2025-08-11 00:50:13Jason Carter hadn’t slept. His body still ached from the surge of power that nearly tore him apart the night before. But the world didn’t pause for gods — not fallen ones, anyway.
The next morning, Chicago buzzed as usual, but something strange crept into the city’s rhythm. Headline news flashed across convenience store TVs: “UNKNOWN MAN HEALS DYING VAGRANT. IS IT DIVINE INTERVENTION?” “A man believed to be homeless touched a dying beggar near Dongdaemun. Witnesses claim the beggar immediately woke up, healthy and breathing normally. The identity of the healer remains unknown.” Another anchor chimed in: “Is it a miracle? Or meth hallucination? Medical officials have yet to verify the incident.” A T*****r thread titled “Chicago’s Real-Life Healer?” already had 200k likes. Others called it fake. Staged. Another PR trick from the rich. But no one could explain the boy who woke up glowing. Jason stood across the street, hoodie soaked, eyes fixed on the screen. A part of him still didn’t believe it either. “They’re talking about me,” he muttered. His reflection in the shop window looked almost… different. Paler skin. Eyes less tired. A faint golden pulse, barely visible beneath his collarbone. The system’s voice echoed again: “Divinity Resonance Increasing. Mastery of Will: 4%. Trial Two Progressing.” Jason dragged his feet away, mind spinning. He didn’t know where he was going. But his feet led him to a hospital. He entered a Public Hospital, Pediatric Wing Screams and beeping machines filled the hallway. He wasn’t sure why he came. Maybe he just wanted answers or maybe to see if what happened last night wasn’t a fluke. He wandered past a nurse’s desk until a voice cracked in desperation behind him. “Please! He’s burning up again! You said he’d improve!” a woman cried. Jason turned. A young mother held her son, no older than seven. His body was limp. Lips blue. IV bag swinging weakly beside them. A nurse shook her head. “He’s not responding. We’re transferring him upstairs. I’m sorry, ma’am.” “No. No, please!” she sobbed. Without thinking, Jason stepped forward. The mother noticed him. Her eyes bloodshot, full of wild desperation. The woman was busy crying; she barely even noticed Jae Hyun. Jason hesitated. What if it didn’t work? What if it made things worse? But his hands moved on their own. He knelt, pressing his palms gently on the child’s chest. Warmth surged. Not from his skin — from within. A glow lit beneath his fingers, soft at first, then steady. Nurses gasped. One dropped a clipboard. The child coughed, then drew a full, strong breath. “Micheal?” the mother choked out. The boy blinked. His color returned. He reached for her. A woman in the hallway dropped to her knees. “That… that was a miracle.” Another patient whispered, “He’s not normal…” Security rushed toward him. “Step away! Sir, back up now!” But Jason stood, slow and calm. His hands still glowed faintly. He turned to the mother and smiled faintly. “Take care of him” Jason smiled softly, though the mother was still frozen in awe. Then he disappeared down the corridor before security could catch up. Jason stepped out of the hospital, the echo of the child’s laughter still ringing in his ears. The world outside felt colder, sharper — like the moment right before a storm. People stared at him as if he’d just parted the sky. The System’s voice hummed faintly in his mind: Trial Two Approaches. Prepare to strike without lifting your hand. He frowned. “Strike without lifting my hand?” he muttered. A low chuckle came from behind. “Looks like you’ve still got that fire in you, Carter.” Jason turned. It was an older man in a brown leather jacket — William “Bill” Harris, a retired investigative reporter and one of the few people who hadn’t believed the Lee family’s lies. Bill had been quietly feeding Jason tidbits of information for months, though they’d barely spoken since the scandal. “I saw what you did in there,” Bill said. “Not just the healing. The control. You didn’t even flinch when those guards grabbed you.” He handed Jason a sealed envelope. “Thought you might want to see this.” Jason glanced inside. His pulse quickened — financial records, shell company transfers, and a string of emails connecting Brandon Lee to embezzlement and investor fraud. Bill lowered his voice. “The Lees are hosting an investor dinner next week. Big names. Big money. Brandon’s going to pitch a project that doesn’t exist. These,” he tapped the folder, “could bury him.” Jason tucked the envelope under his arm, his jaw tightening. “Then it’s time they learn what happens when they play games with a god.” The System chimed again: Trial Two Initiated — Mastery of Will. Public battlefield selected: The Investor’s Table. Jason didn’t smile, but there was a dangerous calm in his eyes as he walked away, the city lights reflecting off the thin golden circuitry now crawling just beneath his skin. *** Lee Family Mansion – Night Mr. Lee stared at his TV, remote forgotten in his hand. “Brandon,” he called. “Come here. Now.” Brandon entered, half-dressed. “What? Why do you—?” “That’s him,” Mr. Lee said, pointing at the paused screen. “That’s Jason Carter .” Brandon squinted. “No way. He looks… different.” “He’s healing people now?” Mr. Lee’s voice dropped. “How is that possible? I’m sure that fool is only playing some silly stunt” In the corner of the room, Mrs. Lee leaned against the wall. Her expression was unreadable. *** Emily Carter sat on her bed, the silence louder than her thoughts. Her body had been weak, her heart numb… but tonight, something pulsed beneath her skin. She pressed a hand to her stomach. A flicker. Gold. She gasped. “What’s happening inside me?” Emily Carter whispered. *** Two Weeks Ago Mrs. Lee stood in a candlelit room, facing a hooded figure. Rain tapped the glass. “We cannot allow the child to live,” she said coldly. “You know what he is. What he was.” “The God of Judgment,” the voice answered. “Then the child… will be worse.” “We’ll tell her it’s a miscarriage. She’ll believe it.” The figure nodded. “The heir must never return.” System Realm SYSTEM PROMPT: WARNING — DIVINE HEIR DETECTED. FETAL HEARTBEAT RESTORED. BLOODLINE AWAKENING: STAGE ONE INITIATED.
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012
Washington D.C. – Federal CourthouseIt smelled like bleach, old paper, and the kind of authority that could crush a man without lifting a finger.Jason’s footsteps were slow and deliberate as he pushed the mop cart down the endless stretch of marble halls. The cart’s wheels gave a faint squeak every few steps, but otherwise, the building swallowed sound. His gray janitor’s uniform hung loose on his frame, his baseball cap shadowing his face. The laminated ID badge clipped to his chest gleamed under the fluorescent light — authentic enough to fool casual glances.The uniform was real. The badge was not.He reminded himself for the tenth time: This is infiltration, not vengeance. But the lie rang hollow in his own head.Because beneath the calm exterior, something inside him was already sharpening.Courtroom 3A loomed ahead. Jason slowed, pulse tightening. This was Hammond’s domain.Judge Malcolm Hammond — the man who had presided over Jason’s trial eighteen months ago.The man who had
011
Doctor’s Office – The Impossible Upper East Side – Private OB/GYN Clinic The walls were too white. Too quiet. Emily sat on the exam table in a backless gown, staring at the floor tiles like they could rearrange themselves into something that made sense. Her palms were clammy. Her heartbeat wasn’t steady. I can’t be pregnant. I can’t still be… Dr. Hendricks entered the room with a tablet in one hand and a look of professional confusion. Not concern. Just confusion. “Ms. Lee,” he said gently. “We just completed your scan.” Emily swallowed. “And?” He hesitated—just enough to make her breath catch. “You’re still pregnant.” Silence. “That’s not—” She gripped the paper sheet beneath her. “I lost it. Months ago. I—there was trauma. There was blood.” Dr. Hendricks tapped the screen. He rotated the tablet toward her. On the monitor was the ultrasound image. The usual grainy black-and-white blur, except… At the center pulsed something different. A glow. Faint, golden. Rhythmic.
010
Newark, New Jersey – Co-Working Space, 3rd FloorThe place still smelled like paint and ambition.Jason slid a new keycard into the lock of Suite 3B. The glass door clicked open. Inside: a few folding tables, unplugged monitors, an old coffee machine wheezing in the corner.“Not Olympus,” he muttered, “but it’ll do.”A soft ping from the System pulsed faintly in his ear.System Status: Temporal Stability – Level Green.Divine Threads Unspooling… Suggest Team Assembly.“Already on it,” Jason murmured.⸻Gabriel was first. Towering. Quiet. A face like carved stone.He didn’t speak right away—just nodded, dropped a duffel bag on the floor.“They said you died,” he finally said.“I got better,” Jason replied.Then came Jules—lanky, jittery, twirling a flash drive like a magician.“Okay, I heard rumors you tanked Wall Street and walked out of a fire. Either you’re insane or… I want in.”Jason raised an eyebrow. “How about both?”Last was Tammy. Mid-thirties. Soft smile. Wide eyes that shim
009
Downtown Chicago – Private Elevator, 77th FloorJason stood in the mirrored elevator, his hands in his coat pockets, staring at his reflection.There was something different about his eyes now, they were Sharper and Older.“Avery Cross,” he repeated under his breath.Tech mogul. Billionaire reclusive. Rose out of nowhere five years ago, just as certain digital currencies started vanishing without trace.The doors slid open with a soft chime.The penthouse looked nothing like what he expected. No chrome or minimalism. Instead it was silk drapes, velvet armchairs, and an odd warmth that didn’t feel like money. It felt… ancient.And then she stepped into view.The Goddess in Black SilkAvery Cross was stunning in a way that didn’t belong in this century. She wore a high-collared black silk blouse that clung like smoke, her jet-black hair tied back in a waterfall twist. No jewelry. No shoes.Just presence.She smiled like a cat who knew where every mouse was hiding.“You’ve caused a storm
008
Detroit – Midnight AlleyJason’s boots splashed through shallow puddles as he stalked down the alley. The city was a far cry from New York’s glossy skyscrapers—Detroit felt raw, like the bones of America were exposed here.Then he heard it.A scuffle.Gravel skidding. A voice gasping…. It was young, maybe seventeen.He turned the corner.Two men cornered a teen against a dumpster, knives drawn. One had a ski mask, the other wore a hoodie and a desperate grin.“Give me your fucking wallet now!”Jason didn’t speak. He moved gently.One kick shattered the first mugger’s kneecap. The second didn’t even see the elbow that dropped him.The teen bolted.Jason stood still, letting his breath settle. Blood pounded in his ears, not from exertion, but something else.The shift. The strange clarity that came right before the System spoke.But nothing came.Instead, from behind a stack of crates, a voice rasped:“You’re not like them. You reek of judgment.”He spun.A woman stepped forward, blindf
007
Lee Estate, HamptonsSunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the estate’s grand parlor, lighting up polished floors and tasteful art. But beauty did nothing to calm Catherine Lee’s rage.The crystal vase shattered against the far wall, spraying shards across the marble.“He humiliated us. In public. On camera. With cameras, Robert!”Mr. Lee barely blinked. He stood near the window, watching the waves crash beyond their sprawling lawn. Former U.S. ambassador. Billionaire entrepreneur. And now, a man watching his legacy unravel like cheap thread.“You think I don’t know that?” he said, voice low. “The board is panicking. Every hour, another investor pulls out. Half our portfolio’s frozen. The other half’s radioactive.”“Because of him! Because of you! You always coddled Brandon—”“Coddled? I warned him not to chase crypto hype with family money. He didn’t listen.”Catherine turned on him, red-faced. “Then why are you standing there like we can fix this?! He’s being rippe
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