Chapter 312: How to Revenge (4)

The Guild Master, a tall and burly man with thick, curly brown hair, sat trembling inside his secure panic bunker, which was connected directly to the third sub-basement of the headquarters.

Every single member of his guild was dead. His most elite executioner team, a squad that had never once failed a lethal assignment had just been annihilated in a single strike. To make matters infinitely worse, one of his own assassins had completely sold him out, revealing his exact location to the silver-haired monster who was currently tearing through the building.

The bunker itself did not look like a traditional, sterile safe room. It was furnished exactly like the luxurious penthouse suite of a paranoid billionaire. He sat on a plush, L-shaped velvet couch facing a massive wall of digital monitors broadcasting the static-filled security feeds from the upper floors.

The room featured a king-sized bed with silk sheets, a fully stocked modern bathroom, a row of high-end gym equipment, a towering refrigerator packed with gourmet food, a walk-in wardrobe filled with tailored suits, and a sprawling armory rack displaying dozens of enchanted weapons and magical artifacts.

He slammed the remote microphone onto the polished hardwood floor. "That pathetic bastard just had to run his mouth before dying!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the bunker.

He threw his hands up, throwing a furious tantrum. "That piece of shit actually believed the kid would spare him! He revealed my location, and the kid just blew him to pieces anyway! What kind of maniac promises mercy and then obliterates you the very next second?!"

He paced across the room, taking a deep breath to force himself to calm down. He collapsed back onto the velvet couch and leaned his head back, muttering to himself. "There is no need to panic. Just because that traitor revealed the floor number does not mean the kid can actually find the hidden entrance. And even if he miraculously locates the passage door, he absolutely cannot enter."

He patted the leather armrest, reassuring himself. "I have way too many failsafes built into this bunker. He can never reach me in here."

Just then, a loud, concussive BANG echoed from the upper floors.

The Guild Master froze. The booming impacts continued, growing steadily louder and louder with every passing second, as if a wrecking ball was systematically smashing through the concrete ceilings above him.

He began sweating profusely, gnawing nervously on his fingernails. "There is no way he can break in here," he stuttered, his eyes darting toward the heavy vault doors. "This place is protected by S-rank runic arrays! The walls are forged from reinforced titanium and mana-infused tungsten! He cannot get in!"

Suddenly, the impenetrable steel doors of the bunker hissed loudly. The heavy hydraulic locks clicked, and the doors smoothly slid wide open.

Solomon walked into the bunker with his gray hood pulled low over his head.

The Guild Master immediately jumped up from the couch. He stared at the open doors, completely unable to believe his own eyes. "How did you get in here?! This place is protected by scanners! Only I can open those bunker doors with my code! How the hell did you unlock it?!"

Solomon did not respond. He casually grabbed a heavy wooden dining chair from the side of the room and dragged it behind him, the legs scraping loudly against the hardwood floor. He walked over to the glass coffee table sitting in front of the couch, placed the chair directly on top of the table, and sat down, leaning back lazily.

Solomon let out a very, very long, exhausted sigh, his breath misting slightly in the cool, air-conditioned bunker.

"Who are you?!" the Guild Master demanded, backing away slightly. "What do you want, and how did you find this room?!"

Solomon kept his hood pulled up. Dark crimson blood dripped steadily from his clothes, pooling onto the glass table. "I honestly did not expect you to hide down here of all places," Solomon muttered, his voice raspy. "You would have been much safer hiding in a broom closet upstairs."

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" the Guild Master yelled, reaching behind the couch to pull a massive, spiked iron mace from his hidden stash.

Solomon looked at the heavy weapon. "That is useless against me. You should just stay put. Did you not say you wanted to have a polite conversation? I am here for that."

The Guild Master spat a curse. "I do not believe a single word you say! You brutally murdered my squad leader after explicitly promising you would let him go if he revealed my location!"

"If I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead," Solomon responded smoothly, resting his bloody hands on his knees. "The fact that you are still breathing, standing upright, and holding a weapon in your hand right now is nothing but a testament to my incredible mercy."

The Guild Master tightened his grip on the mace. "Who are you, and why are you doing this? What is it that you actually want? And if you just wanted to talk, why did you slaughter every single member of my guild on your way down here?!"

Solomon did not respond. He simply stared up at the ceiling, remaining perfectly still as if he was deeply contemplating something profound.

The Guild Master looked down at the mace in his hand. He quickly calculated the distance between them, wondering if he should launch a surprise attack while the bloody teenager was seemingly defenseless and distracted.

The guild master possessed an S-Rank talent, Super Strength and no one in the guild was as strong as him when it came to strength.

Solomon slowly lowered his head, opened his mouth, and began reciting a list of names in a low voice.

He listed dozens of random, unfamiliar names the Guild Master had never heard before.

"What the hell are you muttering about?" the Guild Master asked, thoroughly confused by the recitation. "Do you have some kind of mental illness?"

"These are the names of the guild members from the faction I used to belong to," Solomon answered quietly. "The ones who died in that dungeon tragedy in District Seven almost three years ago."