OLD-WORLD EXTRA

Chapter 451: Death Of Four II



Behind those four, near the other end of the tunnel, Southern Cross moved with heavy steps.

His massive frame and augmented suit made him look like a walking tank, especially when compared to the students next to him.

He used his strength to push debris aside, clearing the path for them to escape.

"Stay close and keep following the highlighted route!"

Shinobi was deeper in the ruin, standing guard at a crossroads, his Spectral Scythe held tightly in his hands.

He killed incoming soldiers, not allowing a single one the opportunity to pass through while a cohort of students he had just saved escaped way behind him, running for their lives.

"Don't look back! Just run!"

Meanwhile, just slightly ahead in a deeper tunnel, a few away from the main station's

entrance, Kalahari stepped from shadow to shadow, her hands weaving through the air as her kin obeyed her command.

She conjured shields, protecting the professors, and spikes, attacking enemy soldiers.

Right, unlike most of the others, she wasn't fighting alone.

This was their current front line.

It was where the war was at its most chaotic.

Nearly all the professors were here or at least nearby, killing their way through everything before them.

Kalahari, done killing a Deacon, Shadow Stepped before a trembling girl who stood a safe distance from the battle.

"It's safer now. Go."

She gave her and those beside her a gentle push towards the path to the exit.

They didn't need to be encouraged any further, as they immediately began to move. However, one of them remained, a boy.

He silently looked at Kalahari as his cohort left, not joining them in their escape.

Kalahari appeared confused.

"What's wrong--"

Pausing her words, she noticed that his leg was injured.

He couldn't walk, not in this chaos at least.

"You're going to be okay."

She handed him a single old-world medicine pill, one that cost three hundred million UC.

The Zenith Wardens were overwhelmed, focusing on healing those with life-threatening injuries, leaving her to deal with him personally until they could spare him a look.

Though she winced at the price, the credits didn't come from her own pocket, so she shrugged it off.

It wasn't her concern how the Academy wasted its resources.

The student stared at the pill on his palm, hesitating to swallow.

Annoyed, Kalahari shoved the pill into the kid's mouth without a second thought, not bothering to convince him.

Before he could protest, she pulled him up and directed him toward Doctor Maria, a Zenith Warden stationed at the back.

Kalahari had noticed something curious about Maria from the start-she didn't heal in the typical sense.

It was almost as if she was deleting injuries altogether.

The speed at which she worked rivaled Lionheart or even surpassed him.

She moved tirelessly from one injured student to another, her hands glowing with a soft, almost blurred light.

Though biased toward one of her companions, Kalahari couldn't deny Maria's superiority in that aspect.

In any case, she was thankful that someone like her was on their side, not the enemy's, confident the kid would soon be on his way to the exit.

As he headed off, she turned her attention back to the chaos.

Professors fought with everything they had, pushing themselves to the brink just to keep the front line from regressing.

They were far from matching the ten HG leaders in skill; the gap in combat experience was stark, even though the professors were considered some of the best on Earth.

The professors weren't both hunters and specialists like them.

Still, they held their own, if only barely.

But despite their efforts, the opposition seemed relentless.

As if no matter how many they took down, more came-dauntless, unending.

Especially Templar.

None of the professors and HG leaders had anticipated such a hidden force.

The scale of Templar's strength, hidden from everyone's sight, was certainly staggering. Unbeknownst to them, their numbers had already been thinned thanks to Azazel's earlier attack.

Yet even with those losses, many soldiers remained, many who fought fiercely, many who were more fanatical, driven by a deranged zeal.

If only they knew...

The thought of what could have unfolded if Templar's entire plan had gone without interference, without even a minimal warning, would send a shiver down the spine of anyone who considered it.

The death of every student would not have just been possible-it would have been expected. And what was currently happening would have been worse by tenfold.

Explosions constantly rocked the ruin, no thanks to the bomb-laden vests worn by the fanatics.

The walls crumbled under heavy fire, turning once-solid stone into dangerous rubble.

Many of the tunnels collapsed, cutting off escape routes and trapping professors in isolated

sections.

Those hurt had their cries fill the air with no one there to heal them.

But thanks to the HG leaders, most were saved from worse fates.

Half an hour seemed to pass in a blur as the battle raged on. Slowly but surely, the Academy's forces began to reclaim each sector.

They either pushed back the enemy or outright annihilated them.

Every sector gained came at a cost, but they pressed on, rescuing those trapped under debrisn/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

or cornered by fanatics.

Exhaustion was evident on everyone's faces, but they didn't dare stop.

They couldn't afford to.

Not all the students were accounted for.

Eight still needed saving.

Some were missing, their whereabouts unknown, while others were in hard-to-reach places.

Among them, four were of particular importance-the purest of the Elite, whether publicly

known or not.

Sofia, Max, Ava, and Arthur.

Their disappearance during the last thirty minutes had thrown the entire operation into

overdrive, not just Amon's command.

They were arguably the second most important cohort that had dived into this ruin, and the

urgency behind the HGLS was due to them.

Students that held significance beyond their rank.

In the thirty minutes that passed, they had reached the entrance of the main station.

According to the last trace of the cohort's signals, they were supposed to be here. And now, they could finally check if their efforts bore fruit.