From Bullets To Billions Chapter 606: The Art of Attrition

This was the critical juncture for the elite Rangers to take action. Before the Black Hounds and the Gilt Rats initiated their major assault, Vivian had laid out the grim reality of this gang conflict during their tactical briefing.

They were walking into a fierce siege, facing numbers that were overwhelmingly against them. Furthermore, the Syndicate coalition they faced wasn't composed of mere street punks; they were professional, battle-hardened mercenaries.

Even if the Bloodline secured a miracle victory, what strategic value remained if their members were crippled? Even those who avoided death in the corridors would likely end up bedridden for weeks or months, rendering them unable to lift a weapon.

Such vulnerability would provide a golden opportunity for rival city gangs to seize their territory and plunder their profitable businesses while they recuperated. This harsh truth is exactly why major syndicates typically avoid all-out warfare unless completely unavoidable.

Tactically, the only way to inflict maximum damage on the Gilt Rats’ frontline grunts without sustaining heavy losses was to deploy the super-powered Rangers.

By clever manipulation, separating enemy forces onto distinct, secured floors allowed the Rangers to operate with impunity, methodically crushing their opposition within isolated zones.

Yet, a rigid time constraint remained. Soon enough, Ramon would realize the delay, intervene personally, and deploy his elite forces equipped with deadly exoskeletons. The clock was ticking, and the Rangers were performing admirably.

Utilizing their superhuman capabilities, the Rangers were practically untouchable.

Jay remained a blur of constant motion, systematically felling enemies. He expertly ducked, weaved, and slipped under reckless strikes. Despite the durability granted by his power, he disciplined himself to dodge every incoming blow. He viewed relying solely on his resilience as a tactical defect, fearing that avoiding the need for proper technique would hinder his growth. Thanks to his rigorous stamina training under Max, he kept his breathing in check, fighting endlessly without fatigue.

Elsewhere, Wolf turned the environment against his foes with lethal creativity. He kicked a heavy office chair into the shins of an advancing vanguard, leaving five armed men in a tangled, groaning pile. Ignoring the casualties, he left the cleanup to the Bloodline regulars, while his predator-like focus tracked those enemies who displayed superior skill or weaponry. He understood that neutralizing the squad captains first was the most efficient path to success.

In the main showroom, Na treated the battle like a game of bowling. He grabbed opponents and hurled them like human projectiles at incoming waves; this was far more effective than engaging foes individually. Tossing a two-hundred-pound body allowed him to crash into multiple attackers simultaneously. The room itself provided ample heavy display furniture to use as secondary hazards.

However, one Ranger, Darno, was sustaining significant physical punishment.

"Damn it... I’m nowhere near as sturdy as I used to be," Darno grumbled, spitting blood onto the carpet as he stood firm.

He was bombarded from all sides. Thugs shattered their own knuckles against his face, and those who kicked his shins with steel-toed boots fell agonizingly to the ground with broken limbs. Another attacker struck Darno’s ribs with a wooden bat, only for the weapon to snap cleanly in two upon impact. This incredible defense stemmed from the impossibly dense, supernatural bones within him.

Yet, he faced two major issues. First, the nature of his Vow prevented him from dodging a single attack; he was compelled to absorb every strike head-on. Furthermore, his Vow provided no boost to his speed or raw offensive output. He could only fight as he always had, trading blows while absorbing brutal injuries.

The physical trauma remained agonizingly real, turning the battle into a grueling, demoralizing war of attrition.

Outside, the Gilt Rats leadership remained blind to the massacre unfolding within, unaware that their frontlines were being systematically dismantled by the Rangers.

But the time had run out definitively. With Skull missing his fifteen-minute window, Ramon reached his decision.

"Let’s go. The job failed. We are moving in," Ramon announced coldly, smoothing his suit cuffs.

As he stepped over the debris, he and Darius approached the lobby's shattered entrance, followed by the silent, ominous figures in hydraulic military exoskeletons.