2025-09-13 06:46:09Night wrapped itself around Blackridge’s West End like a suffocating shroud. Neon lights flickered across cracked pavements, illuminating graffiti-smeared walls and broken bottles that glittered like teeth. Somewhere in the distance, bass-heavy music throbbed from a run-down nightclub. The Serpents owned the night here—or at least they thought they did.
Inside his butcher shop, Leon sat in silence, sharpening a long boning knife across a whetstone. The rhythmic scrape filled the small room, precise and measured. Each drag was slow, purposeful, and patient. Marcus watched from a stool, his side bandaged, face pale but eyes fixed on Leon. Fear and awe clashed in his gaze. “You’re really going after them,” Marcus said finally. It wasn’t a question. Leon didn’t answer at first. He lifted the blade, testing the edge with his thumb. A bead of blood welled up instantly. He sucked it away without flinching. “The System gave me a mission,” Leon said, voice flat. “And I don’t ignore orders.” Marcus shivered. “Boss… I’ve seen what they do. The Serpents—there are dozens of them. Dealers, killers, men who don’t think twice before burning a shop to the ground. You take one wrong step and—” “Then I’ll take the right step,” Leon cut in. His gaze met Marcus’s, calm and unreadable. “If I hesitate, they’ll come here first. They already tried.” The boy dropped his eyes, guilt flickering across his face. Leon knew what he was thinking—Scarface had come for Marcus. The attack had been a warning, and Marcus had dragged his boss into it. Leon said nothing. He didn’t need Marcus’s apologies. The Serpents would pay, and that would be enough. The streets stank of rot and gasoline as Leon walked through the West End later that night. He wore a dark coat, hood drawn low, a butcher’s satchel slung across his shoulder. Inside it, his knives gleamed—sharpened, polished, hungry. The System hummed in his blood. His new ability, Blood Sense, pulsed faintly, tugging him toward the heat of life. It was strange—like a second vision layered over the first. Where others saw shadows, Leon saw the glowing streams of blood running through bodies, veins lit up like faint rivers beneath the skin. It made hunting easy. Two Serpents leaned against a wall outside a liquor store, smoking cheap cigarettes, their tattoos snaking down their necks. Leon could hear the sluggish rhythm of their heartbeats, smell the stale iron in their veins. He didn’t approach. Not yet. He trailed them instead, quiet as a shadow, watching where they went, who they met. The System pulsed with approval. Tracking prey… Mission updated: Eliminate Serpent patrols. Reward: Butcher’s Arsenal unlocked. Leon’s lips curved faintly. Good. The two Serpents cut through a side street, laughing drunkenly, bottles swinging from their hands. They didn’t notice the hooded figure closing in behind them. Leon moved fast, silent. The boning knife slid into his palm as naturally as breath. He stepped up, one hand clamping over the first man’s mouth, the blade slicing across his throat in one clean stroke. Blood gushed, hot and metallic, spraying the wall. The man thrashed but went down before he could make a sound. The second spun around, eyes wide. “The hell—?” Leon was already on him. The cleaver flashed, splitting bone and flesh with brutal efficiency. The Serpent’s scream died in a gurgle as he crumpled beside his friend. The alley went silent again. Only the drip of blood into the gutter remained. Leon dragged the bodies deeper into the shadows, stacking them behind rusted trash bins. His movements were mechanical, practiced. This wasn’t chaos. This was work. The System’s voice echoed. Prey processed. Butcher’s Arsenal unlocked.Reward: Specialized knife set added to inventory. Leon opened his satchel. Inside, new blades materialized out of nothingness—sleek, black-handled knives gleaming unnaturally sharp. A gutting knife, a curved skinner, a throwing blade balanced perfectly for flight. Tools of a butcher, refined for war. He lifted the throwing knife, feeling its weight. Perfect. A faint chuckle escaped him, low and cold. For years, the Serpents had ruled this district, preying on the weak, bleeding the neighborhood dry. Tonight, the tables had turned. Tonight, the butcher was the predator. By dawn, whispers ran through the West End. Two Serpents found with their throats opened in an alley. No witnesses, no sound of a fight, just silence and blood. The gang gathered in the Black Fang Bar, their unofficial headquarters. Tension crackled through the room, the stench of sweat and booze thick in the air. “This ain’t random,” one growled. “Scarface, Smirk, now these two? Someone’s pickin’ us off.” “Could be a rival crew,” another said. “The Iron Vultures’ve been sniffin’ around.” “Bullshit. This is clean work. Too clean. Whoever it is… they know what they’re doin’.” At the back of the room, their leader, Viktor Kane, sat in silence. A massive man with scars down his jaw, Viktor had ruled the Serpents for years with a mix of brutality and cunning. He lit a cigarette, eyes cold. “Find him,” Viktor said simply. “Find whoever’s cuttin’ my men and bring me his head.” The gang roared in agreement. But unease lingered. Because predators could smell when they were being hunted. Back at the butcher shop, Leon washed his hands in the sink, scrubbing until the water ran pink and then clear. Marcus sat at the counter, eyes wide, watching him like he was staring at something no longer human. “You… you killed them, didn’t you?” Marcus whispered. Leon dried his hands slowly. His reflection in the steel of the cleaver was cold, sharp, unreadable. “I butchered them,” he said. Marcus swallowed hard. “Boss… you’re changing. You’re not… the same man anymore.” Leon met his gaze, grey eyes steady. “No,” he agreed. “I’m not. And if you want to survive in this city, neither can you.” The boy shivered but said nothing. Leon looked down at the new knives laid out before him, each one gleaming like a promise. The Serpents were many, yes. But meat was meat. And the butcher had all the time in the world to carve his way through. The System pulsed again, cold and commanding. Main Quest Updated: Establish dominance over West End. Reward: Territory Control unlocked. Leon’s lips curved into the faintest shadow of a smile. The game had only just begun.
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Ashes and Vows
The fire smoldered for hours, long after the butcher shop had collapsed into a blackened skeleton of charred beams and smoking rubble. The flames devoured everything—his chopping block, his knives, the hooks where the carcasses used to swing, even the wooden counter where Mateo once cracked jokes while serving customers.The butcher’s shop was no more.Leon stood in the ruin until dawn, his face lit by the dull orange glow of dying embers. The neighbors had retreated to their homes, fearful of being seen near him, fearful of drawing Hector’s wrath. He didn’t blame them. The Serpents thrived on fear; they had built their kingdom upon it.But as Leon stared at the ashes, he felt something shift inside him. The shop was gone, yes—but the fire had burned away more than wood. It had burned away the last remnants of the man who once thought he could live quietly, selling meat to survive.From now on, there was only the Butcher.The System flickered in his vision, its cold text sharper than
The Price of Blood
The city never slept, but it learned quickly when to keep quiet. Word of the butcher who carved through a squad of Serpent enforcers spread faster than wildfire. In smoky bars, in back alleys where deals were made, and in the whispered gossip of street vendors, his name traveled like a curse.Leon. The Butcher.Some spoke of him with awe, others with dread, but all agreed on one thing: he was no longer just a shopkeeper. He was something else now, something dangerous.The BountyHector Ruiz didn’t wait long to act. By morning, posters bearing Leon’s face—grainy from an old ID photo—were plastered across the underground districts.WANTED: LEON “THE BUTCHER” Reward: ₦20,000,000 (Alive). ₦10,000,000 (Dead).The bounty was a declaration of war. Mercenaries, rogue killers, washed-up ex-soldiers, and desperate thugs all felt the pull of that number. A small fortune dangled in front of anyone bold enough—or foolish enough—to try their luck.Leon heard about it before the ink even dried. One
A Bloody Feast
The city breathed differently at night. Its lungs were filled with smoke and the metallic tang of desperation, and in that suffocating haze, only predators thrived. Leon stood in the narrow alley behind his butcher shop, his apron folded neatly under his arm, his eyes scanning the shadows that stretched across the cracked concrete. The city was changing—and so was he.For years, Leon had been content to sell cuts of pork, beef, and lamb to the locals who could afford his quality. His shop had been his world, his pride. But since the night the gangsters had stormed in, leaving one of his boys dead and his world drenched in blood, that pride had twisted into something darker.And the System that had awakened within him… it didn’t let him rest.A small notification shimmered in the corner of his vision as if only he could see it:System Quest Complete: Eliminate the Black Serpents’ Enforcers (7/7) Reward Unlocked: Skill – Butcher’s Frenzy (Level 1).Leon’s lips curled into something that
The Wolves at the Gate
The city had grown restless.Whispers of the Butcher weren’t just rumors anymore—they were stories with names, faces, details. Hunters who never returned. Serpents who vanished in alleys. Harlow Street turning into a place no one wanted to tread after dark.And Viktor Kane had finally lost patience.The squad arrived at midnight. Not drunk Serpents this time. Not desperate bounty hunters.They were mercenaries. Six men, dressed in black combat gear, rifles slung across their shoulders. Their movements were precise, disciplined. They weren’t here for money—they were here to break the legend.Viktor called them wolves. Trained killers pulled from old contacts, the kind of men who’d fought in warzones overseas.And they had one order: bring the Butcher back breathing.Inside the Pit, Leon’s recruits sensed the shift before they heard it. The tension in the air was thicker than before, heavier than the hungry thugs or ragged hunters that had come prior.Marcus’s cigarette trembled slightl
The Price on His Head
The bounty hit the streets faster than wildfire.Fifty thousand dollars. That was the price Viktor Kane had set on the Butcher’s head.In the alleys, in smoke-filled bars, in the backrooms of pawn shops, men whispered the number with greed gleaming in their eyes. Fifty grand was enough to tempt anyone—gangsters, mercenaries, desperate loners.And for the first time, Leon wasn’t just fighting the Serpents. He was fighting the city itself.The Pit buzzed with nervous energy. The recruits trained harder than ever, sweat dripping onto cracked concrete. Darren and Cole sparred with pipes, Marcus corrected stances, and the newer men watched Leon with a mixture of awe and dread.But Marcus’s jaw was tight, his cigarette burning down too fast. “Boss, this bounty isn’t a joke. Every gun for hire is gonna come sniffing around Harlow. You can’t cut them all.”Leon sat on a battered chair, sharpening his cleaver with deliberate strokes. The sound—steel against steel—was steady, unhurried.“They’l
The Price of Loyalty
The Pit reeked of blood. The stench clung to the walls, soaked into the cracked concrete, and drifted into the street outside.Leon stood at the center, surveying the carnage from the night before. Bodies had been dragged into a corner, covered with tarps, but the metallic tang of iron still hung heavy.His men—Marcus, Darren, and Cole—looked exhausted, but alive. They’d washed the blood from their faces, though their hands still trembled from the memory of blades flashing in the dark.Marcus leaned against a pillar, lighting a cigarette to cover the smell. “Boss, we can’t just leave it like this. The Serpents will come sniffing around again. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow—but they’ll come.”Leon picked up his cleaver, turning it over in his hands. The edge gleamed even after slicing through bone. He cleaned it with a rag, slow and meticulous.“That’s the point,” Leon said. His grey eyes were steady, unblinking. “Let them come. Let them see what happens when they step onto my s
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