Smoke still rose from the dunes when dawn finally came. The desert was quiet — too quiet for a place that had just been drowned in fire.Leon walked through the wreckage with his armor half-cracked, the scent of burnt oil and blood hanging heavy in the air. Bodies lay scattered — Legion and Syndicate alike — the sand darkened to a deep rust beneath them.His cleaver dragged behind him, leaving a thin line in the ash.System Notification: Battle of the Northern Pass — Complete.Casualty Rate: 42%. Legion Strength Remaining: 2,318 active units. Reconstruction Protocols Suggested.Leon’s jaw tightened. Two thousand soldiers. From almost five thousand when they entered the pass. The price of victory.Kael approached from behind, wiping soot from her face. “The scavengers have finished collecting salvage. We pulled out enough mech cores to rebuild at least a third of our heavy units.”Leon nodded slightly. “Burn the rest.”Her eyes flickered in surprise. “Burn it?”“I don’t want Syndicate m

The fortress of Kargath still smoked under the dying light of dusk. The air was thick with the stench of burnt iron, blood, and victory. Leon stood atop the northern battlement, his long coat whipping in the wind as he surveyed what he had built with his own hands — and what he had taken with the same.The Butcher’s System pulsed in his veins like a second heartbeat. Notifications flickered across his vision, glowing faintly in crimson light.[Fortress Captured: Kargath Stronghold] [Rewards Distributed] [New System Feature Unlocked — “Feast of Blood”]Leon’s eyes narrowed. “Feast of Blood?” he muttered.The voice of the System echoed, cold and sharp.“The Feast of Blood allows the host to absorb residual strength from fallen enemies within a controlled perimeter. Warning: Overuse may cause mental instability.”He gave a low laugh, something between amusement and defiance. “Mental instability? I crossed that line a long time ago.”Behind him, Kael approached, his armor stained with the

The night was a restless ocean of black and silver. The army marched through it—columns of men, armored trucks, and shadows that moved like smoke. Their destination was the Eastern Vein, the Syndicate’s most guarded prize: a sprawling district of warehouses, refineries, and vaults that kept the underworld’s lifeblood flowing.Leon rode at the head of the column, astride a black armored vehicle with the crimson insignia of his rising empire painted across the hood. Kael stood beside him, his rifle slung over his shoulder, eyes scanning the darkness ahead.“Scouts report minimal movement,” Kael said. “Either the Syndicate’s gone blind, or they’re waiting.”Leon’s gaze stayed fixed on the horizon. “They’re waiting. The Vein isn’t just gold—it’s a trap. But that’s fine. I’ve walked into worse.”The System pulsed faintly in his mind.[Objective: Seize the Eastern Vein.] [Estimated Resistance: High.] [Reward: Territory upgrade – Fortress Class.]Leon smiled faintly. “Good. I was starting to

Varrion was no longer a city. It was a furnace—one that smelted flesh, steel, and faith into something unrecognizable.The streets burned. The air was heavy with the stench of molten metal and blood. And through that inferno, Leon walked as if the flames parted for him. His soldiers followed behind, their faces smeared with soot and disbelief. They had seen gods fall before—but never a man ascend into something worse.Kael trailed at Leon’s side, clutching a rifle. “The palace district’s been cleared,” he said between breaths. “Only resistance left is the Syndicate’s central core.”Leon’s gaze lifted toward the heart of Varrion, where the Spire of Dominion stabbed into the crimson sky. A tower of glass and black steel, still pulsing faintly with energy despite the destruction around it.“That’s where Nemesis is,” he murmured.Kael frowned. “You think it’s real?”Leon didn’t answer. His hand brushed the hilt of his blade, feeling it hum under his touch—the same rhythm that now lived in

The air inside the Grand Nero Hotel was heavy with money, perfume, and fear. Every chandelier sparkled like it knew secrets, and every corner had a camera waiting to catch someone’s downfall. The city’s richest, filthiest men were gathered for the “Merchant’s Alliance Gala,” but beneath the tuxedos and wine glasses, weapons hid in plain sight.Luca entered wearing a black suit tailored to perfection, but his hands—the hands of a butcher—still bore faint scars from blades. His eyes swept through the crowd like he was choosing his next carcass.“Sir, the chairman’s expecting you in the private lounge,” his subordinate whispered beside him.Luca nodded, brushing past the golden curtains and into the smoke-filled lounge. Five men sat at a round table—each one a titan of crime. Guns, flesh trade, narcotics, smuggling. They were the bloodlines of the underworld economy. And now, Luca, once a mere butcher, was their equal.“Luca Moretti,” drawled Chairman Castoro, his voice soaked in mockery