THE LAST EXECUTOR SYSTEM OF FINAL JUDGMENT

Chapter Two: The Weight of Fire

The night after the explosion was not silent.

Even as dawn crept reluctantly over the skyline, the city buzzed with panic. Sirens never stopped. Helicopters thundered above. News vans lined the streets like vultures, their lenses drinking in every twisted steel beam, every grieving face, every body bag carried past sobbing relatives.

Liam Cross sat among the ruins, blanket draped over his shoulders, though he no longer felt the cold. His clothes were scorched, skin streaked with soot, but his wounds had already closed. The medics hadn’t noticed. No one looked twice at him. In a sea of survivors, he was just another face numbed by disaster.

But inside him burned something none of them could see.

The scales still glowed faintly on his chest, pulsing with a rhythm that matched his heart. Each throb whispered with alien clarity. Each beat echoed with temptation. Render Judgement.

He clenched the blanket tighter, knuckles white. He couldn’t forget the thug’s scream as blue chains dragged him to ash. Couldn’t forget how right it had felt when the System declared him guilty. The power had been undeniable. Addictive.

But what if I had been wrong?

The voice of the System still rang in his skull: Incorrect Judgement will result in Soul Attrition. He didn’t know what that meant exactly, but instinct told him it was worse than death.

“Sir? You’re blocking the road.”

A police officer nudged his shoulder. Liam blinked up at him. The man looked exhausted, uniform smeared with soot, but his eyes were sharp.

“You live around here?” the officer asked.

Liam shook his head slowly. His voice rasped. “No… I was just… delivering food.”

The officer frowned, jotting in his notebook. “Name?”

“Liam Cross.”

The officer scribbled, then nodded. “We may need witness statements. Don’t leave town.”

Witness statements. The phrase sat heavy. Witness to what? A terrorist attack? Or something worse something not meant for human eyes? Liam thought of the men in black coats, of their mocking applause. He hesitated.

“Did you..see anyone suspicious?” he asked.

The officer narrowed his eyes. “Everyone was suspicious last night. Gangs, extremists, nutjobs. You’ve been through a lot, Mr. Cross. Go home. Rest.”

The tone dismissed him. Liam nodded and rose unsteadily, legs trembling.

Home.

The word felt foreign. His one-room apartment was nothing more than cracked walls, peeling paint, and a mattress older than him. But it was all he had.

He walked. Hours blurred. His scooter was gone, buried or stolen, so his feet carried him through streets still scarred by smoke. Bystanders whispered. Reporters shoved microphones at strangers. Billboards flashed headlines: “Midnight Inferno Claims Dozens!” “Authorities Suspect Terrorist Network.” “Unconfirmed Reports of Vigilante Intervention.”

That last headline made his skin crawl.

When he finally reached his apartment, exhaustion crushed him. He collapsed on the mattress, not bothering to shower. His mind raced, but his body surrendered. Darkness took him.

He dreamed of fire.

Chains of light writhed through endless black, dragging faceless figures into abyssal flames. The scales tipped, heavier with each scream. On one side, justice. On the other, damnation. He was trapped between them, his soul tearing apart, pulled both ways at once.

Then a voice cut through the void.

[Executor, awaken.]

His eyes flew open. Morning sunlight stabbed through the broken blinds. Sweat drenched his body, heart hammering. He sat up, trembling.

The System’s interface blazed before his vision.

[Executor Protocol: Initiated.]

[Daily Quota: One Judgement Required.]

[Failure to Render Judgement Will Result in System Instability.]

Liam froze. “What?”

The words repeated, merciless.

[Quota: One Judgement Per Day.]

[Proceed.]

His stomach turned. He staggered to the sink, splashing water on his face. The reflection staring back was both familiar and alien bloodshot eyes, unshaven jaw, but a faint blue glow beneath his skin. He looked like a man haunted.

“One a day?” he muttered. “You want me to kill someone every damn day?”

[Correction: Render Judgement. If target is guilty, execution will follow. If innocent, no penalty. If incorrect.]

The words dissolved into silence, but the implication was clear.

Liam gripped the sink, knuckles white. “This is insane. I’m not”

Knocking at the door cut him off.

Three sharp raps.

He froze, heart racing. Nobody visited him. Nobody even knew his address except his landlord and delivery app. He moved cautiously, unlocking the chain, opening the door a fraction.

A woman stood there.

She wore a crisp suit, black hair tied neatly, eyes sharp enough to cut steel. She held a badge in one hand.

“Mr. Liam Cross?”

“Yeah?”

“Agent Claire Holt, Federal Investigation Bureau. May I come in?”

His blood ran cold. “What… what for?”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “You were present at the Redline explosion last night. Eyewitnesses claim to have seen… unusual activity. We need your statement.”

Unusual. The word stabbed him. Did they know? Had someone seen the chains, the fire?

He forced his voice steady. I already spoke to the police.

She slipped a card into his hand, ignoring his protest. This is bigger than local police. If you remember anything anyone suspicious, anything strange call me. Immediately.

Her eyes lingered, as if she saw straight through his skull. Then she turned and left without waiting for a reply.

Liam shut the door slowly, heart pounding. He stared at the card. Claire Holt special Division. Direct Line.

The System pulsed.

[Target Identified: Claire Holt.]

[Status: No Criminal Record. Charges: None. Innocent.]

Relief flooded him. At least she wasn’t one of them. But the fact that the System judged her at all chilled him to the bone.

He sank onto the mattress, head in hands. “I can’t do this.”

The scales glowed brighter.

[Judgement Required. Time Limit: 12 Hours.]

The weight pressed down. He couldn’t escape it. If he ignored it, the System itself would punish him. If he obeyed, he’d stain his hands with more ash and screams.

His phone buzzed. A new delivery request. Reflex made him swipe to accept before his brain caught up.

Maybe work would distract him. Maybe.

The streets were different in daylight. Less sinister, more tired. But Liam felt the difference in himself. Every passerby lit up with faint outlines silhouettes of light and shadow, as if the System saw through them. Most glowed faint white, but some pulsed with black stains, their sins etched into their aura.

He tried not to look. Tried to ride his replacement scooter with blinders on. But the System whispered constantly.

[Target: Pickpocket. Crime: Theft.]

[Target: Loan Shark. Crime: Extortion, Assault.]

[Target: Hitman. Crime: Murder (Confirmed).]

The last one made him swerve. A man in a leather jacket sat casually outside a café, stirring his coffee. He looked ordinary. Harmless, even. But the System screamed: Murderer.

Liam parked in an alley, hands shaking.

No. No, not my problem. Not today.

[Judgement Required. Remaining Time: 9 Hours.]

His head pounded. Sweat dripped down his back. He couldn’t ignore it.

He walked past the café, forcing himself to look. The man’s aura bled darkness, but his expression was calm, even bored. Could this really be a killer? Could the System be wrong?

The man pulled a phone from his pocket, murmuring into it. Liam’s ears rang with static, then sharpened unnaturally.

Job’s done. Body’s in the river. Payment in cash, usual spot.

Liam’s stomach dropped.

The System flared.

[Target: Guilty.]

[Render Judgement? Yes/No.]

His hands trembled. To kill was one thing. To execute in broad daylight, in public, was suicide.

No, he whispered. Not here.

The System pulsed harder, chains rattling in his skull.

[Judgement Required.]

Liam’s chest ached, as if invisible claws dug into his ribs. His vision blurred, black spots crawling across his sight.

[Failure to Comply Will Result in Soul Attrition.]

Pain lanced through him, sharper than any wound. He gasped, clutching his chest. No one on the street noticed. They walked past, blind.

The man in the jacket finished his coffee, stood, and strolled toward an alley. Alone.

Liam staggered after him, dragged by invisible force as much as by will.

The alley stank of garbage and piss. The man lit a cigarette, leaning against the wall, phone still in hand. Liam’s breath came ragged, each step heavier.

The scales blazed.

[Render Judgement?]

Liam raised his hand. Blue fire erupted, chains slithering like serpents from the ground.

“Yes.”

The murderer froze, eyes wide as chains coiled around him. He dropped his cigarette, struggling, but the light bound him tight. His scream echoed off the walls as spectral flames consumed him, burning body and soul alike.

And then he was ash.

Silence fell.

Liam collapsed to his knees, shaking. The aura around him pulsed brighter. Strength surged in his limbs, alien but undeniable. The System chimed.

[Judgement Complete.]

[Reward: Target’s Reflexes Assimilated.]

[Quota Fulfilled.]

The pain vanished. Relief flooded him, but it was poisoned with horror. He stared at the ashes, at the empty space where a man had stood moments ago.

He had done it again.

The System pulsed, satisfied.

But Liam felt nothing but the crushing weight of fire.

That night, his phone buzzed again. Unknown number.

He answered. Silence. Then a voice, distorted, metallic.

Executor.

His blood froze.

We have been watching. You have taken the first steps. Do not mistake your System for salvation. It is a chain, and chains belong to those who forged them.

Static crackled.

“You will learn. Or you will break.”

The line went dead.

Liam stared at the phone, heart pounding.

The city outside buzzed, alive and oblivious. But he knew now: he wasn’t just a witness to chaos. He was part of a game older and darker than the flames that had rebirthed him.

And somewhere in the shadows, the ones in black coats were waiting.