2025-07-07 07:09:52The first thing Shepherd felt was cold.
Not a normal kind of cold. This one was deep. It crept into his bones like frozen hands and refused to let go. He opened his eyes slowly and found himself lying on a flat metal table. The surface was hard. The air smelled like chemicals and metal. His limbs felt heavy, as if something had drained all his strength while he slept.
Where am I? The thought came slow and broken.
He tried to move. Pain answered. Sharp, sudden pain. There were needles stuck into his skin. He couldn’t feel his fingers. His legs were numb. Still, he blinked again and expected darkness.
But the darkness was gone.
Light touched his eyes. Then more light. Everything around him came into focus. It was not just clear. It was perfect.
He saw the bright white walls. He saw cables hanging from the ceiling like vines. He even saw a small green plant sitting quietly in the corner. A peaceful thing in a room that felt anything but peaceful.
I can see.
His eyes opened. He blinked once more, but the keenness was increased. He could observe the dust in the air. He could observe the fine hairs on his own arm. He could observe the crevices of the blanket under him, each fiber thin and smooth as silk. It was all brighter, louder, more real than ever.
How can this be?
He attempted to sit up, but his body denied him. His arms were sandbags. His legs were not moving. He bit his teeth and tried to make his fingers twitch, but they remained motionless.
Then he heard it. A gentle noise, as of a door opening behind him.
“Good. You are awake.”
His skin prickled at the voice. A tall man entered the room. The individual was dressed in black and had a black mask that left only the eyes visible. The eyes were staring at him. Cold. Empty. Not friendly.
The voice repeated, You have been out some time. It was dulled, yet keen enough to be felt. What do you think?
Shepherd opened his mouth. His throat was parched. The words scratched out as they went. “What happened?”
The figure made no reply. It moved aside and revealed something behind it. A table. A glass dome was sitting on that table. Within the dome was a little glowing plant that emitted a dim green light. It was the only living thing in the room.
Shepherd shook his lips. Where am I?
The figure cocked its head. Still unreadable. You are on Syndicate ground, Shepherd.
The word struck him like a hammer.
Syndicate.
His chest grew tight. His mind was in a whirl. One name leaped to his mind. Zoya.
“My sister. Zoya Nexon. Is she dead? Is she all right?”
The figure changed. The air was heavy now. Thicker. Shepherd was scarcely breathing.
“Zoya’s heart surgery was a success. Her condition is stable. She is still recovering.”
Relief rushed through him like warm water. He gasped. His chest rose and fell in quick, sharp breaths.
“I need to see her. Please,” he whispered.
The figure stepped closer. The air turned cold again. Something dark and heavy wrapped around him. Not a touch. Just a presence.
“Not yet. She cannot see you until you are fully healed.”
Shepherd’s eyes burned. He swallowed. “But my vision. How can I see so clearly?”
“We did not just heal it,” the figure said. “We restored it. The process was not easy. But it worked. Your sight is stronger than before. Sharper. Better.”
The voice paused.
“But it came at a price.”
The words hung in the room like smoke. Thick. Heavy.
Shepherd’s mouth was dry. “What price?”
The figure walked over to another table. It picked up a thin folder that sat beneath another glass dome. It opened the folder and held it out.
“The total cost of your reconstruction is ten million dollars.”
Shepherd froze.
His chest stopped moving. His mind could not catch up.
Ten million?
He stared at the page. The numbers looked fake. The paper was clean. The lines were neat. But the number was too big. Too real.
“Ten million?” he whispered. “What do you mean?”
The figure pointed at the folder.
“Everything is in there. Your surgery. Your vision. Your body. And Zoya’s treatment. All of it was handled by the Syndicate. Now you owe us.”
A deep silence filled the room. Shepherd looked down at his hands. They still shook. His heart beat hard in his chest. He had been saved, but he was not free. He was chained.
He closed his eyes and saw Zoya’s smile. He saw the alley. He saw Arielle and Darion turning their backs. Rage stirred in him like fire beneath ice.
His voice cracked as he spoke again. “What am I supposed to do now? I don’t have that kind of money.”
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Chapter 9: The Ghost system
It had been a few weeks since Shepherd had settled into his new life. The Syndicate had kept their word, giving him anonymity, a routine, and assignments that kept him occupied—tasks that were simple but full of subtle testing.The bar became his cover. It was in the heart of the city, tucked between towering buildings and crowded streets, yet it was bland enough for him to blend in. He worked long shifts, wiping down glasses, serving drinks, listening to the chatter of the patrons, each of them oblivious to the man who stood behind the counter, pouring their drinks.But even in the mundanity of it all, his senses were sharpened. He observed everything—the way people interacted, the small tells in their movements, the words they didn’t say. His cognitive sight was like a second instinct, and it allowed him to pick up things others wouldn’t notice. A drink lingering too long on the counter. A hand nervously tapping against the table. The glance exchanged between two men seated at a bac
Chapter 8: The First Mission
The room was softly blue, the shadows falling across his face sharp. His eyes read the map leisurely. Veins of lines crossed the digital surface. Routes. Entry points. Hidden markers. He could sense them. Not merely to see them--but to feel them throbbing with significanceShepherd was in front of the map that was glowing.“The mission is clear,” the figure said, his voice chilling. “Get in, get the Ember Bloom. Bring it back.”“Why this one?” Shepherd asked, his gaze narrowing slightly. “Why this plant?”The figure didn’t hesitate. “Because it’s vital for our next sequence. A plant like the Ember Bloom could change everything for us.”“Right,” Shepherd muttered, not satisfied with the answer. But he didn’t push. The Syndicate never gave answers unless they had to.The map zoomed in, focusing on the mountain facility buried in the heart of Eastern Europe. Shepherd had already studied the layout, memorizing every detail, every guard shift. This was his first mission and he had to make
Chapter 7 : The training ground
Shepherd remained on the middle mat.The ground under his feet was solid, yet his heart was beating louder than anything. His hands were bound. His arms were covered with sweat. The shirt was stuck to his back. The morning had been a drilling time, and now the actual test had arrived.His teacher turned to him.Tall. Masked. Calm. The man made every movement sharp and clean. As a knife that had been whetted by years of silent war.Think not, said the man. His voice was like steel. “Trust your instincts”Shepherd nodded.He drew a breath.Then another.He needed to pass this training. The Syndicate had assured him power. Control.Zoya’s wellbeing and Revenge.And that was his new purpose.The initial attack was quick.Too fast.A hand was swung at his face and cut through the air. The elbow of his instructor came next, to his jaw. Most would have blinked too slow to notice it. However, Shepherd was no longer like most people.He foresaw it before it actually occurred.Not only the punch.
Chapter 6: The price of salvation
The figure’s head tilted, just a little. “You will be given missions. Tasks to help you pay off your debt. If you do well, you will be rewarded. If you fail, there will be consequences. Once your debt is cleared, you will have a choice. You can renew your contract and work for us... or you can walk away and return to your old life.”The words sank in like cold water.Missions. Tasks. Rewards. Consequences.It sounded more like a trap than an offer. But Shepherd knew the truth. He had no way out. Not yet.His fingers curled into a tight fist.“I’ll do it,” he said quietly.The figure gave a small nod. Not surprised. Almost like he had expected Shepherd to say yes.“Training will begin soon,” the man said. “You will be taught how to serve the Syndicate. You must understand the work before you are sent into the field.”Shepherd gave a small nod, even though his stomach twisted. He did not know what they planned for him. He did not know what kind of world he was stepping into. But none of
Chapter 5: Reawakening
The first thing Shepherd felt was cold.Not a normal kind of cold. This one was deep. It crept into his bones like frozen hands and refused to let go. He opened his eyes slowly and found himself lying on a flat metal table. The surface was hard. The air smelled like chemicals and metal. His limbs felt heavy, as if something had drained all his strength while he slept.Where am I? The thought came slow and broken.He tried to move. Pain answered. Sharp, sudden pain. There were needles stuck into his skin. He couldn’t feel his fingers. His legs were numb. Still, he blinked again and expected darkness.But the darkness was gone.Light touched his eyes. Then more light. Everything around him came into focus. It was not just clear. It was perfect.He saw the bright white walls. He saw cables hanging from the ceiling like vines. He even saw a small green plant sitting quietly in the corner. A peaceful thing in a room that felt anything but peaceful.I can see.His eyes opened. He blinked on
Chapter 4 : The night he died
DarionThe 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, bot
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