System Activated: Rise of Liam Mercer

Chapter 2: The Hunt Begins

Liam Mercer stepped out of the ruined laundrette, breath steaming in the cold. The glow under his sleeve still pulsed faintly, matching the thud of his heart. 

His clothes clung heavy with rain and blood, but his mind felt sharper than it ever had.

The city looked different now, every gust of wind whispered, every light flickered like a signal. 

He could sense the rhythm of the air itself, as though London had veins and he could feel them beating. “System,” he said under his breath, not sure if he was mad or chosen. “You still there?”

[Online.]

[Awaiting directive.]

He swallowed. “Locate Marcus Vane.”

A pause, then: [Insufficient data. Nearest trace: 1.3 kilometers, Docklands district.]

“The docks,” Liam muttered. “Of course it’s the bloody docks.”

He started walking. Every step hurt, but he didn’t slow. The wind seemed to part for him, sweeping debris from his path. 

Sirens wailed somewhere uptown, maybe for the wreckage he’d left behind. “Marcus set me up. He knew what was in that parcel.”

The thought burned hotter than the wound in his ribs. The man had laughed at him that afternoon, same as always: “One more job, Liam. Don’t screw this one up.” He’d believed him.

He tightened his fists. The veins under his skin glowed faintly blue. A lorry roared past, spraying water. 

Liam ducked into a side street, passing shuttered pubs and the flicker of a kebab shop still open despite the storm. 

Two drunks stumbled out, saw him, and froze at the sight of his soaked, blood-streaked face. “You all right, mate?” one asked.

Liam gave a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Not tonight.” He kept walking. The System spoke again, voice low and toneless in his head.

[Host vitality declining. Recommend rest.]

“Can’t. Not until I find him.”

[Emotional instability detected. Risk level: elevated.]

“Yeah, well, welcome to London.”

He reached the edge of the Docklands, the river black and wild beneath the storm. Cranes loomed like skeletons, warehouses sat in darkness. 

Only one building had light: Vane Logistics & Courier Ltd. The sign flickered blue, half the bulbs dead. “Figures,” Liam murmured.

He slipped between stacked containers, moving quieter than he thought possible. The wind seemed to follow his intent, masking his footsteps with rustling tarps and the slap of rain.

Inside the open warehouse, voices carried. “Told you the relic was unstable,” a man said. “That courier should’ve been vaporized.”

Marcus Vane. Liam froze, rage rising. The voice was unmistakable, slick, nasal, full of false confidence.

Another man answered, colder. “You were warned not to tamper. The Houses don’t forgive failure.”

Liam edged closer, peering through the gap between crates. Marcus stood near a table piled with crates and weapons, soaked suit clinging to his paunch. 

Opposite him, a tall figure in a long coat and gloves, face hidden, accent clipped and precise. “The courier’s dead,” Marcus insisted. “I swear it.”

“Then why does the wind scream his name?”

A gust burst through the warehouse, scattering papers. Marcus flinched. The tall man turned toward the open doors. Liam stepped out of the shadows. “Surprise.”

Marcus’s eyes went wide. “Mercer? No, no, that’s impossible.”

The tall man vanished in an instant, literally, a blink, and was gone. The door slammed shut behind him as though the storm itself obeyed him.

Marcus stumbled backward. “Look, mate, it wasn’t personal! They paid me!”

Liam’s voice was low, steady. “You sold me out for a pay-off?”

“I didn’t know they’d kill you!”

“You watched them try.”

Marcus lifted a pistol from the table, hand shaking. “Stay back, Liam. You don’t know what you’re mixed up in.”

The air in the warehouse shifted, subtle at first, a current curling around Liam like a coiled animal waiting for command.

He took one step forward. The muzzle trembled. “Last warning!” Marcus yelled.

Liam’s eyes narrowed. “You had your last warning when you called me worthless.”

He raised his hand. The wind answered. Crates rattled. Papers lifted, circling like birds. 

The gun went off, once, twice, but the bullets veered sideways, hitting steel. Marcus screamed, dropped the weapon. “What are you?!”

Liam’s reply came with the wind. “Upgraded.”

He clenched his fist; the gale shoved Marcus backward into a stack of boxes, knocking him down. 

Liam walked toward him, rain dripping through the roof, the mark on his arm glowing bright through the torn fabric. Marcus crawled, sputtering. “Please, don’t.”

Liam paused over him, chest rising and falling. For a heartbeat the rage nearly swallowed him whole. “He deserves it. Every lie, every sneer.”

The System murmured: [Karmic target identified. Terminate to gain advancement.]

Liam hesitated, staring at his own reflection in a puddle near Marcus’s head. Eyes glowing, face cold. “Terminate,” he whispered, testing the word. It tasted like ash.

Marcus whimpered, “You’re better than this, Liam.”

“Am I?”

He turned his palm; the wind spiraled tighter, lifting dust and debris. Marcus screamed again as the pressure built.

Marcus’s screams were almost drowned by the storm outside. The wind spiraled faster, tugging at his coat, yanking crates across the floor. 

Liam stood over him, one hand raised, his eyes glowing with cold blue fury. “Please!” Marcus gasped, covering his face. “I didn’t know what they’d do! They said it was a test, just a delivery! I swear!”

The word test pierced through Liam’s rage. “A test?”

Marcus nodded frantically. “They said the sphere was some kind of relic! I was supposed to find someone expendable.” His voice broke. “You were always late, always desperate. You were perfect.”

Liam froze. ‘Expendable.’ That single word hit harder than the bullet earlier. He’d spent years running deliveries, keeping his head down while people like Marcus climbed over him. 

Every insult, every humiliation, it all came crashing back, sharper than the rain. The wind howled louder, circling him in a widening storm. 

Papers burst into the air, swirling like a cyclone around the two men. “Expendable,” Liam repeated quietly. “You called me that, too. Every time I tried to move up. Every time I stayed loyal.”

Marcus sobbed. “I’ll pay you, anything!”

“Keep your money.” Liam’s voice was low, trembling with fury. “Buy yourself a conscience.”

He snapped his hand forward. The wind slammed into Marcus, pinning him against the wall. Metal groaned. 

Crates toppled. Marcus struggled, gasping, as invisible pressure held him there. The System’s voice echoed, calm and precise.

[Eliminate the target. Reward: Power Core Fragment +1.]

Liam’s jaw clenched. The glow on his arm brightened, spreading across his chest. He could feel the power waiting, hungry, insistent.

But then another voice, his own, cut through the noise. “If you kill him, you become exactly what they wanted. A weapon.”

He dropped his hand. The storm stilled. Marcus fell to the floor, choking. Liam turned away. “You don’t get to die easy. Live with what you did.”

He took a step toward the exit, rain blowing in through the shattered windows. 

“Liam,” Marcus coughed, voice hoarse. “They’ll come for you. You think that system’s a gift? It’s a curse. You’re marked now. They’ll hunt you like they hunted me.”

Liam paused at the door. “Then I’ll deliver something they won’t forget.”

He left Marcus on the floor, trembling. Outside, the storm seemed to follow him. Wind coiled around his shoulders like a living thing, hissing against the steel. 

His reflection in a puddle shimmered with faint light, eyes glowing, veins flickering blue.

[First task complete. Karmic judgment rendered: Mercy.]

[Power Core Fragment, Deferred.]

“Deferred?” Liam muttered. “You punishing me for not killing him?”

[Correction: Testing restraint.]

He scoffed. “You’re just like the rest of them, testing me.”

[All power demands proof.]

A low hum filled the air, rising from the direction of the river. The lights along the dock flickered once, twice, then died. Liam turned.

From the mist over the Thames, shapes emerged, five of them, moving in eerie unison. 

Cloaked, silent, their outlines shimmering like glass. The rain bent around them, never touching their robes.

The System spoke again, sharper this time:  [Alert: Unknown entities approaching. Classification, Acolytes of the Houses.]

“Marcus wasn’t lying,” Liam whispered.

One of the figures raised a hand. Symbols flared in the air, crimson and gold. The storm stilled around them, as if even the weather bowed.

“Bearer of the Wind,” the lead figure intoned, voice like breaking stone. “You carry what belongs to the Divine Houses. Return it, and we may spare your life.”

Liam’s pulse thundered. “You can try.”

The figure’s hand snapped downward. Sigils burst to life, slamming into the dock like falling meteors.

Liam threw up his arm on instinct. The mark on his skin blazed, and the wind erupted outward, meeting the impact in a roar that shook the river itself. Spray exploded skyward. Metal tore.

He was thrown backward, landing hard against a container. Pain flared, but the power surged stronger, feeding on his anger, his fear, his need to fight back.

The System pulsed in his head:  [Adrenal surge detected. Unlocking sub-routine: Wind Step.]

“Wind what?”

Before he could finish, his body moved. The world blurred. One blink, and he was behind them. He exhaled sharply, every nerve on fire. “Now we’re talking.”

The nearest acolyte spun, blade flashing with light. Liam ducked, the motion almost instinctive, and drove a fist into the man’s chest. 

Wind detonated from his knuckles, sending the cloaked figure flying into the river.

The others turned as one, sigils blazing. Liam grinned, rain streaking across his face. “Come on then. Let’s see how divine you really are.”

The storm howled again. Lightning tore the sky open, and for the first time, Liam Mercer, an ordinary delivery man, discarded and betrayed, felt alive.