The streets of Southside Chicago were quiet, but Shaquille Jordan felt the city's pulse like a living thing. Crimson eyes glowed faintly under the flickering streetlights. Every alley, every shadow screamed potential threats, and the system still whispered in the back of his mind: Hunt. Kill. Survive.
But tonight, the hunt was different.
System Notification
Quest Available: "Predator Test – Alpha Target"Objective: Defeat a high-level opponentReward: +7 Strength, +5 Instinct, Skill Upgrade – Blood Frenzy Lv.3
Shaquille's lips curled into a grim grin. He had survived alley punks, then a park predator. But this… this was different. His heartbeat raced with both anticipation and something he hadn't felt in years: fear.
The Alpha
The target awaited him in an abandoned warehouse near the river. Broad as a wall, covered in tattoos, and scars like a roadmap of his violent history. His eyes scanned Shaquille like a predator.
"You're Bloodjaw?" the man said. His voice was low, controlled. "I've heard stories. Let's see if you're real."
Shaquille didn't answer. His blood screamed at him to strike. He lunged.
Pickle-Style Brutality
The fight was chaos.
Shaquille moved like a feral beast, a predator unrestrained. Elbows smashed ribs, knees crushed knees, shoulders shattered collarbones. Every strike was jagged, wild, and designed to break. Pain didn't stop him—it honed him.
The man was strong, experienced. He countered, hitting Shaquille with bone-crunching force. Shaquille roared, using the pain to fuel his attacks, twisting his body in ways that seemed impossible for a human. His Bloodjaw instincts flared.
Blood Frenzy Lv.2 ActivatedPassive: +75% reaction speed under adrenalinePassive: Weak point detection enhancedActive: Blood Surge – damage +50% for 10 seconds
Shaquille's strikes became faster, more savage. The man staggered under relentless blows, his groans echoing through the warehouse. Shaquille smashed a shoulder into his ribs, then elbowed the jaw. Crack. Blood.
It was beautiful.
Aftermath
When the fight ended, the man lay unconscious, broken. Shaquille stood over him, chest heaving, crimson eyes glowing. For the first time, he felt… emptiness.
Not pride. Not victory.
He thought about all the alley punks, all the kids like him who got beaten, ignored, humiliated. He had become a monster. But he had survived. And he could protect others.
He looked around the warehouse and the streets beyond. The weak didn't stand a chance here. Not against gangs, not against predators, not against a city that didn't care.
Shaquille clenched his fists.
If I'm going to survive, I won't just fight for myself.I'll make sure no one else has to suffer like I did.
Seeds of a Gang
The system chimed faintly, irrelevant now. Shaquille didn't need the System to tell him what to do. He knew.
He would gather the weak. Train them. Make them strong. Teach them how to survive. And for those who couldn't fight yet… he would protect them.
A gang wasn't just power. It was family, it was revenge, it was survival.
And the first member was already in his mind: himself—the predator who had clawed his way out of weakness, crimson eyes burning with purpose.
The streets had awakened Shaquille Jordan. And soon, they would know the name of Bloodjaw.