Chapter 37. Hijack Of Hotel...[5]

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Third-Person's POV...

Hotel BlackMoon, Third Floor

A dimly lit corridor that stretches out like a sinister serpent, its walls adorned with faded gold trim and worn, crimson carpeting that seems to whisper secrets of the past.

The air is heavy with an aura of foreboding, thick with the scent of smoke and sweat, and the distant hum of tension that hangs like a challenge.

A phalanx of five imposing figures, clad in black attire that seems to absorb the faint light, stand guard like sentinels of doom.

Their eyes, cold and calculating, bore into your very soul, as if sizing you up for the kill. Each of them is a master of mayhem, armed to the teeth with an arsenal of deadly weapons that glint menacingly in the faint light.

To left, a towering figure, his face a chiseled mask of granite, grips a sword with a worn leather hilt, its blade etched with the scars of countless battles. His eyes, like two glacial lakes, seem to freeze time itself, as if daring you to make a move.

Beside him, a lithe, agile woman, her raven hair tied back in a ponytail, cradles a sleek, black pistol, her finger resting lightly on the trigger, as if poised to unleash a hail of bullets at a moment's notice.

To right, a hulking giant of a man, his massive frame straining against the seams of his black fatigues, hefts a shotgun with a sawed-off barrel, its wooden stock worn smooth by the grip of countless hands.

His eyes, like two burning coals, seem to sear into your very being, as if warning you of the horrors that lurk within.

Next to him, a wiry, agile figure, his face a map of scars and tattoos, brandishes a pair of deadly daggers, their blades glinting like shards of ice in the faint light.

And at the far end of the corridor, a lone figure, shrouded in shadows, stands watch, a rifle slung casually over his shoulder, its barrel pointing lazily towards the floor, as if waiting for the perfect moment to strike. His eyes, like two dark pools, seem to draw you in, as if daring you to take a step closer, to enter the lair of the ruthless hijackers.

These are Five Of Eight hijackers left in Hotel.

...

As the tense silence was shattered, a sudden, jarring sound pierced the air, like a shrill scream that sent shivers down the spines of all who stood frozen in anticipation.

The unmistakable hum of the elevator's machinery roared to life, its mechanical heartbeat growing louder with each passing second, building towards a crescendo of uncertainty.

The five hijackers, their senses on high alert, stood poised like coiled springs, their eyes fixed intently on the elevator doors, their minds racing with the possibilities of what was to come.

The air was electric with tension, heavy with the weight of anticipation, as the elevator's slow ascent seemed to drag on for an eternity.

The sound of its approach was like a ticking time bomb, counting down the seconds until the doors would slide open, revealing the unknown horrors or unexpected surprises that lay within.

The hijackers' breathing was synchronized, their chests rising and falling in unison, as they stood transfixed, their gazes locked on the elevator's metal doors, their fingers twitching with anticipation.

The elevator's machinery groaned and creaked, its ancient mechanisms straining under the weight of its cargo, as it lurched and stuttered its way upwards, the sound of its progress echoing through the corridors like a death knell.

The hijackers' eyes were glued to the doors, their pupils dilated with excitement, their faces set in determined masks, as they steeled themselves for the unknown.

And then, in an instant, the elevator's doors slid open with a hiss of compressed air, the sound like a sigh of relief, as the hijackers' collective breath was exhaled in a rush of anticipation.

...

As the elevator's doors slid open with a hiss, a sudden, palpable tension filled the air, like the crackle of electricity before a storm. The dimly lit, metallic interior of the elevator car was bathed in an eerie, golden light, casting an otherworldly glow on the scene that was about to unfold. And then, like a vision materializing from the shadows, the imposing figure of Riyan emerged, his towering presence commanding attention.

His piercing gaze, like two burning embers, locked onto the quintet of adversaries who stood frozen, their weapons trained on him with an unyielding intensity.

Riyan's hand grasped the worn, leather-bound hilt of Yunling, its razor-sharp tip glinting menacingly in the faint light. The weapon, a testament to his unyielding prowess in battle, seemed to hum with a quiet power, as if it too were alive and ready to strike.

His eyes, like two piercing stars, shone with an unwavering determination, a fierce inner light that seemed to bore into the very souls of his would-be assailants.

The five hijackers, their faces twisted into snarls of aggression, stood transfixed, their guns and knives held steady, as if time itself had been suspended.

The air was heavy with the weight of anticipation, the silence between the two groups a living, breathing entity that pulsed with an almost palpable energy.

It was as if the very fate of the world hung in the balance, the outcome of this confrontation a mystery waiting to be unraveled.

The hijackers, a motley crew of five, their faces a blur of anger and desperation, seemed to embody the very essence of chaos and anarchy.

Their weapons, a deadly assortment of pistols, knives, and cruel-looking blades, appeared to be extensions of their own twisted desires, instruments of destruction honed to perfection.

....

In a flash, three assailants emerged from the shadows, their eyes blazing with a sinister intent. With a synchronized motion, they raised their weapons, a trio of deadly instruments that seemed to hum with an otherworldly energy.

These were no ordinary firearms, but rather Mana-infused armaments, crafted with ancient magic and precision engineering. Each bullet, shell, and projectile was imbued with a concentrated dose of Mana, the very essence of life force, making every shot a potentially devastating blow.

The first attacker, a towering figure with a menacing scowl, grasped a rifle that shimmered with an ethereal glow.

The weapon's barrel seemed to pulse with a soft blue light, as if the Mana within was straining to be unleashed. With a cold calculation, he took aim at Riyan, his finger tightening around the trigger.

The second assailant, a lithe and agile figure with eyes that burned like hot coals, wielded a handgun that crackled with dark energy. The pistol's grip seemed to writhe and twist in her hand, as if alive and feeding off her malevolent intent.

She fired first, the report of the gun echoing through the air like a crack of thunder, sending a Mana-laced bullet hurtling towards Riyan with deadly precision.

The third attacker, a hulking brute with a cruel grin, brandished a shotgun that seemed to drink in the light around it, leaving only an aura of darkness and foreboding.

The weapon's twin barrels appeared to yawn open like the maw of a beast, ready to unleash a devastating blast of Mana-charged buckshot. With a sadistic chuckle, he fired, the shotgun's roar shaking the air as a hail of glowing projectiles tore towards Riyan.

All three attackers fired in rapid succession, their Mana-infused weapons unleashing a maelstrom of concentrated energy upon Riyan.

The air was filled with the acrid smell of ozone and smoke, as if the very fabric of reality was being torn asunder by the sheer force of their assault.

....

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Next Chapter "38. Hijack Of Hotel...[6]",The Next Chapter May Come Later, So Sorry. My Readers, please leave review and comments as well as Powerstone and Golden Tickets...

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"Villain : The White Washer"

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Lone Raut

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