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Past eight in the evening.
The decrepit Ancient Castle was brightly lit, while the campfires of the camp below were meager.
Brian idly fiddled with a large pile of nails in his hand.
These were provided free of charge by the Night Demon Organization for the refurbishment of their wooden huts, in addition to the nails there were some hammers, saws, and there was also an ammunition depot in case some Mutant Organization came sniffing around.
Knowing that he wasn't allowed to shoot his comrades here, Brian lost all interest in even picking up a gun.
In his hand, nails were no worse than bullets.
This was rather underhanded.
Because with a nail, he could beat others down, but the moment someone fired a gun, it would be tantamount to breaking the rules and being eliminated.
Across the campfire.
Derek and Melita hesitated to speak.