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There were two staircases in Building 12. The two passages leading to the lower floors had become the last crucial line of defense that had yet to be breached.
Barter and the Special Forces members guarded the west staircase, while the hero disciples and a handful of capable students held the east.
Hector, who effectively commanded the defense on the east side, was feeling his limits creeping in.
"How long are these bastards going to keep coming?"
"Were there really this many dolls in the academy?"
"The dean is a puppeteer, you idiot!"
"What? You're accusing Dean Alderson of collecting these dolls?"
"These kinds of dolls? How dare you insult stuffed toys like that!"
"Die! Die! Damn it, I'm sick of these dolls!"
Hector had reached his breaking point long ago. The vulgar curses and frantic ramblings weren't just from the students but even from the hero disciples. Their minds were unraveling. Under normal circumstances, Hector would have frowned at such language immediately.
"Sir Hector! How is the situation now?"
Shit, why ask this? The answer is obvious—we were screwed. He bit down on the answer he wanted to give. As a proud member of the Badniker family, he would never say anything that would tarnish its name, no matter the situation.
"To be honest, it isn't good! But we just have to hold on a bit longer! The enemy's...
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