2025-06-13 19:58:18The gangsters spilled out of the warehouse like wolves unleashed, weapons drawn and eyes hungry for blood. Michael didn’t waste a second as he shut off the recorder, yanked out the memory card, and stuffed it into his pocket as he bolted.
His lungs burned as he ran, his heart hammering in his chest with wild, punishing force. How big is this damn harbor? He darted between buildings, scanning desperately for an escape route. Packs of gangsters roamed the docks like hunters, and there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that they’d kill him on sight. As he rounded the corner of a storage unit, something pricked at the back of his neck. Instinct screamed. He dove into a roll just as a volley of gunfire tore through the air behind him, shattering the wall where his head had been half a second ago. Chunks of concrete rained down. Michael hit the ground hard, scrambled up, and ran. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the looming shapes of massive shipping containers piled like sleeping giants near the water. He sprinted toward them, gunshots and angry shouts close behind. Weaving into the narrow spaces between metal walls, he pushed himself deeper into the maze, hoping the chaos would buy him time. But then he realized with no small amount of terror that it was a dead end. A sheer drop loomed ahead, the edge of the cliff disappearing into the dark waves below. He turned to backtrack, but the sharp crack of a gunshot rang out. Pain exploded in his lower back like fire. Michael dropped to his knees with a choked cry, his hands clutching his abdomen as hot blood gushed between his fingers. He gasped, trying to stay upright, but the pain was blinding. Through his hazy vision, he saw him. Victor. The bastard stood a few paces away, lowering his still-smoking gun. His smile was wide, wolfish. He walked slowly toward Michael, savoring every step like it was a victory march. “Little Michael,” he sneered. “You never learn, do you? Always reaching above your station. Always chasing after things you were never meant to have.” Michael coughed, blood staining his lips. Every breath was a fight. But he still managed to look up and glare at his cousin with defiance. “Screw... you...” Victor’s eyes glinted with amusement. He crouched and set the suitcase down between them. “You know,” he said, unlocking the case, “I’ve always wondered if you’ve ever actually been happy. I mean... after what happened with your dad, getting disowned by Grandfather, ending up in this dump. Can’t be easy.” Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Do you... ever... shut up...?” Victor laughed and opened the suitcase. Inside sat a strange device—part syringe, part high-tech gadget. A large, clear cylinder housed a black liquid that pulsed with a faint, eerie glow. “You don’t know what this is, do you?” Victor said, lifting the device with reverence. “This, cousin, is Risax. Not the kind you’ve heard rumors about. This one... this is the prototype. And it’s mine.” Michael’s glare flicked from the cylinder to Victor’s face. Confusion joined the hatred burning in his chest. Victor noticed and grinned. “You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? Oh, right. I forgot. Your dad never told you anything, did he? Man. Your life’s even more tragic than I thought.” “What the hell... is that stuff?” Michael managed, his voice ragged with pain but his mind was still working. Even now, he was searching for an opening. Victor cradled the injector. “Risax is the key. I’m going to use this to change everything. I’ll take over Grandfather’s company, reshape the Grey family, and build something the world has never seen.” He looked down at Michael, his smug smile turning cold. “You? You’re just a problem that needs to disappear. You’ll die here like the useless dog you are.” Michael’s mouth twisted into a bloody grin. “If you’re going to kill a dog... don’t get near its teeth.” With a surge of strength that defied logic, he lashed out with a kick that struck Victor’s wrist, sending the gun skidding across the ground. Victor stumbled back with a shout. Michael lunged forward, pain screaming through his entire body, and ripped the device from Victor’s hand. “No—!” Gunfire rang out. Two bullets slammed into Michael’s back just as he threw himself off the edge of the dock. The last thing he heard before he hit the water was Victor’s furious scream. The ocean closed around him, cold and deep. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs. Blood curled from his wounds in lazy crimson trails, mixing with the salt and silence. He drifted downward, vision blurring, lungs screaming. He could feel it—the end. Is this really it? 'All I’ve done... all I’ve survived... Will it just end here?' His thoughts raced through images of his sister, his father. Ari’s medicine. His father’s tired eyes. Who’s going to take care of them? His chest clenched, but it wasn’t just from pain. Rage flared inside him—bright, hot, and desperate. Victor... Grandfather... the entire damned Grey family. They needed to pay. No. That’s not enough. They needed to fall. His hand tightened around the injector. Somehow, through the darkness and pain, he saw the path forward—one clear, impossible choice. No more hiding. No more scraping by. This time, he would fight back. Michael popped the cap from the device, revealing three sharp, metallic injectors. And then, without hesitation, he slammed it into his neck. A burning surge rushed through his veins, hot and immediate. His thoughts dimmed. His muscles relaxed. A strange calm washed over him as the world faded into black. --- ************* [... Viable Host Detected ...] [... Commencing System Integration ...] [... Warning: Host’s Physical Condition Critical ...] [... Initializing Emergency Body Modification Process ...] [Objective: Resuscitate Host] [Time Limit: 6 Hours, 30 Minutes, 45 Seconds] [Success Reward: Full Integration with the Wargod System] [Failure Penalty: Termination of Host Life]
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Chapter Sixty Six: Double Edge
The strategy chamber of the LA was always cold. The air filters kept it at a constant mild chill to counter the underground thermal heat from the walls. Smooth slabs of metal ran floor to ceiling, broken only by screens and hollowed-in terminals, their blue light soaking into every corner.Michael sat at the end of the long table, his hands steepled in front of him in thought. A few feet from where he was, Lea was leaning back with her boots on the table, eyes scanning the room with practiced nonchalance. Stella sat straighter, her gaze flitting between the others before landing on Lea disapprovingly, not that the other girl cared much. Erin was seated comfortably on her chair as though she owned the place, her fingers dancing on the screen of her datapad. At the far side, Commander Cane stood with his hands clasped behind his back, the heavy black of his uniform absorbing the sterile light from above.“Good work on your assignment, Michael,” Cane said, h
Chapter Sixty Five: Razor
The ringing in Michael’s ears faded faster than it would have under normal circumstances. His body had taken the brunt of the explosion, but the changes from becoming fully Awakened had hardened him more than any blast-proof vest could. He stood amid fractured steel beams and dust, brushing fragments of concrete from his shoulder as shouts echoed through the gutted factory. A quick glance at his stats in his System confirmed what he was already feeling; he had suffered basically zero damage from that explosion.Gerald Hardyn strode toward him through the haze, unbothered by the chaos around them. His men were already moving in disciplined formation, securing breaches, dragging the wounded aside. The older man’s scarred face was calm, but his eyes pinned Michael like searchlights.“I want to believe that you were not so stupid as to orchestrate this?” Gerald asked in the same gravelly voice.Michael turned his head to look at the rest of the building, dust
Chapter Sixty Four: The Watchdogs
The Hell’s Enforcers made their home in the bones of an old factory at the edge of the Southern Sector. The district here was quieter than the docks, its streets lined with warehouses long abandoned by industry and now claimed by gangs. The factory’s towering smokestacks had probably not coughed smoke in decades, but its reinforced walls still stood firm, scarred but unbroken. The gang had taken it and rebuilt it into something that looked more like a fortress than a hideout with barricades welded from steel plates, guard posts along the roof, floodlights rigged to cover every angle of approach.Michael walked toward it alone, the crunch of his boots against gravel echoing under the pale afternoon sky. There was no Stella, Lea, or Don at his side this time. Before coming here, Michael had done his research on these guys and he knew that they were not people that could be bought or intimidated into submission. If he was going to win these men, he needed to show th
Chapter Sixty Three: Testing the Waters
The southern docks smelled of salt and rust, a briny heaviness that clung to the air and mixed with the sharp tang of oil and old wood. Cranes loomed overhead like crooked skeletons, their cables rattling faintly in the ocean breeze. Night hadn’t yet fallen, but the sky was bruised with thick clouds, and the setting sun barely filtered through, throwing long shadows between stacked shipping containers and weathered warehouses.Michael stepped onto the cracked pavement, his boots crunching against bits of broken glass scattered near the chain-link fence. Don led the way with the confidence of a man who had walked these docks a thousand times, his broad shoulders shifting under a dark coat, gold chain glinting faintly at his throat. Stella and Lea followed just behind Michael, each of them scanning the surroundings with different kinds of wariness. Judging from their behavior, Michael knew the girls had never been to this part of the Southern Sector. He himself had
Chapter Sixty Two: Gang Business
Over the last few weeks, the Mirage Vault had become known as Don’s kingdom to the rest of the Southern Sector. From the balcony, Michael could see how well it was thriving. The lights sparkled with a false warmth, the tables churned steadily, and laughter filled the space without joy. It was a machine disguised as leisure, each patron no more than a cog feeding Don’s operations. But beneath all the clinking glasses and shuffling cards, everything still belonged to Michael.He sat with Stella and Lea in a secluded booth above the casino floor, the hum of conversation muffled by distance. Don joined them soon after, brushing the smell of smoke from his suit jacket, his cigar clamped loosely between his fingers. He looked a lot more like a gang boss than the man Michael had first seen over a month ago, and now that he had the man working for him, Michael was a bit glad he had not killed the Don back then.Still, he did not waste time on pleasantries. “You've don
Chapter Sixty One: The Next Step
The ocean stretched beyond the cliffs in a restless sway, the rhythmic crashing of waves echoing faintly into the Libertas Aeterna command chamber. Michael sat opposite Commander Cane at the long steel table, his hands clasped in front of him, listening to the steady voice of the man who had pulled the organization through more than a decade of survival against impossible odds. Erin stood at Cane’s left, her arms crossed, her sharp violet eyes fixed on Michael with an expression that was both skeptical and curious. To Cane’s right, the holographic map of Whitewood flickered faintly, casting pale blue light over the chamber.Cane’s tone was even as always. The man never seemed to have to raise his voice whenever he spoke but Michael recognized the weight behind his words. “The Ordo Supremus will not strike us head-on. Not yet. They’ve lost Crysta, but their Families thrive on patience, positioning, and inevitability. We cannot match their wealth or reach. What we c
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