Jack West stepped out of the motel into the cool night air, his mask snug over his face, his coat buttoned tight against the breeze. The pain in his chest had dulled into nothing more than a faint memory, erased by the regenerative wash of his last level up. The scar that had stretched across his ribs was gone entirely, leaving behind smooth skin as if Zane's claws had never touched him. But Jack didn't let that comfort sink in.Neon City was still waiting, and tonight, he had a new name on his list.
Luther Draque.
The very syllables felt dirty, like biting into a rotten fruit. A serial predator, an urban nightmare, whispered about in alleys and printed on wanted posters. Some called him untouchable, others claimed he wasn't even human anymore. Jack's new target wasn't some gang leader with knives dipped in poison. Luther was something else. Something worse.
Jack walked down the sidewalk, his boots clicking against cracked concrete. The crowds of the city moved past him: drunk workers, neon haired kids chasing thrills, tired women dragging themselves home. None of them had any idea who he was or what he carried. He tapped his wrist, and the sleek holo interface of his new smart watch lit up, a floating grid of information.
[ Skill: Warp Strike – Active ]
Jack had unlocked it after his last battle, though he hadn't dared test it. Now, finally, he studied its description.
Warp Strike: Channel scarlet aura into a focused line of destructive energy.
• Single-hand projection – 5 HP per use.
• Dual-hand projection – Amplified.Range 10 meters. Cost: 25 HP.
• Damage variable depending on target density/material.
Jack frowned. So it eats away at my health every time I use it. Perfect. The system gives me power, then makes me bleed to wield it. He closed the screen and adjusted his mask. He wasn't going to test it in the open street. Wasting HP for no reason was suicide. Tonight wasn't about testing; it was about hunting.
And his prey was already waiting.
The nightclub stood like a heart of fire in the middle of the Neon district, pulsing with bass that shook the pavement. A glowing sign arched above the doors, red letters burning through the night:
"The Red Fang."
Inside, it was everything Jack hated about Neon City. Sweat, smoke, perfume, the stink of greed and lust packed into one suffocating den. Strobes of violet and blue painted the crowd in flashes as dancers writhed against each other. Holo ads rippled across the walls: cheap drinks, illegal enhancers, gambling chips.
Jack pushed through the swarm, his mask making people step back, whispering, "Is that him? The one who caught Zane?" Some looked at him with awe, others with suspicion, but no one dared stop him.
He scanned the crowd. He'd memorized Luther Draque's face from the bounty file: sharp cheekbones, eyes that always seemed too dark, a cruel smile etched into his features. He was here. Jack could feel it.
Then he saw him.
Luther was leaning against the VIP balcony, surrounded by two women who looked more terrified than entertained. When Jack's gaze locked on him, Luther froze. Recognition flashed across his face. Then he moved.
He shoved the women aside and bolted through a back door.
Jack cursed and lunged after him, shoving through the crowd. "Move!" he barked, his voice cutting like steel. Drinks spilled, people screamed, chairs crashed, but Jack didn't care. He was faster. He had to be.
The door slammed in his face. He rammed his shoulder against it; it rattled but didn't budge.
"Damn it!" Jack hissed, stepping back. His strength wasn't enough.
He raised one hand, aura burning at his fingertips. A red shimmer hissed into life, crackling like molten glass.
Warp Strike.
The scarlet line shot forward, ripping across the door. Wood splintered. Hinges tore free. The door exploded inward in a shower of fragments. Jack's chest heaved as the aura flickered out. His watch flashed a warning—HP 120.
"Not cheap," Jack muttered, stepping through.
The hallway stank of mold and piss. Neon lights flickered weakly overhead. He heard footsteps pounding further ahead. Another door slammed.
Jack didn't hesitate. He planted both hands together, aura pooling like blood into his palms. The red light grew brighter, vibrating through the walls. Then he thrust forward.
The dual Warp Strike roared like thunder, carving a jagged scar of crimson light across the corridor. The second door exploded in a fiery burst, chunks scattering across the floor. Jack staggered back, sweat dripping beneath his mask. HP 95.
He forced himself upright and sprinted forward.
The next room opened into the back of the club: storage crates, broken chairs, a single cracked window letting in city glow. And there was Luther, darting for yet another exit.
"No you don't," Jack snarled.
He raised his hand, scarlet aura flickering alive again but froze. Dozens of innocent patrons were here, hiding, watching. The blast would cut straight through them.
He gritted his teeth and cut the aura off. Not here. Not with civilians.
"Coward!" Luther barked, slamming through the door.
Jack sprinted after him. They burst back into the main club. People screamed and scattered as the chase stormed across the dance floor. Luther vaulted over a table. Jack blink stepped, appearing on the other side, cutting the gap.
They crashed through the main doors and into the street. Neon light flooded over them. Jack finally had space.
He thrust both hands forward. A scarlet lance of aura shot from his palms, screaming through the air. It tore into Luther's side, slamming him sideways.He fired another smaller one with a single hand. Blood sprayed. HP 65.
Jack panted, lungs burning, his arms trembling from the strain. But Luther was still moving.
And then he revealed his hand.
Literally.
With a metallic click, his right arm unfolded, plates shifting, wires sparking. A cannon like structure extended from his palm, glowing with energy.
Jack barely had time to react.
The blast hit him like a meteor. White heat swallowed him whole.His body flew back, slamming into a parked hover car. The metal dented inward with a shriek.
HP 30.
Jack's vision blurred. He dropped to his knees, coughing blood. Pain screamed across his ribs. He wanted to cry. To collapse. To give up.
But he clenched his fists. Not like this. Not now.
He pushed himself upright, every breath a knife in his chest.
"I… don't go down… that easy," he rasped.
Luther laughed, metal arm sparking as it aimed again. "Then I'll make sure you stay down this time."
Sirens split the night. Red and blue lights flashed across the street. Police hovercars screeched to a halt, weapons raised.
"Both of you! Drop your weapons! Hands where we can see them!"
Jack froze. Luther smirked.
And then he fired at the ground.
The explosion shook the street, dust and smoke billowing in every direction. Screams echoed as glass shattered.
Jack coughed, trying to see, but by the time the dust cleared.Luther was gone.
"Freeze!" the police barked, weapons trained on Jack. "Mask off! Hands up!"
Jack's mind raced. His HP was bleeding out. He couldn't fight them. Couldn't explain. Couldn't be caught.
So he blink-stepped.
In the blink of an eye, he vanished from the street and reappeared on a rooftop above, crouched against a rusted vent. Below, chaos reigned. Officers shouted, people screamed, cameras flashed.
Jack stayed perfectly still, hidden in the shadows, his heart hammering.
When silence finally returned to the night, he whispered to himself:
"I can't do this blind. Not against him. I need more. More strength. More information. More everything."
The city stretched before him, endless and cold. Neon lights painted his mask in crimson glows. Somewhere out there, Luther Draque was waiting.
And next time, Jack swore, he wouldn't run.