While Xavier slept in his room high up in the Nexus Tower, dreams lost somewhere deep in the fog of his mind—the city was wide awake.

Far across the glowing sprawl, past the noise and haze, in a heavily guarded basement chamber lit by cold blue lights, a fat man with a gold chain tight around his neck sat slouched in a throne-like chair. His name was Victor, and the walls around him pulsed with monitors—news feeds, digital reports, satellite pings, and encrypted communications scrolling endlessly across the screens.

One screen replayed a familiar headline:

DOMINIC HART ANNOUNCED DEAD IN THE HOSPITAL – POSSIBLE FOUL PLAY FROM HOSPITAL STAFF.

Another followed it:

ALEXANDER STERLING'S CONFIRMED DEAD.

Then:

PRISON MASSACRE: JOHN KANE, EX-MEDICAL LEADER, DEAD IN HIS CELL.

LEONARDO KANE'S BODY FOUND.

And most recent of all—

ETHAN STERLING'S MUTILATED BODY PARTS DISCOVERED FROM ALL OVER THE CITY.

Report after report bled through the airwaves like ghosts, each name belonging to a powerful man that once ran a part of the city. Each one now erased. The one name that didn't appear—Maximillian Hart—had his own note flashing on a secondary tablet in Victor's thick hands: "STATUS: MISSING — PRESUMED DEAD."

The common thread in every file, every whispered conversation, every digital trace pointed in one direction.

Xavier.

Victor leaned back, wiping sweat off his shiny forehead as he scrolled through the digital dossier that his team had compiled. It wasn't proof, not legally. But the patterns, timing, and precision—it all screamed his name.

The more he read, the more his stomach twisted. Every victim had crossed Xavier one way or another. And all of them met poetic ends.

The room was silent except for the low hum of machinery and the steady thump of armed men pacing outside the steel doors. His guards—about eight of them—were heavily armed, scanning the shadows even though they were buried under twenty floors of reinforced concrete.

Standing beside Victor was his right-hand man, a lean figure in a dark jacket with cybernetic implants running up the side of his neck. His name was Krell, a famed hacker who had once been blacklisted from every major grid in the city. He was clutching a tablet, scrolling through surveillance feeds and encrypted intel.

"There's no mistake," Krell muttered, eyes flicking through lines of code. "Every connection leads back to him. I have confirmed it through various sources."

Victor didn't answer right away. He just stared at one of the feeds showing a still image—Xavier stepping off his bike.

Finally, Victor exhaled.

"Then we've got a damn problem."

He reached for the drink beside him, but his hand trembled before it could grip the glass.

The news kept looping. The names kept piling. And somewhere in that digital noise, Victor could almost hear Xavier's shadow moving closer.

Sweat rolled down Victor's face, tracing the folds of his neck before dripping onto his gold chain. His fingers fidgeted restlessly with the pendant as he muttered, "You think I'm next, huh? You think I'm gonna end up on one of those goddamn reports?" His eyes darted between the screens flashing Xavier's name across the shadows of the room. "He's killin' everyone he ever had beef with… and I—" his voice broke into a nervous laugh, "I messed with him too."

He leaned forward, elbows pressing against his knees, breathing heavy. "I can't keep doin' this, Krell. I can't keep movin' from one hole to another, changing safehouses like I'm some damn rat." He looked up, voice cracking with raw frustration. "What the fuck do I do to get outta this? Huh?"

Krell didn't flinch. His fingers moved smoothly across the tablet, screens shifting around them like ripples of light. "You could contact him," he said flatly. "Or someone close to him. Set up a meeting."

Victor froze mid-motion, staring at him like he'd just lost his mind. "What?" he barked. "You're tellin' me to walk into the dome of that demon? You've lost your damn head, Krell!"

But the hacker didn't back down. "I'm saying you can't outrun him," he replied. "He finds everyone. So instead of running, make him an offer. Something official. Give him what he wanted before… the artifacts you snatched from the auction. Offer him a cut, a deal, whatever it takes. Turn the threat into a partnership."

Victor's breath slowed, the air thick and stale around him. He looked toward the corner of the chamber where a dim light flickered against the wall. There—chained to a steel beam—was a girl, barely conscious, her wrists locked from metal cuffs. She had been part of a smuggling trade gone wrong, another piece of leverage Victor had bought from the auction.

His eyes then drifted to the far side of the room, where a glass case displayed several rare relics—ornate, alien-made tech, blades with inscriptions, and one shimmering crystal sphere that pulsed faintly like it was alive. Xavier had bid for those at the auction. Victor had won them instead.

Now he was wondering if that victory was worth the nightmare.

He rubbed his face with both hands and muttered, "You think he'll bite?"

Krell nodded. "He's a businessman before he's a killer. If you make it worth his time, he'll listen. And I'll make sure we're not unprotected. I'll bring in five hundred men, drones, the best mercs we can buy. If he tries anything, he won't walk out alive."

Victor's eyes stayed on the relics as the thought sank in. His pulse slowed, a flicker of hope—or maybe desperation—flashing behind his eyes.

"Alright," he muttered finally. "Then let's set the bait."

Krell leaned back in his chair, eyes flicking across the endless streams of code on his screen. "I'll try to reach him directly," he muttered, fingers already dancing over the keyboard. After a few seconds, the lines of code froze. "But it probably won't work," he added, clicking his tongue. "Someone's covering him. Personal firewall, custom encryption, the works. A hacker, most likely. And not some wannabe either — this one knows their craft."

Victor glanced over, raising a brow. "Better than you?"

Krell let out a low chuckle, a sharp smirk cutting across his face. "Never."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.