The streets of Emerald City were restless.
The underworld had felt the shift.
Whispers of the Phantom King's return spread like wildfire.
Everyone knew it meant one thing.
Blood.
And at the center of it all—Ochieng.
The man who had once walked away from the darkness…
Now being dragged back in.
---
Ochieng stood in his penthouse, staring at the dagger left behind in the warehouse.
The note attached to it still fresh in his mind.
"Checkmate. Try again."
Black Fang entered the room, tossing his phone on the table.
"You need to see this."
Ochieng picked up the phone.
A live broadcast.
A man in a dark room, bound and gagged.
Behind him—a masked figure.
The Phantom King's voice came through the speakers.
"Good evening, Emerald City."
His tone was calm. Almost bored.
"It seems my dear friend Ochieng has forgotten the rules of the game. So let me remind him… You don't get to walk away."
The masked figure pulled out a gun—
And shot the hostage.
Blood splattered the screen.
Ochieng's grip tightened.
The feed cut to black.
Then—
A final message appeared on the screen.
"Midnight. The Devil's Club. One way in. No way out."
--
The Devil's Club wasn't a place for the weak.
It was where the worst of the worst gathered.
Mafia lords. Assassins. Mercenaries.
And tonight, Ochieng was walking straight into the lion's den.
Black Fang parked the car a few blocks away.
"This is suicide," he muttered.
Ochieng smirked. "No. It's a message."
He stepped out of the car.
The streets were watching.
He walked alone—unarmed, as instructed.
But Ochieng didn't need weapons.
He was the weapon.
--
Inside, the club was filled with smoke and tension.
At the center of the room—a single table.
And at the head of the table, waiting with a glass of wine—
The Phantom King.
"You're late," he said, smirking.
Ochieng sat down. "You talk too much."
The Phantom King chuckled. "Still the same as ever."
He leaned forward.
"But let's cut to the chase. This city isn't big enough for both of us."
Ochieng's eyes didn't waver. "Then leave."
Silence.
Then—the Phantom King laughed.
A low, dangerous sound.
"You always did have a sense of humor," he said.
Then, he snapped his fingers.
And the club doors locked.
Every exit. Sealed.
Ochieng glanced around. No escape.
Then, the Phantom King pulled out a gun—and slid it across the table.
One bullet.
A twisted smile played on his lips.
"Let's make this interesting," he said.
"One shot. Winner takes the city."
---