The restaurant was so still that the ticking of the wall clock seemed louder than thunder. The restaurant was so still that the ticking of the wall clock seemed louder than thunder. Marvin sat rigid in his chair, his knuckles pressed white against the arms. His eyes were locked onto Daniel’s, refusing to look away, though his mind churned like a storm.Across the table, Daniel twirled the little red-button device with casual fingers, spinning it slowly as though it were a toy and not a weapon capable of destroying lives. His smirk never left his face.Marvin leaned forward, his voice was hard as steel.“What is it you really want, Daniel?”Daniel’s smile widened, but his eyes stayed cold. He reached for his drink, lifted it, and took a deliberate sip. The glass clicked loudly when he set it down again. He leaned back in his chair, savoring the power in the moment.“It’s simple, brother,” Daniel said, each word was coated with venom. “Five billion dollars. Half in liquid cash. Half in

The fire was gone, but its shadow remained.Dawn broke slowly, spilling weak sunlight over the hospital ruins. The orange glow of night was replaced with a dull gray haze. The smell of smoke still hung in the air, bitter and choking. Black ash floated like snowflakes, drifting down on the gravel, the grass, the burned walls that still smoked in silence.Marvin sat on the ground, his back pressed against a broken concrete block. His shirt was torn, his skin streaked with soot, his face was pale. His chest rose and fell heavily, every breath was rough against his throat. He had no strength left—not to cry, not to scream, not even to stand.He was simply there.His hands hung limp on his knees, trembling slightly. His lips were cracked, his voice gone. He had shouted through the night, fought the fire with everything he had, and in the end… nothing. The hospital stood in ruins, and the flames had stolen his world.The firefighters had done their job. Their hoses sprayed arcs of water th

The master servant stood frozen for a heartbeat. The blue glow in the driver’s eyes unsettled him, but his pride did not allow him to step back. His jaw tightened, his fists were clenched, and his voice came sharp, dripping with rage.“You bastard…” he hissed, his body lowering into a defensive stance.The servants gasped at his boldness. They had never seen their master servant shaken, but they had never seen a delivery man stand like this either.The driver— who was actually Marvin Richmond in disguise—did not even flinch. His hand rose slightly, fingers curling as though pulling on invisible strings.A sudden surge of invisible power rushed through the hall. The master servant’s feet left the ground. He was lifted high into the air, his arms flailing as panic finally cracked through his composure.“No—!”His cry was cut short. Marvin flicked his wrist, and the man’s body slammed against the marble wall with a bone-rattling crack. The impact shook the hall, dust drifting from the c

The heavy steel door creaked open.“Daniel, what—”The voice was sharp, steady, the kind of voice that carried command without effort. Dana Orion, proud matriarch of the Richmond family, stepped into the chamber.Her eyes swept the room quickly, landing on her son first, then shifting to the figure cloaked in a storm of sky-blue aura.Her lips parted. She froze.The sight of Marvin, battered but blazing with raw Synapticore energy, stripped the air from her lungs. He was no longer the faceless rider she had dismissed. He was a storm given flesh, his aura was a living weapon.And though his disguise shielded his face, the fury—the weight of it—spoke volumes.Dana staggered back a step, her chest was tightening with dread.Marvin turned slowly, his glowing eyes fixing on her. For a moment, the world grew quiet. His breath was ragged, his aura pulsed like thunder, but his mind was sharp, cruel, steady.Seeing her ripped open memories he had buried under years of pain.He saw himself as a

About five days later, the city was alive outside his window, but inside Orion Dynamics, Marvin sat in a silence so thick it pressed against his skull.His office looked more like a battlefield than a workspace. Papers littered the floor, contracts half-signed, memos ignored. Beer cans rolled aimlessly against the leg of his desk when he shifted his feet. The lamp on his desk flickered, its weak yellow glow bouncing off glass bottles stacked like fortifications around him. Some were empty, some half-full, but all testified to the same truth: Marvin Richmond was drowning himself.His shirt was undone at the collar, his tie was long discarded. His hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his face, unshaven, seemed older than his years. His glowing aura, once like a storm that shook rooms, now lingered faintly around him in broken flashes, the embers of a fire trying to cling to life.He raised the beer bottle again, tilting it back. The liquid burned his throat but left the weight in