In the Midst of the Crisis (Part 4)

"I made a bet, and you definitely didn't end up on the winning side. That's why I'll do everything in my power to kill you." Anton was not willing to negotiate with Dante, as he wasn't killing him for money.

When he decided to kill someone, he did it simply by flipping a coin. The moment he accepted the job to kill Dante, his fate was sealed in that single flip, which, for obvious reasons, did not favor the man standing before him.

He wasn't killing just anybody—Dante was a world-class drug trafficker, someone the world was better off without. It was like exterminating pests; for Anton, eliminating a man like the one before him was a deeply satisfying accomplishment.

"Don't worry. Once I'm done with you, I'll flip another coin and decide whether to kill your employer or not," Anton said as he approached Dante, moving his knife from side to side.

Dante, who had expected a response like this, simply smiled. He never negotiated with assassins or hitmen who had already accepted the job to kill him. The only thing he was doing now was buying time to catch his breath.

"Well, that's reassuring…"

"You don't seem scared."

"Scared? Not at all. You're not worthy of that emotion. Both my life and yours are so fragile that even a child could take them. We live by gambling—right now, we're betting our lives on our ability to kill each other." Dante was always a gambler; he was good at making decisions, but he didn't always win.

In his past life, he had died because of a bet that cost him everything. That very same bet—he had sought it out, just as he was doing now.

"I like the way you think. Let's begin."

Seeing the short dagger in Dante's hand, Anton's face darkened. With a roar, he lunged forward, gripping his long dagger tightly.

From personal experience, he knew that his dagger could slice a throat as easily as cutting through butter, so he aimed to use the length of his weapon to gain an advantage in this battle.

But Dante, instead of facing his enemy head-on, remained calm, holding his knife up defensively while retreating slowly.

As for his opponent, wielding the long knife like a madman, he slashed wildly forward, but no matter how he swung—horizontally or vertically—none of his attacks hit their target.

This feeling of helplessness could have a severe psychological impact, and Anton, frustrated, shouted with an ugly expression, "You damn son of a bitch, stop running!"

"You're such an idiot…"

For Dante, this kind of low-level provocation wasn't worth responding to. He merely scoffed coldly and completely ignored Anton, dodging his attacks without saying a word.

Seeing how his opponent was outright ignoring him, Anton became even more frenzied, and his attacks grew even wilder.

As Dante watched the flashing blade move before him, there was no tension in his eyes. Judging by his opponent's movements, Anton may have had some basic physical training, but such reckless attacks suggested he lacked proper combat training.

His opponent was wasting too much energy—an offensive like that wouldn't last long. All Dante had to do was wait it out defensively.

Sure enough, after several minutes of relentless attacks, Dante clearly noticed the speed of Anton's long knife decreasing significantly.

Anton himself realized his stamina was depleting rapidly, and if he continued like this, he would lose. He decided to step back and rest.

He knew Dante had combat skills, but he had never expected them to be this good. Until now, he had only killed ordinary people, some more difficult than others, but this was the first time he had faced someone at such an advanced level.

But at such a perfect moment, how could Dante let him escape? The instant he sensed Anton's retreat, Dante's dagger began to move rhythmically, launching a counterattack and revealing the deadly precision of his knife skills.

Dante's sudden assault caught Anton off guard. Seeing the sharp dagger thrusting toward him, Anton hurriedly swung his machete to block it.

Clang!

When the long knife and the short dagger clashed, a sharp metallic sound echoed, and sparks flew.

After all, the long knife still had the advantage in size, and Dante felt his hand go numb from the impact.

But he didn't care at all. Instead, he continued pressing forward. The dagger moved fluidly in his grip, advancing toward his enemy's chest.

Although Anton's long knife had the advantage of reach, it was extremely difficult to maneuver in such close quarters.

Anton saw the dagger closing in, and suddenly, an indescribable sensation gripped his body, forcing him to retreat quickly to avoid the attack.

But his movement was just a fraction too slow, and the dagger's blade sliced up along his left abdomen, cutting a gash over ten centimeters long.

A large amount of blood immediately poured from the wound. Had he not moved in time, the knife could have spilled his internal organs onto the ground.

Clutching the bleeding wound, Anton no longer had the same ferocity or confidence from before. Instead, he looked at his opponent with disbelief—fear of death made his body tremble uncontrollably.

He no longer had the courage to fight. He turned around and ran toward the back, trying to escape as quickly as possible.

"If you come to kill people, you should know that those people can kill you too…"

Dante raised an eyebrow slightly, watching his opponent's cowardly retreat—a stark contrast to his earlier arrogance. He murmured to himself, took a few steps forward, grabbed a gun from a dead hitman, and aimed at the fleeing man's back.

Although he lacked the energy to fight at full strength, his shooting skills were still good. After aiming for a moment, he pulled the trigger.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Bullets fired from the gun's barrel, striking Anton's back precisely before he had run far.

Thud!

Hit by a bullet, Anton let out a scream and fell heavily to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust before dying.

But at that very moment, a figure stirred among the corpses, raised a pistol, and aimed at Dante's back, pulling the trigger.

Bang!

Bang! Bang!

Dante felt the strong impact of a bullet hitting his back, making him lurch forward. He turned his head and quickly fired twice at his attacker.

Bang! Bang!

After completely securing the area, he took a few deep breaths and anxiously checked the condition of his back. Though it hurt like hell, it seemed the bullets hadn't penetrated his armor. Dante tucked the pistol into his waistband, then picked up a rifle from the ground and was about to go support Jack, who was in the other room.

But before he could take a few steps, he heard multiple footsteps rapidly approaching. He leaned against the back of the bunker and peeked out to assess the situation.

"Dante, it's us!"

Perhaps knowing that Dante might be nearby, one of the approaching people shouted his name.

Hearing the familiar voice, Dante felt relieved. He slowly emerged from behind the bunker and looked at the approaching figures. Jack, along with the soldier beside him and a few others, were coming toward him.

"You don't look so good!" Dante said, noticing Jack was injured. He hurried over to check his wound with concern.

"Oh, it's fine. Something like this won't kill me…" Dante had expected more of the man he had just killed, but this wasn't the time for an evaluation.

Leaning on his teammate, Jack lifted his head with some difficulty, forced a smile, and said, "Even though I got shot, all of them are dead."

As he spoke, he glanced at a new sniper rifle in someone's hands and smirked. "Not like I walked away empty-handed…"

After carefully inspecting Jack's injury and confirming that he wouldn't be in any immediate danger, Dante let out a sigh of relief.

"Alright, let's get out of here…"

"You're bleeding…"

"It's not mine…"