2026-02-09 20:12:32The crack of Marco’s broken bones still echoed through the living room, which now resembled a slaughterhouse more than a home. Eduardo stood rigid, breathing heavily, staring at Marco’s body lying unconscious from the overwhelming pain. The pistol in his hand felt hot, as if it, too, thirsted for the blood that had been spilled.
[WARNING: ADRENALINE OVERDRIVE WILL END IN 120 SECONDS.]
[SIDE EFFECTS: SEVERE NEURAL FATIGUE AND RANDOM MEMORY EXTRACTION.]
“Shut up, you damn System,” Eduardo hissed.
He walked toward the bedroom door where Emily and Chloe were hiding. His blood-soaked hand hesitated before touching the doorknob. He could hear muffled sobs from inside.
“Emily… it’s me,” Eduardo said hoarsely.
The door opened slightly. Emily peeked out with swollen eyes. The moment she saw Eduardo’s pale, blood-smeared face, she burst out of the room and threw herself into his arms, clinging to him with what little strength she had left.
“Eduardo! Oh God, you’re really alive!” Emily sobbed against his chest.
But Eduardo did not return the embrace right away. His body was stiff. The stench of blood on his clothes was overwhelming, a sharp contrast to the baby soap scent in Emily’s hair.
“Daddy?” Chloe stepped out from behind her mother’s legs, staring at Eduardo with fear.
Eduardo knelt down, forcing a smile even though his face felt stiff as concrete. “Hey, Daddy’s little champ. Daddy’s here. There’s nothing to be scared of anymore.”
“Daddy, you’re bleeding a lot,” Chloe said, pointing at the wounds on Eduardo’s body. “Does Daddy hurt?”
“Just ketchup, sweetheart. Daddy just fought some bad guys who wanted to steal Chloe’s ice cream,” Eduardo lied, his voice trembling.
Emily pulled Eduardo up to his feet, studying him closely. “Edu, what happened? How could you… I mean, they said you were dead. And your hands…?”
Eduardo glanced at Slim’s corpse and Marco’s helpless body. “They’re just trash that needed to be taken out, Em. We don’t have time for questions. Claude won’t stop here.”
“But we have to call the police! They’re downstairs, right? You said you heard sirens?”
Eduardo let out a dry, bitter laugh. “The police? You think they’ll side with me after seeing what I did to them? Look at this, Emily!” Eduardo pointed at Slim’s shattered head. “This isn’t self-defense anymore. This is a massacre.”
“What are you talking about? You saved us!” Emily cupped Eduardo’s face. “Edu, look at me. You’re my husband. You’re not a killer.”
“I’m not a killer, Em. I’m a monster they created.” Eduardo pushed Emily’s hands away. “We need to leave now. Grab some clothes, important documents, and the cash we hid under the mattress. Hurry!”
“Where are we going? We don’t have anywhere else to stay!”
“Anywhere but here! Claude has eyes all over this district. If we’re a minute late, people worse than Marco will show up.”
Emily hesitated, but the cold, merciless look in Eduardo’s eyes left her unable to argue. She ran to the bedroom, packing frantically. Meanwhile, Eduardo returned to the living room.
He looked down at Marco. The man was starting to come to, groaning in pain.
“Edu… please… let me go…” Marco whimpered.
Eduardo crouched beside him and pressed the gunshot wound in Marco’s thigh with the tip of his shoe.
“AAAAAARRGGHHH! YOU BASTARD!” Marco screamed, writhing in agony.
“Shut up,” Eduardo whispered. “I need information. Where does Claude keep his small safe? The one for weekly gambling money?”
“I don’t know… I swear!”
Eduardo picked up Slim’s folding knife from the floor and aimed its tip at Marco’s eye. “I’ll count to three. One…”
“A shop! A shop on Mawar Street! Behind the night market!” Marco shouted. “He keeps it there before sending it to headquarters every Monday morning. Please, don’t kill me!”
Eduardo stood up. “Thanks for the info. But I can’t let you tell Claude that I’m still alive.”
“You… you said you weren’t a killer!”
Eduardo laughed coldly, looking down on Marco with contempt. “My wife said that. I never did.”
BANG!
The last bullet from the Glock 17 tore into Marco’s chest. The room fell silent once more.
[ADRENALINE OVERDRIVE CYCLE COMPLETED.]
[COST IS NOW BEING COLLECTED.]
Suddenly, Eduardo’s vision blurred. His head felt like it was being sucked into a massive vacuum. He dropped to his knees, clutching his throbbing skull.
“Aaaargh!” he groaned in agony.
Hearing her husband’s cry, Emily rushed out of the bedroom.
“Eduardo!” Emily ran toward him, carrying a large bag and holding Chloe’s hand. “What’s wrong?!”
Fresh blood poured from both of Eduardo’s nostrils, dripping onto the floor and mixing with the blood of the thugs.
“My head… it’s burning…” Eduardo moaned.
Inside his mind, a memory was being forcefully extracted. He saw a wedding photo. He saw himself wearing a rented cheap tuxedo, and Emily in a simple white dress bought from a thrift store. They were laughing, wrapped in happiness.
Yes, it was their wedding day. But when was it? Eduardo tried to ask himself. What year did they get married?
ZING!
The image turned black and white, then shattered into fragments.
“When was it?” Eduardo murmured, trying to remember.
“What? When, what?” Emily asked.
“When did we get married?” Eduardo asked hesitantly, still struggling to recall.
Emily froze. The man who always remembered the smallest details had suddenly forgotten one of the most important days of their lives.
“Edu, look at me! What date did we get married? You remember, right? You always said it was your lucky day!” Emily gripped Eduardo’s shoulders, her eyes filled with panic.
Eduardo stared at her. His expression was empty. “A church… white… you looked so beautiful in that dress…”
“Yes! What date, Edu?!”
Eduardo opened his mouth, but no words came out. He remembered being married. He remembered being happy. But the numbers, the date, were gone. Completely erased from his mind.
“I… I forgot,” Eduardo whispered, his voice filled with fear. His trembling hands refused to accept what had been lost.
Emily covered her mouth. “That’s impossible… you can’t forget that, Edu. We just celebrated it last month!”
“I said I forgot, Emily! What the fuck is wrong with me?!” Eduardo shouted in frustration, slamming his right hand into the floor hard enough to crack the concrete.
[LEVEL UP SUCCESSFUL: LEVEL 3.]
[NEW ABILITY AVAILABLE: SHADOW STEP (PASSIVE).]
[PAYMENT RECEIVED. MENTAL STABILITY DECREASING.]
Eduardo tried to stand, wiping the blood from his nose with his already filthy sleeve. He looked at his wife, who now stared at him as if he were a terrifying stranger.
“Daddy is bad! Daddy, don’t yell at Mommy!” Chloe started crying again.
Eduardo flinched. He saw fear in his daughter’s eyes. Fear directed at him, not at Claude, not at Marco, but at him.
“I’m sorry… Daddy’s sorry,” Eduardo tried to reach for Chloe, but she stepped back.
The pain in his heart was far worse than the pain in his head. The System gave him power to protect, but slowly destroyed the reason he needed to protect in the first place.
WIIIII UUUUU WIIIII UUUUU!
Police sirens wailed nearby, maybe only two blocks away.
“The police,” Eduardo muttered. “We have to run. Now!”
“But Edu, you’re hurt! We need help!” Emily pleaded.
“There’s no help for someone like me, Emily! Do you want Chloe to see me in handcuffs? Do you want us to be torn apart?!” Eduardo grabbed the bag from Emily’s hand and pulled her arm roughly. “Move! Fire escape!”
They ran out of Unit 302, leaving behind three cooling bodies and the thick stench of gunpowder. Eduardo led the way, his steps stiff but fast. He no longer felt physical exhaustion, but his soul felt like it was being pulled apart.
Inside his head, his grandfather Antonio’s voice echoed again, laughing mockingly.
“I told you, didn’t I? There’s no such thing as a free lunch, you cursed brat! You want them alive? Give me a piece of your soul!”
“Shut up, you old bastard,” Eduardo cursed silently.
They reached the ground floor and slipped through the back door into a narrow, dark alley. At the end of it, the SUV Eduardo had used earlier was still parked there, its engine beginning to smoke.
Rain started falling again, as if trying to wash away the sins Eduardo had just committed upstairs.
“Get in the car! Now!” Eduardo ordered.
As he shut the door, he caught his reflection in the cracked rearview mirror. That face was no longer Eduardo, the friendly dock worker. His eyes were sharp, cold, and filled with bottomless darkness.
He had traded his most precious memories for the power to kill. And he knew this was only the beginning of the price he would have to pay. The more he received, the less human he became.
“Emily,” Eduardo said as he started the engine.
“Yes?” Emily replied shakily.
“No matter what happens… never let go of Chloe’s hand. Understand?”
Emily didn’t answer. She just stared out the rain-streaked window as Eduardo floored the gas pedal, speeding toward an even deeper darkness at the edge of the city.
“I’m not asking for much. Just don’t let go of Chloe. Even if I die.”
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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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