Thien Anh offered a curt nod, remaining silent. His eyes were locked onto the control interface, meticulously analyzing every frame transmitted by his reconnaissance drone. He was attempting to decode the trail left by those who had preceded him into the facility.
Based on the erratic evidence, Thien Anh could reconstruct the enemy's intent: they were also scavenging for the 'Central Control Room'—the nerve center that housed the entire facility's surveillance grid.
However, this group was operating with "tactical tunnel vision." Likely possessing incomplete recon data, they were brute-forcing every door they encountered. In a high-security military installation, using raw strength to breach doors was not only inefficient but also served as a dinner bell for automated defenses and mutated hordes. Most of the rooms they had successfully breached were low-priority administrative offices or quarters where staff had been entombed.
Thien Anh proposed two hypotheses: either they were entirely blind to the internal structural blueprints, or they had lost their 'guide' and were desperately hunting for survivors to interrogate. This theory was reinforced by the sight of Ghoul remains and the skeletal corpses of starved staff scattered within the breached rooms.
…
Thien Anh's deduction was sharp, but the truth was grimmer. This group had actually prepared extensively, but the variables of the 2026 apocalypse were beyond any calculation. Their lead scout—the one holding the critical blueprints—had been torn asunder by Ghouls the moment they infiltrated. Without their 'navigator,' the dozen or so remaining men were nothing more than blind men wandering through a lethal labyrinth.
When they detected Thien Anh's presence via their micro-camera, the air in their makeshift hideout turned thick with tension. This was a paramilitary criminal syndicate, over ten men strong, all bearing identical tattoos across their necks and arms—the mark of a large-scale organized crime ring.
In a room near the Stairwell of Sector C, they stared at their monitors, tracking Thien Anh's every footstep. Seeing the target closing in, a man with a narrow, rat-like face spoke in a trembling voice:
"Boss, those aren't normal people. How the hell did they tame high-tier mutated beasts?"
A man with black-rimmed glasses turned to the bald giant sitting at the center:
"What's the move, Boss? Do we take them out now?"
The bald man—the syndicate leader—narrowed his eyes at the screen. With years of survival in the underworld, he recognized the aura of lethal intent radiating from the lead youth.
"Judging by their gait and gear, they're definitely high-tier mercenaries or professional assassins. The one in front is dangerous; when we engage, you lot better be—"
KABOOM!
A sharp, concentrated detonation cut him off. The heavy steel bulkhead was blown inward by the overpressure of a plastic explosive charge. While the room's structural integrity held, the two men standing nearest to the door were not so fortunate. The staggering force hurled them back over three meters, their bodies slamming into the rear wall before collapsing in a heap, groaning in terminal agony.
"Hostiles! Take cover! Now!"
The remaining men scattered in a panic, scrambling behind anything that offered protection. At that precise moment, the familiar mechanical whine of rotors echoed right above their heads.
Whirrr… Whirrr…
Catching sight of Thien Anh's drone hovering in the center of the room, the armed men lost their minds. They leveled their submachine guns, erupting in a frenzied, chaotic spray of lead toward the small target.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
In seconds, the unfortunate drone was shredded into scrap metal, components showering the floor. Having eliminated the 'thorn' in their side, they fanned out, taking cover behind steel cabinets and desks, muzzles trained on the breached door, awaiting a bloody breach.
…
Out in the corridor, Thien Anh stared at the signal-loss static on his monitor with a dark, irritated scowl. He was angry—not because the drone was lost, but because the main plastic explosive charge attached to it had failed to detonate on command. A damn component failure at the critical moment! Otherwise, the dozen men in that room would have already been reduced to mangled heaps of meat.
However, based on the final images transmitted, Thien Anh's lips curled into a thin smirk. These people were far from "hard targets."
Their overreaction to the drone and their choice of cover revealed them to be mere amateurs who had only recently stepped into the world of gunplay. Their most elementary blunder was choosing to entrench themselves in a sealed room with no secondary exit. To Thien Anh, that room was no longer a fortification; it was an open iron coffin.
"Want to hide? Let's see how long you can hold your breath."
Thien Anh calmly retrieved a smoke grenade laced with neurotoxins from his tactical pouch. He didn't need to waste a single bullet; a thin veil of mist was all it would take to escort them all to the next world.