Jack Storm disappeared on purpose.
No skyline silhouettes.
No collapsing streets.
No crater at the center of the world.
Just distance.
He chose a place where nothing mattered—no cities, no cameras, no crowds to fear him. A mountain range far from shipping lanes and satellites, where wind erased footprints and the earth didn't scream when it broke.
A place where no one would thank him.
Or look at him like a loaded weapon.
Jack stood on a cliff overlooking endless rock and cloud, coat torn and hanging loose, red eyes dim beneath the hood. The Nether Core pulsed steadily in his chest, strong, controlled, patient.
Too patient.
"…This is better," he muttered.
No screams.
No fear.
No choices.
But the world did not forget him.
THE BOUNTY THAT ISN'T PUBLIC
The order never went through official channels.
No signatures.
No public authorization.
No announcement.
It existed as a directive whispered into secure rooms and encrypted briefings.
INTERNAL THREAT PRIORITY: Jack Storm
STATUS: Uncontainable
RECOMMENDATION: Neutralization if opportunity presents
CLEARANCE: BLACK
Crowe stared at the file in silence.
"They're putting a bounty on him," he said quietly.
A woman across the table hesitated. "Not a bounty. A contingency."
Crowe looked up sharply. "You don't write contingency protocols with kill parameters unless you intend to use them."
Silence.
"He saved a city," Crowe said.
"And destroyed part of it," another voice replied.
Crowe leaned back slowly.
"…You're afraid of him."
No one denied it.
JACK FEELS IT
Jack felt the shift three days later.
Not a pull.
Not an attack.
Attention.
The land itself felt watched—satellites adjusting, signals brushing past the edge of his perception. Not demons. Not Hell.
Humans.
Tracking.
Measuring.
Planning.
Jack exhaled slowly.
"So that's how it is."
He could leave Earth entirely if he wanted.
The thought came unbidden.
And stayed.
That scared him more than the bounty.
THE C-RANKS ARRIVE
The first presence crossed into the mountains at dusk.
Then another.
Then more.
Jack stood up from the rock he'd been sitting on, eyes glowing faintly red as the Nether Core reacted.
"…C-ranks," he murmured.
Five of them.
Organized.
Disciplined.
Moving with purpose rather than hunger.
This wasn't coincidence.
This was a test.
Jack didn't run.
He walked forward to meet them.
THE PACK
They emerged from the mist one by one.
Twisted but controlled—C-rank demons wearing reinforced forms, their bodies etched with crude symbols, weapons grown rather than forged. One carried a massive cleaver-like limb. Another moved on all fours, spine arched unnaturally.
At their center stood the leader.
Tall. Lean. Almost humanoid.
"You are Jack Storm," it said calmly.
Jack stopped ten meters away.
"That's what they call me."
The demon tilted its head. "You are isolated."
Jack smiled faintly. "You noticed."
The leader raised one hand.
The attack came instantly.
NO CROWD, NO MERCY
Jack didn't hold back.
There was no city to protect.
No civilians to terrify.
No one to see him.
The first demon lunged.
Jack stepped aside and collapsed gravity around its skull.
The head imploded.
The body fell.
The second and third attacked together—one from above, one from below. Jack didn't turn. Force rippled outward from his core, snapping limbs, pulverizing bone, slamming both demons into the mountainside hard enough to crater stone.
Purple-black flame followed.
Erased.
The fourth demon hesitated.
That was its mistake.
Jack appeared in front of it, hand already closing.
Soul Authority seized the demon mid-thought, freezing it in place.
Jack stared into its eyes.
"Who sent you?"
The demon laughed weakly. "Everyone."
Jack crushed it.
Gone.
Only the leader remained.
THE LEADER SPEAKS
The C-rank leader didn't flee.
It lowered its weapon slowly.
"You are changing," it said. "Hell watches."
Jack tilted his head. "So does the world."
The demon nodded. "They fear what they cannot chain."
Jack's eyes burned brighter.
"Good."
The demon smiled.
"That is why they will try to kill you."
Jack stepped forward.
"And you?"
The demon spread its arms slightly. "We were sent to measure."
Jack clenched his fist.
The mountain shook.
"You have your answer."
The demon bowed its head.
Then Jack erased it from existence.
Silence returned.
AFTERMATH — ALONE
Jack stood among the remains—broken stone, scorched air, nothing living left behind.
No rush.
No satisfaction.
Just… clarity.
"They're not wrong," he said quietly to the wind. "I am a threat."
The Nether Core pulsed once in agreement.
Jack turned away from the battlefield and walked deeper into the mountains, vanishing into cloud and snow.
If the world wanted him gone—
It would have to come find him.
CROWE'S DILEMMA
Crowe received the report an hour later.
Five C-ranks.
No survivors.
No struggle.
He closed his eyes.
"They're escalating," he said.
An aide nodded. "Do we authorize the next phase?"
Crowe hesitated.
"…Not yet," he said. "If we push him now, we lose him completely."
He looked at the mountains on the screen.
"And if we lose him… we lose the war."
THE WORLD HOLDS ITS BREATH
Jack Storm became a ghost.
No sightings.
No rescues.
No warnings.
Just rumors.
Some said he'd gone mad.
Others said he was planning something worse.
And deep below, Hell updated its ledgers again.
Status: Isolated.
Risk: Escalating.
Jack stood alone on a mountain ridge as snow began to fall, red eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
No city needed him tonight.
No one called his name.
And for the first time, Jack wondered—
If the world was already preparing to kill him…
How long before he stopped caring whether it survived him?