2026-02-26 16:12:42Every breath felt like swallowing barbed wire. Leo Ravelli’s lungs, already ruined by chemical smoke, were now being forced to work far beyond their evolutionary limits. Vittorio Valdieri tore through the thorny underbrush, letting sharp branches rip across his cheeks and gaunt hands. The sting was the only thing keeping him conscious as the hallucinations grew increasingly savage.
“Keep moving, you piece of trash,” Vittorio cursed himself. His voice cracked, nearly swallowed by the roar of the storm wind. “One more step. Just one more step.”
Behind him, beams from tactical flashlights sliced through the forest fog. The heavy, rhythmic thud of boots echoed, a clear sign that his pursuers were professional soldiers trained in the hunt of human prey.
“Target moving toward the river cliff! Sector four, seal the exit!” The shouted command bounced through the trees, its radio frequency ricocheting through the forest.
Vittorio stopped for a moment, bracing himself against the trunk of a massive oak. His body shook violently. His teeth chattered, not only from the plummeting temperature but because hypothermia was beginning to creep into his fingertips.
“You think you can run, Leo?” A voice emerged from the darkness.
Vittorio spun around, his hand instinctively reaching for a dagger that was no longer there. Instead, he saw only his own reflection in a shallow puddle, the pitiful image of Leo Ravelli staring back at him.
“Don’t just stand there,” Vittorio muttered to the reflection. “Why did they want you dead so badly? What were you hiding, Leo?”
His trembling fingers searched every inch of the thin jacket he wore. He was looking for something more than cash or drugs. When his fingertips brushed the back collar, he felt something strange. A small, hard bump, hidden beneath stitching that was far too neat, far too precise for a sloppy addict.
“Interesting,” Vittorio whispered.
He bit into the seam and yanked hard until the fabric tore. A small black object dropped into his palm.
A micro SD card.
Vittorio stared at it with narrowed eyes. “So this is the Ouroboros they were talking about? You were clever for a foolish kid, Leo. You stitched your life into the collar of your own jacket.”
A flash of lightning illuminated the object, making it gleam like a fleck of gold in the mud. Vittorio realized that Leo Ravelli had not died merely as a victim. He had died as a rebel, trying to shake the very system that had crushed him.
“I underestimated you,” Vittorio said softly. “You had the nerve to steal from them. Now I’ll make sure this reaches where it’s meant to go.”
“Subject located! Fifty meters ahead, by the large oak!” one of the pursuers shouted.
Vittorio immediately slipped the micro SD card into his mouth, tucking it beneath his tongue, the safest place he knew if he had to fight or fall. He ran again, but now with purpose, toward the thunderous roar of the swollen river below the cliff.
“Stop or we will fire!” an authoritative baritone commanded.
Vittorio did not stop. He accelerated, ignoring the pain in his knees that felt ready to give out.
“Vane, he’s not stopping! Permission to shoot the leg?” one of the pursuers asked over the radio.
“Negative! We need him alive to locate the data! Use tranquilizer rounds if necessary!” replied the commander known as Vane.
Vittorio smirked as he ran. They need me alive. That’s their first mistake.
His footsteps carried him to the edge of the cliff. Below, the river that was usually calm had turned into a raging brown beast, smashing against rocks with the force of thousands of tons of water. Cold mist rose from its surface, greeting Vittorio with the promise of yet another death.
“Leo! Stop right there!” Vane emerged from the trees, assault rifle raised, its red laser dot dancing across Vittorio’s chest.
Vittorio slowly turned and raised his hands. Rain soaked his face, his hair clung to his forehead, but his eyes radiated an authority that made Vane hesitate.
“You’re not the Leo I know,” Vane said cautiously through his tactical mask. “Leo would be crying and begging for a dose right now. Who are you?”
“I’m the man you should have buried deeper, Vane,” Vittorio replied with disdain.
“How do you know my name?” Vane stepped forward, his finger tight on the trigger.
“I know many things about Antonio’s lapdogs,” Vittorio said. “Including the fact that you always tremble when you have to shoot someone who looks you in the eyes.”
Vane froze. The information was too personal, too precise. “Shut up. Hand over the micro SD and I might let you die quickly.”
“You want this?” Vittorio touched his jaw, indicating where the data was hidden. “Come and take it yourself at the bottom of this river.”
“Don’t be stupid, Leo! That water temperature will kill you in three minutes! You’ll go into thermal shock!” Vane shouted.
“Three minutes is a long time for a man who’s been dead for fifty years,” Vittorio replied.
Vittorio spotted a sniper in the distance, positioned higher up. He saw the faint glint of a scope lens beneath the cloud-covered moonlight.
“Vane, your sniper is getting impatient,” Vittorio said calmly.
“Hold fire, do not shoot!” Vane ordered into his radio.
But amid the howling storm, a miscommunication occurred. Or perhaps someone else truly wanted Leo Ravelli erased without a trace.
Pfft.
The muted hiss of a suppressed rifle cut through the air.
Vittorio felt a searing heat tear across his right shoulder. The bullet grazed skin and muscle, shredding his thin jacket. The impact, combined with his weakened state, caused him to lose balance on the slick cliff edge.
“No!” Vane shouted.
Vittorio did not fight gravity. He gave his legs one final push and fell backward, plunging into the raging darkness of the river below.
“Leo!” Vane rushed to the edge, shining his flashlight downward, but saw only white foam and endless black water. “Damn it! Dive team, move downstream now! I don’t care how, find the body or don’t come back at all!”
Underwater, Vittorio slammed into something like a concrete wall. The cold instantly numbed his nerves. His lungs convulsed, desperate for air but finding only churning water.
Don’t give up, Valdieri. You haven’t killed Antonio yet.
He let the current take him, conserving what little energy he had left. His head struck something hard, rock or driftwood, and his consciousness began to fade. The last thing he felt before total darkness claimed him was the solid shape of the micro SD card beneath his tongue.
This legacy will not be buried with me, he thought, before everything went silent.
The river carried him away, far beyond the reach of Black Ops flashlights, toward the outskirts of the city filled with cheap neon lights and the promise of new suffering. Vittorio Valdieri had escaped the forest, only to enter a concrete jungle far more deadly.
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
CHAPTER 115: FOG OVER THE THAMES
The sky above London no longer poured rain. Instead, it exhaled a blanket of soot-laden fog so dense that a person could barely see the tip of their own nose. The stinging smell of coal burning in thousands of emergency furnaces saturated the air, creating an atmosphere that felt Victorian in appearance yet burdened with the suffocating tension of modern military rule. In the silence of the River Thames, its waters black as ink, a Crimson Syndicate hydrofoil sped forward almost soundlessly, slicing through the fog toward a hidden dock beneath Westminster Bridge.Leo Valdieri stood on the vessel's bridge, dressed in a thick charcoal wool coat with a crimson silk scarf wrapped around his neck. Leo Ravelli's body had become remarkably powerful. Every movement radiated the efficiency of a predator that had made peace with its pain."London has always known how to hide its sins behind a veil of fog, Silas," Leo said, his voice calm yet carrying an oppressive resonance.Standing beside him
CHAPTER 114: BLOOD LITURGY IN THE CITY OF FASHION
The basement beneath the Palazzo Ducale no longer smelled of ancient mildew. Instead, the air carried the sharp scent of industrial cleaning chemicals and lingering gunpowder still clinging to Silas Vane's suit.At the center of the room, illuminated only by a single low-hanging halogen lamp, Fabrizio Valdieri sat bound to a heavy iron chair. The face that had once mirrored the glory days of the past was now ruined, blood caked at the corners of his mouth. Yet his eyes still burned with blind fanaticism.Leo Valdieri stood in the shadows, lazily twirling his carbon knife with a hypnotic motion. He had exchanged his tuxedo for a black tactical shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing the increasingly powerful physique of Leo Ravelli's body."You were always a terrible dreamer, Fabrizio."Leo's voice shattered the silence, cold and vibrating with oppressive authority."In seventy-four, you thought you could survive by jumping out of the car before it exploded. Now you think you can p
CHAPTER 113: BLOOD UPON STILL WATERS
The hydraulic gears beneath the Rialto Bridge groaned, iron grinding against iron as the manual floodgates were forced shut by the White Sword faction's sabotage. The canal's surface, usually a scene of romance, had become a corridor of slaughter.Leo Valdieri stood tall at the bow of a tactical speedboat he had just hijacked, his hands gripping the assault rifle of the attacker whose shattered body now lay crumpled in a corner of the deck."Silas! Don't let them turn around at the San Marco bend!" Leo shouted through his wired communicator.From the balcony of the towering Palazzo Ducale behind them, a flash erupted from the muzzle of Silas Vane's sniper rifle, slicing through the darkness.BANG!One of the enemy speedboats in the rear formation exploded when Silas's magnetic round struck its steam engine. A fireball surged into the sky, bathing the facades of the ancient buildings in a horrifying crimson glow."The rear sector is sealed, Don!" Silas's voice came through, calm but he
Chapter 112: Banquet in the City of Water
Three months after radioactive steam shrouded the skies above Pripyat and erased Antonio Valdieri's shadow forever, the world did not suddenly become a paradise. On the contrary, the planet became a blank canvas contested by countless hands hungry to paint it red. In the vacuum left by global power, the Crimson Syndicate underwent a metamorphosis. They were no longer merely an underground guerrilla force. They had become the architects of a new order known as the "Great Family of the World."Venice, the city built upon thousands of wooden pillars, had been chosen as the shadow capital. There, within the lavishly restored Palazzo Ducale, luxury that challenged the passage of time gleamed beneath Murano chandeliers, their light reflecting across the crystal-clear waters of the canals.Leo Valdieri stood on a balcony overlooking the Grand Canal. Leo Ravelli's body now appeared far more mature. He had survived the explosion through an impossible twist of fate after his farewell broadcast.
CHAPTER 111: THE FOUNTAIN OF TRAITORS
The asphalt of Via del Corso beneath Leo Valdieri's feet felt too smooth, too flawless for a street that should have been decades old. Above them, the ceiling of Sector Zero's massive dome flickered, displaying a simulation of the constellations from 1974 that was beginning to distort under electrical interference. Gunfire and explosions from the café still echoed through the artificial city, bouncing off the facades of fake Roman buildings that were now cracking open to reveal the steel framework beneath."Two more blocks to the Trevi Fountain, Don!" Silas Vane shouted as he unleashed a burst of suppressive fire toward an apartment balcony on the left."Leo, the sensors ahead are detecting an abnormal temperature spike!" Elena Ravelli ran beside her brother, her fingers moving swiftly across the scanning device mounted on her forearm. "The water in that fountain isn't decorative. It's the primary coolant for the steam reactor beneath us!"Leo Valdieri ducked as a heated spike round s
CHAPTER 110: THE SILENT ZONE IN FORBIDDEN LAND
The sky above Pripyat was never truly black. It hung overhead in a dense gray haze that resembled funeral ash. The rain that fell across this region brought no freshness, only traces of heavy metals that clung to the armored windows of the Crimson Syndicate APC. In the distance, the silhouette of the giant rusted Ferris wheel stood like the skeleton of a prehistoric monster, a silent witness to a world whose heartbeat had stopped decades ago. This was Sector Zero. An exclusion zone in Ukraine that had officially been erased from international navigation systems by the remnants of the Hegemony. Here, beneath layers of concrete and radiation, The Sovereign's Shadow had built his final sanctuary.Leo Valdieri sat in the rear seat of the APC, watching the monitor that displayed radiation levels outside the vehicle. His black suit remained immaculate, a stark contrast to the desolation beyond the glass. Leo Ravelli's body now felt so perfectly synchronized with his soul that he could sens
