Li Qingyu charged forward, spraying fire in front of him. The rats, squealing, scattered to the sides, creating confusion.
If anyone hesitated in his path, Li Qingyu fired a couple of short bursts, taking down another dozen bodies.
He moved like a tank, and his mere appearance was enough to send hundreds of people fleeing in panic.
After running a few dozen meters, he looked back and barely exhaled with relief: Joel's parents hadn't panicked. Hearing his command, they clung to him tightly, not falling behind.
He quickened his pace, intending to break out of the encirclement and lead the family to the safe zone.
The rats were cowardly – if they saw strength, they retreated. But if you weakened, they would swarm you, gnawing you to the bone.
That's why Li Qingyu hurried. He couldn't stand still. Not a second of rest.
As soon as they slipped out of the cordon, no one would dare pursue them. There were thousands of defenseless victims at the gates; that would be enough for the marauders, they wouldn't go after heavy prey.
Most reasoned this way. Frightened by the demon of death, they parted, clearing the path, and immediately shifted their attention to the crowd at the lift.
But this was the Underhive. The most diverse madmen met here. Despair drove people insane.
Suddenly, a whistle sounded from the left. Li Qingyu ducked – a steel pipe whistled over his head.
He turned and saw a bald psycho with a machete rushing at him, raising the blade for a strike.
There were no reasons. The sound of shots had simply attracted the attention of a sick person who wanted to kill someone.
Li Qingyu didn't think – he raised his barrel and shot at point-blank range. The attacker's skull exploded in a spray of blood.
He wanted to run further, but a shriek sounded from behind – Joel's mother.
While he was dealing with the psycho, another one jumped out of the crowd and grabbed the child by the hands, trying to snatch him away.
The mother screamed, pressing her son to her chest, not letting go.
"Damn it!" Li Qingyu cursed.
Picking up the killed man's machete from the ground, he lunged and hacked at the attacker. Both of the man's hands flew to the sides.
The stream of blood made the woman flinch. The second blow severed his head, and it rolled away, disappearing into the crowd.
But because of this pause, the situation changed. Greed flashed in the rats' eyes again – automatic weapons in the Depths were an inestimable treasure!
Anyone who acquired one could become a leader, build a gang – a chance for power!
And those who had trembled a second ago now craved a fight. The ring tightened again.
Li Qingyu realized: things were bad. The lost seconds had awakened their greed.
He instantly calculated an exit. Turning, he fired the rest of the magazine into the dense mass of enemies, breaking through a gap.
Then he grabbed the assault rifle by its strap and threw it towards the passage.
The rifle described an arc, and everyone's eyes followed it.
The pack rushed for the weapon, killing each other on the way.
Taking advantage of the moment, Li Qingyu pulled out the pistol given to him by Lieutenant Rudoson and shoved it into Joel's hand.
"Run there!" he shouted, pointing at the Water Guild sign. "Don't stop! Don't look back!"
"If you get there, tell the manager my name! They'll shelter you!!"
He punched Joel's father in the shoulder.
"Run!!"
The man, roaring, leaned on the wheelchair and ran. The mother followed, holding the younger one.
Joel, sobbing, fired ahead, clearing the path.
Li Qingyu followed behind, machete in hand. Anyone who dared to approach fell, hacked to pieces.
He became their living shield. The Guild was already close.
But then a blow. A shot.
The bullet entered his stomach and exited through the other side. He fell, rolling on the ground.
This was enough to fall behind. The crowd closed in around him.
He jumped up. His right hand held the machete, his left was pressed to the wound. Pain burned from within, but his eyes blazed.
Hundreds of faces were in front of him, and not a drop of fear in his eyes.
He laughed and walked forward himself.
The first blow – from top to bottom, the skull cracked, eyes bulged out. A turn, a horizontal swing – a severed throat, a stream of blood.
And then they fell upon him from all sides.
He fought to his last breath, impaling enemies on his blade until he turned into a bloody mess.