The Black Sun Tavern sat at the edge of the city, its neon sign flickering like a dying star.
The kind of place where names didn't matter, where the smell of smoke, whiskey, and bad decisions lingered in the air.
As I stepped inside, the room fell into a heavy silence.
Eyes darted toward me—fear, recognition, and something deeper.
They knew who I was.
Or maybe, they just sensed what I had become.
I didn't stop.
I moved toward the back of the bar, where a lone figure sat, bathed in the dim red glow of an overhead light.
His back was to me, but I knew that posture. That aura of controlled violence.
A man who had walked through death itself and returned.
A man who should have stayed buried.
I pulled out a chair and sat across from him, resting my hands on the table.
"You're dead," I said, my voice calm, unreadable.
The man chuckled, taking a slow sip of his drink.
"That's what they told you?" he murmured. "You always believed too easily, Heavenly Demon."
I leaned forward slightly. "And yet, you're here. Why?"
He finally lifted his head.
Scarred face. Faded blue eyes.
A face I once trusted.
A face I once buried with my own hands.
"Hello, old friend," he said, smirking. "Did you miss me?"
His name was Victor Cain.
A man I once called brother.
A man I had killed.
"Why?" I asked again, voice steady, cold.
Victor swirled his drink, watching the liquid shift. "Because I wanted to see if you'd changed."
I exhaled slowly. "You came all this way for that?"
He smirked. "No."
Then, in a blur—he moved.
CRACK!
The table splintered between us as his fist shot toward my face.
I dodged, barely. His knuckles grazed my jaw as I slid back, flipping the chair over.
He was fast.
Faster than he was before he died.
I wiped the blood from my lip, smirking.
"So that's how it is, huh?"
Victor grinned, cracking his neck. "You always were slow to catch on."
We collided like two storms.
His fists shot toward my ribs—I blocked, countering with a sharp elbow to his throat.
He absorbed the hit, driving his knee into my stomach. Pain exploded in my gut.
I retaliated, twisting, delivering a brutal roundhouse kick to his side.
CRASH!
He slammed into the bar counter, bottles shattering around him.
But before I could press the advantage—
He snatched a broken glass shard and lunged.
I dodged left—the jagged edge sliced across my shoulder.
Blood seeped into my shirt.
I grinned. "Not bad."
Victor smirked. "I'm just getting started."
He charged again.
I ducked, spinning low—**sweeping his legs out from under him.
THUD!
He hit the ground, but before I could capitalize—he kicked straight up, catching my jaw.
I stumbled back. He sprang to his feet like a demon rising from the grave.
The tavern had emptied out, only the sound of our heavy breathing and broken glass remained.
He wiped the blood from his split lip.
"Come on, Samuel." He rolled his shoulders. "Show me what you really are."
I exhaled slowly.
Then—I stopped holding back.
The moment I moved, the fight was over.
I caught his next strike mid-air, twisting his arm with inhuman strength.
CRACK!
His wrist snapped.
He hissed in pain, but I didn't stop.
I slammed my forehead into his nose, breaking it instantly.
His body recoiled—I followed.
A fist to his ribs. A crack.
A palm to his throat. A choke.
A final, brutal kick to his chest.
THUD!
He collapsed onto the floor, coughing blood.
I stood over him, breath steady. Heart calm.
Victor groaned, rolling onto his side, laughing weakly.
"That's more like it," he coughed."The real you."
I crouched down, grabbing him by the collar.
"Tell me why you're really here."
His bloody grin widened.
"Because, my old friend…"
He coughed, smirking through the pain.
"Something worse than me is coming for you."
I narrowed my eyes. "Who?"
His smile faded.
And in the first time since our fight began, he looked afraid.
"The one who sent me back."
My grip tightened. "Give me a name."
Victor spat blood onto the floor, shaking his head.
"You'll find out soon enough."
I stared at him for a long moment.
Then, I stood up.
And without another word—I shot him.
BANG!
His body jerked, then stilled.
This time, I made sure he stayed dead.
---
[Quest Completed: A Ghost from the Past]
Rewards
- +10 Strength
- +8 Intelligence
- Hidden Clue Unlocked: "The One Who Sent Me Back."
---
I sighed, holstering my gun.
The dead don't just come back on their own.
And if Victor was right—
Then someone, somewhere… was pulling the strings.
And I was next on their list.
The night air was thick with tension as I walked into Abigail's villa.
Blood dripped steadily from my knuckles, splattering onto the pristine marble floor.
My black coat was torn, the lingering scent of gunpowder and sweat clinging to my skin.
I barely registered the pain—what consumed my mind was the impossible reality.
Victor Cain.
A man who should have stayed dead.
How the hell was he here?
I exhaled sharply, running a bloodstained hand through my hair, my mind racing through the implications.
Was it just him?
Or were there others from my past life walking in this world, waiting for their moment to strike?
"Samuel!"
I snapped out of my thoughts.
Abigail stood at the foot of the staircase, her eyes wide, locked onto the blood dripping from my hand.
Her expression was a mess of shock, concern, and something else I didn't care to name.
"What the hell happened to you?" she demanded, storming closer.
I sighed, unbothered, kicking off my shoes as I walked toward the guest room. "Nothing that concerns you, Ms. Bardot."
"Bullshit," she snapped, grabbing my arm. "You walk in here covered in blood, looking like you've just been through a war, and you expect me to just ignore it?!"
I met her furious gaze with a cold smirk.
"That's exactly what I expect."
She gritted her teeth, fingers tightening around my wrist. "Are you out there killing people, Samuel?"
I chuckled darkly, shaking her off with ease. "Would it bother you if I was?"
She stiffened. "Of course it would!"
I scoffed. "You didn't seem to care much when you spent three years trying to break me."
Abigail flinched, but recovered fast.
"That was different!" she shot back, her voice rising. "I wanted you to suffer—not turn into some damn criminal!"
I took a slow step closer, forcing her to tilt her chin up to meet my eyes.
"What I am now," I said smoothly, voice dripping with mockery, "is what you made me."
For a moment, she just stared at me, something conflicted flickering across her face.
Then—anger won.
"Don't put this on me, Samuel!" she snapped. "You were the one who left me first! You were the one who—"
"—who saved your goddamn company," I finished for her, my tone flat, emotionless.
Her breath hitched.
I stepped back, my patience running razor-thin.
"I don't have time for this," I muttered.
Abigail blocked my path. "You are not walking away from me again!"
I narrowed my eyes, voice laced with cold amusement.
"Or what?"
She was trembling now, fists clenched, but her eyes were burning with something raw.
"You're going to get yourself killed, Samuel," she whispered, her voice unsteady.
I chuckled, shaking my head.
"I already died once, Ms. Bardot."
I brushed past her, ignoring the way she stared after me, her breathing uneven.
Whatever the hell she wanted from me now didn't matter.
Victor had come back from the dead.
Which meant—someone was playing a game.
And I was going to find out who was pulling the strings.