The Last Bloodline; The Tale of the Master’s Revenge

CHAPTER 004

“There was no report of anyone else.” The doctor’s tone was gentle, but his eyes held that subtle wariness reserved for unstable patients. “Maybe you had a hallucination or are going through trauma because that can cause vivid episodes.”

But Marcus knew what he saw. He could still hear her voice, feel the necklace surging through him and yet… if she had truly vanished without a trace, then what was the truth?

That night, as the hospital settled into quiet hums and distant footsteps, the necklace pulsed faintly against his skin.

He knew one thing and that was the fact that she was real!

Marcus shut his eyes, clutching the sheets. “Why? Why me? Why did this necklace choose me?”

The necklace didn’t say anything in reply just resting on his chest, inactive.

But he needed to complete more missions.

He loved the way his body felt and strength coursed through his body he didn’t feel as weak as before. He looked at the necklace and a shiver ran through him. Was this a turning point in his life or was this just some hallucinating and insanity that was feeding him false hope? He wanted to believe. He needed to but this power he now had in his possession was thrilling.

They discharged him the next morning. No money for extended care, no family to take him home. Just another fading man set loose on the streets.

Marcus staggered back into the mouth of the alley, chest rising and falling like a war drum. The three men lay sprawled at his feet, groaning or unconscious, rain splashing against their broken forms. For a long moment, he simply stared at his hands, trembling under the moon light with so much energy.

How…?

The necklace pulsed warmly against his chest, and new words flared before his eyes.

[Reward Granted]

Stamina Increased.

Vitality Restored

Bonus: $1000

Warning: Every mission must be completed. Failure carries consequences.

Marcus’s throat tightened as the glow dimmed. Consequences? What kind? The voice hadn’t explained, but his instincts told him it wouldn’t be anything as simple as losing strength. The consequences of something that powerful was something to be worried about.

Word has indeed flown around quickly and it was now news that someone had dealt with those street boys and with that he knew

He stumbled out of the alley, rain plastering his shirt to his body. The woman he had saved was indeed real, but he noticed faces peering at him from nearby windows. A shopkeeper by the corner gave him a nod of gratitude before quickly shutting his blinds. This was looking very problematic and he just wanted out of here.

Whispers followed him as he made his way down the street. A passerby muttered, “That’s the guy who took down three muggers…” Another whispered, “Who is he?”

Marcus pulled his hood over his head and kept walking somehow it was , the unease growing heavier than the rain. Once, no one had ever looked at him twice. Now, they watched him with a mix of fear and admiration.

The voice in the necklace hummed softly. “The game has begun. You are now a player, Marcus.”

Marcus gritted his teeth. “A game? I didn’t ask for this. I just wanted a simple life with no worries.”

“You wanted a purpose. You wanted survival and now you have both. But understand this: every mission I give you is not a choice , it is fate. Refuse… and you will be punished, completing the missions grants you reward.”

Marcus shivered despite the heat in his veins. He couldn’t tell if the voice was protecting him, or enslaving him. But as he clenched his fists, he knew one thing: he couldn't go back to the life he once knew before and not to the man he had been.

For the first time in years, Marcus felt the faint stirrings of something dangerous in his chest. Not just hope… but hunger.

And while strangers whispered about a mysterious hero in the rain, shadows gathered elsewhere. Eyes that had watched the fight with great interest now turned toward Marcus, their lips curling into smiles unseen.

The game had begun.

And Marcus was already a piece on the board.

Marcus trudged through the rain-soaked streets, his bag slung over his shoulder, water dripping from his hair into his eyes. Every step felt surreal, as though the fight in the alley had been a fever dream. Yet the warmth in his chest and the steady rhythm of his lungs told him otherwise.

For the first time in months, he didn’t feel tired and exhausted from the long hours of work. His breath flowed evenly, without the rattle of death in every inhale. He should have been elated. But instead, unease gnawed at him.

The necklace’s warning echoed in his skull.

Every mission must be completed. Failure carries consequences.

He found shelter beneath the awning of a closed laundromat, lowering himself onto the steps. His hands trembled as he stared at them. The same hands that once shook so violently he could barely lift a coffee mug had now broken bones with ease. He flexed them slowly, half-expecting the strength to vanish, but it lingered, coiled inside him like a sleeping animal.

“What’s happening to me?” he whispered, burying his face in his palms.

There was no answer this time. The voice in the necklace had gone silent, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He thought of Melissa. Her cold words, the way she leaned into another man’s embrace as if Marcus had never mattered. He thought of Carter’s sneer, the way years of work had been reduced to a single word: pathetic.

Anger welled in his chest, but it wasn’t the wild, chaotic anger that had driven him earlier. This was quieter, sharper. A slow-burning flame.

Marcus had barely taken three steps out of the hospital when shadows detached themselves from the alleyway. Five men closed in on him, their boots slapping against the wet concrete. The reek of cheap cigarettes mixed with the faint stench of alcohol as the leader, a thickset man with a scar running down his cheek, jabbed a finger at Marcus.

“So, you’re the bastard that laid his hands on my boys?” His voice was gravel dipped in venom.

Marcus’s stomach clenched. His body was still weak, his lungs burning from every shallow breath, but his fists instinctively balled up. He could feel the faint hum of the necklace against his chest, its warmth crawling into his veins, urging him not to bow his head.

Another thug cracked his knuckles. “Boss wants payback. You don’t walk away tonight.” The man said with a smug smile on his face.

Marcus’s pulse quickened. He shifted his stance, back pressed against the cold hospital wall. The rain dripping from the roof tapped against his shoulders like a countdown.

Then…