Guild Wars

Draco stood outside the castle of The Cardinals, his body leaning on the bonnet of the car he came in. His arms were folded and his face was impassive.

Around him were the men of The Sanguigno Brothers group, who were arranging themselves into formations based on their skill group/weapon loadout.

The Sanguigno Brothers were like a military squad, their actions orderly and their movements rehearsed and professional. Even some some militia would pale at the sheer skill of these fellows.

There were three main forces. The assault squad featured those with machine and sub-machine guns, majority of them wielding various assault rifles. They counted for the largest group and consisted of more than 60% of the Sanguigno Brothers.

The second force were the snipers, who focused on long range tactical takedowns. They aligned their shots with impeccable timing, allowing the pressure on the assault squad to decrease whenever it got too hot.

They counted for about 30% of the force.

There was the third force, the heavy gunners. They were a mixture of grenadiers, mini-gun shooters as well as explosive launchers, who used RPGs and Javelins. They were the most crucial team in the quest to breach the defenses of the castle.

The Sanguigno Brothers also brought some of their advanced tech weaponry, with mini-railguns and pulse pistols being fired every now and then.

The Cardinals had responded pretty quickly though. They had taken tactical positions on the battlements, both men and turrets firing away on the assailants. Occasionally, a rocket would be shot at cl.u.s.ters where the Sanguigno Brothers were vulnerable, dealing damage.

However, it failed to take any of their lives while the Sanguigno Brothers assault reaped the lives of Cardinal footmen quite impressively. This was the difference in training, discipline and tech.

The Sanguigno Brothers had the advantage of skill. They used the few of do what the many could do, but better. If they were placed in the World Council's army, they would be a special squad that were deployed to resolve critical situations.

The Cardinals had the advantage of manpower and numbers, as well as home field turf. However the home field turf was being rendered extremely useless in the hands of the Sanguigno Brothers' all-out assault.

Still, do not underestimate the power of numbers. Using a previous example, a herd of 100 elephants could surely trample 1000 rabid dogs, but against 10,000 rabid dogs, it would be considered okay if even 10 elephants survived.

If numbers were so useless, the shock and awe tactic wouldn't be so feared.

Draco watched all of this impassively. He noticed that some of the enemy snipers had locked onto him, determining that he was a person of value.

By killing him, they could destabilize the disciplined formation that the Sanguigno Brothers were using, and push forward to crush them all!

Once they thought about, they all began loading their weapons and taking aim quickly, trying to be the one to get the kill. Their positions in The Cardinals would rise and they could become dragons among snakes!

The first shot was fired only 3 milliseconds from the second. After that, the time difference between the first shot and the rest didn't even c.u.mulatively reach 0.001 seconds.

These were special penetrating rounds with FMJ. These bullets could even tear through certain walls and hit enemies on the other side, much less someone standing out in the open.

The first person who fired quickly tapped on his battle helmet, switching on the camera so he could record his kill. Otherwise, wouldn't everyone just claim that they had been the one to do it?

With the time difference between each shot being so low, it would be hard to tell without hard evidence.

Draco smiled.

He raised a hand so slowly that all those watching him could see it move.

But… what?

His hand was moving so slowly, so why were there blurry afterimages as it traveled? Why did it move so slowly, yet traveled faster than the bullets which were approaching him?

Draco's palms transformed slightly, scales growing on his fingers and in the center of his palm. He used this very hand to catch each and every bullet that was aimed at his head, torso and legs when they got close.

Every sniper on The Cardinal's side took in the deep breath.

We are so f.u.c.k.i.e.d!

A Control master! A young Control master!

Their hearts sank to their assholes as they realized their fate had been sealed. Quickly, this fact was reported to the higher-ups, which was how the black-clad girl was able to find out.

Draco played with the bullets in his hands and placed his thumb in between his forefinger, while his fist slowly clenched. It looked like he was about to flip a coin, but what sat on top of his thumb wasn't a coin but…

The very same bullets that had been fired!

No one here was an idiot. They could easily tell what Draco was trying to achieve here, and it made their hearts go cold.

"Retreat! F.u.c.k.i.n.g retreat!"

The Sniper Squad Leader shouted into their comms, he himself abandoning his weapon in order to find cover, or even escape the battlefield. The same thing happened to all other members of the squad, as well as a few defenders on the battlements.

In large scale conflicts like this, the battle only remained fluent if both sides had equal strength. That way, the combatants of either side wouldn't lose morale since there was a clear chance of victory.

If one side was suppressed, circ.u.mstances dictated their morale. If they were a normal trained military, they would remain stable until it got too bad before retreating.

This was due to discipline and loyalty.

The Sanguigno Brothers were an example of this. Even though they had fewer numbers, they had a high morale, not just due to Draco's presence, but their own skill.

To these bottom floor Cardinal members, they fled without hesitation.

What a joke!

If they died here, for this mafia group, they would be the biggest fools. A country's army would compensate the family of a deceased solider and provide varying levels of protection for them.

In a mafia, none of that crap existed. In fact, it was more likely that their wives and daughters would be pressed under their rivals as playthings while their sons were used like cannon fodder.

Expecting them to hang around in a situation were anyone could die?

Simply too naive.

They fled.

Draco just shook his head and threw the bullets to one side. The Sanguigno Brothers roared when they saw the enemy foot soldiers fleeing like whipped dogs, relishing in the first phase victory.

Of course, they allowed them to go. There was no fear of leaving the weeds to grow and eventually choking the flowers. These fellows were not even that loyal to The Cardinals, so why should they care that it had been destroyed?

Not only that, but also the fact that they were bottom feeders, characters who would never really amount to anything substantial enough to threaten them.

It was the higher echelons who had to be killed unless they wanted endless troubles in the future. On that note, the Sanguigno Brothers destroyed the gates of the castle and entered the main courtyard.

In front of them stood the front entrance of the castle, with a balcony atop it. In front of the entrance stood about 150 men and women, all in various battle equipment, their faces looking like dead ashes, but having no other path of retreat.

Once they decided to become a core member of this mafia group, their lives were tied to its rise and fall. This was the real world, not Boundless. In Boundless, one could possibly run away and build a force for revenge.

In the real world, technology made such actions so difficult that it might as well be impossible, especially considering the ones coming to vanquish them. They weren't that special in this regard.

Draco stood at the head of the group, his eyes casually passing over the last line of defense arrayed before him. His gaze showed nothing but calmness and lack of interest.

"Murder them."

His command was met with a silent response from The Sanguigno Brothers, who numbered less than 50 in total, but had much more weaponry than their enemies.

They opened fire.

Screams resounded as lives were taken.

It was not a fair fight at all, no. It was a slaughter. A slaughter so bad that any hardened onlooker would blanch, and this included the many mafia groups watching on the side.

The core members of The Cardinals might as well have come n.a.k.e.d, providing themselves as prisoners going to the firing range because it was no different.

The hearts of all the onlookers went cold. The Cardinals were the seventh most powerful mafia group in the city, for the love of God! Yet they were being cut down like grass before the lawnmower.

Their blood rained in the sky and pieces of meat as well as flesh shot out in different directions. It was gory and horrifying.

When the barrage stopped, the place where the core members used to be had become a pit of blood, flesh and bones. The thousands of bullets had shredded their meat and bones into pulp, no complete body remaining.

Even… in a morbidly fascinating way, it looked like… the flesh could be made into a nice pan of mince meat for some spaghetti…

The Sanguigno Brothers showed no disgust, only indifference. Slaughtering the enemies like his meant nothing to them, as their only sin was killing and robbing.

Unlike others who spread their actions through all different forms of sins, thereby performing them weakly, they poured all their essence into these two.

This further buttressed the fact that this group were not to be f.u.c.k.i.e.d with in the least. It seemed that because The Sanguigno Brothers had been quiet lately, all of them had forgotten just why many of the high-tier mafia groups hardly got into conflict with them.

Now, they had been given a grim reminder.

And then, there was the young Control master of unknown origins.

Draco walked forward from the group, signaling the Sanguigno Brothers to handle clean up. This castle would now become his base in the real world, at least for now.

Draco kicked own the steel-coated double doors that led into the castle, which had a height three times his own and a width ten times his own, like it was rotten wood.

He entered the castle and noticed that the foyer was quite well-decorated. They had maintained the ancient European noble design generally, with the addition of modern tech liberally.

It formed a harmonious combination that he found pleasant.

He walked up the dual stairway, taking the one on the left, to head to the upper floor. He walked along the carpeted and well furnished hallway, passing by many doors that led into various rooms.

Most of these rooms had either cowering women or children in them. Obviously, the core members could not bring out their wives or concubines out. They also couldn't bring their children out as well, leaving them inside.

Since the walls were soundproof, they hadn't heard anything but the tremors from the explosions were enough to terrify them.

Draco ignored them all, The Sanguigno Brothers would handle them. This mafia group abhorred harming innocents as well as children, so in their various slaughter fests, they must have developed ways to take care of the non-combatants while simultaneously preventing them from becoming seeds for future troubles.

After walking through a few narrow hallways, Draco reached a wide hallway that led to a good sized double door made of carved wood, which sat at the very end.

The place was eerily quiet, so every step Draco took echoed out. It was like a silent thunderstrike, heralding the end of lives and peacefulness. His eyes were callous and his hands were pocketed.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Because of his sneakers, which he had changed to earlier, this was the sound made as the soles collided with the hallway. No one was in the hallway currently and no one could see what was going on inside the castle, even with all the tech they had.

However, when he reached a certain column that was halfway into the hallway, Draco grabbed out with his hands in a move that was faster than a striking cobra.

Since he was grabbing what seemed to be thin air, any onlooker would have thought that Draco was a fool. However, when his hands retracted, one could see that he had the skull of a fellow gripped in his hands.

Draco dragged the fellow along, not even stopping his forward march. His fingers gripped the top of the fellow's head tightly, with his index and middle fingers holding the back of the fellow's head, his ring finger holding the right temple and his thumb holding the left temple.

His pinky was attached to the center of the fellow's forehead.

Draco dragged the fellow along the hallway while applying pressure to his skull, increasing the force with every step he took. At first, the fellow had felt gripping pain at the act and had stabbed out at Draco with weapons as well as his arms in order to force Draco to let go.

He had focused on Draco's legs and waist, places which were closer to the fellow and harder to defend. However, all of these attacks didn't leave even a scratch on Draco. The best the fellow did was to damage Draco's clothes a bit, to which he could care less of.

However, as the pressure increased, the fellow's rationality was swallowed by his desperation and fear. He felt his skull begin to crack slowly, and just words could not describe the kind of pain that came with such a thing.

Instead of attacking Draco, he began holding the hand that was crushing his head, trying to pry it off him unsuccessfully. His screams echoed out as he begged for mercy and offered anything he felt was valuable.

It fell onto deaf ears as the pressure kept increasing to the point where the fellow began to cry, scream and leak blood. His eyes began to roll back into his head as he drooled like an invalid.

As Draco reached the double doors, he kicked this one down as well. The moment he did, the pressure finally broke through the fellow's skull as he fell limp. Draco's fingers pierced into his brain and turned it into mush.

His skull now looked no different from a bowling ball, which was how Draco's fingers were arranged before poking into it.

His face looked like those funny faces that girls in those animated p.o.r.n media made, with his tongue lolling out and his eyes rolling back into his head.

However, one could not laugh at this gruesome sight, only feeling a chill to their bones.

Within the room Draco entered sat six people. There were three elderlies and three youngsters.

There was an old man who looked wizened and well-read seated in the middle of a three seater couch, his walking stick placed before him. He had no beard or mustache, but a wealth of grey hair that was shoulder length. His face was stern and looked like a vulture's.

He wore a clean suit that was grey in color, his body sallow rather than fit.

On his left was a handsome middle aged man who looked like the old man's younger twin, almost resembling him totally minus a few disparities as well as his lighter skin tone. The old man had a medium heavy tan while the middle aged one was light skinned.

He also wore a suit, but his was black. His hair was combed neatly and there was a good amount of cream applied to it, making it look slick and shiny.

Since his body was well-built, he looked less of a vulture and more of a sharp-minded and cruel tycoon.

On the right of the old man was a beautiful woman who had huge b.r.e.a.s.ts. She looked like she had no less than an E-cup. Since they were perky, it looked like someone had slapped two missile silos to her chest.

Her body was thin and frail otherwise and she looked to be of noble European descent with her long blond hair and blue eyes. She was dressed cleanly and nobly, with a green women's suit that made her look professional.

Standing behind the elders were three young girls. In the center was a girl who wore black dress that might as well have been a leotard. There was no part of her body's curves that wasn't displayed. One could easily see the shape of her n.i.p.p.l.es on her huge chest.

Her looks were 70% similar to the European woman, and her bust was just a bit shy of hers. One could easily tell that the European woman was her mother.

On her left and right were Jada and Jade respectively. The two looked shocked and excited when they saw Draco barge in. Seeing the gruesomely killed fellow didn't terrify them.

In their eyes, all they could see was Draco, hearing his promise thundering in their minds as if he said it once again.

"No matter what chances you have, I won't allow the two of you to die."

These words tumbled in their minds chaotically, rendering them breathless and euphoric. However, their reverie was interrupted by a cold and sharp voice.

"Would Good Sir please take a seat? My name is Baron D'our (pronounced like ballon d'or) and this is my son and daughter-in-law, Ferdinand and Cherry. We would like to discuss some terms with you."

The old man in the grey suit spoke in a tough voice that sounded like it came from a younger man. He gestured to the man and woman on his left and right, before gesturing to the sofa across from them.

Draco looked around casually and then threw away the dead body that was held by him. The blood on his hands began to disappear as it slowly entered his body, forming nourishment for him.

This was an aspect of his Horned Demon Inheritance.

He sat down lightly and stared at the three people opposite him with a slight smile. For that matter, they were also exceedingly calm, which made Draco sneer inwardly.

These fellows definitely had some trick up their sleeves, thinking it would save them.

Baron D'our smiled and took a glass of wine that sat on the table in between the two couches with a gentle and refined movement. He took a slight sip before speaking.

"Would Good Sir like to discuss the terms of our surrender?"