GOD OF WAR: THE SYSTEM OF VENGEANCE

Chapter 5- Humiliation in public

[TIME REMAINING: 11 HOURS, 23 MINUTES, 7 SECONDS]

The countdown had been burning in Damon's peripheral vision all night. No sleep. Just pacing the rooftop like a caged animal while his body temperature climbed degree by degree.

By morning, hunger finally drove him down to street level.

Sal's Diner sat wedged between a pawn shop and a check-cashing place—the kind of greasy spoon where a plate of eggs wouldn't bankrupt him.

The $47 in his wallet was all that remained of his former life.

"Coffee, black. Two eggs, over easy." He slid into a corner booth, keeping his back to the wall. Paranoia, maybe, but the system had taught him to think tactically.

[SITUATIONAL AWARENESS: LEVEL 2 ACTIVATED]

Without meaning to, his eyes catalogued every exit, every potential weapon, every person who might pose a threat. The skill felt natural, like muscle memory he'd never developed.

"Rough night?" The waitress poured coffee into a chipped mug.

"Something like that."

She studied his bruised face with the practiced eye of someone who'd seen plenty of violence. "That'll be $8.50. Pay up front."

Even the diner didn't trust him.

He was counting crumpled bills when familiar laughter drifted from the street. His blood turned to ice.

Through the window, he watched a white Lamborghini pull up to Le Bernardin across the street.

The most expensive restaurant in the district. Adrian stepped out first, then offered his hand to Claire.

She was radiant in a red dress that probably cost more than most people's cars. The pregnancy didn't show yet, but she glowed with the satisfaction of a woman who'd traded up successfully.

"No, no, no." Damon sank lower in his booth.

But Adrian had spotted him through the window. Their eyes met across the busy street, and his cousin's face split into a predatory grin.

[TARGET ACQUIRED. OPTIMAL OPPORTUNITY DETECTED.]

"Shut up," Damon whispered to the voice.

Adrian leaned down to whisper something in Claire's ear. She looked toward the diner, her expression shifting from confusion to cruel delight.

They crossed the street hand in hand.

The bell above Sal's door chimed like a death knell.

"Well, well." Adrian's voice carried across the small diner. "Look what crawled out of the gutter."

Every head turned.

The few morning customers—construction workers, cab drivers, people just trying to get breakfast—suddenly found themselves with front-row seats to a rich family's dirty laundry.

Claire giggled. "Darling, is that really him? He looks so... different."

"Must be the new wardrobe," Adrian said loudly. "Very authentic homeless chic."

Damon kept his eyes on his coffee. "Just leave me alone."

"Leave you alone?" Adrian slid into the booth across from him uninvited. Claire perched on his lap like a designer accessory. "Brother, we're family. Can't I check on my favorite cousin?"

The heat in Damon's chest began to build. Red warnings flashed in his vision.

"Besides," Claire added, examining her manicured nails, "we wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"For the necklace." She touched the diamonds at her throat—the ones he'd bought her.

"Adrian had it appraised. Forty thousand dollars. Not bad for stolen money."

The construction worker at the next table whistled low. "Forty grand? Damn."

"I didn't steal anything," Damon said through gritted teeth.

"Of course not." Adrian's voice dripped false sympathy. "That's why you're eating at Sal's instead of Le Bernardin. That's why you smell like a dumpster."

More customers were staring now. Some had their phones out, recording.

[HUMILIATION THRESHOLD EXCEEDED. RECOMMEND IMMEDIATE ACTION.]

"We should go," Claire whispered to Adrian, but loud enough for everyone to hear. "I don't feel safe around criminals."

She stood to leave, but Adrian caught her hand.

"Actually, sweetheart, I think our dear cousin owes you an apology. Don't you, Damon?"

The quest timer pulsed brighter: 11:07:32.

"For what?"

"For wasting three years of your life. For making you think you loved a loser." Adrian's smile was razor-sharp. "Go ahead. Apologize to my fiancée."

The diner had gone completely silent. Even the cook had stopped flipping eggs.

Damon's hands clenched into fists under the table. One slap. That's all the quest required. Adrian was right there, close enough to touch.

"I'm not apologizing for anything."

"No?" Adrian leaned forward. "Maybe you should. After all, you're about to become very familiar with apologizing. Prison tends to humble people."

[WARNING: QUEST TIMER CRITICAL.]

[TIME REMAINING: 11 HOURS, 7 MINUTES, 12 SECONDS.]

The heat in Damon's veins was becoming unbearable. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the morning chill.

"You know what I think?" Adrian continued, playing to his audience. "I think you should get on your knees and beg Claire's forgiveness. Right here. In front of everyone."

"Adrian, stop." Claire's voice carried a note of uncertainty.

"Why? He deserves this." Adrian's mask was slipping. The cruel boy from their childhood was showing through. "He always thought he was better than everyone. Time he learned his place."

The timer flashed: 11:06:45.

[SYSTEM STRESS LEVELS CRITICAL. HOST BODY TEMPERATURE RISING.]

Damon could feel it. Like fever, but worse. His vision was starting to blur around the edges.

"On your knees, cousin." Adrian's voice was pure venom now. "Beg."

"No."

"No?" Adrian stood up, towering over the booth. "Security!"

Two men in suits materialized from the restaurant's back room. How had they gotten here so fast?

"Escort this vagrant from the premises,"

Adrian commanded.

The security guards moved toward Damon, but something in his expression made them hesitate.

[WARNING: SYSTEM OVERLOAD IMMINENT.]

[COMPLETE QUEST OR FACE TERMINATION.]

Fire raced through his bloodstream. His skin felt like it was burning from the inside out.

The coffee mug in his hand began to steam, the ceramic growing hot enough to crack.

"Last chance, Damon." Adrian's voice seemed to come from very far away. "Apologize and maybe I'll tell the police you've learned your lesson."

The timer hit 11:06:00.

Pain exploded through Damon's nervous system. Not physical pain—something deeper.

Like his cells were tearing themselves apart.

"What's wrong with him?" Claire's voice, suddenly concerned.

Damon gripped the table edge, knuckles white. The formica surface began to crack under his fingers.

[SYSTEM FAILURE IMMINENT. HOST REJECTION DETECTED.]

[EMERGENCY PROTOCOLS ENGAGED.]

"I... can't..." He gasped for air that felt like molten lead in his lungs.

Adrian laughed. "Look at this. The great Damon Blackwood, having a breakdown in a greasy diner. How poetic."

The pain intensified. Damon's vision flashed red, then white, then red again.

[FINAL WARNING: COMPLETE QUEST OR DIE.]

His left leg gave out. He crashed to one knee beside the booth, drawing gasps from the other customers.

Someone call an ambulance!" the waitress shouted.

But Adrian just smiled wider. "Don't bother. Natural selection at work."

[SYSTEM STATUS: CRITICAL FAILURE IN 3... 2... 1...]

Red alarms flooded Damon's vision as his body convulsed. The pain was beyond description—like being struck by lightning from the inside.

Through the agony, he heard Adrian's voice

"Pathetic. Even dying, you're still a disappointment."

The quest screen flashed one final time, letters bleeding like digital wounds.

[COMPLETE QUEST OR DIE.]