2026-01-14 02:36:19Vinnie "The Shark" was dead, his eyes bulging as he stared at the leaking warehouse ceiling, but his final smirk seemed to mock Marco.
"Hngh..." Marco dropped to his knees. Fresh blood spurted from the hole in his left chest, staining the cold concrete floor. The effects of the Adrenaline Overdrive were completely gone. Now, the real pain came to collect. His lungs felt like they were filled with shards of glass every time he took a breath. "Boss!" Julian leaped down from the stack of safes, his previously grinning face twisting into panic. He held Marco to keep him from collapsing, "Hey, Rhino Tank! Get your stupid butt over here quickly, bring a first aid kit or something! The Boss is leaking!" Bruno arrived with heavy steps, dragging an emergency medical bag he'd found on the wall. But when he saw the wound—a gaping hole from a Magnum round—Bruno just slowly shook his head (he was a little dim-witted, after all). "It went through the lung," Bruno said gloomily, "The closest hospital is 20 minutes from here. He won't make it," "Get back..." Marco pushed Julian's hand away with his remaining strength. His vision began to narrow, darkening at the edges. The physical world dimmed, replaced by an aggressive, blinking neon blue light in his retina. [WARNING: DAMAGE TO VITAL ORGAN (LEFT LUNG & ARTERY).] [BLOOD LOSS: 40%.] [ESTIMATED TIME OF DEATH: 120 SECONDS.] "Damn it..." Marco hissed. His breathing was gurgling—blood was entering his airways. [EMERGENCY RECOVERY OPTION AVAILABLE.] [METHOD: INSTANTANEOUS TISSUE RECONSTRUCTION.] [ENERGY COST: INSUFFICIENT (YOU DO NOT HAVE ENOUGH POINTS YET).] Marco wanted to swear. Seriously, was he going to die here? After all of this, are you kidding me? However, the System screen changed color. From blue to a mysterious dark purple. [SPECIAL OFFER: BARTER.] [THE SYSTEM WILL TAKE NON-PHYSICAL "ASSETS" IN EXCHANGE FOR POINTS.] [PRICE: ONE (1) VALUABLE LONG-TERM MEMORY.] [TARGET FOR DELETION: THE MEMORY OF THE FIRST KISS WITH MARIA ROSSI.] Marco's heart stopped for a moment. Not because of the wound, but because of the horror of reading that text. The first kiss... it happened on the roof of a cheap apartment building ten years ago. It was drizzling rain. Maria wore a yellow dress. Her lips tasted sweet like cherry candy, and Marco promised in his heart then that he would protect her forever. That memory was his anchor as a human being, the thing that kept him going when he was a dock laborer. Not that... Take something else! Take my finger! Take the memories of school! Not Maria! Marco screamed internally. [NEGOTIATION DENIED.] [TIME REMAINING: 30 SECONDS.] [ACCEPT (Y) OR DIE (N)?] In the real world, Bruno had already started pressing a cloth onto Marco's wound, attempting to stop the impossible bleeding, "Hang in there, Marco! Remember your kid is waiting at home!" My kid... Marco closed his eyes. Tears trickled from the corner of his eyes, mixing with the blood on his cheek. He couldn't die. If he died now, Maria and Sofia would be chased by debts and enemies for the rest of their lives. With a trembling hand, Marco moved his finger in the empty air, pressing the [Y] button. ZIIING! The sensation came not in his chest, but in his head. It felt like cold ice cream was being forcibly scrambled with a spoon inside his frontal lobe. An unbearable headache, as if Marco's memory nerves were being burned and severed one by one. "ARGHHHH!" Marco screamed, clutching his head. "Boss?!" Julian recoiled in shock. A purple light enveloped Marco’s chest. The Magnum bullet lodged near his spine was forcefully expelled—CLINK!—falling to the floor. The torn flesh knitted itself back together at a terrifying speed. New skin grew to cover the hole, leaving a small, dragon-shaped burn scar. Marco's breathing eased. His lungs were intact. His heart beat strongly. But in his head... there was a hole. Gaping... Marco gasped, sitting upright. He looked at his hands. He was alive. He was healthy. But he felt something was missing. A precious memory. Something vital. He tried to remember Maria. He remembered her face. He remembered their wedding. But when he tried to recall the taste of Maria's lips on that rooftop ten years ago... not found. Static. Like a broken TV channel. There was only a crackling sound, no image, just gray dots. He knew the fact that they had kissed. But he didn't feel the emotion. What was the smell of the rain and the pounding of his heart back then? Blank... Gone. Wiped clean. Huekk... Marco threw up again. This time not blood, but because of the sudden emptiness that assaulted his soul. "Marco?" Bruno looked at him worriedly, and fearfully, "Your wound... How? How did it close up by itself?" Marco wiped his mouth with a rough gesture. His eyes were red; tears fell without him noticing. This had happened, and the system couldn't be reloaded. His fate had to move forward. From this moment on, that was the price for the extension of his life. "Open the safe," Marco commanded, his voice hoarse and hollow, "Take the money. And let's get out of here quickly!" * THE FOLLOWING MORNING. The rising sun illuminated Marco's still messy apartment. But on the tilted dining table, a mountain of cash was piled high. The total loot from Vinnie's safe: $450,000. Filthy money, blood money, gambling money. Marco sat in a chair, staring at the money without interest. Julian and Bruno had left with their respective shares; Bruno immediately sped off to the hospital to take care of his mother, Julian went somewhere else to look for new trouble. The bedroom door opened. Maria emerged, her eyes still swollen and fixed on the towering pile of green cash. "Arcy...?" Maria covered her mouth with her hand, "T-this... is all ours, Arcy... this much money?!" "Pay off Vinnie's debt. Pay the other loan sharks. Pay the apartment rent for a year. Buy new clothes for Sofia," Marco said flatly. Marco, however, did not look at Maria; he stared silently at the wall. Maria ran closer, touching the money with trembling hands. She cried, but this time tears of relief. As if a thousand tons of weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "We're free... Arcy," Maria sobbed. She turned Marco's chair around and hugged his neck from behind, "Thank you, darling. Thank you... you saved us!" Maria cupped her husband's face. She leaned down and kissed Marco's lips. The kiss was warm. Soft. Full of gratitude. But Marco remained motionless. His eyes were open, staring blankly ahead. He felt Maria’s lips touch his. Physically, Marco sensed it... the warmth, the gentle pressure of their lips meeting. Maria hugged Marco tightly, radiating a palpable desire. But his brain tried to compare this kiss with the "First Kiss," which had been the standard and reference point in his life's memoir. He searched for the reference file to feel the same happiness. File Not Found. Error. There was no tremor in his chest. No butterflies flying. No exploding passion left. It felt... clinical. Like pressing flesh against flesh. The System had taken the essence of that feeling. Marco panicked. He returned the kiss roughly, trying to force the old feeling to return. He kissed Maria deeper, biting her lip, searching for the spark that used to be there. But... Maria pulled away, slightly breathless and confused by Marco's sudden, yet hollow aggression. Bland. "Arcy? Are you alright, darling?" Maria asked, stroking her husband's cheek, "You look... different," Marco stared at Maria's lips. The same lips he had worshipped for a decade. Now, those lips felt alien. "I'm tired," Marco lied, turning his face away. He stood up, moving away from Maria, leaving the pile of money behind, "I need a shower!" Maria smiled understandingly, assuming her husband was just exhausted from working hard (or whatever Marco did to get that money). She then went back to counting the money with sparkling eyes. "We can buy a new house, Arcy! We can move out of this rat hole!" Maria exclaimed happily. Marco went into the bathroom, locked the door, and turned on the shower so Maria wouldn't hear. Under the pouring water, Marco Rossi (Vinnie The Shark's killer, host of the contract) cried silently. He beat his own head, trying to call the memory back. Remember, you idiot! Remember what it felt like?! But there was only darkness. A black hole ready to swallow him whole. Marco felt increasingly disgusted with himself, mourning the destiny he had chosen. The price of a life, the endpoint of which he could not predict. Suddenly, in the corner of his vision, the System notification appeared again, as if mocking his suffering. Dragging him deeper. Endlessly. [TRANSACTION COMPLETE.] [PHYSICAL CONDITION: 100%.] [MENTAL CONDITION: STABLE (EXCESSIVE EMOTIONS DELETED).] [WELCOME TO YOUR NEW LIFE.] Marco stared at the mirror. Behind his dark eyes, he knew this was a beginning. One where he didn't know where fate would take him. This black contract was like a double-edged sword, because the system didn't just consume the enemy. It also consumed its host, piece by piece, memory by memory. A perforated memory. ***
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Chapter 331: The Blood Vault
VILLA ROSA - THE SUBTERRANEAN ARMORY09:00 PM LOCAL TIMEThe sparks cascaded like a waterfall of blinding orange fire against the damp, cold concrete walls of the subterranean corridor. Dante held the heavy thermal lance with a steady, unyielding grip. The white-hot plasma beam hissed aggressively as he dragged it across the thick steel welds that sealed the massive armory doors. Fifteen years ago, he had personally poured the concrete over the access hatches and welded these hinges shut. He had believed, with the earnest hope of a weary soldier, that the era of heavy kinetic warfare was buried forever. He was wrong. "The structural integrity of the primary lock is compromised, Director," Dante rumbled, killing the flame of the thermal lance and pulling the heavy protective visor off his scarred face. "Stand back."Sofia Moretti stood ten feet away in the dimly lit corridor. She wore a simple black turtleneck and dark trousers, but her posture was as imposing as solid iron. She did
Chapter 330: The Purple Resurgence
VILLA ROSA - TUSCANY, ITALY08:00 PM LOCAL TIMEThe dining room of Villa Rosa was a portrait of hard-won serenity. The heavy mahogany table, once a place where silent tensions and unspoken fears hovered like ghosts, was now covered in plates of steaming handmade pasta, fresh focaccia, and bottles of rich, dark Chianti. Warm, golden light from the crystal chandelier danced across the faces of the people gathered around it.Maria Rossi sat at the head of the table, laughing softly at a story Gabriel Vance was telling about a particularly stubborn British judge. Her face, bearing the faint lines of her past trauma, was glowing with a peaceful, enduring warmth. Isabella sat beside her, elegantly sipping her wine, interjecting with sharp, witty remarks that made the entire table smile.At the opposite end of the table, Sofia Moretti watched her family. She wore a simple, dark silk blouse, her posture relaxed against the cu
Chapter 329: The Architects of Dawn
THE PALAIS DES NATIONS - GENEVA, SWITZERLANDSIX MONTHS LATER - 10:00 AM LOCAL TIMEThe Grand Assembly Hall was a cavernous arena of polished mahogany, gilded ceilings, and the heavy, suffocating weight of global politics. Representatives from one hundred and ninety-three nations sat in their designated tiers, the low murmur of translation earpieces and shuffled papers creating a nervous, vibrating hum in the air.At the very center of the chamber, standing behind the elevated marble rostrum, was Sofia Moretti.She wore a flawlessly tailored, midnight-blue suit that contrasted sharply against the bright gold of the United Nations emblem behind her. At twenty-seven years old, she had transcoved beyond the title of a mere foundation director. She was the undisputed warden of the global economy.Sitting in the front row, directly in her line of sight, was Gabriel Vance. The Chief Legal
Chapter 328: The Carpathian Convoy
THE CARPATHIAN MOUNTAINS - EASTERN EUROPE11:00 PM LOCAL TIMEThe freezing wind howled through the jagged, treacherous peaks of the Carpathian Mountains, driving a relentless sheet of sleet and snow across the unpaved, forgotten logging road. It was a route that had not seen motorized traffic since the fall of the Soviet Union. The terrain was a nightmare of deep mud, sharp inclines, and sheer drops into the lightless ravines below. It was a path entirely unsuitable for modern commercial logistics.But the convoy navigating the treacherous pass was not modern, and it was certainly not commercial.Eighty massive, eight-wheel-drive military transport rigs roared through the blizzard. They were absolute behemoths of cold war engineering, painted in matte black, their heavy diesel engines vibrating the very bedrock of the mountain. They possessed no digital navigation systems, no GPS trackers, and no automated braki
Chapter 327: The Economic Earthquake
GENEVA, SWITZERLAND - PHOENIX FOUNDATION PRESS ATRIUM - 10:00 AM LOCAL TIMEThe press atrium of the Phoenix Foundation was a cathedral of modern transparency. Built entirely of reinforced glass and polished white marble, the room was designed to offer no shadows, no hidden corners, and no secrets. Today, it was packed to absolute capacity. Hundreds of journalists from every major global news syndicate stood shoulder to shoulder, their camera lenses focused tightly on the solitary podium at the front of the room. The global markets were already holding their breath. Rumors of a massive, unprecedented announcement from the world's largest philanthropic organization had sent ripples through the Asian and European exchanges. The heavy glass doors at the side of the atrium slid open. Sofia Moretti walked into the blinding flash of hundreds of cameras. She wore a flawless, tailored ivory suit, her dark hair cascading perfectly over her shoulders. She did not smile for the press. She did
Chapter 326: The Glass Fortress
GENEVA, SWITZERLAND - CONSTRUCTION SITE OF THE NEW PHOENIX HEADQUARTERSSIX MONTHS LATER08:00 AM LOCAL TIMEThe morning air over Lake Geneva was crisp and biting, but the sky was an immaculate, cloudless blue. At the edge of the financial district, a massive construction site hummed with organized, relentless activity. Cranes towered into the sky, lifting massive panes of specialized, tempered architectural glass. This was the future of the Phoenix Foundation. A skyscraper designed entirely by Antonio Marco Rossi. There were no concrete walls to hide behind. There were no subterranean bunkers or lead-lined vaults. The building was a breathtaking spire of transparent glass and white steel, engineered to capture the sunlight from every conceivable angle. It was a physical declaration to the world: the era of shadows was over. Sofia Moretti stood near the perimeter fence, wearing a tailored charcoal overcoat against the morning chill. She held a steaming cup of coffee, her dark eyes t
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