The limousine carcass still burned faintly blue in the frozen street, shards of ice jutting out of the asphalt like spears. The entire block had gone quiet under the pall of frost, even the neon advertisements overhead flickering as if reluctant to shine over the ruin. Michael stood at the center of it all, his body angled protectively in front of Stella and Lea, his sharp gaze fixed upward.Hovering above the street, her silhouette framed against the pale gleam of the city’s upper towers, was Crysta Farrell. She descended slowly, with no rush, her boots clicking against the ice as she finally touched ground. Every step she took gave the impression that the world was adjusting around her presence, as though the frost itself was eager to welcome its queen.Michael’s lips curved slightly in a dry, humorless smile. “You know, this was not how I thought we would meet again,” he muttered, his voice cutting through the silence. “Besides, I never would have

For a moment, the world was nothing but silence. The ice-laden street, the burning wreck of the limousine, even the shallow breaths of Stella and Lea, it all faded beneath the oppressive weight of the power now bleeding from Michael’s body. Black energy coiled around him like a storm given shape, tendrils of smoke-like darkness lashing the air. The left side of his body glowed faintly, veins of shadow pulsing beneath his skin, and his left eye burned an unnatural pitch black, its iris etched with the silver sigil that seemed to ripple as if alive.Crysta Farrell took one deliberate step back. Her lips parted in what could have been amusement or the first flicker of caution.“Well,” she said, her voice low. “Now you almost look like an heir.”Michael didn’t respond to her taunt. Instead, he vanished in a repeat of her own first move. The ground cracked beneath where he’d been standing as he surged forward, his speed tripled. Crysta barely raised her ar

The silence that followed Crysta’s fall was almost unbearable. No more howling wind, no shriek of colliding powers, no clash of shadow and frost. Just the faint hiss of melting ice and the steady rasp of Michael’s breath as the black aura around him began to fade. He stood in the middle of the street, the tattoos across his chest and arm glowing faintly before dimming like dying embers. His sword lowered, its edge still humming with destructive resonance, then it too fell apart silent as though finally satisfied, disappearing into motes of darkness that swirled into his body. The world around him bore the scars of their clash: buildings reduced to fractured shells, entire blocks frozen solid, the street split by canyons of shadow and ice. And at his feet lay Crysta Farrell in all her ice cold beauty, her once-terrifying presence already dissipating into the night air. Michael let out a slow breath, his body shaking as he finally forced h

The Farrell Family morgue was silent, tucked beneath layers of concrete and steel in their private estate on the western edge of Whitewood City. The air was thick with sterility, a faint sting of chemical preservatives lingering as though the place resented life clinging to it. At this late hour, the corridors were dim, lit only by narrow strips of blue-white lights along the ceiling. The security detail had been doubled ever since Crysta’s body was brought back from the outskirts, yet for all their vigilance, the silence inside told a story of failure.The assassins moved like shadows that had stepped free from the walls. Their suits were dark, reinforced with matte plating, but designed for silence. Helmets concealed their faces, each mask a featureless black pane with faint scarlet optics glowing faintly, like coals buried under ash. Their leader, however, did not wear such anonymity. He was tall, broad-shouldered, clad in black armor that seemed to shift with

The silence of the chamber pressed against Michael’s ears once Erin and the others had left him alone. The hum of the cooling systems had quieted, and with it came a stillness that felt almost sacred. He sat on the bench, his hands resting on his knees, letting his breathing settle. The weight of the serum still lingered inside him, like a storm that had passed but left the air charged with its memory. His muscles twitched with restless energy, sharper, more responsive than ever before, and his thoughts moved with a clarity that made the world feel newly ordered.The System’s screen unfolded before him, casting its pale glow across his vision.[Name: Michael Grey][Level: 21][Strength: 38][Agility: 43][Endurance: 41][Control: 43][Intelligence: 42]Michael leaned back, studying the numbers as though they belonged to someone else. Each value was more than an abstract marker; he could feel them in his bones, in the way h