A startled cry echoed through the hallway.
Black Hand Legion members immediately dropped what they were doing and poured out of their rooms in a steady stream. Among them were the scruffy man and the compound's supervisor, Greg.
"What's going on?"
"Someone's attacking us?"
"They've got some serious guts!"
The scruffy man barked out his questions, while a group of hardened fighters gathered behind him—some of the best in the compound, including a few A-rank Awakeners.
"Alright, boys, let's go check it out!" he called, and the response was immediate.
But Greg frowned. Something felt off. The slaughter outside—it wasn't random. It was planned.
Sure, the Black Hand Legion had its fair share of psychopaths who killed for fun, but they didn't just start butchering their own people indiscriminately. And if anyone ever did, they were either put down or dealt with fast.
"We should be careful. We don't even know who these people are," Greg warned.
