Elias laughed, his voice filled with mockery. "They’re asking us to kneel? How amusing!"
The others laughed too, their voices muffled beneath their sleek, black masks.
Sebastian’s calm voice cut through the laughter. "Don’t kill anyone. We ca in peace. One strike... make them unconscious. On their count... Eight."
Eleanor stood silently, unmoving in the middle of the chaos, her expression detached. It was as if everything unfolding around her held no relevance to her. The storm of tension and uncertainty barely brushed against her serene, almost indifferent aura.
anwhile, the countdown from the opposing team continued, painfully slow and drawn out, perhaps to psyche themselves up or scare their targets.
"Six... seven... eight."
The mont "eight" rang through the hall, four shadow guards moved in a blur, like lightning unleashed.
Sebastian was the first to reach his target... a burly man with a thick scar running across his left cheek, the sa man who had given the order to kneel. With surgical precision, Sebastian struck a hidden nerve cluster just beneath the man’s left ear. The man’s legs gave out imdiately, the gun slipping from his grip as he slumped to the floor like a marionette with cut strings. He would be unconscious for at least thirty minutes.
Without missing a beat, Sebastian glided to the next man. A swift strike to the pressure point under the chin, and the second attacker collapsed before his eyes could register what had hit him.
As he turned to find his next opponent, he realized with a blink that there were none left.
Raphael and Elias were already standing tall. The two had always shared an unspoken rivalry. Raphael excelled with firearms; Elias, with blades. But in hand-to-hand combat, both believed they were the superior fighter. Unofficially, they had turned this ambush into their own little contest... and each had scored three knockouts.
Despite their success, they cursed their luck under their breath for not having more opponents to compete over, their grumbling drawing a chuckle from Alaric and Sebastian.
The four returned to their previous positions as if they had never moved. The only evidence of what had transpired were the ten unconscious bodies sprawled on the floor like discarded mannequins.
Behind the front desk, the two receptionists huddled together in terror. As soon as they had realized a fight was imminent, they had ducked under the desk, expecting gunfire to erupt. But after the eerie quiet that followed the count to eight, they only heard dull thuds. No bullets. No screams. Just silence.
And that silence was sohow worse.
***
In the restaurant, a suffocating stillness had settled. Every pair of eyes was fixed on the laptop screen showing the front hall’s live feed. No one spoke.
The cara had caught everything. The intruders’ movent had been unreal... faster than any trained soldier, faster than Olympic sprinters. Their strikes had been decisive and brutal, dropping their opponents like dominoes.
"They didn’t even need weapons," it was everyone’s thought at this mont.
The security officer was the first to break the silence. His voice was grim.
"Backup team, move in. Open fire imdiately. Don’t try to capture them... don’t let them get close to you."
"Yes, sir!" the eight responded in unison. They stood up, saluted with stern faces, and declared, "For Imperial Haven!"
They grabbed their weapons and rushed out of the restaurant. These ended their eighteen ex-military professionals... handpicked and highly trained. If they failed, there would be no one else left to stop the intruders. Although all present mbers were killers and assassins, the security officer didn’t want to rely on them.
The others in the restaurant stayed seated, eyes glued to the cara feed, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.
***
In the front hall, Elias yawned dramatically. "Where are the rest of them? I thought today would be fun."
"Be patient," Sebastian replied, his eyes scanning the hallway. "You’re facing people with firearms. You can’t afford to get reckless. And rember... you’re not allowed to transform in front of ordinary humans."
Finally, Eleanor spoke, her voice calm and cold, as if reading a weather report. "A second team is approaching. They’ll shoot. Neutralize them now."
Her warning ca just a second too late.
The backup team, having witnessed the earlier confrontation through the cara feed, had learned from their comrades’ mistakes. They entered the hall already firing.
The shadow team leapt into motion. For them, ti slowed. Every bullet moved like molasses in the air. They twisted and contorted mid-dash, avoiding the incoming fire with a fluidity that defied human limits. Still, a few bullets narrowly grazed them.
So shots missed them entirely... but dangerously veered toward Eleanor.
That was when Isadora moved.
With the grace of a dancer and the precision of a killer, she pulled a small, gleaming nun chuck from her pocket. Her eyes blazed with focus.
The first bullet scread toward them.
She twisted her wrist, and the edge of her nun chuck collided with the bullet mid-air. A tallic chi echoed in the hall, as if a bell had been struck.
Another shot ca... then another.
She moved like a spectre, her hair swirling behind her like the tail of a cot. Each bullet t the sa fate: deflected by the impossibly tid arc of her blade. Sparks rained around her like falling stars. She didn’t miss a single one.
Eleanor, who had silently prepared to sidestep if necessary, did not move. She stood her ground, her trust in Isadora unshaken. For the first ti, she gave the girl a quiet nod of approval.
By the ti the fourth bullet was neutralized, the shadow guards had already taken down the remaining shooters.
Eleanor’s voice crackled in their earpieces, calm and composed. "Put them all to sleep. We don’t have ti to wait for them to attack. And do not kill anyone."
Elias and Raphael grinned like children who had just been handed candy.
"Race you," Elias whispered, already halfway to the restaurant.
"Too late!" Raphael shot forward, a blur of motion.
They darted into the restaurant like a pair of wraiths, weapons unnecessary. People barely had ti to register their presence before they were struck unconscious. The chaos unfolded in a matter of seconds... bullets shot, chairs overturned, trays clattered to the ground... but there were no screams, only the rhythmic thuds of bodies hitting the floor.
Sebastian and Alaric arrived monts later. They stood at the entrance, watching the carnage unfold like amused spectators.
"This never gets old," Sebastian murmured.
"Indeed," Alaric agreed.
Isadora, anwhile, silently made her way behind the reception desk, where the two terrified won lay flat on the floor. They didn’t even hear her approach.
"Sorry for the trouble," she said softly.
Both receptionists gasped and turned to look... but before they could react, Isadora struck swiftly, knocking them unconscious with expert precision.
She returned to Eleanor’s side without a word, her calm presence a stark contrast to the havoc around her.
The restaurant was a war zone... albeit bloodless. Nearly every mber of Imperial Haven was lying unconscious on the floor. Chairs were overturned, cutlery scattered, and the once pristine space now resembled a battlefield after a silent massacre.
The security officer stood frozen in place. His body trembled as he witnessed the results of his decision. These weren’t ordinary intruders. They were monsters in human skin... untouchable, unstoppable.
Around him, only a handful of restaurant staff remained standing, staring in horror. He knew it was over.
He raised both hands in the air, voice shaking but loud enough to echo across the room.
"We surrender!" he shouted.
Raphael turned toward him, a dark grin forming under his mask. His eyes glinted with quiet fury. He had already found out that this man was the leader of the team, and hadn’t forgotten his subordinate’s earlier arrogance... the demand to kneel.
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