Chapter 147 – Winters Chaotic Dance (4)

His body was hurting. His eyes opened. He saw the smoking hallway. What happened? He thought. He was a bit shaken so it took him for a while to remember what happened. He was asked to deliver something for the Lord Officiator when suddenly an explosion rang out and made the building shook.

All he could remember was falling and blanking out.

He stood up and looked around. There were only smoke and the smell of the fire. He couldn’t hear anything and he was coughing. “Hello?” he shouted. There was silence. He could only hear the crackling of fire somewhere and some stray screams that echo around.

“I’ve got to find the Lord Officiator,” he thought. He doesn’t know or what happened but he was sure that someone tried to assassinate the Lord Officiator. The whole explosion took the upper level. He was sure by now that everyone out there must have either fallen like him or badly injured. He couldn’t stay any longer. He needed to do something.

He started to his feet. He walked through the smoky corridors blind and looked for anything that might help him breathe easier. He couldn’t find anything so he had to make due by ripping the fabric of his clothes and wrapped it around his face. He trekked on forward. But he arrived on a passage where the ceiling has given up. He pressed his stomach flat on the ground. He crawled through the narrow passage while hoping that it won’t give up on him.

Thankfully, he was able to get past that obstacle. He started to his feet and jumped a gap. He looked down and saw that there were hands sticking out. A man’s head was crushed under the rubble. And there were children who had been crushed between the fallen rubble. He couldn’t stomach the child’s shouting so he pointed his pistol and gave the little kid the mercy of death.

In his life, he had drawn a life to never kill a child. Yet he was forced to. He couldn’t stomach it. But what could he do? Leave the child to suffer as the rubble crushes him? Make him suffer any longer? He couldn’t save the child without equipment. He couldn’t drop down and somehow lift the rubble. That was the only thing he could do for the child.

“All these deaths,” he said. “For what purpose do many have to die?”

He never bothered playing politics or knowing about it. He was a soldier, not a politician. He couldn’t be bothered about it. Yet now he wanted to know why. Why was someone so eager to let people die and suffer for the sake of one life?

He clenched his fist tightly. He turned his back away from the hole and climbed the stairway with wary eyes. The smoke around the corridor was getting denser. The crackling of the fire was getting louder. He met an obstacle as he soldiers on. It was a door that was blocked by rubble. There was no way around it so he pushed it and somehow managed to slip through the cracks.

The hall was denser. There was someone standing, looking around. He recognized the face. He shouted, “Stan! Thank God you are not dead kid!” he hurried towards the young man who was scratch and dirty. He was cut all over and his uniform was shredded.

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“You are alive,” he nodded. “That’s good. What about the Lord Officiator?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. But I have a feeling that he’s alive. His office made of the toughest metal there. It also acts as a panic room so there should be no problem. And that he should have some Templars guarding him.”

“Is that so?” Stan said. “How many Templars are guarding him?”

“I don’t know,” He admitted. “Still, it wouldn’t be bad if we assist the Lord Officiator. I don’t know who the bastard is that did this chaos. But we mustn’t let him succeed in his goal of killing the Lord Officiator!”

Stan lowered his head. He said, “I think you go and get help. I think there are some people who might be trapped. If you are right and if the Lord Officiator is alive, then there should be Templars guarding him.”

“No,” he shook his head. “We can’t take the chances. There is strength in numbers. And the life of the Lord Officiator is at stake here!”

Stan looked at him blandly. He couldn’t see his clearly with all the smoke. “I see,” Stan said in a low voice. “If we want to join the Templars in protecting the Lord Officiator then we are going to need some equipment. It’s best that we should be careful right? Who knows? The person that started this disaster might be still around.”

“Good thinking!” he patted Stan’s shoulder. “That’s right we should be careful. And I am sure that the Lord Officiator will appreciate our good work!” he stopped and looked around. “But where do we get some equipment, Stan?”

“I spotted a crate or a briefcase of some kind out there. I tried pulling it up but it was stuck. I think with the two of us we can pull it up.”

He nodded. “Let’s go and take it then.” Stan turned around. “I’ll lead. Watch my back please.”

“You got it.”

The two weaved through the fallen rubbles. They dodge through the hazardous areas and traversed through this smoke-filled hall. He coughed but followed Stan who seemed to remember the way clearly. He praised him internally for having a good sense of direction. They arrived in a room. He saw the crate and pulled it up. The thing was not heavy. But the rope reel was stuck. It took them awhile and they put the crate down.

“Can you check it out?” Stan asked. He nodded and squatted. He opened the crate and found out that the crate was filled with different kinds of weapons and equipment. They look like they were made from the demesne but they were worn. He took one of them and smiled. “Stan! We got some good equipment here! Pick your stuff and we should go now!”

“Sure,” Stan said. He turned his head to look at Stan and saw the bottom of a barrel of a gun. He had many things he wanted to ask. But before he could say anything. He heard a loud gunshot and his vision going black.