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Chapter 8 - A Short Leader

Peter didn't wish to call the woman back. For all he knew, she might just be a scammer trying to squeeze a good sum out of him. Or worse, she may be part of a gang, working to locate people whom she could rob or terrorize, tracking their homes using a specialized computer or some other tech.

Either way, the young man wished not to get himself involved with such a person. Now that Peter could perform Necromancy, it would be more appropriate to refer to him as a Necromancer.

Deleting the number from his phone, the Necromancer wished to go about his day as usual. However, the moment he turned to walk away, his phone began ringing again.

'Fuck! What does this scammer woman intend to prove? That she's desperate?! Shit, if I answer the call, and she perhaps teaches down my location, God knows what she plans to do.'

Not wishing to attract unwanted attention to himself, Peter did the only thing he could in his current situation. Blocking the number, the Necromancer went ahead to find something to do to pass the remaining time he had left till 2:00 pm.

The kitchen cupboard looked quite disorganized, and having a keen eye for order and detail, Peter decided it would be best to place everything in its accurate place, after which he checked the time, and found out it was already nearing 2:00 pm.

'Finally. Time seems to crawl whenever I want it to spring, but moves like a cheetah whenever I want it to stay still. Oh well, I guess I just need to accept time is something I can't control. Now, where is that turkey?'

For today's lunch, it was the usual: chicken noodle soup. Peter was already running low on meat, meaning he would need to go shopping one of these days, something Peter dreaded for obvious reasons.

Still, thinking about the messages he had received not too long ago, Peter couldn't help but curse at the system as he waited for the noodles to be done over the gas burner.

'This system…' eventually, lunch was ready, and Peter fed his mother her fair share, just like he would every other day. Once he was done, he also cleaned up the kitchen and washed the plates.

Since today was a Saturday, Peter didn't have any work or online classes, allowing him the entire day to do as he wished. Once he was done with lunch, the Necromancer decided to make a little purchase.

Sitting n his study chair, Peter had his phone in hand, intending to purchase an internet subscription online. With tomorrow's online classes and the need for him to stay up-to-date on the latest news and his job to perform, the young Necromancer was well aware of his need for PN.

Going online, Peter navigated his way to an app named 'Sigh into RCN.' Clicking on it, the application began to load, before a white screen with a few icons appeared.

RCN was an abbreviation for Red Continent Network. Of course, being an officially recognized world region, it would have its network provider. The same could be said for the other continents scattered across the world.

Tapping an I on that said 'Purchase', a blank page suddenly appeared, providing information concerning the amount of PN he wished to purchase.

Typing in 1000, and pressing 'Enter', his purchase began to load, before completing, and saying 'Success.' Afterward, a message appeared in his inbox, stating his purchase had been successful.

Turning on his PN, a set of stairs, in the form of an icon, now had a capital 'H' above it. Very little had changed with regards to certain aspects of technology, and with communication being one of them, one could already imagine the ease in use of telecommunication devices.

Once the purchase and everything were complete, Peter decided to hop on Axx to check out any tasks he had yet to complete for the company he worked for. Although he knew he had none, with nothing else to do, the Necromancer just decided to scroll about the app.

_________

"Who the fuck does this bastard think he is?!!" A voice yelled, slamming the phone against the floor, shattering it to pieces. Shards of glass littered the floor, and an unfortunate individual had been stabbed on the toe with a piece, yelling in pain.

Turning around, the woman glared at the man who had screamed, and immediately afterward, he shut his mouth up. It was clear he was afraid of the woman, however, from a clear glance, the situation looked quite hilarious from the fact he had to tilt his head down to keep eye contact.

Cold sweat ran down the man's face as he carefully stepped away, allowing the woman to do her own thing. Besides, he had already done his job, and he was no longer needed in the meantime.

"I have never failed a scam. Never! Where does this guy get the guts to deny me like this?!" She yelled again, stomping on the floor like a little child.

The dimly lit room had very few windows, as well, it was fairly crowded, containing almost thirty men. Leaning back against a chair, the short woman tried to calm herself down, however, she failed miserably, and ended up picking up a knife laying on the right arm of the chair.

Examining the flat side, the woman's expression began to soften as she gently caressed its edge. The action seemed to soothe her rage, however, her actions were severely unsettling to the men in the room.

'Who is she gonna kill this time? Man, I hope she doesn't make eye contact with me.'

'Damn, she's crazy! It's only been a week and we've had to bury eight of our comrades!'

'Seriously?! I've only been here a little over a day and I've seen more blood than ever. For goodness' sake, I'm an ex-doctor!'

Everyone in the room had thoughts revolving around what the woman in the chair was thinking. Although they all respected her greatly, fear would be a far more suitable term to describe their relationship with their leader.

That's right: fear. Gangs had been an illegal organization in operation even before the event of the Great Awakening, or as some refer to it, the great Awakening Of Chaos. Fear was the single most effective tool a gang leader would use to gain his/her members' loyalty. Well, you can't call it loyalty at this point, right?

Nevertheless, fear was a highly effective tool implemented in gangs to yield the best results, which heavily depended on the absolute cooperation of its members.

As the gang leader kept on twirling the knife in her hands, her eyes met that of a fairly old man in the group. Her lips curved into a smirk, and her grip tightened against the knife's hilt. The middle-aged man closed his eyes as he let out a silent prayer, however, a scream broke his already fumbling concentration a moment later.

"Nathan Kirk!" She yelled.

Looking around, the man realized no one had been hit, however, considering the room was dim, and the gang members weren't exactly the very closely-knit type, the man may just not be able to see his fallen comrade.

"Stepping forward, the man remained cautious, his senses on high alert as he came to stand before his leader. Bowing down, the old man waited for what she had to say.

"I'm a little on the edge. Tell me, what have you and your group been able to do during this week?" She asked.

Heaving out a sigh, the man began explaining his activities so far to his leader. Being an assigned leader of a group of four men, it was only natural for him to relay his operations to his superior boss. The gang was divided this way to endure efficiency in carrying out its operations. Since there were thirty men, there were, as well, six sub-groups, each having its leader.

"And so, tomorrow, my men and I plan to" in the middle of his explanation, a gush of cold breeze blitzed past him, and the next second, a loud shriek was heard. Turning his head, the middle-aged man could see a young lad laying on the floor, his throat slit as he was slowly being immersed in a pool of his blood.

The other gang members had quickly gathered around their fallen gang member, some trying to see if they could still save him, however, the cut was too deep, and he had already lost a great deal of blood. He was dead, bringing the total number of gang members in the room down to twenty-nine.

"Continue," she said, paying no heed to her men not too far away from her. There were a few other knives on the armrest of the chair, and not wanting to leave the world so soon, the middle-aged man quickly picked up from where he left off.

'I wonder who that man is?' She thought, remembering the bastard who had blocked her number.