
BRAKK!
The sound did not come from splintering wood, but from Eduardo’s jaw colliding with the iron knuckles of Claude “The Sark.” Eduardo collapsed onto the wooden planks of the pier, slick with moss and rainwater. His head rang violently. The metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth, mixing with rain that tasted faintly of salt.
“Get up, Eduardo. I don’t think my punch was that hard,” Claude’s voice sounded calm beneath the roar of the storm.
Eduardo coughed, dark red blood spilling from his mouth. He tried to push himself up, but the moment he moved, the world spun violently.
“I told you… give me time, one more week,” Eduardo rasped, wiping blood from his lips with his hand.
One of Claude’s men, a bald thug with a scorpion tattoo on his neck, laughed mockingly while dragging on his cigarette. “One more week, huh, Boss? He said that last week. Same thing last month. Sounds like this loser’s mouth needs to be sewn shut.”
Claude lit his cigarette and crouched in front of Eduardo. He grabbed Eduardo’s rain-soaked hair, forcing him to look into eyes as cold as ice. Claude ruled this old pier. In his hands, human life was worth less than the illegal cargo that came through every night.
“Hey, asshole… I’m a businessman,” Claude muttered, blowing smoke into Eduardo’s face. “Business is about certainty, not sweet promises from trash mouths like yours,” he whispered into Eduardo’s ear.
“Claude… I’ll pay my debt… I will…”
“Shut up, you bastard!”
Buak… Buak!
Eduardo groaned in agony, clutching his stomach where he had just been struck, while Claude shook out the hand he had used to punch him.
“Your debt’s piled up. Just the interest could buy a new car. And now, I want payment. Tonight. Right now,” Claude said with a crooked smile.
“I don’t have any money left, Claude! You took everything!” Eduardo shouted in frustration. His voice was swallowed by thunder cracking in the distance.
Claude took another drag and slowly stood, wiping his hands with a silk handkerchief as if he had touched filth. “I know you don’t have cash. But you’ve got something a lot more valuable at home.”
Eduardo’s heart nearly stopped. “What do you mean?”
“Your wife’s beautiful, Eduardo. Too beautiful to rot in a shitty apartment with a loser like you,” Claude said casually.
“Claude…” Eduardo whispered as he tried to stand, but Claude’s men immediately held him down.
Claude snorted when he saw the fire burning in Eduardo’s eyes. “I just opened a new brothel branch downtown. High-end clientele. Emily will be a star there. Of course, I’ll need to train your wife for a week first, satisfy my appetite. In exchange, your debt’s wiped clean. Fair, right?”
“BASTARD!” Eduardo lunged forward, but two of Claude’s men slammed him down and kicked his stomach, sending him crashing back to the ground.
“You should be grateful,” Claude continued, smoking, ignoring Eduardo’s cries of pain. “Emily will get nice clothes, good food, and she’ll serve people with real money. Better than starving to death with you. She’ll be happier with me.”
“Step over my corpse first, you demon!” Eduardo spat on Claude’s expensive shoes. “I’ll kill you if you touch my wife!” He screamed, struggling with what little strength he had left.
Claude let out a long sigh, disappointment written across his face. “That’s the problem with poor people like you. Big pride, empty brains.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “You think you can kill me in your condition?”
Claude signaled with his finger. The bald man stepped forward and handed him a plastic folder filled with documents.
“Sign the collateral transfer agreement,” Claude said coldly. “Or I’ll send my men to your place right now, drag your wife out in front of your kid, and you’ll watch me and my boys take turns using her before I put a bullet in your head.”
Eduardo stared at the document with blurred vision. Emily’s gentle face filled his mind, along with Chloe, his five-year-old daughter. He imagined filthy hands touching them. Rage burned in his chest, eclipsing even his physical pain.
“So, Eduardo? Easy choice. Emily becomes a high-class whore, or you all die tonight,” Claude said, flicking away his cigarette.
Eduardo fell silent. He lowered his head, letting his hair hide his face.
“Okay… I agree,” Eduardo whispered.
Claude grinned with satisfaction and motioned for his men to release him. “That’s more like it. Now that’s a smart head of the family. Come on, sign it.”
The bald man shoved a pen and the document toward Eduardo’s face. Eduardo took them with trembling hands. He drew a deep breath, as if it were his last breath as a man with dignity.
Eduardo looked up. Instead of signing, he gathered all the blood and saliva in his mouth and spat straight into Claude’s handsome face.
Silence fell instantly, broken only by rain pounding against rusted metal around the pier. Claude’s men froze, unable to believe what they had just seen.
Claude closed his eyes. He wiped the spit from his face slowly. His hand trembled, not with fear, but with boiling rage.
“You… just chose the most painful path, Eduardo,” Claude said, his voice shaking with restrained fury.
“I might be a loser, Claude,” Eduardo grinned, blood coating his teeth. “But I’ll never sell my family to a devil like you.”
Claude did not shout. He simply nodded to his men. “Break him. Don’t let him die fast. I want to hear every bone snap, one by one.”
The storm of blows came instantly. Boots smashed into Eduardo’s ribs, forcing the air from his lungs. He curled into a fetal position, trying to protect his head, but they did not stop.
KRAK!
His left arm snapped as he tried to block a kick. Eduardo screamed, but thunder swallowed the sound.
“Die, you worthless trash!” the bald man roared, slamming a pistol grip into Eduardo’s temple.
Darkness took him instantly. He felt his body dragged across rough wood. The smell of the sea grew stronger. He knew what came next.
Claude stepped closer, unzipped his pants, and urinated on Eduardo’s face. “Enjoy your last drink, hero!”
Warm liquid splashed across Eduardo’s face. He tried to fight back, to kick Claude in a final act of defiance, but his body refused to obey his mind. Claude’s men laughed loudly as their boss relieved himself on Eduardo.
“Throw him into the sea,” Claude ordered coldly as he zipped up and jerked his chin. “Tomorrow morning, pick up Emily. Tell her her husband became shark food. If she doesn’t come quietly, you know what to do.”
“Yes, Boss!”
Two thugs lifted Eduardo’s limp body, swung him a few times, then hurled him over the pier railing.
For a brief moment, Eduardo felt weightless, before icy seawater swallowed him whole. The burning pain faded into a terrifying numbness. He sank deeper, farther from the dim pier lights above.
His lungs burned as oxygen ran out. Saltwater flooded his nose and mouth. In the pitch-black depths, only one thought remained.
“Emily… Chloe… forgive me. I was a useless husband and father.”
His consciousness began to fade. His heartbeat slowed. At the edge of death, regret crushed him harder than his shattered bones. He needed power. He needed a miracle. He wanted to slaughter them all.
Suddenly, in the total darkness, Eduardo’s chest flared with blinding light, and a cold yet authoritative mechanical voice echoed directly inside his mind, as if splitting his soul.
[CONDITION MET: TOTAL DESPAIR DETECTED.]
[ACTIVATING PROTOCOL: EQUIVALENT EXCHANGE.]
Eduardo’s body sank deeper toward the ocean floor beneath the pier, and with his next breath, his consciousness was violently torn into a completely different dimension.
Latest Chapter
Ch 13. The Lost Memory
The world in Eduardo’s eyes felt like an old television broadcast that had lost its signal. Everything appeared gray, flickering, and filled with a deafening hiss of static. He could feel violent jolts, his back slamming against the stiff car seat, and the sharp smell of gasoline mixed with sweat stinging his nose. “Boss! Hey, Boss Eduardo! Wake up, damn it! Don’t die in my car. I just cleaned the seats with my spit this morning!” Gord’s voice sounded very far away, as if it were coming from underwater. Eduardo blinked his eyes, which felt glued shut by thick fluid. He touched his own face. Wet. Cold. When he looked at his palm under the dim glow of the streetlight, the color was not red. It was black. Pitch black, like bitter squid ink that smelled of rotten copper. “Hah... hah...” Eduardo jolted upright, his body shooting up so fast that his head slammed into the roof of the battered sedan. THUD! “Whoa, easy, Boss! You just passed out for ten minu
Ch 12. Dawn Raid on the Gambling Shop
The shop house on Roses Street stood arrogantly among rows of shabby buildings that seemed to have long surrendered to poverty. Behind its steel doors, Claude's football gambling operation pulsed like a dark heart, pumping dirty money into the mafia boss's pockets while the surrounding residents struggled to survive. Eduardo shut off the engine of the stolen sedan two blocks from the target. Pale blue dawn light washed across the asphalt, casting long shadows that looked like the fingers of death. "I can't believe you actually brought me here, Boss," Gord whispered while struggling with the zipper of his jacket that had jammed again. His cursed luck at work as usual. "This place is the most heavily guarded spot in the district. These guys aren't the market thugs you shot earlier. These are Claude's elite crew. They carry real toys, not rusty pistols." Eduardo did not look at him. His red eyes, the result of exhaustion and the strain of the system, stared coldly at the
Ch 11. The Madman's Luck
Eduardo crouched in the shadows behind a pile of rotting wooden crates, his eyes narrowing as he watched the dark comedy unfolding before him. In the middle of a narrow alleyway that reeked of stale urine, a scrawny man with wild, unruly hair was being systematically beaten by three large thugs. The man was Gord. He looked more like a failed vagrant than a fighter. Yet, there was something about him that kept Eduardo from turning away. "Die, you dog!" one of the thugs roared, swinging a thick wooden plank directly at Gord’s head. Gord, who was busy trying to spit out a mouthful of bloody phlegm, suddenly slipped on a banana peel that had appeared out of nowhere. His body flopped to the side in a ridiculously clumsy motion. CRACK! The wooden plank smashed into the concrete wall exactly where Gord’s head had been a split second before. Even more absurdly, the plank snapped clean in two. "Damn it! This wood is rotted through with termites!" the thug cursed, st
Ch 10. The Predator's Preparation
Eduardo stood in front of the motel door, its paint peeling and flaking, staring at the loose change left in his palm. There were only a few coins and one crumpled ten dollar bill. Enough to buy two pieces of cheap bread, not enough to pay for his family’s shattered dignity. He placed the money on the small table beside the bed, right next to Emily’s limp hand as she slept. Eduardo did not leave a note. A ghost left no messages. “I’m going to get breakfast,” he whispered softly, more to himself than to Emily, who might have been trapped in another nightmare. Eduardo stepped out of the room, closing the door so gently that not even a click was heard, a new habit formed since the Shadow Step system had taken root in his body. He walked toward the stolen sedan parked beneath a dark, leafy tree. Once in the driver’s seat, Eduardo checked his weapon. Rico’s Glock 17. “Two bullets,” he muttered, staring at the nearly empty magazine. “One for the lock, one for the sur
Ch 09. The Breathing Ghost
The mirror above the motel sink was crusted with grime and split by cracks, reflecting a man Eduardo barely recognized as himself. He pulled off his shirt, which now looked more like a blood-soaked rag than clothing. Under the flickering neon light, his body was a horrifying sight. His skin was pale as porcelain, yet his muscles appeared denser, more pronounced, as if forcibly carved from within. On his left side was a stab wound from Jojo’s knife that had slipped between his ribs. It was no longer bleeding heavily. Instead, a clear fluid mixed with black flecks pulsed from it. “Damn it,” Eduardo hissed. He grabbed the rough motel hand towel, clenched it between his teeth, then poured cheap alcohol he had found in the stolen car’s first aid kit directly onto the wound. “ARGHH!!!” The scream was muffled by the towel. The pain was not just a surface sting, but like electrical current burning through his nerves. Strangely, in the middle of that agony, a system not
Ch 08. Flight Beneath the Rain
The SUV’s worn tires screamed as Eduardo wrenched the steering wheel, forcing the vehicle onto a muddy dirt path. Rain poured down relentlessly, as if the sky itself wanted to drown this city of sins. Inside the car, the atmosphere felt colder than the air outside. “Edu, slow down! You’re going to get us killed!” Emily shouted, clutching the handle above the door. Eduardo ignored her. His eyes were locked on the trembling rearview mirror. He had just seen the flash of police lights at a major intersection. They were looking for this car, a stolen vehicle already wrecked and soaked in blood. “We need to change vehicles,” Eduardo muttered. His voice was flat, emotionless, like a machine processing data. “How are we supposed to do that? We don’t have any money, Edu! We didn’t even pack enough clothes for Chloe!” Emily’s voice edged toward hysteria. She glanced back at their daughter, who was asleep from exhaustion, though her body jolted every time the car hit a potho
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