The wreckage still smoked when the echoes of reality settled back into place.
Metal groaned. Glass tinkled across the asphalt. The sliced remains of the car slid apart with a sickening finality, collapsing into themselves like a body that had finally accepted death.
Silence followed.
Not the peaceful kind—but the kind that comes after witnessing something the mind refuses to understand.
Men stared.
Veterans who had survived ambushes, betrayals, wars fought in back alleys and boardrooms alike—stood frozen, eyes locked on Emre Aybeyli.
A man who had just outrun a car.
A man who had cut one in half.
With a sword.
Emre stood in front of the wreckage, katana still in hand. The blade shimmered faintly before dissolving back into nothing, re-forming as if it had never existed at all. He rolled his shoulder once, as though loosening a muscle after a warm-up.
"That," he said calmly, turning back toward the Lair, "was a message."
No one spoke.
Efsun's breath was shallow, her cheeks flushed, eyes wide—not with fear, but something dangerously close to awe. Efsane hadn't moved at all. Her fingers were clenched at her side, nails biting into her palm as she stared at Emre like she was reassessing everything she thought she knew about power.
Cengiz Saygın broke the silence first.
A low, rough laugh escaped him.
"So," he said, eyes sharp with interest, "this is how you hunt."
Emre met his gaze, unflinching. "No," he replied. "This is how I announce the hunt."
Inside his mind, the system stirred again—clear, cold, absolute.
Mission Update: Active
Objective: Eliminate opposing factions connected to the Yılmaz family
Primary Target: Esat Yılmaz
Status: Marked
Warning: Escalation inevitable
Emre turned back to the gathered families.
"From now on," he said, voice steady, carrying easily through the night air, "we do not wait. We do not negotiate. Anyone who moves against us is removed before they get the chance to breathe twice."
Some faces paled.
Others hardened.
A few—very few—smiled.
"This city," Emre continued, "has grown comfortable with shadows. With slow poison. With cowards who hide behind men like the ones you just saw die."
He gestured once toward the wreckage.
"That comfort ends tonight."
Efsane finally stepped forward. "And Esat Yılmaz?" she asked.
Emre's lips curved into something sharp.
"He's first."
Somewhere across the city, unaware that time itself had already brushed past him, Esat Yılmaz finished his drink and smiled at a report he thought put him ahead.
He was wrong.
Very wrong.
Because the hunt had begun—
and Emre Aybeyli was no longer waiting to be attacked.
Emre let the silence stretch after the words settled.
"I'm not reckless," he continued calmly, turning back toward the gathered families. "What you just saw wasn't rage. It was precision."
He reached into his coat, pulled out his phone, and glanced at it once—more habit than necessity.
"I'm going to devise the plan with my brother," he said. "The cunning one."
A faint, knowing smile touched his lips. "And tonight, we will strike them where they least expect us."
That single sentence changed the atmosphere.
This wasn't a hot-headed retaliation.
This wasn't chaos.
This was strategy.
Cengiz's eyes narrowed with approval. "So Emrah is involved."
"Always," Emre replied smoothly. "He just doesn't need to be seen."
Efsun swallowed, excitement and unease mixing in her expression. "Tonight…?" she asked.
Emre nodded once. "Before they have time to move assets. Before they warn allies. Before they convince themselves they're safe."
Inside his mind, the system responded instantly, as if it had been waiting for the words.
Strategic Alignment Confirmed
Future Vision Coordination: Optimal
Probability of Success: 94.6%
Efsane felt it then—that subtle shift she'd learned to recognize in men who were about to reshape the board. Not desperation. Not fear.
Intent.
She looked at Emre differently now. Not as Emrah's shadow. Not as a reckless twin.
But as a weapon pointed in a very specific direction.
"And where," Mehmet Ergün asked carefully, "do you think they least expect us?"
Emre's gaze lifted, dark and confident.
"In a place they believe is untouchable," he said.
"A place they think belongs to them."
He turned toward the exit, coat brushing against his side, already moving.
"Get your people ready," he added without looking back. "No noise. No celebrations. No leaks."
Then, almost casually:
"By morning, the Yılmaz family will understand one simple truth."
He paused at the door.
"There are predators in this city now."
The door opened.
"And they don't miss twice."
Behind him, the families stood in silence—some afraid, some thrilled, all of them aware of the same thing:
Tonight wasn't just an attack.
It was the beginning of a purge.
That same night.
The Lair was alive with quiet motion—men checking weapons, engines warming in the depths below, voices kept low. No cheers. No bravado. Only purpose.
Emre stood at the center of it all, coat draped over his shoulders, posture relaxed yet absolute. There was no need for discussion now.
The plan was already complete.
Because there had never been two minds debating it.
Only one.
He looked around the room once, letting every leader and lieutenant meet his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was calm, assured—final.
"I've spoken with my brother," Emre said. "The plan is set."
No one questioned how fast that had happened. No one dared ask for details yet.
"We move in phases," he continued. "Silent insertion. Asset isolation. Command removal."
Simple words. Deadly intent.
Cengiz nodded slowly. Mehmet and Esat exchanged brief looks. They could feel it—this wasn't a meeting anymore.
It was an execution timetable.
Emre adjusted his cuff, the faint metallic whisper of the Infinity Blade shifting against his back.
"Get everyone," he said. "No exceptions."
His gaze hardened.
"We're moving out."
For a heartbeat, the room was still.
Then everything moved at once.
Orders were relayed in hushed tones. Phones came out. Men disappeared into corridors and stairwells. The underground garage roared to life, one engine after another, like restrained beasts finally unleashed.
Efsane watched Emre from across the room, her pulse quickening. There was no hesitation in him. No doubt.
Only certainty.
As Emre turned toward the exit, the system spoke once more—quiet, satisfied.
Hunt Phase: Initiated
Primary Target: Yılmaz Family
Leader: Esat Yılmaz
Outcome Probability: Irreversible
Outside, the city slept—unaware that by dawn, one of its most powerful names would be spoken only in the past tense.
And somewhere in the darkness, Emre Aybeyli smiled.
The hunt had begun.
Meanwhile, miles away and fatally misinformed, Esat Yılmaz was making his move.
In a dimly lit office above one of his fronts, Esat leaned over a table scattered with maps and phone screens. His jaw was tight, his confidence loud and careless.
"Tonight," he said, stabbing a finger toward the Aybeyli estate on the map. "We cut the head."
Orders went out fast—too fast. Cars were mobilized, weapons distributed, men reassured with empty promises of victory. Esat didn't hesitate. He didn't question. And most importantly—
He didn't think.
What Esat Yılmaz never considered was this simple truth:
Emre Aybeyli always calculated every outcome.
Hours earlier—long before Esat had even finalized his plan—Emre had already moved the pieces.
The Aybeyli mansion stood illuminated and quiet, just as it always had. From the outside, it looked vulnerable. Predictable. Exposed.
But it was a lie.
Hidden among the estate grounds and surrounding properties were elite guards, handpicked and strategically placed. Overlapping fields of fire. Silent communication channels. Escape routes. Kill zones.
And inside the mansion?
No women.
No children.
No elders.
Because they were already gone.
Without a single ally realizing how—or when—Emre had done it, every family member of the Aybeyli, Saygın, Haznedar, and Ergün households had been moved into his ever‑expanding Domain.
A place beyond walls.
Beyond maps.
Beyond reach.
Doors had opened. Steps had been taken. And just like that, they had vanished from the city without a trace.
Safe.
Hidden.
Untouchable.
Back in his office, Esat poured himself a drink, unaware that he had just committed his final mistake.
He had sent all his men to attack a fortress prepared for war—
And left himself completely exposed.
As Emre moved through the city, watching timelines collapse into one inevitable conclusion, the system spoke softly in his mind, almost approvingly.
Prediction Accuracy: Absolute
Enemy Tactical Error: Critical
Checkmate Condition: Achieved
Emre didn't smile.
He didn't need to.
Because by the time Esat Yılmaz realized what he had done—
There would be no one left to warn him.
Emre's car slowed as the Yılmaz mansion came into view, dark and silent under the night sky. He tightened his grip on the Infinity Blade, the faint hum of the Gun at his side a quiet warning.
And then, with a calm almost terrifying in its certainty, he whispered to himself—and to the system:
"Let the hunt begin."