2025-09-02 03:54:49By evening, Damon had walked fifteen miles through the city, avoiding main streets and security cameras. His stomach felt like it was eating itself, and his clothes were starting to smell like the alleys he'd been hiding in.
He ducked into a McDonald's bathroom, staring at his reflection under harsh fluorescent lights.
The healing was still happening—bruises fading to yellow, cuts sealing themselves. But he looked like hell warmed over.
"Okay," he said to the empty bathroom. "Time for some answers."
[QUERY ACKNOWLEDGED.]
"I need somewhere to sleep. Food. Basic human necessities." He felt ridiculous talking to a voice in his head, but what choice did he have? "Don't systems usually provide resources? Money? Equipment?"
[UNCLEAR REQUEST. PLEASE SPECIFY DESIRED ASSISTANCE.]
"Money! I need money!" He kept his voice low, but frustration leaked through. "Every game I've ever played, every story I've read—the magical system gives the hero resources. Where's my starter pack?"
[REVIEWING STANDARD PROTOCOL...]
[ACCESSING EMERGENCY FUNDS...]
[ERROR: AMOUNT REQUESTED NOT SPECIFIED.]
Damon rubbed his temples. "How much can you give me?"
[MAXIMUM EMERGENCY ALLOCATION: $1,000,000 USD.]
"A million?" His voice cracked. "You can just... give me a million dollars?"
[CORRECTION: MAXIMUM RECOMMENDED INITIAL ALLOCATION: $100,000. LARGER AMOUNTS ATTRACT UNWANTED ATTENTION.]
"You're worried about attracting attention?
You just made me slap someone across a room!"
[POINT TAKEN. TRANSFERRING $100,000 TO SECURE ACCOUNT.]
His phone buzzed—somehow the cracked screen still worked. A banking app notification showed a deposit that made his eyes water. One hundred thousand dollars from
"Anonymous Benefactor LLC."
"This is real money? Not Monopoly money?"
[CURRENCY VERIFICATION: AUTHENTIC. SOURCE: BLACKWOOD FAMILY OFFSHORE ACCOUNTS.]
"You're stealing from my own family?"
[CORRECTION: RETRIEVING FUNDS THAT WERE STOLEN FROM YOU. CONSIDER IT BACK PAY.]
Despite everything, Damon almost smiled.
"You're stealing my uncle's money to fund my revenge against my uncle."
[POETIC JUSTICE SUBROUTINE ACTIVATED.]
"Did you just make a joke?"
[HUMOR PROTOCOLS... UNCERTAIN. FOCUSING ON MISSION PARAMETERS.]
An hour later, Damon stood in the marble lobby of the Meridian Grand—the same building where Adrian lived, but thirty floors below the penthouse.
The night manager barely glanced at his torn clothes when the
black American Express card cleared.
"Imperial Suite. Thirty-second floor." The key card felt like salvation in his hand. "Enjoy your stay, Mr. Smith."
The elevator ride felt endless. When the doors opened to reveal a suite larger than most apartments, Damon just stood there for a moment, overwhelmed.
Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the city lights. A king-sized bed dominated one wall, while a marble bathroom the size of his old office waited beyond frosted glass doors.
"Fifteen thousand a night," he said to the empty room. "For one night, I'm spending more than some people make in a year."
[WEALTH IS A TOOL. USE IT WISELY.]
The hot shower was a religious experience. As steaming water washed away two days of grime and humiliation, Damon felt something shifting inside him. The heat was still there,
but controlled now. Purposeful.
When he stepped out and caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he froze.
The changes were subtle but unmistakable.
His shoulders looked broader. His chest more defined. Even his posture had shifted—straighter, more confident.
"How is this possible?"
[CELLULAR REGENERATION INCLUDES OPTIMIZATION. YOUR BODY IS BEING RESTORED TO ITS IDEAL STATE.]
He touched a scar on his shoulder from a childhood accident—a white line he'd carried for twenty years. As his finger traced the mark, it faded completely.
"You're rewriting my DNA."
[UNLOCKING DORMANT POTENTIAL. THE BLOODLINE OF ARES CARRIES CERTAIN... ADVANTAGES.]
By midnight, every old injury had vanished.
The broken nose from prep school boxing. The appendectomy scar. Even a birthmark on his wrist had disappeared like it never existed.
Damon woke to sunlight streaming through silk curtains and the unfamiliar sensation of feeling completely healthy. No aches. No
stiffness. He felt like he could run a marathon.
[TRANSFORMATION: 47% COMPLETE.]
[NEW QUEST AVAILABLE.]
"Already?" He stretched, muscles moving with fluid precision. "What now?"
[QUEST PARAMETERS LOADING...]
But before the screen could appear, his enhanced hearing picked up familiar voices in the hallway.
"—told you he was staying here. The credit card activity—"
"Are you sure it's safe? After what happened to Adrian?"
Claire and security guards. Here. Now.
Damon threw on the hotel robe and peered through the peephole. Claire stood outside with three men in black suits—serious muscle, not rent-a-cops.
"He's dangerous," she was saying.
"Completely unhinged. Adrian's still in the hospital."
[BATTLE SENSE ACTIVE. ANALYZING THREATS.]
Red outlines appeared around each guard.
Their weapons, their stance, their blind spots—everything laid out like a tactical briefing.
Guard One: Glock 19, ankle holster. Favors right side due to old shoulder injury. Guard Two: Expandable baton, confident but sloppy footwork. Guard Three: Taser, nervous, finger already on the trigger.
The knowledge was just... there. Like he'd studied these men for hours instead of seconds.
A knock echoed through the suite.
"Hotel security! Open up!"
Damon almost laughed. After everything—the public humiliation, the false accusations, the exile—Claire was still hunting him.
"One moment!" he called out, buying time.
[RECOMMENDATION: ELIMINATE THREATS.]
"I'm not killing anyone."
[CLARIFICATION: NEUTRALIZE, NOT ELIMINATE. SHOW MERCY IS WEAKNESS.]
"Sometimes mercy is strength."
[PHILOSOPHICAL DEBATE NOTED. HOWEVER, TACTICAL SITUATION REQUIRES IMMEDIATE ACTION.]
The door shook under heavy impacts. They weren't waiting for permission anymore.
Damon opened the door just as the first guard's boot connected with empty air. The man stumbled into the suite, off-balance and surprised.
"Gentlemen," Damon said calmly. "Can I help you?"
"You're under citizen's arrest," Claire pushed past the guards, imperious in her designer suit. "For assault on Adrian Blackwood."
She stopped short when she saw him.
"My God," she whispered.
Damon knew what she was seeing. The transformation wasn't complete, but it was obvious. His skin had a healthy glow. His frame had filled out. Even his hair looked thicker, more lustrous.
"You look..." she started, then caught herself. "Different."
"Clean living." He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Amazing what a good night's sleep can do."
The first guard moved to grab his arm. Damon sidestepped effortlessly, his enhanced reflexes making the man's movements look
sluggish.
"Sir, don't make this difficult."
"I'm not making anything difficult." Damon's voice remained perfectly calm. "You're
trespassing in my room."
Guard Two swung his baton at Damon's head.
The weapon never connected.
Damon caught the man's wrist mid-swing, fingers closing like a steel trap. A gentle squeeze, and the baton clattered to the floor.
"My wrist!" The guard dropped to his knees.
"You're breaking my wrist!"
"Sorry." Damon released him. "I don't know my own strength these days."
Guard Three raised his Taser, but Damon was already moving.
He crossed the space between them in two fluid steps, plucked the weapon from the man's hands, and tossed it out the window.
Thirty-two floors down.
"Oops."
The three guards looked at each other, then at Damon, then at the open window.
Professional security or not, they weren't stupid.
"Maybe we should call for backup," Guard One suggested.
"Good idea," Damon agreed. "You'll need it."
Claire stepped forward, chin raised defiantly.
"You can't intimidate me. I know who you really are."
"Do you?" Damon tilted his head. "Because I'm starting to think I never knew myself."
[TRANSFORMATION: 52% COMPLETE.]
[PHEROMONE ENHANCEMENT ACTIVE.]
Something shifted in Claire's expression. Her pupils dilated slightly. She took an
unconscious step closer.
"You're different," she said again, but this time her voice carried a different note. "How
are you different?"
The attraction was subtle but unmistakable. Whatever the system was doing to his body, it included more than just strength and healing.
"Claire." One of the guards tugged at her sleeve. "We should go."
She ignored him, eyes locked on Damon's face. "Your skin... it's actually glowing."
"Is it?" Damon moved closer, and she didn't
step back. "Funny how quickly things change."
"I... we should..." But she wasn't leaving.
The guard cleared his throat. "Ma'am? The police are waiting downstairs."
That broke the spell. Claire blinked, shaking her head like someone waking from a dream.
"Right. Yes." She backed toward the door. "This isn't over, Damon."
"No," he agreed, smiling that cold new smile. "It isn't."
As they retreated, Damon caught his reflection in the suite's window.
His eyes flashed red for just an instant—too quick for the security cameras to catch, but long enough for him to see.
The hunger was still growing.
This is just the beginning.
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
Chapter 15- Ex REGRET
2 Days later Claire first spotted him at the Met.She'd been there with Adrian…some charity gala for children's literacy that she'd stopped caring about the moment they walked through the doors. Adrian was still healing from his encounter with Damon's newfound strength, his jaw wired shut making every social interaction awkward and painful.But across the marble hall, near the Egyptian wing, stood a man who made her forget about Adrian entirely.Tall. Confident. Moving through the crowd like he owned not just the room but everything in it. Designer suit that fit him like it was sewn directly onto his body. And that face..."Jesus," she breathed, wine glass trembling in her hand."What?" Adrian mumbled through his dental hardware, following her gaze. His good eye went wide with recognition and something that looked suspiciously like fear.It was Damon. But not the Damon she'd betrayed six days ago.This version looked like he'd stepped off a magazine cover. His shoulders were broader
Chapter 14- War has come
The attack came six blocks from the Crucible.Damon had just turned into a deserted industrial alley when his enhanced senses picked up the ambush. Twenty heartbeats hiding behind dumpsters, in doorways, on fire escapes. The metallic scent of gun oil mixed with cheap cologne and nervous sweat."Professional," he muttered, impressed despite himself.[HOSTILE COUNT: 20 CONFIRMED.][WEAPON SIGNATURES: MIXED. HANDGUNS, BLADES, BLUNT INSTRUMENTS.][TACTICAL ASSESSMENT: OVERKILL FOR SINGLE TARGET.]"Volkov really doesn't like being told no."The first gunshot came from a rooftop sniper. The bullet sparked off a metal pipe inches from Damon's head, but he was already moving.[COMBAT MODE ACTIVATED.][BATTLE AWARENESS: MAXIMUM.]Time dilated. Every shadow, every reflection, every possible angle of attack mapped itself in his mind like a three-dimensional chess board. The system wasn't just enhancing his physical abilities now – it was turning him into a tactical computer made of flesh and
Chapter 13- City Underworld
Four hours later, Damon stood outside a converted auto shop in Long Island City. His ribs had healed completely, leaving only pink lines where Viktor's spear had carved him open. The gauntlet was invisible beneath his leather jacket—just another rich boy looking for thrills.The bouncer looked him up and down with professional skepticism. "You sure you're in the right place, prep school?""I'm sure."Money talked. A thousand-dollar "entry fee" got him past the door and into a world that smelled like sweat, blood, and desperation.The main floor had been cleared to create a fighting pit surrounded by metal bleachers. Maybe two hundred people packed the space….construction workers, off-duty cops, Russian immigrants with prison tattoos, society types getting their kicks slumming with the criminal element.A fight was already in progress. Two heavyweights trading sledgehammer blows while the crowd screamed for blood. Cash changed hands with every exchange."First time?" A woman appeared
Chapter 12-Assasin?
Viktor's spear moved like liquid silver.Damon barely got his gauntleted hand up before the celestial bronze punched through his defenses. The weapon sliced across his ribs, drawing a line of fire that made him stumble backward."Too slow." Viktor spun the spear in a perfect arc, the butt end catching Damon across the temple. Stars exploded behind his eyes. "Too predictable."The Iron Strike that had pulverized concrete earlier? Viktor sidestepped it like he was dodging raindrops. His counter-attack sent the spear's point straight toward Damon's heart.Desperation triggered something primal. Damon twisted, caught the spear shaft with both hands, and channeled every ounce of his enhanced strength into snapping it in half.The bronze didn't even bend."Interesting." Viktor's voice held clinical detachment as he drove his knee into Damon's stomach. "You're stronger than the last three. Still pathetically weak, but stronger."Damon hit the ground hard enough to crack the ancient stones be
Chapter 11- Awakening the first war relic
"You're not sleeping tonight."The system's voice jolted Damon awake at 2:47 AM. He'd been dreaming of Claire…not the betrayer from three days ago, but the woman who used to trace patterns on his chest while whispering about their future.[EMERGENCY PROTOCOL INITIATED.][PROCEED TO COORDINATES: 40.7829° N, 73.9654° W.]"What's there?" He rolled out of the hotel bed, muscles still humming with residual power from tonight's family reunion.[ANSWERS.]Twenty minutes later, Damon stood before a chain-link fence surrounding what looked like a construction site. The sign read "Future Home of Riverside Condominiums," but his enhanced vision picked out details the darkness should have hidden.Ancient stone foundations. Weathered marble columns half-buried in decades of debris. The remains of something far older than any modern building.[CLIMB.]The fence posed no challenge. His new strength made the twelve-foot barrier feel like a speed bump. Damon dropped silently on the other side, follo
Chapter 10- The night of reckoning
Sunday evening at the Blackwood estate meant one thing: family dinner. Sacred tradition stretching back four generations, where Kane held court in the grand dining room and reminded everyone exactly who controlled their fortunes.Tonight, twenty-three family members gathered around the mahogany table that could seat forty.Empty chairs served as monuments to those who'd fallen from grace(Dead), or pushed (Exiled)."To prosperity," Kane raised his wine glass, silver hair gleaming under crystal chandeliers. "And to family loyalty."The toast echoed around the table, but Adrian's voice was notably absent.His jaw was still wired shut from what the doctors called "traumatic displacement." He glared hatred through swollen eyes."Poor Adrian," Aunt Margaret clucked sympathetically. "Attacked by that homeless man. These streets aren't safe anymore.""Homeless man?" Kane's laugh was sharp as broken glass. "That was my nephew. My blood. And now he's declared war on this family."Claire shifted
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