Past Life Extra 11: Leave No Survivors

The moonlight, like water, streamed through the empty and narrow window frames of the abandoned building, casting long shadows on the dusty floor.

The faint light only made the dark corners and under the table appear even darker, like unknown shadows lurking there.

In the corner of the room, Erikson suddenly turned over in his sleeping bag, the rough sound of the canvas rubbing together being particularly clear in the quiet room.

For some reason, he felt a tightness in his chest tonight.

I couldn't sleep even with my eyes closed; the gunshots from our escape during the day kept flashing through my mind, and even my breathing became rapid.

His tossing and turning, unsurprisingly, disturbed the sensitive bodyguards.

The two bodyguards who were taking a nap near the door were the first to open their eyes—they were on night duty, so they hadn't slept at all.

One of the men, dressed in black combat gear, quietly straightened up, his boots scraping against the gravel on the ground, and crept closer.

He lowered his voice and asked.

"Boss? What's wrong?"

The man tried to keep his tone gentle in front of his sugar daddy, but the urgency in his eyes was obvious.

On the battlefield, rest time is more precious than gold; every minute and second of sleep can affect physical strength the next day.

If Erikson wastes time because he can't sleep well, he might be in poor condition during tomorrow's evacuation.

This unarmed benefactor will likely add a lot of burden to them.

Erikson was well aware of this.

Therefore, he didn't pretend to be calm and say that nothing was wrong.

Instead, he poked his head out of his sleeping bag and directly told the other person about his concerns.

"I have this uneasy feeling, like something bad is going to happen tonight."

Erikson's bangs were damp with cold sweat and clung to his skin; his voice was hoarse from just waking up.

The moment those words were spoken, the air in the room grew heavier. The other bodyguards leaning against the wall also opened their eyes, their faces grim.

Having spent years making a living amidst gunfire and witnessed countless deaths, they inevitably developed some battlefield superstitions.

For example, people avoid saying such "unlucky" words.

If anyone else dared to say such things at night, they would probably have been punched unconscious to avoid disrupting morale.

But the person in front of them was their big spender who paid them commissions, so no one dared to cause trouble.

The bodyguard who spoke first sighed helplessly and could only patiently try to persuade him.

"Boss, please don't worry."

"Besides our bodyguard team, didn't you also hire a lot of mercenaries this time?"

"And there are three snipers watching from upstairs."

"This building is teeming with our people, inside and out, and we have plenty of weapons and ammunition. Even if the enemy launches a night attack, it will be the enemy who suffers."

As he spoke, he patted the pistol at his waist; the black barrel gleamed coldly in the moonlight.

Erikson followed his gaze and, recalling the brand-new rifles and numerous grenades he had seen during the day's meeting with the mercenary group, gradually felt relieved.

As soon as his mind relaxed, the fatigue from the escape surged up his limbs and bones.

He yawned, whispered "thank you," then shrank back into his sleeping bag, closed his eyes, and forced himself to sleep.

Seeing this, the bodyguards breathed a sigh of relief, leaned back against the wall, and closed their eyes to rest again.

Silence returned to the room, broken only by the occasional sound of wind from outside the window.

But a moment later, a rustling sound came again.

The bodyguard closest to the wooden door frowned sharply.

His first thought was that the boss was making a comeback.

I couldn't help but complain in my mind.

This boss is such a hassle; he can't even get a peaceful night's sleep.

He was about to get up again to ask.

But the next second, the hairs on his body suddenly stood on end—something was wrong!

The sound wasn't coming from the corner where Erikson was sleeping, but rather from the door.

Moreover, upon closer listening, the sound was not the rustling of sleeping bag fabric at all.

Could there be rats here?

He was deceiving himself into thinking that way.

But the increasingly dense rustling sound forced him to dismiss his guess.

The sound was different from the soft, shallow sounds of small animals foraging at night, and it lacked the heavy, treading sound of humans walking on the ground.

It sounded more like... like a python crawling over hard bone and then crushing it.

The bodyguard shuddered, disgusted by his own associations.

He was about to turn around and ask his companion if they had heard the same sound.

But the next moment, a piercing screech suddenly broke the silence of the night.

Immediately afterwards, the mercenaries' heart-wrenching screams came from outside the door.

"Enemy attack!"

A series of piercing screams followed, shattering the tranquility.

"Bang--!"

A huge explosion instantly reverberated throughout the small building.

The door panel was blown off by the blast wave, sending wood chips and gravel flying everywhere.

Inside the doorway, the bodyguard's exposed face, lacerated by splinters of wood, was thrown about.

The eardrums and dizziness froze them in place.

Outside the door frame, a twisted tentacle pierced through the smoke and dust, instantly piercing the frozen bodyguard.

The bulletproof vest was like paper at this moment, completely ineffective.

The two bodyguards were quickly dragged into the billowing dust.

Then, the heart-stopping clicking sound rang out again.

The people awakened in the second-floor room looked increasingly grim as the sound grew louder.

The experienced bodyguards were able to identify the enemy immediately.

"Damn it, it's Ghoul."

Hearing the bodyguard standing in front of him muttering curses, the protected boss asked a question somewhat nervously.

"Ghouls? What are those?"

"A monster in human skin."

The bodyguard's answer was concise and to the point.

"They are carnivores."

The boss understood, his face turned pale, and his body began to tremble uncontrollably.

That's the prey's instinctive fear of its predator, just like a sheep instinctively running away when it sees a wolf.

Even with a pistol in his hand for self-defense, he found it difficult to remain calm.

Hearing his boss's increasingly rapid and disordered breathing behind him, the bodyguard sighed inwardly, but did not try to calm him down.

Because now, his hand, which was gripping the chaff, was also trembling.

The other party went up to the second floor, and apart from the earlier mention of an enemy attack, there was no other sound from inside the building.

What this means is obvious.

They were among the last survivors.

"Huff... huff..."

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, the bodyguard protecting his boss managed to regain his composure.

Only four or five seconds had passed since the door was blown open, but it felt like several minutes to him.

The slight stinging from the wound on his face made him more alert.

The pounding of his heart made his eardrums throb even more.

He reached for his communicator at his side, tentatively calling for help.

The other bodyguards behind him also reacted, grabbing their weapons and slowly gathering towards their boss's location.

The opponent was eating and did not attack immediately.

So, are the opponents injured? Do they have a chance to fight back?

This thought began to cross their minds, causing the bodyguards' gripping hands to gradually steady.

The bodyguard standing in front raised his hand and held a gun, aiming the muzzle at the spot where the dripping bloodstains on the ground pointed.

Unfortunately, no rebuttal was heard.

The dark red crystal flew silently, tearing apart the bodyguard's head, heart, and the hand that held the gun.

The remaining bodyguards were not spared either.

Their lives were ended before they even had a chance to raise their pistols or submachine guns.

The stench of blood spread nearby, shattering the calm that had settled in and utterly destroying the peace of mind that had been restored by this merciless massacre.

"Ahhh--!"

Erikson screamed in despair.

His face and body were stained with blood, and a foul-smelling liquid was seeping from beneath him.

The next moment, his shouts stopped abruptly.

Erikson's neck was snapped by the tentacles, and his eyes were now lifeless as his head drooped.

Tsukimi Shisui strode into the rest room, her combat uniform covered in dust, bloodstains, and bullet holes.

"Cough cough cough."

He coughed lightly and raised his hand to catch the few bullets that were spat out.

Then, he took out his earphones, put them on, and gently tapped to turn them on.

Just a second later, his companion's voice rang out.

How are you? Do you need medical attention?

"Need not."

Shisui's voice was a little hoarse.

"Come and collect the body."