Attacking stronghold 3

The helicopter's thundering blades grew louder, its engines vibrating through the walls and into Zale's bones. The sound filled his ears, rattling his concentration but sharpening his resolve. They were running out of time.

Zale's eyes remained locked on the guards, their rifles aimed toward the corridor's entrance. His heart pounded in his chest, every beat echoing the thought of their target slipping away.

"Alright," Jared whispered, his voice tense but steady. "If you've got any brilliant plans, now's the time."

"I'm using my Avatar," Zale replied, his tone harsher than intended.

Jared's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, that thing you were talking about? The… invisible power or whatever?"

"Yes. Just… cover me."

"Sure. But if you pass out or something, I'm leaving your ass here."

Zale ignored the jab and focused inward. He took a deep breath, his muscles coiling with anticipation. The air around him shifted, almost imperceptibly, as his Avatar manifested. It resembled air molecules swirling together, a translucent haze bending the dim light as it gathered before him.

He strained, his mind demanding his power to take shape. The molecules began to compress and solidify, becoming denser and darker until they formed a blade. It was crude, unpolished, but unmistakably a sword. The edges shimmered like broken glass, the weapon itself more nightmare than steel.

The effort made his limbs feel heavy, his breathing labored. He pushed through the weakness, knowing this was his best shot.

"I'm going for the guards," Zale hissed, his voice strained.

"Good luck."

He surged forward, the sword of his Avatar slicing through the air. His own body felt sluggish, his legs almost refusing to move as if the effort of wielding his power was draining his very life away. But the sword obeyed his will.

The first guard noticed him too late. The translucent blade cut through the man's side, leaving a gruesome wound that spilled crimson across the floor. The guard screamed before collapsing, his rifle clattering uselessly against the metal ground.

"Shit!" another guard shouted, his gun whipping toward Zale's direction.

Gunfire erupted, deafening in the confined space. Zale flung himself back behind a crate, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. The Avatar blade remained solid, but his vision swam with exhaustion.

"Zale! You okay?" Jared's voice was sharp, his hands already gripping Zale's shoulder and dragging him further behind cover.

"I… I'm fine," Zale lied, his entire body trembling from the effort of maintaining his Avatar. "Just… tired."

"No kidding. You look like you're about to drop dead."

"Just… keep them busy. I can handle the rest."

"Sure thing, man. Whatever you say."

Jared pulled out the small pistol he'd taken from one of the mansion's dead guards and opened fire. It was enough to scatter the remaining men, their attention momentarily divided.

Zale grit his teeth and forced himself to focus. The sword he had conjured from his Avatar remained steady, hovering just above his outstretched hand. But every second of maintaining it felt like dragging his limbs through thick mud.

He sent the blade flying toward the guards. It slashed through the air, its movements erratic but deadly. Blood sprayed as another guard fell, clutching at his shredded throat.

"Keep it up!" Jared urged, firing another shot before ducking behind cover. "Looks like they're shitting themselves now."

Zale could barely hear him. His breathing was shallow, his body feeling like it was being drained of all energy. He needed to finish this—fast.

He pushed the blade forward again, its movements more sluggish than before. It rammed into another guard's chest, the man's scream cut short as the Avatar sword tore through flesh and bone.

And then it happened.

The sword disintegrated, the aura vanishing into the air like smoke. Zale's legs gave out beneath him, his body collapsing to the floor. His vision blurred, darkness creeping in from the edges.

"Zale!" Jared grabbed him, hoisting him back up. "Damn it, man, don't pass out on me now!"

"I'm… I'm good," Zale mumbled, his voice weak. "Just… need a minute."

"You've got about five seconds before those bastards reload." Jared wrapped Zale's arm around his shoulder, practically dragging him along. They stumbled away from the carnage, their footsteps soaked in blood.

Gunfire still echoed through the corridor, the remaining guards firing wildly as they attempted to regroup. But their panic was clear. Zale's assault had shattered their nerves.

From their hiding place behind a pile of metal crates, Zale focused his mind and forced his Avatar to reappear. The sword reformed, smaller and more fragile than before, but still sharp enough to kill.

He directed the blade with the last of his strength, its erratic swings catching the remaining guards off guard. Jared ducked down as the weapon flew past his head, carving into one man's chest before plunging into another's gut.

The final guard crumpled to the floor, his eyes wide with terror even in death.

Jared stared at the blood-soaked scene, his face pale. Then he turned away, his shoulders convulsing as he vomited onto the floor.

"Jesus… what the hell was that?" Jared croaked, wiping bile from his mouth.

"Something I need to get better at," Zale said, his voice shaky. His gaze swept over the corpses littering the hallway, their blood pooling across the cold metal floor. He swallowed hard, fighting the bile rising in his own throat. "At least it worked."

"Yeah… Worked a little too well." Jared shot him a queasy glance. "You're messed up, you know that?"

"Says the guy who dragged me through a bloodbath."

"Touché."

Their brief moment of dark humor faded as they stared at the door the guards had been protecting.

Zale's legs felt like they were made of lead, but he forced himself to stand. The effort made his head spin, but he didn't care. They'd made it this far.

They stumbled into the room, expecting to see the CEO cowering behind his security detail. Instead, they were met with nothing but cold, sterile emptiness.

"Where the hell is he?" Jared snapped, eyes wide with disbelief. "He couldn't have gotten away that fast."

Zale's fists clenched. His entire body screamed with fatigue, but his rage kept him going. "He's here somewhere. We just have to—"

A groan interrupted him.

They spun around to see one of the guards writhing on the floor, his left arm soaked in blood from a deep gash. His eyes were glassy with pain, but he was alive.

Zale knelt over him, his fingers curling into the man's blood-soaked shirt. "Where's the CEO?" His voice was a jagged snarl. "Tell me, and you might live."

The man's eyes flickered with terror. His lips moved, his voice a strained rasp.

"Roof…"

Zale's heart lurched. The helicopter. Of course.

"Jared," he growled. "We've got to move. Now."