The doors of the rugged off-road vehicle swung open, and two figures emerged into the midday sun—Ethan Cross, the enigmatic contractor, and Sophia Laurent, the police captain desperate to save her sister.
Ethan's appearance alone was enough to draw eyes. His skin was pale, almost unnaturally so, as if he'd spent more time in the shadows than under sunlight. His sharp, fox-like eyes gleamed with an unsettling intelligence, like a predator assessing its prey. Dressed in form-fitting black combat gear, he carried himself with the effortless grace of someone who had long since abandoned fear. There was something unsettling about him—a man who didn't belong to the world of ordinary humans.
Beside him, Sophia stood with the rigid posture of a career officer. Her police uniform was immaculate, her expression steeled into disciplined neutrality. But beneath that controlled exterior, a flicker of something raw betrayed her—hope. The kind of hope that came from clinging to the last possible lifeline.
They made for an odd pair—the mercenary and the lawkeeper.
A Transaction Sealed in Blood and Money
Sophia turned to Ethan, her voice low but firm.
"Master Cross, give me a moment. I'll notify the Bureau. It won't take long."
Ethan barely glanced at her. "Do what you need to."
His indifference wasn't dismissive—just efficient. He had no interest in Bureau politics, but he wasn't foolish enough to ignore them. The abandoned high-rise was crawling with their operatives, and if he wanted to avoid being mistaken for an Entity—or worse, a rogue Awakener—some level of coordination was necessary.
Sophia exhaled, relieved. She had staked everything on this man. If he refused to cooperate, her sister was as good as dead.
The Weight of a Name
Sophia hurried toward Lucian Steelgrave, the C-Class Investigator commanding the operation. She knew him well—both through her own police work and through her sister's Bureau connections.
Ethan remained where he was, arms crossed, his enhanced hearing catching fragments of their conversation.
Unsurprisingly, his father's name came up.
Again.
Lucian Cross—the man whose shadow stretched further than Ethan had ever realized.
He could feel the weight of stares—some curious, others burning with something like reverence.
Then Lucian was striding toward him, his earlier exhaustion replaced by something dangerously close to excitement.
"You're Master Cross's son!" The investigator clasped Ethan's hand with a grip that was almost too eager. "An honor. Your father's reputation is… legendary."
Ethan barely suppressed a sigh.
Of course.
To Lucian, Ethan's arrival was nothing short of divine intervention. If the son of Lucian Cross was here, then there was hope.
Never mind that Ethan had never asked for this legacy.
Sophia quickly made introductions, but Ethan cut through the pleasantries.
"Investigator Steelgrave, I'm here on contract. Let's skip the formalities—I'm going in now."
Lucian's smile froze.
Now? Alone?
He had hoped to convince Ethan to join their planned assault tonight. A scout with the Cross bloodline would have been invaluable—someone who could slip inside, gather intel, and maybe even weaken the Entities before the main strike.
But Ethan's stance made it clear—he wasn't waiting.
Lucian swallowed his frustration and forced a nod.
"Of course. But if you could relay any intel—weak points, Entity concentrations—it would save lives."
Ethan's lips twitched. "I'll… see what I can do."
The Walk That Defied Sanity
Then came the moment that shattered expectations.
Instead of activating some stealth ability—instead of vanishing into the shadows like a phantom—Ethan simply walked forward.
No caution. No hesitation.
Just a casual stride toward the building's gaping maw.
Sophia's breath caught.
Was he… really just going to—
A murmur rippled through the gathered Awakeners and Bureau operatives.
Then—movement.
Two Giant Roaming Corpses erupted from the building's entrance, their massive frames blotting out the light. Each wielded a battle-axe large enough to cleave a car in half.
They charged, weapons raised for a killing blow.
Ethan didn't stop walking.
He didn't even look at them.
Then—
BOOM. BOOM.
Two gaping, fist-sized holes exploded outward from their chests—exit wounds the size of dinner plates.
The corpses collapsed mid-swing, their massive bodies crashing into the dirt like felled trees.
Dead before they hit the ground.
And Ethan?
He hadn't even broken stride.