Flames roared to life in Rithvik's hand, casting jagged shadows across the dirt-streaked ground. The boy dropped to his knees, breath shallow, eyes wide with panic.
He looked just like Michael once had when his mother had been dragged from their home, hair torn and arms useless to stop it.
The screams of his mother echoed in his memory as the scene before him unfolded—he could do nothing but watch everything he loved being destroyed.
Rithvik's grin widened.
"Now that's the look I was searching for… Where've you been hiding it, huh?"
He stepped forward, heat radiating from him, each movement heavy with the arrogance of a self-righteous god.
Then the father's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding.
"Don't you dare come near my son!"
Power rolled through the words—Echo Chakra, a potent one.
The sound tore the air apart, loud enough to make Rithvik stagger, more annoyed than hurt.
"Oh? An Echo Chakra user?" he muttered, rubbing his ear, eyes flicking to his men.
That glance was enough to send them into action.
The father stood tall, resolute—but unaware of the ambush. Metal rods slammed into his mouth from the side, shattering his jaw as they were ripped out, sending blood spraying across the ground.
For a long, frozen second, the boy and his mother stared in horror. Their loved one, mutilated before their eyes. The boy screamed—a raw, soul-wrenching cry that tore through the air.
The mother lunged to him, hands shaking, trying to hold him together, but there was too much blood, too much damage. Her own scream shredded the air.
Rithvik laughed. A laugh that only monsters make—cold, unfeeling, born from the chaos of destruction.
"What a family! The boy's a Blaze user, the father's Echo… but something was missing, right?"
Before he could finish, the mother ignited. Flames erupted from her hands, a desperate, defiant blast hurled at him.
Rithvik stepped through it like rain. Unfazed.
"Yeah… now it's complete."
He drove his foot into her stomach. She crumpled instantly, coughing blood, collapsing beside her ruined husband.
Rithvik looked down at them—shattered, broken, barely human in their defeat—like a god surveying ants.
"What a waste of talent. If you'd been born under the Order of the Hammer, your family would have stood among the elite."
Her eyes still found him. Broken, defiant.
It didn't matter.
"But what can I do?" Rithvik murmured, voice cold, deliberate. "It's your forefathers who chose the wrong side. If you want someone to blame… blame yourselves for being born outcasts."
And that was his verdict.
A flick of his wrist.
"Take him."
Cuffs shot forward, clamping onto the man's shredded wrists. The magnetic pull activated, dragging his mangled body across the gravel road. Each jagged stone tore into his skin, smearing blood along the ground as he screamed, a raw, pitiful sound that cut through the air.
Michael didn't move. He watched, heart deliberately blinded to the atrocity unfolding before him.
At the crash site, they dumped the man onto a magnetic plate welded onto a transport truck. He tried to push himself up—but failed. His body refused him.
Then they pushed him inside the barrier Rithvik and his forces had set up, the very arena for what was to come.
Rithvik merely observed, lips curled in a grin.
"Let the hunt begin."
A mist hissed through the area. That's when it emerged—the slithering. The breathing. The Interstellar Beast, hidden in the fog, materialized, coiling and twitching with unnatural grace.
The man panicked, attempting to run, but his weak body betrayed him. He stumbled, crawling toward the exit where the crowd had gathered, dragging himself through dirt and blood.
Rithvik leaned forward, eyes glittering.
"Let's see what kind of beast we're dealing with."
Silence fell. Then—
The shadow struck.
Tentacles, living and sentient, wrapped around the man like ropes of iron. He couldn't scream—his mouth destroyed, his body convulsing violently, drowning in agony.
Rithvik casually sipped from his flask.
"Hmph. That's it? Just squirming and crying? Tch. Fucking boring."
He stepped into the barrier.
The Interstellar Beast paused, assessing him—but didn't flinch.
Rithvik lifted a hand. Flames burst to life, bright as a newborn sun.
"Hellfire."
The fire engulfed everything. The heat and light seared the area, visible to the boy, the mother, and the other outcasts watching from beyond the barrier.
The beast screamed.
The man? Silent. Too broken to cry, too battered to plead.
The boy screamed, tears streaking his face, but the mother—eyes blackened in shock—passed out, unable to comprehend the destruction.
All around, everything turned to ash.
No bodies remained. No bones. Only silence. Blackened, smothering silence.
At the center stood Rithvik, the monster who had burned it all.
The onlookers were horrified, shaken to their core. Yet none dared speak. They murmured empty consolations to the passed-out mother and grieving boy, words like "accept reality" falling hollow—utterly powerless to undo the atrocity they had witnessed.
Michael didn't blame them. Not really.
They were the type to keep their heads down, clutching scraps of dignity under the weight of power.
But in his world?
They were pig-shits dressed in rags.
Beside him, Lily was pale, still reeling from what she'd just witnessed.
Reality.
This was their people's reality.
And Michael didn't give a damn.
When his mother had been tortured and killed, no one came. No one helped. No one cared.
Time passed. Everyone minded their own business—it was routine. But not for that family. Michael didn't care what happened to them, yet he couldn't take his eyes off the boy who had lost his father, his only hope. Still, he moved on. They walked away together.
They walked until the streets opened into the base of the Tower—a squat iron-spined structure stabbing into the grey sky like a forgotten prison watchtower.
Inside, the air felt colder. Cleaner.
"Ele," Lily said.
A smooth synthetic voice responded,
"Yes. Voice recognition activated."
Panels slid open in the wall, revealing a retinal scanner and fingerprint pad.
"Please provide both retinal and fingerprint verification," Ele requested.
Lily leaned in for the scan, then pressed her fingers to the pad.
"Recognition successful."
The platform beneath them began to descend—deep into the underground.
Michael didn't react.because He'd seen this a thousand times.
But an outsider? They'd think they'd fallen into some underground shadow-society.
The doors opened. Noise swarmed them—shouts, bargaining, fights over scraps of stolen tech, weapons, and trinkets. Priceless above. Dirt-cheap below.
This was Michael's world.
In the slums, people glared at him like he was trash.
Here?
They cheered his name.
"Yo, Mike! Where've you been?"
"Don't sell to your boss only, man, we need your loot too!"
He ignored them.
He knew the truth—these same people waited for the day he fell. That's the nature of scavengers: clap for your rise, pray for your fall.
They reached their spot in the market—still chaotic, but recognizably theirs.
The first to greet him was Raju. Twelve years old. Mouth like a sewer.
"Fucking bastards—move! And you, shut your ass or get out!" he yelled at customers, then saw Michael. "Yo, Mike! Still alive, huh? Boss wants you. Pray he doesn't burn you again."
Michael snapped back, "Go drown, brat."
Raju turned toward Lily.
"Hey, fatass! What took you so lo—"
His mistake.
Seconds later, Raju's screams echoed as Lily went to work on him.
Michael stepped into the back room.
Victor sat at his desk, fingers resting on an old group photo—soldiers smiling like their world once made sense.
Michael recognized none of them.
Except Victor.
Victor didn't need to turn to know michael arrived. But when he did, his stare—cold, dissecting—locked onto Michael like a blade pressed to the throat.
Then the system appeared.
A dark window sliced into Michael's vision.
Mission: Defeat Victor
Reward: Black Essence + 20,000,000
Bonus: +50% Core Combat Status
Proceed? [Yes] / [No]
Michael froze.
Fight Victor? The man who could snap him in half like a twig?
The system pulsed—almost smiling.
Three more windows slammed into view:
[SYSTEM: Defeat "Victor"]
[SYSTEM: Defeat "Victor"]
[SYSTEM: Defeat "Victor"]
His skull throbbed like nails hammering inside.
No sane person would pick that fight.
He slapped NO.
Another window.
NO.
Again.
NO.
Click. Click. Click.
Victor's voice cut through.
"What.are you doing with your hand in theid air?"
Michael forced his fingers still.
"Nothing."
Victor wasn't convinced.
"Where did you go last night?"
Michael stayed silent.
"Pass," he muttered.
"No pass," Victor snapped. "Just answer."
Michael refused.
One word, and Victor would know everything.
Victor let it go with a tense exhale.
"Fine. I'll give you a job. Find Mint Vashir. He has information I need."
The system chimed:
[Side Mission: Locate "Mint" Vashir]
Reward: Valuable Information
Bonus: Relationship with Victor +52
Michael accepted.
The glowing line appeared—guiding him out of the room and into the streets.
He followed it through morning, noon, dusk.
Because he knew Mint Vashir.
A master con artist.
A Mind Chakra user.
A man who could bend thoughts, memory, reality.
Finally, the glowing trail stopped at a pristine apartment building. Too clean. Too quiet.
Then—
[SYSTEM: Someone is watching you]
Michael scanned the shadows.
"Show yourself, Vashir."
A laugh—light, irritating—answered.
"What brings the great Night Reaper here?"
Michael didn't waste time.
"Victor needs information."
Mint Vashir descended from above, landing noiselessly.
"Everything has a price," he said. "Mine is simple. Ten copper horns."
Before Michael could protest, a system window appeared:
Mission: Defeat 10 Copper Horn Boars
Reward: 100 BEU per kill
Bonus: Copper Horn Boar Meat
[YES] / [NO]
Michael clicked YES.
Vashir's eyes shifted—mechanical shutters rotating as Memory Snatch activated.
He froze. Eyes widening.
Then… smirk.
"Cool," he whispered. "Let's meet again."
The apartment dissolved.
Michael stood in an empty playground.
The red system trail stretched ahead.
The real game was about to begin.
And he knew he was walking into a mess he'd never walk out of clean.