Sweat dripped from Ochieng's brow as he stood in the middle of the dimly lit dojo, his knuckles bloodied from endless training.
Master Xu watched him with cold, unreadable eyes.
"You've improved," the Grandmaster admitted.
Ochieng exhaled, barely keeping his stance. Three days. No sleep, no rest, just relentless training.
But Master Xu wasn't done.
"Your final test begins now."
The doors of the dojo creaked open.
Six masked warriors stepped in, their weapons gleaming under the flickering lanterns.
Ochieng's breath slowed. His heartbeat steadied.
No hesitation.
No fear.
Then they attacked.
The first came in with a blade aimed for his throat. Ochieng sidestepped, his fingers twisting around the man's wrist, snapping it in one fluid motion.
A second fighter lunged—Ochieng ducked and slammed an elbow into his ribs. The man crumpled.
The third and fourth came together, but Ochieng was already moving, his body a blur of destruction.
One went down from a spinning kick. The other? A knee to the face sent him into the wall.
The last two hesitated.
Ochieng smirked.
"Your mistake."
He shot forward. A devastating blow to the chest sent one flying.
The last warrior dropped his weapon and backed away.
Ochieng stepped closer, his voice deadly calm.
"You should've fought to the end."
The warrior's eyes widened before darkness consumed him—a single, precise punch knocking him out.
Silence fell over the dojo.
Ochieng turned to Master Xu, breathing heavily.
The Grandmaster nodded.
"Now you are ready."
---
Crescent City had changed in the week Ochieng was gone.
Or maybe he had changed.
The streets buzzed with tension. Everyone whispered about the fire at Devil's Club. The Phantom Syndicate was moving.
And now?
The underworld was waiting to see if Ochieng was still alive.
He made sure they wouldn't have to wait long.
Stepping out of the shadows, he walked straight into The Raven's Den, a high-end bar where every crime lord, assassin, and dealer gathered.
The moment he entered, the whispers started.
He's alive?
I thought Tariq took him out.
No. Tariq's the one who's dead.
Ochieng didn't stop.
He moved to the center of the room, letting them all see.
The bartender swallowed hard. "W-What do you want?"
Ochieng smiled coldly.
"A drink. And a message sent."
He picked up a glass, pouring himself a drink.
"Tell the Phantom Syndicate…"
He downed the whiskey in one go, placing the glass down hard.
"…I'm coming."
---
Meanwhile…
In a dark penthouse overlooking the city, a man leaned back in his chair, watching security footage of Ochieng in The Raven's Den.
A slow smile stretched across his lips.
The Phantom King chuckled.
"So… he survived."
The White Widow stood by the window, her crimson dress glowing under the moonlight.
"I told you he would."
The Phantom King swirled his drink.
"Good. That makes this more fun."
His eyes darkened.
"Let's see how long he lasts."
---