The System Rise: Shepherd Nexon's Return

Chapter 4 : The night he died

Darion

The cigar smoke curled in the dimly lit study as Darion leaned back in his chair, staring out at the estate. His fingers tightened around his glass, the weight of it grounding him, but his thoughts were elsewhere—far from the luxury he’d spent years clawing for.

Weak. The word burned through him like a sickness. His father had called him that—over and over again. He’d been the second choice, the one who had inherited the empire only because his younger brother had disappeared. No legacy, no honor—just a name, a title that barely fit him.

A sharp cough broke his train of thought. His hand flew to his chest as pain flared beneath his ribs. His lungs had been weakening for months now, the disease growing worse. The doctors called it rare, and that made it worse. He’d never get the cure, not with his condition. But he could find power, find something to make him stronger than the world that kept telling him he wasn’t enough.

That was why he turned to the Syndicate—to chemicals, botanicals, and drugs that could make him live longer, stronger. He didn’t care about the cost. He’d fight until the end, even if that meant twisting the world around him to survive.

The glass in his hand shook. Arielle.

She had been the final piece. Her father’s company would have made him complete, would’ve proved to everyone—especially his father—that he wasn’t weak. But Arielle had betrayed him. She had turned to Shepherd, the man with no power. A boy who didn’t deserve her.

The bitterness that rose in his throat was sharp, but it didn’t matter. He’d make her see. He had to.

Arielle’s betrayal had hurt more than he’d admitted, but it was her rejection that left him broken. He wanted her, but more than that, he needed control. He needed to prove he was the one who deserved to lead.

Arielle had to keep the child. The one she carried. Shepherd’s child.

The idea burned like fire in his chest. If she wouldn’t marry him willingly, he would make her. The child was the key. It would be his. He’d made sure of it. If Arielle didn’t want to comply, he’d make her.

She was his.

The coughing fit returned suddenly, harsh and painful. His chest constricted as his breath became ragged. Darion slammed the glass down on the table with a violent crack, his body trembling, fighting the pain. His heart raced as the truth hit him like a blow—he couldn’t let anyone see his weakness. Not even Arielle. Not now.

The Syndicate had given him a second chance at life, and he would do anything to repay them. If it meant controlling Arielle and proving his power—then so be it.

She would stay with him. She would keep the baby. And when he had that child, he would prove to everyone—to his father, to the world—that he was strong. Not weak.

And no one would ever call him that again.

---

Shepherd’s knees hit the marble floor hard as the guards shoved him down just outside the ballroom doors. His lip was bleeding. His vision was still blurry from the punches. The pain burned, but the shame burned worse.

The guards pushed Shepherd into the ballroom. The laughter that had followed him had changed into whispers. He felt all the eyes boring into the back of his skull as they pulled him across the hall.

Their words were more hurtful than their punches. Shepherd felt his heart beating as though it wanted to get out of his chest. He turned his neck but only once, to take one final glimpse of Arielle.

Now she was surrounded with guests. With her face in her hands as a frightened bride. But as her fingers parted a moment, he caught the truth.

Her eyes were dry.

She did not cry.

She never was.

The legs of Shepherd dragged on the floor. The guards were silent. They simply ran along and bumped. One was being twisted around the arm behind his back. One of them grabbed the collar of his fake server jacket as though it was a leash.

They went through the entrance and forced their way through a side hall that opened out behind the mansion. There was a bang of a door. The night air swept over him.

Then they halted.

A black SUV stood in the driveway. The windows were tinted. The motor was already going.

Where are you going with me? Shepherd asked.

The guards made no reply.

One of them drew a pair of zip ties off his belt.

Shepherd fought but they were stronger. They pulled his wrists behind his back and bound them up. The bit was plastic and it bit into his skin.

This is not legal, he said. I can not be just taken.

And yet they made no reply.

They opened the back of the SUV and tossed him in like a sack of trash. The door slammed shut.

The vehicle pulled off quickly.

Shepherd blinked against the spinning lights outside the window. His head pounded. His mouth was full of the taste of blood and sweat.

The man sitting beside him cracked his knuckles and smiled like he was enjoying the silence.

The driver didn’t speak either.

They left the city behind within minutes.

The roads turned dark. Streetlights vanished. Trees lined both sides. No more music. No more laughter. Just the hum of tires over rough gravel.

Shepherd’s thoughts twisted with fear.

Where are they taking me?

What did she tell them to do?

Would Darion really order him killed?

His heart said yes.

The car stopped.

No houses.

No signs.

Only woods.

Tall trees. Wet leaves. Fog curling along the ground.

The guards opened the door and dragged him out.

He fought. Kicked. Tried to scream.

A punch landed on the side of his head. His vision doubled.

They walked him down a narrow path into the trees. Their boots crushed branches and soaked into the mud.

Then they stopped again.

One of them pulled out a rod from the trunk. It was thick. Heavy.

Shepherd’s knees buckled.

“You’re really going to kill me?” he asked.

The shorter one nodded. “Orders are orders.”

The bigger one grunted. “You embarrassed the wrong woman in the wrong house. You should have stayed gone.”

The first hit cracked across Shepherd’s ribs.

He fell.

His breath vanished.

He gasped like a fish out of water.

The second strike landed on the back of his knee. He screamed.

They laughed.

He tried to crawl.

Tried to run.

But the third blow caught his face. Right above his eye.

His vision shattered like broken glass.

Blood poured.

He could no longer see clearly. One side was white. The other was red.

He coughed. Tried to speak. But nothing came out.

“Blind him,” the smaller one said. “That’s what Darion wanted, unidentifiable.”

Another hit.

More pain.

Then silence.

His body slumped to the dirt.

The guards stood over him for a moment, breathing hard.

Then one said, “Leave him. Let the forest finish the job.”

Their footsteps faded and soon the SUV roared off.

Shepherd lay there, not moving. Not breathing right.

Rain began to fall. Soft at first. Then heavier.

His fingers twitched.

His eyes burned.

His mind faded.

Then came the light.

Soft. Blue.

Not from the sky.

Just above his face.

A small circle of light hovered. Then grew. Lines formed around it like symbols.

A strange sound filled the air, like a heartbeat made of wires.

Then a voice came from the light.

Not human. Not cruel. Not kind. Just calm.

—

> “Host detected.” “Vitals critical.” “Subject: Shepherd Nexon. Condition: Fatal trauma. Sight failure. Internal bleeding.”

—

Shepherd coughed blood. He could barely move his lips.

The voice spoke again.

—

> “Red Night protocol ready.” “Would you like to live?”

—

He wanted to answer. Could not.

Then came a second question.

—

> “Would you like revenge?”

—

That one cut through the fog.

Yes.

He whispered it.

“Yes.”

The light pulsed brighter.

Words floated above him again.

—

> “Confirmed.” “Stabilization in progress.”

—

Then he blacked out.

But this time, he was not dying.

He was changing.