron bird to this roof!"

"Our frequency was scrambled from the inside!" Nathan answered sharply. His eyes glared at the iron emergency door they had just passed. From inside the dark stairwell, the sound of combat boots returned. They were coming up fast. "Someone in the inner circle sold our route. That chopper is never coming."

Cleo fell to her knees on the wet concrete. Her soaked silk dress clung to her skin as she shivered violently from the cold. "We are trapped. This is a dead end."

Nathan stepped forward. He stood firmly between Cleo and the emergency door. His broad back formed a meat shield under the pouring storm. In his hand, the SIG Sauer P226 was cocked with three nine-millimeter bullets left. Three bullets to decide life and death.

"Listen to me, Cleo," Nathan said without looking back. His voice was calm, flat, and unshaken by the raging storm around them. "As long as I am still standing on my feet, not a single one of those bastards will touch you. That is my oath to you!"

Nathan turned slightly toward Adam behind him. "Adam, secure Cleo in the back! Take her to the corner of the water tower! Let me hold them off at this door!"

Adam stared at Nathan's back. Rainwater flowed down his cold, expressionless face. The fingers of his right hand slowly tightened around the Glock's trigger.

CRASH!

The emergency door burst wide open. Two masked Black Dragon men burst out with their assault rifles raised. The muzzles of their weapons spat fire into the stormy darkness.

RAT-TAT-TAT!

Nathan did not dodge. With combat precision honed from hundreds of close-quarters firefights, he stepped forward to meet the enemy's gun muzzles. 

POP! POP!

Nathan fired two shots in a single breath. The first bullet pierced right between the first attacker's eyes. The second bullet tore through the second attacker's Adam's apple. Both collapsed backward. They spewed blood into the puddles before their bodies even touched the concrete.

"One bullet left," Nathan thought coldly. His eyes locked onto the shadow of a third attacker starting to emerge from the darkness of the doorway.

But before Nathan could pull the trigger for his final shot, a dry explosive sound rang out right from behind him. It was only six feet away.

BANG!

An excruciating pain exploded in his right leg. 

A nine-millimeter hollow-point projectile smashed into the back of Nathan's right kneecap. It crushed the joint, tore the ligaments, and shattered his patella into sharp fragments that pierced right through the front skin.

"Argh!" 

Nathan let out a muffled roar as his leg lost its support instantly. His sturdy body collapsed onto the cold rainwater puddles. It created a splash of water mixed with thick red blood that immediately spread across the concrete. 

The pistol in his hand was thrown several feet to the side.

Nathan gasped for air. His vision blurred as he fought the burning pain in his leg nerves. With his remaining fading consciousness, Nathan rolled his soaked body over. He stared at the source of the gunshot with wide, disbelieving eyes.

There, standing tall under the pouring rain, Adam looked at him with a cold and empty stare. The barrel of his best friend's Glock pistol was still smoking faintly. It was aimed straight at Nathan's chest.