God-Level Tycoon: Rise of the Nobody

The First Strike

The boardroom was still buzzing after the deal’s conclusion, the scent of expensive coffee lingering in the air. Ethan stood by the window, gazing down at the city he was slowly beginning to control. Veronica Monroe’s warning replayed in his mind like an echo.

“This city rewards the bold, but it also eats them alive if they hesitate.”

He wasn’t going to hesitate.

“Boss,” Miles stepped in, holding a slim tablet. “You’ll want to see this.”

Ethan turned. “What is it?”

“Footage from last night. Someone broke into the delivery hub.” Miles swiped, and a grainy video appeared — a shadowy figure moving with practiced precision, planting something under one of the storage shelves.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Who found it?”

“Security sweep this morning. It’s a tracker. Not just GPS — it’s wired to transmit cargo inventory.”

A cold smile crept across Ethan’s face. “Darius.”

Miles nodded. “Or someone working for him.”

Ethan paced once, then stopped. “Pull every tracker. Replace the shelves. And leak a false manifest showing we’re moving a high-value shipment tonight.”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “Bait?”

“Exactly. I want to see who bites.”

That night, the rain came down in a silver curtain over the city. In a dimly lit warehouse on the east side, Ethan’s “shipment” sat under flickering fluorescent lights — rows of unmarked crates, each one empty but sealed to look legitimate.

From the shadows of a nearby rooftop, Ethan watched through binoculars. Beside him, Miles was crouched, earpiece in.

“Two vans, heading in from the south,” Miles murmured.

Ethan focused. The first van pulled up to the loading dock. Four men in black masks jumped out, moving like professionals.

“They’re too clean,” Ethan said quietly. “This isn’t some street crew.”

The men cut into the crates with surgical speed — and froze.

“Empty,” one of them snarled. “What the hell—”

Before they could regroup, the roar of engines filled the air. Veronica’s black convoy swept in from the side street, blocking their escape. Her people moved fast — and within thirty seconds, the masked intruders were on their knees, hands zip-tied.

Ethan stepped out from the shadows, rain soaking his hair and jacket. “You boys were looking for something?”

The leader glared up at him, eyes full of defiance. “You think you’ve won?”

Ethan crouched to his level. “No. I know I’ve started.”

Later, in Veronica’s office, the captured men sat in a holding room, guarded.

“Corporate mercenaries,” Veronica said, flipping through a folder. “They won’t talk — at least, not to me.” She slid the folder across the table to Ethan. “But you… you might have better luck.”

Ethan opened the door to the holding room. The mercenaries glanced up, their silence hard as steel. He pulled up a chair, sat down, and folded his hands.

“I’m not the police,” Ethan began softly. “I don’t care about your crimes. But I do care about who paid you.”

No answer.

Ethan leaned forward, voice low. “You’ve seen the headlines. You know I’m just a guy who delivers packages… but somehow, I’m standing here while you’re in zip-ties. That should scare you.”

The leader finally looked at him — a flicker of something behind his eyes.

Ethan smiled faintly. “I’m going to find your employer whether you talk or not. But if you cooperate now, you walk out alive.”

A long silence. Then the man muttered, “Monarch Group.”

Ethan’s expression didn’t change, but inside, his pulse quickened. The Monarch Group was Darius’s financial fortress.

He stood. “Thank you for your time.”

As he left the room, he could already see the war lines being drawn.

The game had officially begun.