Olivia gave Harold a light push. "Hurry back before they trap you in the stairwell. Mrs. Dunn's still at home!" At the mention of Ghania, Harold's face tightened even more. He repeated his question, clearly worried. However, when he saw Natalie was not going to budge, and Olivia was already standing firmly behind her, he had no choice but to retreat. Even as he walked away, he kept glancing back nervously. "You two be careful!" Natalie waved him off and shut the stairwell door. There was no way she would go upstairs. If those thugs broke in while she was gone and found her apartment nearly empty, the secret of her space would be exposed. Besides, it did not matter where she fought them; either way, she planned to deal with them. So what if they outnumbered her? She was actually itching for a chance to test her shooting skills. And now, she had the perfect group of real targets. She turned to Olivia. "Go back inside, lock the door." However, Olivia stood her ground. She even raised the nail gun and boning knife in her hands. Her voice was firm as she said, "Natalie, when the fighting starts, you stand behind me!" She knew Natalie was far more capable, but this time, she wanted to shield her. Olivia's thoughts raced. If Owen with a gun could not win, what chance did they have without one?She was prepared to die here today. However, she would not run because Natalie was someone she had to protect. Natalie had once saved her life. If she could take down even one more enemy, Natalie's chances of survival would improve. Olivia's eyes locked on Natalie. "Listen, stand behind me later. The trap door is our first defense. I'll be the second. "If I fall, stay at the stairwell. Take them one by one and don't go down. And if that leader with the gun comes up ... use me as your shield." She was terrified—who wouldn't be with a hundred armed enemies downstairs? Yet, even in fear, she was determined to give Natalie the best chance at living. Natalie's chest tightened at the sight. Ever since her mother's death, she had only ever been the protector. No one had ever stood in front of her like this.Seeing Olivia's expression—"if anyone wants to hurt Natalie, they'll have to step over my body first"—made her feel warm inside. She realized Olivia truly valued her life above her own. In times of crisis, true loyalty shone through. And in this second chance at life, meeting friends like Olivia and Harold meant she had not lived in vain. Natalie turned back into her apartment. From her storage space, she pulled out a submachine gun and an assault rifle. After some thought, she also grabbed two bulletproof vests and riot helmets. The enemy had guns—though inferior to hers—it was still best to be cautious. Once she had counted her gear and knew both her offense and defense were maxed out, she stepped back into the hall. Olivia, standing guard, gaped at the weapons in Natalie's arms. "Nat! Is that ... " Natalie chuckled softly at her stunned look. "If you're fighting beside me, you'll need a proper weapon, right?" With that, she tossed Olivia the MAC-10. She had thought it through—the MAC-10 was lighter and easier to handle than the rifle, perfect for someone who had not trained with real firearms. Olivia caught it, and the moment felt unreal. Natalie was not the type to joke at a time like this. Which meant this was real. A real gun. In Drakoria, of all places! And it was in her hands! A second ago, she had been talking big about protecting Natalie, and now it was clear—she was the one who had been lucky to have a big shot like her by her side. Her excitement bubbled as she studied the weapon while Natalie quickly explained the basics so she would not hurt herself. Olivia was sharp, picking it up fast—though she still lacked practice. With the gun in hand, her fear melted away, replaced by an odd thrill. Downstairs, Cyril set his gun aside, intrigued by Owen's sudden offer. "Go on then. Who's got supplies? Tell me straight, and maybe I'll spare your life." Owen wasted no time, spilling about the stockpiles on the 14th and 15th floors. He conveniently left out Natalie's deadly skills, only mentioning their booby-trapped doors. Deep down, he was secretly hoping Natalie would wipe out these thugs. Yet, he was not naïve—there were over a hundred of them, not like the neighbors she had handled before. Even with her weapons, her chances were not great. Still, at the very least, that psycho would drag some down with her, and Harold's traps would probably take out a few more.