The System Rise: Shepherd Nexon's Return

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 back booth.

All of it was information.

And the Syndicate was always watching.

One night, as Shepherd wiped down the counter, the door swung open, and in walked a man in a sharp black suit. He wasn’t like the usual crowd—the drunk businessmen, the tourists looking for a cheap drink, or the regulars who had made the place their second home. This man had a sharp, calculating look to him, his eyes scanning the room with the precision of someone who wasn’t just here for a drink.

The moment he stepped into the bar, Shepherd’s senses kicked in. The man’s movements were calculated, controlled. And when his eyes locked on Shepherd, there was an unspoken recognition.

Syndicate.

Shepherd kept his face neutral as he slid a glass in front of the man.

“What can I get you?” Shepherd asked, his voice casual but sharp, every word weighted with intent.

The man smiled, a slight tilt to his lips. “Whiskey.”

Shepherd nodded and turned to prepare the drink, his thoughts still spinning. Who was this guy. This wasn’t one of the regulars from the Syndicate's ranks—he was someone new. Someone important.

The man leaned in slightly, just enough to make Shepherd aware that this wasn’t just a casual drink.

“I hear you’ve been busy,” the man said, his voice low, almost too quiet for the bar. “Syndicate’s been watching. You’ve been performing well.”

Shepherd didn’t respond immediately. He kept his movements slow and precise, like he was measuring the situation.

“I’ve been doing my job,” Shepherd replied, handing him the glass.

The man took it and swirled it before taking a slow sip, never breaking eye contact. He didn’t seem to care about the atmosphere of the bar, the noise, or the people. His focus was entirely on Shepherd.

“The Syndicate has been impressed with your work, Shepherd. But there’s more to come.”

Shepherd’s eyes narrowed. This was it. The Syndicate had something bigger in mind for him.

“What do you need me to do?” Shepherd asked, his voice firm.

The man smiled again, a flash of something predatory behind his eyes.

“We need you for something a little more dangerous this time. You’ll be sent on a mission tomorrow. A target in the city.” The man slid a thin envelope across the bar, and Shepherd took it, his fingers brushing the paper.

The man leaned back, finishing his drink. “Don’t disappoint.”

---

The moment the man left, Shepherd opened the envelope. Inside was a photograph, a name, and a location. The mission was clear: assassinate a local business rival of the Syndicate. A rival who had crossed the Syndicate’s lines.

Shepherd felt the familiar weight of the task settle on his shoulders. He had done jobs like this before, this was his Fifth mission for the syndicate, but there was something different about this one. For the first time he was getting blood on his hands, and there was no turning back. 

---

-The target was sitting in his car—a gray headed man who looked like he had made millions off the backs of others. Shepherd watched him through the crosshairs of his rifle, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he adjusted in the driver's seat. The early morning light glinted off the sleek black vehicle, and for a moment, the world felt almost too still.

Shepherd had been here for an hour already, his rifle positioned carefully on the rooftop of a building across the street. He wasn’t nervous, not exactly. He’d done this before—not this, but something like it.

His finger hovered above the trigger. 

Shepherd had never killed someone up close. He had been trained to strike quickly, from a distance, never seeing the victim’s face, never hearing their last words. 

He steadied his breath, focusing on the target, but something gnawed at him—hesitation. Fear? No. It was a foreign feeling, unfamiliar.

The man shifted in his seat, making a call. Shepherd’s heart pounded, and for the first time, he felt the weight of the decision he was about to make . 

---

He clicked the safety off, the quiet sound of it echoing too loudly in his mind. The target looked out of the windshield, scanning the parking lot, a slight frown forming on his face.

Shepherd hesitated.

The target glanced away, distracted. His window was rolled down now, the soft breeze lifting his hair. Shepherd didn't wait any longer.

He pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out—a sharp crack that shattered the stillness of the morning.

The target jerked violently, his body spasming in the seat. The bullet had hit him right in the chest. For a split second, the man’s face showed nothing but confusion, as if he hadn’t quite realized what had happened. His eyes widened in shock before his body slumped forward, his head hitting the steering wheel with a muted thud.

Shepherd kept his rifle steady, watching through the scope as the man’s breath slowed, then ceased.

It was done.

Shepherd felt something shift in him—something dark, something he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t satisfaction. It wasn’t relief. It was just... emptiness. The body of the man remained in the seat, lifeless.

But Shepherd didn’t feel anything.

He left the scene quickly, moving through the city like a shadow, but inside, something felt different. The world around him was the same, but he wasn’t.

He’d crossed a line.

And now, there was no going back.

System update:

Mission successful

Rewards: (2 million dollars debt paid)

Hours after the mission, the masked figure from the Syndicate approached Shepherd with a new task.

“We have another assignment for you, Shepherd.”