Chapter 1068: Chapter 1068 Like A Predator Lying In Wait

They couldn’t reach Dave now; he was out of sight, and their comms link had gone dead right after he relayed the general direction he and Luke were heading. That was the only clue they had, and beyond it, they had no idea what had happened. Now, their priority was clear: determine whether that building was where Dave and Luke were hiding.

"Captain... they seem to be searching for something," one of the soldiers whispered.

"Not something," the captain replied quietly as they drew closer together. "Someone."

"Then... could they be looking for Young Minister Dave and Mr. Greyson?" another soldier speculated.

"That’s most likely," the captain said, signaling the team to tighten their formation into a circle. "The fact that the Young Minister and Mr. Greyson haven’t made a move suggests they’re running low on ammunition. They’re probably holding their ground with just a few rounds left, using sporadic fire as a smoke screen to bluff the enemy. But that also means they can’t hold out much longer."

His gaze hardened. "We need to act soon."

"Captain, how could you tell?" the youngest soldier asked quietly.

"With Young Minister Dave and Mr. Greyson’s abilities, do you really think they’d sit inside doing nothing if they still had the means to fight?" the captain retorted with a snort. "If they were fully armed, there’d already be bodies piling up. Since they’re staying put, what do you think they’re doing, playing house?"

A few of the soldiers chuckled, then quickly stifled their laughter, straightening as they remembered the situation.

"Captain, stop teasing me," the youngest soldier muttered, lips pursed. "I was just asking how you knew. You sounded so certain... like you could see them."

"Of course I know," the captain replied. "Some of us trained and served alongside them in the army for years. We know how strong they are, and how they move." His eyes gleamed faintly as he reminisced. "Those two are killing machines. Do you really think killing machines get cornered that easily?"

"Then if they’re really that good," the youngest soldier pressed, still unconvinced, "how did they end up cornered without fighting back? They could’ve wiped those people out."

"What do you know?!" another soldier snapped, smacking the youngest on the back of the head before continuing. "Back then, they were reckless, charging headfirst into battle like their own lives didn’t matter. But now it’s different."

His voice lowered, heavy with meaning. "Now there’s someone they care about too much to risk getting injured. They won’t gamble anymore. They won’t dive in to steal enemy weapons or take suicidal chances just to wipe out the opposition."

"How’d you know? What, do you sleep under their bed or something?" The youngest soldier clearly hadn’t learned his lesson. Still smarting from the blow, he felt compelled to push back, glaring at the one who had smacked him.

"Damn it," he snapped, rubbing the back of his head. "Keep hitting me like that, and I really will get brain damage. Then I’ll be stupid for real."

"Shut up. You’re already as stupid as a donkey," the older soldier scoffed. "And you’re asking how I know? Of course, I know. You’re as blind as a headless chicken. There’s this thing called the internet, you know?"

He rolled his eyes and continued without mercy.

"Young Minister Dave and Mr. Greyson weren’t even subtle about it. They were walking around all lovey-dovey with the same woman, and the whole thing was plastered online. Seriously, how did you not know at your age? Do you live under a rock or something?"

He paused, then added with a snort, "What are you, Patrick Star? Don’t tell me you don’t even know who Patrick Star is."

"Alright, that’s enough. Stop horsing around," the captain said, sweeping his gaze over the team. "We have more important things to handle. There’s no time for jokes. Disperse and flank them from all sides."

One of the oldest soldiers frowned and voiced his concern. "But Captain, if we flank them like that, what if they get desperate? What if they force their way inside and turn it into a life-or-death confrontation with the Young Minister? Wouldn’t that be the same as pushing the two inside straight to their deaths?"

"That’s a possibility," the captain acknowledged calmly. "But we have no choice except to trust the Young Minister and Mr. Greyson to hold their own. We’ll eliminate as many enemies as we can from the outside. I’ll personally take the front and deal with whoever’s there."

His gaze hardened.

"If anyone forces their way inside, I trust that the Young Minister and Mr. Greyson won’t hesitate to fire their last bullet if it comes to that. And if they need backup, I’ll move in immediately to assist them. What I need from you is simple: clean up the rest and make sure every enemy outside is neutralized. We’re all getting out of here alive."

The plan was sound. No one raised further objections; they only nodded, each understanding their role.

The captain remained in position as the others moved out, slipping silently through the bushes to encircle the abandoned warehouse. He waited, steady and unmoving, for the signal that everyone was in place.

After some time, Dave and Luke, who had been resting lightly, heard faint chirping outside, coming from several directions. At first, it sounded like ordinary insects, the kind that filled the air during summer nights, especially in mating season.

But that was exactly what made it wrong.

It wasn’t summer anymore.

The realization snapped both of them fully awake. They opened their eyes at the same time, instantly understanding the message hidden within the sound; it was a signal. Their backup had arrived.

Which meant the battle was about to begin.

Without a word, the two men tightened their grips on their assault rifles. Dave quietly removed his magazine, checking his remaining rounds by touch before sliding it back into place. Luke did the same. When they were done, they gave each other a brief nod.

The interior was pitch-dark, too dark for hand signals. So they leaned closer and whispered, keeping their voices low as they prepared to play their part if things went wrong.

"You take the right. I’ll cover the left," Luke said quietly as he readied himself to move. "If you run out of ammo, throw whatever’s in reach, or just smash them with it."

"Hah. So uncivilized," Dave snorted. "Watch and learn how a professional fights."

With that, he moved first, dropping into a low crouch and slipping toward a safer position. The only light came from the moon, spilling faintly through the warehouse entrance and casting long, broken shadows across the ground.

Moments later, gunfire erupted from all directions.

The night exploded into chaos, boots pounding over stone and grass, bodies colliding, shouts cut short by muffled impacts. It quickly became clear that firearms weren’t the only weapons in play. The enemy had found cover, forcing both sides in close.

The distance collapsed.

With no clear lines of fire, the fight turned brutal and personal; hands, blades, and anything within reach became weapons as combat devolved into close-quarters combat where guns were no longer an option.

Luke and Dave quickly realized what the enemy was trying to do; they were stalling, buying time so the men waiting at the entrance could force their way inside.

They weren’t wrong.

The moment gunfire erupted, figures rushed the entrance, attempting to breach the warehouse. But Luke and Dave had anticipated this. They were ready.

The instant the first man crossed the threshold, Luke fired once.

The man dropped to the ground with a loud thud.

Before the echo faded, the second intruder followed, and Dave’s single, precise shot cut him down just as cleanly.

The third was faster. He dove behind a rusted barrel, narrowly avoiding death, and returned fire. Gunshots exploded at the entrance, the sound ricocheting violently through the warehouse. Almost immediately, more gunfire erupted from different directions outside, overlapping into a deafening chorus.

Inside, the warehouse fell into a deadly standoff.

No one moved.

Both sides waited, fingers tight on triggers, eyes locked on shadows and cover. One wrong step, one careless breath, and whoever made it would be the next body on the floor.

Dave drew in a steadying breath, carefully slowing it until even the air around him seemed to forget he was there, like a predator lying in wait. Luke was no different. Hidden within the shadows, only their eyes betrayed them: one pair glowing like muted gold, the other reflecting a faint amethyst sheen as they silently surveyed their surroundings.

The third man who had slipped into the warehouse was far less composed.

He was breathing hard, chest heaving as if he had just outrun death itself. His heart thundered violently, each beat shaking through his body, which still trembled like a sieve on the verge of collapse.

Time stretched.

While the intruder struggled to steady himself, Dave and Luke only grew calmer. They waited — patient, unhurried — listening for movement, watching for the slightest shift before making their own move.