Night in Raven City did not end with silence.
It ended with transactions.
Whispers moved through the Lower District like rats through walls—information traded for cigarettes, for pills, for safety that never truly existed. Somewhere, a woman screamed and then stopped. Somewhere else, laughter burst from an illegal card den, sharp and nervous.
Ethan Black walked through it all.
Barefoot.
Rainwater soaked into the hem of his pants as he stepped off the curb and into Raven Fang territory. The cracked concrete beneath his feet felt solid—real. Every sensation reached him clearly now: the cold air, the distant stench of oil and rot, the faint metallic scent of blood lingering from earlier.
Behind him, Aaron followed at a distance of three steps.
Not because Ethan ordered it.
Because that was the optimal position.
Neither of them spoke.
Ethan did not need encouragement. Aaron did not need instruction.
This was not companionship.
This was alignment.
As they crossed the invisible boundary into Raven Fang's street, Ethan felt it.
A tightening behind his eyes.
A subtle pull in his chest.
Detect Hostile Intent.
Red threads flickered faintly in his vision—three sources ahead, clustered near the alley mouth where a flickering lamp buzzed weakly. The same place.
The same men.
Emotion rose then.
Not anger.
Memory.
Boots against ribs. Laughter. The casual way they had decided whether he lived or died.
Ethan's steps did not slow.
"Master," Aaron said quietly, "permission to eliminate."
Ethan raised a hand.
"No."
Aaron stopped instantly.
Ethan exhaled slowly, watching his breath turn white.
"Fear spreads better when it's witnessed," he said. "And I need a foundation."
Aaron inclined his head. "Understood."
They reached the alley.
The three gang members were there, exactly where Ethan expected. One leaned against the wall, lighting a cigarette. Another counted cash with greasy fingers. The third watched the street lazily, bat in hand.
Then—
Their eyes landed on Ethan.
Recognition struck like a spark.
"Hey," one of them said, squinting. "Isn't that—"
Ethan stopped two meters away.
Rain dripped from his hair. His posture was straight. Calm.
The man with the bat laughed. "You've got balls, trash. Coming back here."
Ethan tilted his head slightly.
"Do you know," he asked softly, "why people fear darkness?"
The men exchanged glances.
"What the hell are you talking about?" the leader scoffed.
Ethan continued, voice steady.
"It's not because they can't see," he said. "It's because they don't know who is watching."
The man with the cigarette stepped forward. "You're dead—"
He never finished the sentence.
Aaron moved.
It was not flashy.
It was efficient.
One step. A twist of the wrist. A sharp crack echoed as the cigarette man's throat collapsed inward. His body dropped without ceremony, splashing into a shallow puddle.
The other two froze.
Their hostile intent flared violently—bright red, chaotic.
Ethan stepped forward.
The bat swung.
Ethan ducked—not fast, but precise. The bat passed inches above his head. Before the man could recover, Ethan drove his elbow into the attacker's solar plexus.
He felt it.
The give of flesh.
The rush of air leaving lungs.
The man folded with a wet gasp.
Ethan grabbed his hair and slammed his face into the brick wall.
Once.
Twice.
Blood smeared the surface.
The third man turned to run.
He made it three steps.
Aaron's hand closed around his shoulder.
The scream cut short as Aaron lifted him effortlessly and threw him against the ground.
Ethan walked over.
He crouched.
The man's eyes were wide, pupils shaking. Rain mixed with tears.
"Please—please—I won't—"
Ethan met his gaze.
Cold.
Focused.
"You belong to Raven Fang," Ethan said. "You profit from this street."
The man nodded frantically.
"Then understand this," Ethan continued. "You are the foundation."
He stood.
Aaron understood.
The sound that followed was not loud.
But it was final.
The alley fell silent again.
A notification appeared before Ethan's eyes.
Fear Points +30Fear Points +25Fear Points +45
Total Fear Points: 200
Ethan did not smile.
He looked at the bodies.
At the blood washing into the drain.
At the street beyond the alley, where lights flickered and life continued, ignorant.
"This is not enough," he said quietly.
Aaron waited.
"Raven Fang controls this street," Ethan continued. "Which means they have a chain. Leaders. A hierarchy."
"Yes," Aaron replied. "Their nearest base is two blocks east. A converted warehouse."
Ethan closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them, the decision was made.
"Let's collect interest."
The warehouse smelled of sweat, oil, and cheap alcohol.
Music blared from inside—heavy bass, distorted enough to rattle the windows. Guards lounged by the entrance, laughing loudly, weapons slung carelessly.
They did not see Ethan and Aaron approach until it was too late.
Fear arrived before death.
Aaron disarmed one guard in a blink, twisting the man's arm until bone shattered. The scream barely rose before Aaron's elbow crushed his jaw.
Ethan moved past them.
Inside, chaos reigned.
Cards slapped tables. Money exchanged hands. A woman laughed too loudly in the corner, perched on someone's lap.
Then—
The music cut.
Not by power.
By presence.
Ethan stepped into the center of the room.
Every head turned.
Detect Hostile Intent flared violently—dozens of red threads converging, some sharp with killing intent, others trembling with uncertainty.
The gang leader rose slowly from his seat.
He was large. Scarred. Confident.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
Ethan met his gaze.
"I'm your replacement."
Laughter erupted.
Then Aaron moved.
What followed was not a fight.
It was a lesson.
Ethan did not involve himself much. He observed. He memorized faces. Reactions. Who froze. Who fought back. Who begged.
He learned who could be useful.
And who could not.
When it was over, bodies littered the floor. Some unconscious. Some broken.
The leader lay pinned to the ground, Aaron's knee on his chest.
Ethan crouched in front of him.
The man spat blood. "You think… you win? You're nothing. Another nobody."
Ethan nodded.
"You're right," he said calmly. "I am nothing."
He leaned closer.
"And nothing is terrifying… because it can become anything."
He stood.
"Burn the insignia," Ethan said. "Leave the survivors."
Aaron hesitated only a fraction of a second. "And the leader?"
Ethan looked back.
The man was shaking now.
"Fear spreads better when it's witnessed," Ethan repeated.
Aaron released him.
The leader crawled away, sobbing, broken—not physically, but completely.
A final notification appeared.
Fear Points +300Influence Points +10
Power Rank Progress: Beggar → Street Boss (Incomplete)
Ethan felt it then.
A shift.
Subtle.
The street outside no longer felt hostile.
It felt… empty.
Waiting.
Ethan stepped back into the rain.
The night seemed quieter now.
Behind him, Raven Fang's banner burned.
Ethan Black walked on.