System Activated: Rise of Liam Mercer

Chapter 3: The Acolytes’ Pursuit

Rain sliced across Liam’s face as he sprinted along the empty Docklands pier, water sloshing through his shoes. 

The storm had not relented; if anything, it had grown angrier, thrashing against him like some divine judge. 

Every gust of wind felt alive now, twisting around him, lifting his soaked coat, tugging at his hair, whispering promises he didn’t fully understand.

The cloaked Acolytes had vanished into the mist after his first strike, but he could feel them. 

Every movement of air carried their intent, subtle distortions that tickled the edge of his awareness. “System,” he muttered, voice cutting through the roar of thunder. “Track them.”

[Target signatures detected: five entities. Current vectors: converging. Distance: 400 meters.]

Liam’s teeth clenched. He pressed off a crate, landing with a wet slap, sprinting toward the nearest street. 

The wind surged, lifting puddles in swirling patterns behind him, carrying shards of metal and splintered wood. It was instinct now, reflexive power, untrained but sharp.

The first Acolyte appeared ahead, walking across the slick pavement with unnatural grace. Rain didn’t touch the figure, curling around them like a mist-shield. 

Symbols glowed faintly along the edges of their robe, etching crimson and gold into the storm-dark night.

“You cannot escape, Bearer of the Wind,” the figure intoned, voice echoing unnaturally, as if carried on the storm itself.

Liam didn’t reply. He leapt. The wind surged in response, lifting him slightly, increasing his speed. 

A gust slammed into the Acolyte, forcing the figure back a step, but not enough. “Damn,” he thought. “These aren’t normal men.”

The chase led them into a narrow alley, neon reflections shimmering off the wet brick walls. 

Crates, dumpsters, and cables offered temporary cover, but the Acolytes moved as one, coordinated, methodical. 

Liam felt the rhythm of the storm inside him, the way his heart and the wind synced. He could push it further, but he didn’t yet know how far he could risk going.

One of them swung a hand. Sigils ignited in the air, shooting toward Liam like darts of light. 

He ducked instinctively, the wind curling around him, deflecting the attacks. The first taste of control sent a thrill of adrenaline through him, pain and fear momentarily fading.

“Not bad,” he muttered under his breath, teeth gritted. “But you haven’t seen anything yet.”

He extended a hand, letting the storm obey him. The wind became a whip, snapping toward the nearest figure with lethal precision. 

The Acolyte stumbled backward, then regained balance, circling him as if assessing a prey not yet ready for consumption.

Lightning struck the river, momentarily illuminating the fog. Liam glimpsed Marcus Vane slumped on the dock earlier, still alive but unconscious. The bastard will pay, he thought. Soon.

The other Acolytes flanked him now, a coordinated push from both ends of the alley. He darted sideways, kicking up water in arcs of silver, using the spray as cover. 

His thoughts raced, every movement calculated instinctively, every breath feeding the storm within.

[Wind Step: Activated.]

The city blurred around him. Buildings and puddles distorted as his body shot forward with unnatural speed, closing the distance between him and the lead Acolyte. 

He launched himself into the first figure with a shoulder, the wind amplifying his momentum. The cloaked figure skidded back, colliding with a wall, sigils burning out in sparks of light.

The others faltered for a heartbeat. “That’s all I need,” Liam thought. “One second of advantage.”

He pivoted, crouched low, and surged into another alleyway. The Acolytes followed, but his knowledge of the city was now instinctual.

He twisted over crates, slid under scaffolding, the wind guiding him. Rain spat in his eyes, but he saw every shimmer of their movement, then came the first glimpse of the docks’ deeper secrets.

A hulking crane swung above him, the shadow of an ancient symbol carved into its side, hidden in plain sight, almost invisible unless the light caught it. 

Liam’s pulse quickened. Divine Houses, he realized. This wasn’t just a chase. He was running through a map of old power, encoded into the city itself. 

Every structure, every shadow held meaning. A roar behind him signaled the next attack. 

Liam spun, letting the wind carry him upward slightly, using the gust to dodge a strike that would have broken bones. 

The alley ended abruptly at a dead-end dockside warehouse. Water licked at the edge, dark and wide.

The Acolytes closed in. Five shadows surrounding him. Rain and wind whipped at his face. His chest heaved; adrenaline screamed. “Time to see what this system really means.”

He clenched his fists. The glow along his veins spread, and the storm outside flared, responding to his will.

A pulse of air shot forward, slamming the nearest Acolyte backward, scattering crates. Another figure attempted a spell, red symbols traced through the air.

But Liam moved before they completed it, letting the wind rip the sigils from the air like paper.

The first crack of fear touched the faces behind their hoods. “Bring it!” Liam shouted, rain dripping from his chin. “I’m just getting started!”

The storm seemed to roar with him, eager and alive, and then, from the far end of the dock.

A silhouette appeared, taller than any human, dripping with shadows that moved independently, eyes glowing faint red. Liam froze.

The shadowed figure didn’t move like a man. Its robes flowed against the wind, impossible angles bending around it, eyes glowing faint red beneath the hood. 

Every instinct in Liam screamed run, but another part, sharper and hungrier, demanded he stood.

The five Acolytes around him hesitated, sensing something greater than their usual discipline. 

“Who, what are you?” Liam shouted over the storm, wind whipping around him, scattering puddles and loose debris.

No reply. Only the figure’s gaze, unblinking, unflinching. It’s not human. Liam gritted his teeth, veins glowing along his arms. The System’s voice surged in his head.

[Unknown Entity Detected. Classification: Superior Threat.]

[Initiating Tier Two Protocol: Elemental Synchronization.]

He felt it immediately, a deeper, raw pulse in his chest, like lightning striking through his core. 

His lungs burned; the wind answered him without thought. The air around his fists twisted, forming blades of gust that hummed with energy.

The first Acolyte lunged forward, dagger raised. Liam swung a fist, releasing the compressed air in a violent arc. The figure went flying backward, striking the dockside railing with a scream.

The shadowed figure remained still, its eyes glinting, unperturbed. From the air around it, faint tendrils of darkness extended.

Snaking toward the wind itself, attempting to choke and tangle the currents Liam commanded. “So, it can fight back.”

He clenched his teeth. Good. “Bring it all!” he yelled. The wind surged violently, lifting crates, throwing barrels like missiles. 

Rain whipped horizontally, buffeting the Acolytes off balance. One of them screamed as the pressure hurled them into the river.

The shadowed figure moved, gliding silently, faster than the eye could track. Liam felt the wind tighten, pulse quickening. 

It was a dance now: predator and prey, storm and shadow, every step a test. “I need more.”

He reached deep into the storm, feeling the elemental rhythm thrumming through him. Fire? Not yet. Water? Not controlled. Earth? No, but the wind responded like an extension of his body. 

He focused, letting it coil, sharpen, expand. The dock became a blur of movement, every gust a weapon, every spiral of air a shield.

The shadow lunged. Liam stepped aside instinctively, spinning, and sent a spiraling column of wind toward it. It barely moved, dissipating some of the force but recoiling slightly.

The Acolytes rallied behind their master, striking in unison. Liam’s chest heaved, exhaustion and exhilaration mixing. 

He grinned through rain and blood. “This is what I’ve been waiting for!” he shouted. “Come on! Hit me!”

The figure tilted its head. One step forward. Shadows rippled outward, striking the dock like tendrils. 

Liam countered with a whip of wind; the force collided with darkness. Sparks and rain mingled, the air smelling of ozone and iron.

The wind screamed in his ears, louder than thunder. He felt the System surge, pulsing under his skin.

[Tier Two Unlocked: Wind Mastery, Enhanced Agility & Precision.]

Every step he took now blurred. He darted, twisted, and struck the storm answering each command. 

One Acolyte screamed as he was hurled into a stack of crates. Another faltered as gusts lifted the rainwater into blades slicing at robes and ropes.

The shadowed figure advanced slowly, almost playfully. Liam’s mind raced, realizing this battle wasn’t about survival, it was about growth. 

Every strike, every dodge, every scream of fury fed the System, pushed it forward. Lightning cracked over the river, illuminating the dock for a heartbeat. 

The figure raised a hand, forming a sigil midair, blood-red light rippling through the storm.

“That’s it.”

Liam inhaled, focusing every ounce of energy. The wind pulsed like a living thing, spiraling around him, responding to his rage, his fear, his will to survive and dominate.

He exhaled sharply, releasing it all in one devastating surge. The blast struck the figure, shattering shadows and splintering illusions.

For a moment, time froze. Rain hung in the air like crystals, lightning paused, and London itself seemed to hold its breath.

The figure stumbled, but didn’t fall. Its eyes glowed brighter, and the shadows thickened around it. Liam’s pulse thundered. “So it fights back, I like that.”

Another surge of wind lifted him off the ground, spinning him forward. He crashed into a crate, then rolled, coming up behind the figure. 

He struck with his fists, each blow slicing through the air like blades. The Acolytes retreated slightly, sensing the immense power now wielded by one man.

The shadowed figure paused, tilted its head, and spoke, voice echoing like distant thunder. “You’ve grown, but you are far from ready, Bearer of the Wind.”

Liam grinned through exhaustion and rain. “I’ll be ready. And next time, you won’t get away.”

Lightning tore the sky open as the figure disappeared into the mist, vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared. 

The remaining Acolytes backed away, leaving Liam alone on the dock, drenched and gasping.

He dropped to his knees, wind still swirling around him, adrenaline fading, heart hammering. 

His arm glowed faintly, the mark of the Divine Power System pulsing with life. “This is only the beginning.”

And somewhere in the shadows of London, the true game of gods and men had just begun.