Broken(DC)

Warning

Dear readers, please read this carefully as it's important.

Chapters 15 to 31 were written in a state that's hard to describe. The author admits they didn't fully understand what they were writing during this period, and these chapters may feel poorly developed or even disappointing. However, if you've enjoyed the story so far, don't give up. Stick around for Chapter 31, where the world will be rebooted, and the narrative will almost start over.

If you find the plot confusing or the story hard to follow, don't abandon it just yet. Chapter 31 will include a concise recap of key events from Chapters 15 to 31 to help bring everything back into focus.

Thank you for your patience and for sticking with the story! 🙏

Summoning all my courage, I managed to open the door. Preparing myself for a potential confrontation, I was instead greeted by a janitor's cart being pushed by a man who appeared to be the janitor. He noticed me immediately.

"Why are you here? This is a technical area for authorized personnel only," the man informed me. There was something odd about him—perhaps it was his fiery hair, or the menacing look on his face. Or maybe it was the burn on his right hand that covered his entire palm.

"I was just looking for the restroom," I decided to play innocent.

"Look somewhere else. Get lost," he snapped rudely.

"Alright," I replied without arguing and turned to leave. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. No, I couldn't just walk away.

I decided to follow him. The sense of danger I felt seemed to emanate from him. He didn't look like an ordinary janitor. Keeping my distance, I trailed him. He walked calmly down the corridor, but my unease didn't waver. It had never failed me before, and I was certain that ignoring it now would be a mistake.

I continued following him through several hallways. Suddenly, he stopped pushing the cart and began rummaging through it. After a moment, he withdrew his hand, but I caught a glimpse of a knife's edge. That was definitely suspicious. Then he approached one of the doors and went inside.

I hurried to the door and was fortunate enough to find it slightly ajar. Through the gap, I saw him fiddling with some equipment that looked like boxes filled with blinking lights. Scanning the room further, my eyes fell on a body. A knife was lodged under the chin of a man wearing a security uniform. He was already dead.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, I couldn't help but wonder: what was this man doing here? And, more importantly, what should I do? Should I try to play the hero and stop him, or call for security? No—this could end just as disastrously as my previous attempts to intervene during the accident or the recent café incident. I wasn't ready for this. I lacked the skills and the strength. Maybe someday I'd be able to help, but not now.

The most logical course of action was to call for help—someone capable of dealing with this. I didn't see any security posts nearby and had no idea how to alert them, but there was a better solution. A fire alarm would definitely draw attention. I knew large buildings often had systems that indicated the exact location where an alarm was triggered. Without further delay, as the perpetrator began dismantling and altering the contents of the boxes, I ran to find the nearest fire alarm.

The search didn't take long; I found a bright red alarm button protected by a seal. The problem, however, was that it was much higher than I could reach. I jumped a few times but couldn't break the seal. I needed something to stand on. The corridor was empty except for the janitor's cart. I'd have to use it.

Reaching the cart, I tried to push it as quietly as possible to avoid drawing the criminal's attention. Once I got it into place, I struggled to break the seal on the alarm and finally gained access to the button. With great effort, I pressed it, bracing myself for the alarm to go off—but nothing happened. I tried again, pressing it several times, but still, nothing. I couldn't understand why it wasn't working. I began to lose hope, realizing I needed another plan.

Suddenly, a voice called out: "Hey, kid, what are you doing there?"

I turned around in fear, dreading it might be the man, but upon seeing who it was, I felt a wave of relief.

A security guard was watching me from around the corner. I quickly climbed down from my makeshift platform and hurried toward him.

"Please, keep your voice down," I whispered, motioning with my hands for him to lower his volume. I didn't want to draw attention.

"You think I'm going to cover for your pranks? Who are you, and what are you doing here? Speak up," the guard said, still loudly.

"There's a criminal in that room. He killed one of the security guards," I began explaining the situation.

"What? What kind of nonsense is this? Couldn't come up with a better story? Come on, let's go downstairs and find your parents," he replied, clearly skeptical.

"I'm serious! He's in there right now, tampering with some equipment, and there's a dead body," I insisted, trying to show him I wasn't lying.

"Alright, I'll check it out, but if there's nothing there, you're in big trouble," he said, reluctantly deciding to investigate as part of his duty.

We were just approaching the door when it suddenly swung open, and the criminal stepped out. The three of us froze, locking eyes. The janitor's uniform he wore had small bloodstains, which the guard seemed to notice. Quickly, he drew his weapon and aimed it at the man.

"Hands up! Now!" the guard demanded.

The criminal's expression didn't change as he slowly began to raise his hands. Time seemed to slow down for me, and my sense of danger screamed louder than ever. I noticed one of his hands was holding something. A wicked grin spread across his cold face, and his eyes seemed to ignite with malevolence. I wanted to warn the guard next to me, but it felt too late—time sped up, and everything happened all at once.

The criminal threw a round object toward us. The guard fired a couple of shots, but they had no effect. In an instant, the red-haired man leapt back into the room, slamming the door behind him. Acting purely on instinct, I threw myself backward, ducking around the corner just as an explosion erupted.

Flames roared in every direction, and the guard was caught at the epicenter. A short scream was all I heard before the inferno swallowed it. Heat washed over me, burning my left side and scorching my clothes. The corridor filled with acrid smoke that seared my lungs and stung my eyes. My skin began to heal rapidly, but my clothes bore the charred remains of the blast.

Peeking around the corner, I saw the guard's charred remains. The fire had consumed nearly everything, leaving behind nothing but ash. To my astonishment, the flames, which had initially raged as though fueled by endless gasoline, suddenly weakened and began to smolder. It was an eerie mix—explosive ferocity, followed by an unnaturally rapid extinguishment.

Suddenly, the door the criminal had dived into burst open, and he stepped out unscathed. Completely unharmed, he surveyed the aftermath with a look of satisfaction, then unexpectedly spotted me.

"I told you to get lost, kid. You ruined my plans. I don't take kindly to those who get in my way," he said, slowly raising his head and glaring at me from beneath his brows. Then, without warning, he lunged at me.

Panicked, I turned and bolted.

"You wrecked everything, kid! I'll take special pleasure in killing you!" he yelled as he chased after me.

Glancing back, I noticed the distance between us growing. I was faster. Almost reaching the staircase, I suddenly felt danger closing in. Acting on instinct, I threw myself into a nearby door. Luckily, it opened.

An explosion erupted behind me, sending flames surging through the hallway. Part of the fire scorched me, burning my clothes and leaving behind the acrid stench of charred flesh. Despite the searing pain, I forced myself up and kept moving.

I found myself in an office space filled with rows of desks. Deciding to take a moment to recover while my wounds healed, I hid beneath one of the desks. However, I soon realized the burns were healing much slower than I'd hoped.

While crouched in hiding, I pulled out some energy bars and shoved them into my mouth—I needed strength. I also prepared my knives; I didn't know if there was another way out of this room, and I had to be ready for anything.

Moments later, he burst into the room.

"Well, you're a slippery one. Survived two of my grenades—you're the first to do that. But it won't matter. You'll burn in my flames," he sneered.

Peeking slightly from under the desk, I watched as he moved through the room, searching for me and occasionally tossing furniture aside.

How many grenades does he have left? He shouldn't be carrying too many in that outfit. But I couldn't wait for him to exhaust his supply—I needed a strategy. My plan was simple: aim for an artery with a knife and make him bleed out until he collapsed.

Seizing a moment when his back was turned, I leaned out from under the desk and hurled a knife at him. He tried to dodge at the last second, but the blade lodged in his shoulder. Oddly, no blood flowed.

"You little pest, carrying knives, huh? Think I'm dumb enough to come unprepared?" he growled, tugging at his collar to reveal a layer of black material underneath. Some kind of armor?

As I tried to process this, I almost missed his counterattack. Once again, my sense of danger saved me, though the result wasn't pleasant.

Another grenade exploded, creating a column of fire. I wasn't far enough away to avoid the blast, and the flames engulfed me. I screamed in agony as the fire greedily devoured my flesh, leaving the left side of my body charred. Barely able to move, I crawled toward shelter, desperate to escape the flames.

"Gotcha this time. That's the end of your song," he taunted, his malicious grin widening as he approached my hiding spot.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor, and the door burst open. Security guards stormed in.

"Don't move!" they shouted, leveling their weapons at the arsonist.

But he didn't comply with the order and immediately threw a grenade, prompting the guards to open fire. The sounds of gunshots echoed through the space, followed by an explosion and screams, mingled with the acrid smell of burning.

"No one's going to help you," his voice rang out amidst the flames that began to engulf the room.

The air temperature rose sharply, and the atmosphere became bitter and heavy. My situation was dire—my wounds were still healing, leaving me unable to move freely. He was closing in. My only chance was to catch him off guard. A plan began to form in my mind: my knife could be faster than his grenade. What if I managed to hit the grenade just as he was about to throw it?

He couldn't get too close to me, so I had to provoke him into attacking. With difficulty, I grabbed onto a desk with my uninjured hand and began to rise. Pulsating pain throbbed through the left side of my body, and my head felt like an overinflated balloon on the verge of bursting. Still, I managed to stand. Gripping the knife tightly, I knew I had only one shot.

He spotted me immediately. The flames around him seemed to cause him no discomfort as he walked through them. Perhaps he was protected by his suit, but his head remained exposed.

"You're a tough one, I'll give you that. But it's time to end this," he said, pulling out another grenade, as if the outcome was already decided.

The moment his hand began to move for the throw, I hurled my knife at full speed, aiming directly at the grenade. My heart pounded in my chest, racing as I watched the scene unfold in what felt like slow motion. He completed his throw just as the grenade left his hand.

A heartbeat later, my weapon struck true. The grenade detonated mere feet away from him, sending shards of metal flying and releasing a massive burst of flame. The wave of fire surged outward, its first victim being the Pyromancer himself. His clothing ignited instantly, and while his protective suit barely held against the heat, his unprotected face was left vulnerable.

Time resumed its normal pace as the remnants of the explosion threw me backward. A moment later, agonized screams filled the air.

I scrambled to my feet and saw him staggering, his head still ablaze. He flailed wildly, trying to extinguish the fire. After a few moments, he succeeded, but he collapsed to the floor, utterly spent.

The fire around us continued to spread, and time was running out. Why wasn't the fire alarm or suppression system working? Perhaps this was what he'd been tampering with in the technical room earlier. My condition had improved significantly, allowing me to move again. Slowly, I began making my way toward the exit.

"Ekkh... ehhk... khaa-khaa," came labored breathing and coughing. I turned toward the source of the sound. The Pyromancer was still alive.

"...Help me," he rasped, his voice barely audible through his wheezing.

I hesitated briefly. He didn't deserve my help after the atrocities he'd committed today. Turning away, I headed for the exit. My wounds had fully healed now, and I quickened my pace. It was time to get out and breathe fresh air.

*********************************

The body with charred flesh lay on the floor, struggling to breathe. Surviving such severe burns was nearly impossible, yet somehow, he still showed signs of life. With great difficulty, he began groping the floor, as if searching for something. His hand finally grasped a rectangular device with several buttons.

"If... I die... here... then... everyone... will die... with me," he rasped weakly, before pressing a button on the device.

The result was immediate. Explosions erupted throughout the building, flames shattering the skyscraper's glass windows, and shards rained down like a deadly storm. Fire consumed many floors, with thick black smoke rising into the sky. The inferno spread rapidly, transforming the towering structure into a blazing torch, illuminating the city below.

*******************

Was it really over? Why did everything have to end like this? Was I cursed, or was this just a streak of exceptionally bad days? All I wanted was to descend as quickly as possible and leave this nightmare behind. I hoped Alice and Bruce were safe. The building's security was clearly a disaster, allowing someone so dangerous inside. His appearance alone should have raised alarms. None of that mattered now. There were only twenty more floors to descend, and I couldn't help but regret why the skyscraper had to be so tall. The technical stairwell was my only option since the elevators were locked down.

As I descended, my sense of danger heightened, followed by the sound of more explosions, including those along the stairwells. Debris rained down, concrete fragments and entire sections of staircases collapsing. One section above me gave way, forcing me to dodge it by a hair's breadth. But the destruction didn't stop. I continued downward, leaping onto intact portions of the stairs.

Stopping briefly on a small ledge, I searched for my next jump. The only viable option was a metal railing. With a desperate leap, I landed on it, but it couldn't hold my weight and broke, sending me plummeting six meters. I slammed into concrete with deafening pain, my bones groaning in protest. There was no time to linger—I had to keep moving. But my respite was short-lived; the spot where I'd landed began to crumble. Before I could react, I fell again, this time with massive chunks of concrete and rebar crashing down on me. The rebar pierced through my body, pinning me to the ground.

"AAAHHHHH!" My scream echoed through the space as the weight of the debris crushed me. The heavy structures pinned me in place, and I lacked the strength to free myself.

I struggled, pounding my fists against the concrete and tearing at my own flesh, but my efforts were futile. My strength waned with every passing moment, and my regenerative abilities slowed. Nausea overtook me as blood poured from my wounds. I began choking, the blood seeping into my lungs. My frantic thrashing grew weaker and weaker until I finally froze, staring into the void, devoid of any hope of escape.

Is this my end?