By midnight, the gravel courtyard of the Kansas City Medical Center was no longer empty; it was filled with the blinding white of television broadcast beams and a babel of voices. A dozen news vans from local networks had jumped the curbs, their satellite dishes deployed like metallic sails against the dark sky. A wall of reporters, videographers, and frantic correspondents pressed against the glass perimeter of the hospital’s main lobby, their microphones thrust forward like weapons. The city had already caught wind of the violence in the Gang District… Rumours of Jack Neuman's assassination attempts were tearing through the local feeds, and the press wanted blood. The Master was the only reason the news was gaining more popularity these days… They couldn't forgive anyone who tried to kill him.But they couldn't get past the pavement, as there were ten heavily armed mercenaries. These men formed an impenetrable, silent line across the automatic doors, their expressions neutral. They

The intensive care unit on the fifth floor of the Kansas City Medical Center did not smell like life. It smelled of scorched iron, chemical wash, and the clean, terrifying scent of ozone radiating from the defibrillator paddles. Beneath the harsh fluorescents, the room was a battleground of frantic motion. Six senior trauma surgeons and a dozen specialized nurses moved in a desperate ballet around the two steel tables. The heat monitors were a chaotic chorus of shrill, irregular warnings that had been ringing continuously for the last forty minutes. “He's slipping!” Increase the epinephrine to three milligrams!” Dr. Francis shouted, his gloved hands slick with dark blood as he pressed his weight down onto Jack Neuman. “We've got a massive internal hemorrhage in the thoracic cavity… The previous report from the field was wrong! He wasn't just shot in the arm!” “The bullet deflected off the humerus and traveled inward, Doctor!” A surgical assistant yelled back, frantically adjustin

Dr. Francis walked frantically, as if he'd just struck a deal with the devil. The adrenaline pumping through his veins washed away his residual terror, replacing it with a strange, zealous focus.‘Jack Neuman is right,’ he thought to himself. ‘The world would never believe the truth… Science had no vocabulary for what transpired in this room…’“The paperwork is the easy part,” he murmured, his hands flying across the digital terminal in the corner of the room. His fingers trembled slightly, but his gaze remained locked on the monitor. “I will personally handle the state death certificates…”He paused, took a deep breath, and glanced over his shoulder. He still hadn't gotten over what happened in the intensive care unit… It was something that would leave a lasting impression on his mind for a long time. Perhaps, he'd never be able to recover from it. No one would be able to recover from witnessing the resurrection of divine beings. Absolutely, no one.“Jack Neuman and Brandon Kruger,”

Margaret sat on the bed, hugging her knees close to her chest. Tears continued to stream from her eyes, which were not fixed on anything in particular. They were blank, as if they were staring into oblivion.Kate stood beside her bed, staring at the young girl. This girl was four years younger than her, yet she had gone through a lot. The girl had not stopped crying ever since she returned from the hospital. No matter how she tried to console her, she wasn't able to. Instead, the tears became ceaseless.“I asked him countless times…” Margaret whimpered. “I asked him countless times what kind of business he's doing… If it's shady…”Kate's eyes became moist, but she closed them immediately. She didn't want to cry in front of Margaret… Not when she was trying to stop the girl from crying.“I asked him, but he told me everything was fine,” Margaret continued, her voice raspy like a dying breath. “He told me he wasn't in a cult… Told me he wasn't doing anything shady!”Kate wanted to say s

An hour later, Brian arrived at the Neuman estate. Two burly men followed him into the mansion, their expressions gritty. From their looks, you could tell that they meant business. If anyone dared to mess with their Boss, they'd beat that person to a pulp… With the sole exception of Jack Neuman, of course.Brian’s eyes scanned the living room, his appearance very haggard. It was as if he'd gotten out of a gunfight with another gang. His hair was disheveled, and his clothes were shredded, with bloody marks on his body. But he didn't mind and smiled the moment he saw Jack.“For a split second, I thought you were really dead, Master,” he said, walking toward Jack. “I went on a business trip and returned only to see that horrible news… If Miss Foyers didn't call me a short while later, I'd have thought you were really dead.”“Technically, I was dead,” Jack said, gesturing at the sofa across the sitting room. “Why don't you take a seat? Then we'll discuss everything…”He paused, leaning fo