THE LAST EXECUTOR SYSTEM OF FINAL JUDGMENT

The city never slept.

Even in the deepest hours of night, neon signs flickered, horns blared, and the endless rhythm of footsteps against wet pavement told the same old story people chasing survival, people chasing dreams, and people running from their ghosts. For Liam Cross, the city was not a backdrop. It was the battlefield he woke to every morning.

The delivery bag strapped to his back was heavier than his pride. The scooter beneath him coughed smoke like an asthmatic beast, every sputter a reminder of how many miles he had pushed it beyond its limits. His stomach growled louder than the engine, but he ignored it. Hunger was an old companion. Rent was a more urgent enemy.

He pulled to the side of the street, glancing at his phone screen. Three more orders tonight. If I’m fast, I can hit the target bonus. His eyes burned from exhaustion, his knuckles raw from gripping cold handlebars for hours. His breath fogged against the helmet visor. He had dreamed of more once being a firefighter like his father, a hero, a man people looked up to. But life had its way of dragging men into the mud until they forgot what the sky looked like.

“Cross, move your ass!” a voice jeered. Another rider sped past, spraying filthy rainwater across his leg. Liam didn’t respond. Words wasted breath, and breath kept you alive. He tightened his grip and pushed forward into the maze of streets.

The city smelled of gasoline and rot. Puddles reflected broken streetlamps, and sirens wailed in the distance. Somewhere out there, another body was bleeding, another family was screaming, but Liam had no time for strangers’ tragedies. His own life was already on the brink.

He delivered greasy bags of fried chicken to a drunk couple, noodles to a lonely office worker, and coffee to a night shift nurse who gave him the only smile he’d seen all week. Each time, he bowed slightly, muttered thanks, and rode away. Tips were rare. Respect rarer.

Midnight crawled into the hour when shadows thickened. He parked under a bridge, his back aching as he unstrapped the empty bag. He wanted to quit. To sleep. To just stop moving. But bills didn’t pause, and neither did hunger.

That was when the explosion ripped the night apart.

The sound came first a thunderclap that split the air and silenced every honk, every chatter, every siren. Then came the light, a blinding orange bloom that swallowed the street two blocks ahead. The shockwave followed, a wall of heat and force that hurled Liam off his scooter. He slammed into the ground, air tearing from his lungs, helmet cracking against concrete.

He blinked, vision swimming. Screams tore through the night. Flames clawed into the sky, painting the city in hell’s own palette. Cars were overturned, glass shattered like rain, and debris rained down. A burning billboard creaked before crashing onto the street, crushing two fleeing figures.

His body screamed in pain, but instinct shoved him to his feet. He stumbled toward the chaos, dragging his useless scooter out of the way. The air stank of smoke, gasoline, and charred flesh.

Not again. Not like Dad…

The memory was a knife his father’s last call as a firefighter, the inferno that claimed him when Liam was only thirteen. He hated fire. Feared it. Yet here he was, legs moving toward the heart of the blaze like a moth to doom.

People were trapped. A bus lay on its side, doors jammed, passengers pounding desperately against windows. The front of a convenience store had collapsed, pinning a mother under rubble while her child screamed beside her.

Liam’s body moved before his mind could protest. He clawed at twisted metal, ignoring the way it sliced into his palms. His muscles burned, but adrenaline lent him strength. With a roar, he dragged a chunk of concrete aside and pulled the woman free. Her sobs of gratitude faded into the roar of flames.

He smashed the bus’s emergency window with a rock, dragging children and elders out one by one. His lungs filled with smoke, every breath a blade. His eyes stung until tears carved black streaks down his face.

The city had abandoned him. Fate had mocked him. But in that moment, none of it mattered. He could not leave them.

Another explosion erupted, closer this time, a secondary blast that hurled him against a car. Pain shot up his side. His legs trembled. He collapsed to his knees.

Around him, shadows moved not just fleeing civilians, but figures too calm, too deliberate. Men in black coats, eyes gleaming with something inhuman, slipping away from the fire. One turned, locking eyes with Liam. For a moment, the world narrowed to those eyes cold, predatory, utterly devoid of humanity. Then the figure vanished into smoke.

“Who…” Liam wheezed, but his voice broke into coughing.

He staggered, searching for survivors. A child cried nearby, trapped under a fallen beam. Liam lurched forward, body screaming in protest. He heaved the beam upward, muscles tearing with the effort. The child crawled free, sobbing, running toward safety.

And then the building collapsed.

He didn’t even hear it coming. One moment, he was on his knees, gasping. The next, a storm of concrete and steel buried him in darkness.

Pain. Crushing, endless pain. Blood filling his mouth. His vision dimmed, heartbeat slowing. He thought of his father, of his mother’s tired eyes, of the life he had wasted delivering food to people who never remembered his face.

So this is it…

A voice answered.

[Initialization Complete.]

The darkness rippled.

[Executor System Activated.]

A glowing interface burned itself into his mind’s eye a scale of justice, one pan shining white, the other dripping black. Runes twisted around it, alive, pulsing.

[Candidate Identified: Liam Cross.]

[Status: Terminal. Soul at Threshold of Dissolution.]

[Offer: Accept System Authority. Become Executor. Render Judgement.]

He thought he was hallucinating. The words seared into his skull, yet he couldn’t look away.

“What… are you…” His whisper was drowned in blood.

[Accept, and rise. Refuse, and fade.]

The scales tilted. On one side, oblivion. On the other, fire and power.

He was dying anyway. If this was madness, let madness have him.

“I… accept.”

The world shattered.

A surge of power ripped through his body, mending bones, knitting torn flesh. His heart roared back to life, every beat echoing with thunder. The debris around him dissolved into smoke as glowing chains burst from his skin, snapping stone aside like paper. He rose, breathless, trembling not weak, not broken, but alive.

[Executor Authority Granted.]

[Core Function: Render Judgement.]

[Warning: Incorrect Judgement Will Result in Soul Attrition.]

The scales glowed brighter, burning into his chest. He staggered into the open, smoke swirling around him. The street was chaos, but his eyes found them the men in black coats.

They weren’t fleeing. They were watching. Smiling.

A scream rang out. A thug dragged a woman into the alley, knife pressed to her throat, using her as a shield against the chaos. Liam’s eyes locked on him. The scales blazed.

[Target Identified: Human Male. Criminal Record Detected. Charges: Murder (3), Assault (12), Human Trafficking (7). Status: Guilty.]

[Judgement?]

The world froze. The man’s sins unfolded before Liam’s eyes like a film reel blood on his hands, screams in his wake, lives destroyed by his greed. Liam’s stomach twisted, bile rising.

This… this is real…

The knife gleamed at the woman’s throat.

“Help me!” she screamed.

[Render Judgement? Yes/No.]

His hand burned with blue fire. His answer tore from his throat.

“Yes.”

Chains of light erupted from the ground, coiling around the thug. His eyes bulged, body thrashing as spectral flames devoured him. His screams pierced the night, then cut abruptly as his body disintegrated into ash.

The woman fell to the ground, sobbing, untouched.

Liam stood frozen, chest heaving. Power coursed through him, alien and intoxicating. The scales shimmered.

[Judgement Complete.]

[Reward: Ability Assimilation Target’s Strength Acquired.]

[Warning: Further Judgements will accelerate Soul Burden. Proceed with Caution.]

Liam stared at his hands, still glowing with phantom fire. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to run. But deep inside, something else stirred something he hadn’t felt in years.

Purpose.

The men in black coats hadn’t fled. They were clapping. Slowly, mockingly.

“Well done, Executor,” one called, voice dripping with venom. “The game begins.”

And before Liam could move, they vanished into the smoke, leaving only their laughter behind.

He sank to his knees, the weight of power crushing him harder than the rubble had. The city burned, sirens wailed, survivors screamed but Liam knew none of that mattered anymore.

The fire had not ended him.

It had forged him.

And from this night forward, Liam Cross was no longer just another man crawling through the city’s gutters.

He was the Executor.