Void's fingers drummed slowly on the glass as he looked down at the pulse of the city below him. The streets were alive, filled with the restless energy of people rushing through their lives, oblivious to the shadowy dealings that determined the city's fate.
His lips curved into a small, cold smile. The word was already out: anyone caught trading Krystals was to be brought directly to him. He had eyes and ears in every corner of the underworld. The Red Serpents were more than a gang; they were an empire of information, power, and blood. They reached into every business, every district, ensuring that nothing significant happened in the city without Void's knowledge—or approval.
Now, a new player had appeared. Someone capable enough to take down his enforcers without powers, using nothing but skill and raw brutality. Void respected that, in a way. It was rare to find someone in this city willing to face superhumans with nothing but bare hands and steel nerves.
He turned back to the twins, who were still standing in silence, nursing their wounds. Their bruised faces were tense, perhaps fearing his judgment.
"I want you to find him," Void said softly, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. "Bring him to me alive. I don't care what you have to do to subdue him. Just make sure he can still talk when he arrives."
The twins exchanged a look, their eyes hardening with renewed resolve. They nodded, understanding the implications. Void was a man who rarely gave second chances. Their failure had been noted, and if they didn't correct it, they knew there would be consequences.
The door closed behind them, and Void remained standing, contemplating the strange new force that had entered his city. Whoever this mystery man was, he had potential. Perhaps even enough to be useful—once he was broken.
---
Meanwhile, back at Kaelen's dimly lit apartment, the atmosphere was thick with tension as he sat at the edge of his bed, deep in thought. The Krystals he had obtained were carefully hidden, wrapped in a cloth and stashed beneath the floorboards. But he knew that selling them wouldn't be simple. This city, as chaotic as it seemed, was a web of connections and control, each thread leading back to someone powerful. And apparently, that someone was a person named "Void."
He'd overheard whispers of the name from people on the street, shady figures passing by as he moved through the back alleys. Void's reputation was practically mythical; stories spoke of him as a ghost, someone who never showed his face but had absolute control over the city's black markets. If Void wanted something, he got it, and if anyone dared oppose him… well, those stories usually didn't have a happy ending.
Kaelen knew he had to tread carefully. He couldn't sell the Krystals openly—not without alerting Void's network. And as for going through one of the official registries… that came with its own risks. He'd need an identity first, a credible background, something to make him seem like just another face in the crowd.
That meant heading to the City Council, the one place where he could obtain an identity that would hold up against scrutiny. But even getting registered came with risks; anyone looking for him could potentially track him through those official channels.
As he mulled over his next steps, the Voice broke through his thoughts.
"You're being watched, Kaelen. This Void won't rest until he has his hands on you. The twins are just the beginning. If you don't act fast, you'll have half the city's underworld hunting you down like an animal."
Kaelen clenched his fists, feeling a renewed sense of urgency. "Then I need to disappear—blend in."
The Voice chuckled darkly. "Or... go deeper. Let them think you're just a small-time player. Register, get a name, and stay low. If you're smart about it, you can avoid drawing too much attention until you're ready."
Kaelen took a deep breath, nodding. He'd been through worse. This was just another game of survival. He would play by the city's rules for now, slip through its cracks, and find a way to gather more resources.
---
The next day, Kaelen found himself standing outside the sprawling City Council building. It was a monolithic structure, its steel-and-glass façade looming over the busy square like a sentinel. People moved in and out with purpose, a steady flow of humanity oblivious to the secrets held within the city's cold, bureaucratic heart.
His attire was plain, just enough to blend in with the locals—dark jeans, a worn hoodie that obscured his face, and a pair of black gloves to hide the scars on his hands. Every movement he made was calculated, measured, the echoes of his training embedding themselves in his actions.
As he approached the building, he allowed his gaze to flick around, noting security cameras, the guards by the entrance, and any potential exits. His mind was an active blueprint of the surroundings, mapping escape routes in case things went sideways.
Inside, the Council building was sterile and stark, the smell of cleaning chemicals mingling with the quiet hum of fluorescent lights. He approached the registration desk, manned by a tired-looking clerk whose attention barely lifted from the screen in front of her.
"Name?" she asked, her voice devoid of interest.
"Jonas Miller," Kaelen replied without hesitation, slipping into the alias he'd planned out in advance. It was a common enough name, one that wouldn't raise any eyebrows.
She didn't look up as she typed. "Address?"
He recited a random location he'd scouted near the industrial district, knowing it was far enough from his actual residence to keep him safe. The rest of the questions were routine: age, occupation, family background—all answered with carefully crafted lies, a fictional life pieced together for his own survival.
Finally, she handed him a form, stamped and official, marking his presence in the city's system. With this identity, he would have access to public services, a way to move without suspicion. And most importantly, he could build a trail that didn't lead back to Kaelen.
As he left the desk, the Voice stirred again, a low murmur at the back of his mind.
"Smart move. But remember, this only buys you time. Void will still come."
Kaelen's lips pressed into a thin line. "Let him. I'll be ready."
---
Later, Kaelen returned to his apartment, the day's work done. He sat down on the floor, back against the wall, and unwrapped the Krystals he'd obtained. Their strange, ethereal glow filled the dim room with an eerie light, casting shadows across his scarred hands. Each shard was unique, faintly humming with a power he didn't yet fully understand.
He needed to sell them, but approaching another Krystal broker was a risk. The last transaction had nearly gotten him killed. And with Void tightening his grip on the trade, any broker in the city could be working under his thumb.
For now, he focused on his other priorities. He needed money, connections, a way to gather resources. He couldn't go around selling Krystals without someone noticing. But perhaps he could get closer to the gangs—blend into the underworld itself. That would give him access to Krystal dealers without raising suspicion. And he might learn more about this "Void" character in the process.
But first, Kaelen needed to clear his mind. He stood, stretching out the soreness from his muscles. Training had always been his sanctuary—a place where his mind could go silent, where everything faded into the rhythm of movement.
He dropped down to the floor, his body moving into a familiar routine. Push-ups, sit-ups, shadowboxing, each motion bringing a sense of control, a calm that washed away the tension of the day. Scars crisscrossed his body, memories etched into his skin from years of brutal conditioning, reminding him of what he had survived.
As he moved through his exercises, a memory flashed in his mind—a mission, back in Egypt. He'd been young, barely sixteen. A village in the dead of night. His orders had been clear: Mass slaughtering. He'd moved through the shadows like a ghost, his hands bloody before he'd even realized what he was doing.
Kaelen's fists clenched, his rhythm breaking as he recalled the horror in the villagers' eyes, the smell of blood thick in the air. He forced the memory down, his body tensing, pushing himself harder, faster.
He would survive this, just as he had survived everything else.
---
Far across the city, Void sat in his office, studying the latest reports from his informants. A shadowy figure had been selling Krystals under the radar, slipping through the cracks of his empire. It was only a matter of time before Void found him.
And when he did, he would make sure this stranger understood the cost of defiance.