GOD OF WAR: THE SYSTEM OF VENGEANCE

Chapter 8- Blood in the Alley

Kane Blackwood's office overlooked Central Park, but tonight he wasn't admiring the view.

His nephew's transformation at the hotel had reached his ears within hours, along with video footage from three different phones.

"Impossible," he muttered, rewinding security footage on his tablet. "No one moves that fast."

The man across from his desk wore scars like badges of honor. Viktor Kozlov specialized in problems that required permanent solutions.

"You want him crippled or dead?" Viktor's accent carried the weight of Eastern European winters.

"Crippled. For now." Kane's gray eyes were cold as winter steel. "I want to understand what we're dealing with before we eliminate it permanently."

"Cost?"

"Whatever it takes." Kane slid a briefcase across the mahogany desk. "But make it look like street crime. No connection to the family."

Viktor smiled, revealing teeth that had seen too many fights. "My boys know how to send a message. Your nephew won't be walking straight for months."

Meanwhile, Damon was discovering that money couldn't buy peace of mind.

The Imperial Suite's luxury felt hollow when you had nowhere to go after checkout. He'd extended his stay another night, but eventually he'd have to face the real world again.

[NEW QUEST PARAMETERS AVAILABLE.]

"Let me guess," Damon said, adjusting his new Armani suit in the mirror. "More family members to slap?"

[NEGATIVE. ESCALATION PROTOCOL INITIATED.]

[TARGET: KANE BLACKWOOD.]

[OBJECTIVE: ESTABLISH DOMINANCE.]

"What kind of dominance?"

[DETAILS PENDING. FIRST, YOU MUST SURVIVE THE NIGHT.]

"Survive?" The words sent ice through his veins. "What's happening tonight?"

[EXTERNAL THREATS DETECTED. RECOMMEND HEIGHTENED VIGILANCE.]

Damon left the hotel at eleven PM, enhanced senses scanning for danger. The system's warnings felt like spiders crawling up his spine.

He'd made it three blocks when they hit him.

The first attacker came from behind—silent as death until Damon's battle sense screamed a warning. He spun just as a crowbar whistled through the space where his head had been.

"Fast reflexes," the man grunted in accented English. "Won't help you."

Four more men emerged from the shadows. Professional killers, not street thugs. These guys moved with military precision, surrounding him in a perfect formation.

[HOSTILE COUNT: 5.]

[THREAT LEVEL: EXTREME.]

[RECOMMEND IMMEDIATE ENGAGEMENT.]

"Gentlemen," Damon said, surprised by how calm his voice sounded. "I think there's been a misunderstanding."

The leader—a mountain of muscle with Slavic cheekbones—laughed.

"No misunderstanding. You are Damon Blackwood. We are here to break your legs."

"Kane's work?"

"Kane pays well for quality results."

The man with the crowbar swung again. This time, Damon didn't dodge.

He caught the weapon mid-swing.

The metal bent in his grip like soft clay. The attacker's eyes went wide as Damon crushed the crowbar into a twisted pretzel, then dropped the ruined steel at his feet.

"Impossible," someone whispered.

"New plan," Damon said conversationally.

"You walk away. Pretend you never found me. Live to see tomorrow."

In response, they pulled out weapons. Knives, brass knuckles, a telescoping baton that gleamed under the streetlights.

[MERCY REJECTED. INITIATING COMBAT PROTOCOLS.]

The first attacker lunged with a switchblade aimed at Damon's kidney. Fatal intent—this wasn't about crippling anymore.

Time slowed.

Damon sidestepped the blade, grabbed the man's wrist, and twisted. The snap of breaking bone echoed off the alley walls. The attacker screamed, dropping the knife.

Before the echo faded, Damon had moved to the second man. His palm strike connected with the thug's solar plexus, lifting him off his feet and sending him crashing into a dumpster twenty feet away.

The man didn't get up.

"What are you?" The leader backpedaled, pulling out a pistol.

"Something you can't afford." Damon advanced, and the remaining two attackers broke formation.

One ran. Smart choice.

The other—younger, probably trying to prove himself—raised his baton and charged.

[FURY PROTOCOL AVAILABLE.]

[ACTIVATE?]

"What does it do?"

[DEVASTATING POWER FOR 30 SECONDS. RECOMMENDED FOR MULTIPLE OPPONENTS.]

The kid with the baton was almost on top of him. The leader was raising his gun, finger tightening on the trigger.

"Activate."

[WAR GOD'S FURY: ENGAGED.]

Fire exploded through Damon's nervous system, but this time it didn't hurt. It felt like pure energy, like lightning contained in human form.

His vision shifted to pure predatory focus. Every movement became calculated destruction.

The kid with the baton swung down hard enough to crack skull. Damon caught the weapon, ripped it from the attacker's hands, and drove his elbow into the boy's ribs. The crack was audible three buildings away.

The kid collapsed, gasping like a landed fish.

The leader fired twice. Center mass shots that should have dropped anyone.

Damon moved between the bullets like they were thrown in slow motion. His hand closed around the gun barrel, crushing steel and plastic into scrap metal.

"Bozhe moy," the leader whispered in Russian.

"English, please." Damon's voice had changed. Deeper. More dangerous. "I want to understand your last words."

"Please... I have family..."

"So did I." Damon lifted the man by his shirt collar until his feet left the ground. "Until your employer destroyed them."

[FURY DURATION: 15 SECONDS REMAINING.]

The power was intoxicating. He could feel every heartbeat, smell every drop of fear-sweat, hear every prayer being whispered in multiple languages.

He could kill them all. Easily.

[10 SECONDS.]

Instead, Damon threw the leader into the brick wall hard enough to crack mortar. The man slumped unconscious, but breathing.

[5 SECONDS.]

[FURY PROTOCOL DISENGAGED.]

The enhanced state faded, leaving Damon standing in an alley full of broken men. All alive. All breathing. But none of them would be walking normally for months.

[COMBAT ASSESSMENT: FLAWLESS VICTORY.]

[NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: WAR GOD'S FURY LEVEL 1.]

[TRANSFORMATION: 63% COMPLETE.]

Damon looked down at his hands. No blood on them, despite what he'd just done. The system had given him perfect control—enough force to neutralize without killing.

Unless he chose otherwise.

His reflection in a broken storefront window showed the truth. His eyes weren't just glowing now—they were blazing like red stars. And his smile...

His smile looked hungry.

[UNCLE KANE WILL ESCALATE. NEXT ATTEMPT WILL INVOLVE LETHAL FORCE.]

"Let him try." The words surprised Damon with their confidence. "I'm not the same man he threw out two days ago."

[CORRECT. YOU ARE BECOMING SOMETHING MUCH MORE DANGEROUS.]

Sirens approached in the distance. Someone had called in the sounds of battle.

But Damon didn't run this time. He walked calmly out of the alley, stepping over unconscious bodies like they were sleeping drunks.

In the reflection of a passing car window, his eyes flared brighter red than ever before.

What was he becoming?

And did he even want to stop it?