“Damn it!” Warrick cursed. “I was just getting started.”
He was covered in blood. His eyes burned with a wild, excited gleam.
Warrick lived for the fight. After two days in hiding, he was itching to let loose-and now that he had, he wasn’t ready to stop.
“Sir Prescott, think about the bigger picture. If we don’t leave now, it’ll be too late,” Mulder urged, grabbing his arm.
At the far end of the street, dark figures were already visible in the distance, rushing toward them. Though Warrick still seemed reluctant, he quickly calmed down.
“Fall back!” he shouted.
With that, he and Mulder charged past the checkpoint and led a handful of battered soldiers into the outer city.
Unlike the inner city, the outer city had much weaker defenses. The sheer size of the area made it impossible to secure every corner, so only the main thoroughfares had a strong military presence.
Mulder had already mapped out their escape route and prepared the gear.
According to the original plan-if they hadn’t drawn any unwanted attention they’d leave the inner city by car and make a clean getaway.
But if they couldn’t make it out of the city or if their cover was blown, they’d have to use the backup plan-the secret tunnels.
The Hall of Gods had secretly dug several underground tunnels in the outer city, each leading from the inner city to the outside.
These tunnels were invaluable, and the Hall of Gods rarely used them under normal circumstances. If war broke out, these tunnels could change the tide of battles.
As a core member of the Hall of Gods, Mulder hadn’t planned on using the secret tunnels to escape-doing so risked exposing them.
But after the chaos just now, he had no choice. At that moment, survival was his only priority.
Following Mulder’s lead, the group sprinted through the dark streets. Half an hour later, they finally reached an unremarkable house. They slipped inside, wiped away the bloodstains, and changed into fresh clothes.
After lingering in the hideout for a few minutes, Mulder signaled for them to move. They slipped out quietly and headed into the Central Village.
The area was a tangled mess of run-down buildings packed tightly together, with narrow alleys and winding streets that could easily confuse anyone unfamiliar with it.
Mulder had clearly been here before. He wove through the maze of alleys and twisting paths with practiced ease.
Warrick soon found himself dizzy and completely disoriented. Just as he was starting to lose his patience, Mulder suddenly veered into a small Strequan-style house with a courtyard.
The others immediately followed, copying his every move.
Once inside the house, Mulder entered the living room and peeled back the rug beneath the coffee table, revealing a hidden trapdoor. He hooked two fingers into the holes, gave a firm tug, and pulled it open.
The trapdoor slowly creaked open, revealing a dark passage leading underground. Standing at the tunnel entrance, they could feel a cool breeze drifting up from the tunnel.
“Sir Prescott, after you.” Mulder gestured toward the tunnel.
“You go first,” Warrick replied, peering into the darkness. It was pitch-black, and it was impossible to see anything.
“You’re as cautious as ever, Sir Prescott,” Mulder said with a faint smile. Without hesitation, he led his men into the darkness.
Warrick followed closely behind, his senses on high alert. They might be allies for now, but that didn’t mean he fully trusted Mulder.
Caution never killed a man, but recklessness did. Warrick wasn’t going to entrust his life to someone he barely knew.
In the outer city, countless patrol squads began scouring the area to track down Warrick and the others.
Axel rushed to the scene with his elite troops as soon as he received the news. He was determined to make up for his earlier failure.
His gaze swept over the blood-soaked ground, littered with corpses. He frowned, then strode forward and grabbed a lightly wounded guard.
“What happened? How did Warrick suddenly show up here?” he demanded.
The inner city was on lockdown. By all rights, Warrick should have been trapped. It was only a matter of time before they found his hiding spot.
Axel couldn’t understand how Warrick managed to cross a hundred miles and appear right on the border between the inner and outer city.
“It… it was Mr. Mulder Frank.” The guard’s face twisted with grief and rage. “He’s betrayed us. He led the rebels through the checkpoint and killed more than half of our men.”
“What? Mulder?” Axel’s expression darkened. “Are you sure?”
“I’m certain,” the guard growled through clenched teeth. “That guy’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I’d recognize him even if he turned to dust.”
“How could this happen?” Axel frowned, and a chill ran down his spine.
Mulder was Axel’s brother-in-law and an officer in the City Defenders.
He was ambitious, responsible, and had no known vices. It was precisely because of that reputation that Axel had no reservations about marrying his sister to him. But never in his wildest dreams did he expect Mulder to be a traitor.
If word of this reached Austin, no amount of explaining would clear Axel’s name.
