Chapter 20: The Level Up
Max sat on the hood of the Charger, watching the armory burn. The heat felt good against his skin, which had been growing steadily colder over the last few weeks.
Suddenly, the world dissolved. The fire turned into frozen jagged crystals of orange light. The smoke became solid grey statues.
The Entity walked out of the burning building, unburnt, his tuxedo crisp.
"A productive night," the Entity said, clapping slowly. "You have caused millions in damages. You have terrified the underworld. You have fed me well."
Max hopped off the hood. In this frozen time, he felt weightless.
"I feel stronger," Max said. "But it's not enough. Kaelen has resources I don't understand. Political connections. Judges."
"Yes," the Entity nodded. "You have proven your brawn. You have the strength of ten men. You have the speed of a cheetah. But a King does not just punch, Max. A King rules."
A holographic interface appeared in the air before Max. It was grander than before, pulsating with dark energy.
LEVEL UP ACHIEVED
Current Rank: Warlord (Tier 2)
Choose Your Reward:
Option A: Titan's Grip. Physical Strength doubled. Skin becomes resistant to small-caliber fire.
Option B: Shadow Step. Ability to teleport short distances (10 meters) within shadows.
Option C: Mastermind's Eye. Intellect enhanced. Ability to process complex data streams, predict market trends, and perceive strategic weaknesses in organizations.
Max looked at the options. His instinct screamed for Titan's Grip. He wanted to be bulletproof. He wanted to be unstoppable in a fight.
But he remembered the look in the cleaner's eyes. He remembered the blueprints. He remembered how Kaelen had manipulated the Iron Dogs for years without them knowing.
Brute force had kept Max alive. But intellect had kept Kaelen in power.
"If I want to kill a beast," Max murmured, "I need a spear. If I want to kill an empire, I need a mind."
Max reached out and touched Option C.
The energy surged into him. It wasn't the hot, electric rush of physical strength. It was a cold, liquid clarity. It felt like ice water being poured over his brain.
The headache was instant and blinding, then it vanished.
Max opened his eyes. The world rushed back into motion. The fire crackled. Graves was speaking to him.
"...boss? You okay? You spaced out for a second."
Max looked at Graves. He didn't just see a mercenary. He saw data.
Target: Graves. Loyalty: 85%. Motivation: Money/Respect. Weakness: Left knee injury, past trauma involving a failed operation in Sudan.
Max looked at the burning building. He saw the structural integrity failing. He calculated the exact moment the roof would collapse: 14 seconds.
He looked at the city skyline. He didn't see lights. He saw the flow of capital. He understood, intuitively, how the Vittorio Syndicate laundered their money through the construction firms building the new stadium. He saw the weak link in their supply chain—a shell company in the Cayman Islands.
Max smiled. It wasn't a predatory smile this time. It was the smile of a grandmaster looking at a chessboard and seeing mate in ten moves.
"I'm fine, Graves," Max said, tapping his temple. "Better than fine."
"What's the move?" Graves asked.
Max pulled out his phone. He dialed a number he had memorized from the stolen hard drive—the personal number of the City's Chief Prosecutor.
"We're done breaking bones for tonight," Max said. "Now, we break their bank accounts."
Max's eyes glowed with a fierce, intellectual intensity. The brute was gone. The Warlord had arrived.