The Black Broker stared, his skin a mottled, frost-bitten blue. He watched Ethan Lyle drain the drugged tea to the dregs and casually wipe his mouth. Shock, raw and unadulterated, bled into the Broker’s eyes.
"How?" the Broker rasped. "Why the hell aren't you down? That dose was enough to drop a rhino."
Ethan flashed a sharp, predator’s grin. "You really want to know?"
The Broker nodded, his teeth chattering against his purple lips.
"Tell me first," Ethan countered, his voice dropping an octave. "Who else knows about my… unique regenerative capabilities?"
"Just me," the Broker managed, his breath hitching. "I saw you walk away that day after selling two kidneys and your corneas. You should have been a corpse. I figured I’d reclaim the 'merchandise' and harvest whatever was left. But then you didn’t die. You were blind and gutted, yet you moved through the Black Market like you owned it. I got curious. Ran a background check, found out you were an orphan, and set the trap to bring you here."
Ethan leaned in, his shadow looming over the freezing man. "Only you? You’re lying to me."
"I wanted it all for myself!" the Broker shrieked. "An organ that regenerates? That’s a goddamn gold mine. I didn’t tell a soul—not even my own men. They just thought we were snatching another piece of meat."
"Good to know," Ethan said.
"Now... tell me," the Broker wheezed. "How are you awake?"
"Do you want me to explain it to you?" Ethan asked, his hand tightening around the hilt of the Broker's own discarded blade. "Or should I tell the person watching through the lens?"
In one fluid motion, Ethan swung. The blade sheared through the Broker’s frozen left wrist. The arm, brittle as glass, shattered into a thousand icy shards as it hit the floor. A miniature black camera tumbled from the severed hand.
Ethan knelt, ignoring the Broker’s high-pitched wail, and crushed the device beneath his boot. Then, he ignited a Forbidden Incantation. Red-violet Karmic Flame roared to life, incinerating the remains of the camera until even the ash disappeared.
"Who’s behind you?" Ethan pressed the edge of the blade against the Broker’s throat.
"Just kill me," the Broker whispered, closing his eyes in resignation. "If I don't tell you, I’m the only one who dies. If I do... they'll go after my family."
"Fair enough."
Ethan didn’t hesitate. The blade whistled through the air. The Black Broker’s head bounced once and rolled away like a discarded melon, his face frozen in a look of stunned disbelief. He hadn't expected Ethan to be that cold.
Once the room was silent, Ethan turned the knife on himself. With clinical precision, he performed a gruesome self-laparotomy, slicing open his own abdomen to reach his stomach.
He pulled out a series of nested plastic bags. The drugged tea and food sat trapped inside the fifth layer, completely isolated from his digestive system.
He possessed an Undying Constitution, but he wasn't immune to toxins—they just couldn't kill him. He didn't feel like being unconscious for twelve hours in a den of vipers. He’d used plastic because it was high-polymer, acid-resistant, and, most importantly, dirt cheap.
Ethan shoved his organs back into place, watching as the wound knitted shut in seconds. He stood up, his gaze turning toward the door. For his secret to remain a secret, every soul in this farmhouse had to die.
He tapped into the void, chanting under his breath.
"Forbidden Incantation: Necrotic Seal."
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Forbidden Incantation: Necrotic Seal
Cost: 100 million brain cells per second.
Effect: Creates an inescapable barrier formed by Necrotic Entities. The seal cannot be broken until the caster dies.
Warning: Attacks on the barrier will accelerate the caster's brain cell death.
The ground groaned. Pale, Phantom-Flame Skeletal Warriors clawed their way out of the dirt, their hollow sockets burning with turquoise Soulfire. They were followed by the heavy tread of Dullahans, the skeletal wings of Osseous Drakes, and the chilling presence of Liches. A tide of death rose to swallow the farm.
Inside, the guards panicked. They were low-level Awakened, and they had never seen a catastrophe-grade summon before.
Ethan kicked the door open. He carried a blade in one hand and the Black Broker’s severed head in the other.
"What the—is that the Boss?"
Manager Wren, who had been waiting outside for orders, backed away in horror. He’d heard noise, but he hadn’t dared to interrupt. Now, the "merchandise" was walking out with his employer's head.
"Kill him! Get him now!" Wren screamed.
The guards charged. Ethan didn't even break his stride.
"Forbidden Incantation: Karmic Inferno."
A wave of violet fire erupted from Ethan, vaporizing the front line of guards before they could even scream.
"You... how are you awake?" Wren fell over his own feet, his face ashen. "I checked your pulse myself!"
"Luck of the draw," Ethan said, stepping over a charred corpse. "Now, a question for you. Who is pulling the strings?"
Wren’s throat worked convulsively, but he stayed silent.
"Nothing?" Ethan’s smile was jagged and cruel. He drove his blade into the chest of a wounded guard nearby. The man gasped, looking at Ethan with a look that asked 'Why me?' before the light left his eyes.
"You're a monster..." Wren whimpered.
"I’ve done worse to myself just to see if I could," Ethan remarked. He moved to the next wounded man. "Now, are we talking, or do I keep practicing my anatomy?"
"You can't touch him! You'll never survive him!" Wren barked, his courage failing as Ethan raised the blade again.
The knife descended. Another corpse hit the floor.
Ethan finally stood over Wren. "Whether I survive him isn't your concern. What is your concern is that you are about to die right now. Last chance."
The blade caught the moonlight. Wren broke.
"I’ll talk! I’ll talk! The Black Broker worked for the King of the Underground in Verdant City. It's Kensen!"
"Kensen?" Ethan narrowed his eyes. "That name sounds familiar."
"He... he was just named one of the City’s Ten Distinguished Philanthropists," Wren squeaked. "He was on the news last night."
Ethan stared at him, then let out a sharp, dry laugh. "Of course. A saint on the news, a butcher in the streets. Perfect."
But internally, Ethan felt a cold knot of dread. Kensen was a titan. If the Black Broker had managed to leak the secret of Ethan's regeneration, Kensen would realize he had a lead on an Undying Constitution. A man like Kensen wouldn't just kill him—he'd keep him in a basement and harvest him for eternity.
He needed power. If he were Level 0, he could wipe Kensen off the map with a single spell. But for now, he was a mouse hiding from a cat.
"I told you everything!" Wren pleaded, trembling. "Please, let me go."
Ethan looked down at him with cold, dead eyes. "Get out of here. My blade doesn't waste itself on cowards."
"Thank you! Thank you!" Wren scrambled to his feet, sprinting toward the exit.
"Wait."
Wren froze, his heart nearly stopping. "Y-yes?"
"You have cash on you? Give it here."
Wren frantically emptied his pockets, handing over several thousand in crumpled bills.
"Go on then," Ethan waved him off. "Why so scared? I said my blade doesn't kill cowards. I’m a man of my word."
Wren didn't wait. He bolted. He’d made it ten paces when a wall of violet heat slammed into his back.
Karmic Flame engulfed him instantly. Wren didn't even have time to scream before he was reduced to a pile of drifting soot.
"My blade doesn't kill cowards," Ethan muttered, watching the embers dance. "But my Incantations sure as hell do."
He raised his hand toward the farmhouse.
"Forbidden Incantation: Samsara Burn."
"Forbidden Incantation: Karmic Inferno."
Ethan’s face went white as the mana drain hit him like a physical blow. A beautiful, terrifying Samsara Lotus bloomed in his palm. When it opened, the entire farmhouse was swallowed by a sun-bright inferno.
He didn't care if there were innocents left inside. This was a matter of survival. The heat was so intense it turned bone to gas. No forensic evidence would survive this.
Ethan dissolved the Necrotic Seal and vanished into the night, leaving behind nothing but a scorched black scar on the earth.
Back at his apartment, Ethan splashed cold water on his face. His hands were shaking. He had killed before—monsters, beasts, shadows—but this was different. This was human blood.
And Kensen’s reach was long.
The Grand Trial was in three days. Once he entered the Trial, he’d be under the protection of the academy system, beyond Kensen’s grasp. But where could he hide for seventy-two hours?
A sharp knock at the door made him jump.
Is he here already?
Ethan didn't open the door. He slipped out the window, circling the building with a Forbidden Incantation primed in his hand. If it was Kensen’s hit squad, he’d take as many with him as he could.
He crept around the corner, only to see a familiar figure standing under the moonlight.
Kieran Ji.
Ethan exhaled, the killing intent fading. This idiot? What did he want?
Then it hit him. The perfect hiding spot.
He slipped back inside through the window and threw the door open.
"Boss! You're finally back!" Kieran beamed, oblivious to the fact that he had been seconds away from being vaporized. "I talked to my dad. I got the twenty million, but—"
"Forget the money for now," Ethan said, grabbing Kieran’s shoulder and pulling him toward the street. "You’re my brother now. Let's go to your place. You called me 'Boss,' so I’m going to personally oversee your 'protection' starting tonight."
Kieran blinked, a look of pure triumph crossing his face. Vance Corporation was one of the biggest conglomerates in Verdant City. Not even Kensen would be stupid enough to raid the Ji family estate.
"Really? You mean it?" Kieran asked, feeling like a genius. His father was right—Ethan was proud and poor. A little flattery and he’d secured a top-tier Awakened as a live-in bodyguard for free. "Awesome! Let's go, Boss!"
The two walked off, each thinking they had just fleeced the other.
As Kieran’s luxury car pulled away, a dark shadow shifted in the alleyway across the street, watching them go.
The Verdant Underground.
Kensen sat in a plush leather chair, a thick cigar clamped between his teeth. A stunning woman knelt before him, tending to his needs. With his slicked-back hair and grandfatherly smile, he looked like a harmless philanthropist.
He puffed on the cigar, his eyes losing focus as he stared at the ceiling for a long moment before refocusing.
"Where’s the Black Broker?" Kensen asked, his voice a smooth baritone. "How long does it take to snatch one high school kid?"
The woman stood up, wiping her mouth with a silk cloth. "We lost contact thirty minutes ago. Our scouts found the farmhouse. It’s a crater of ash. High-level Awakened activity. And the boy, Ethan Lyle? He was just picked up by Kieran Ji of the Vance Corporation."
"Vance Corporation?" Kensen’s brow furrowed. "They’re involved in this?"
Earlier that day, Hugo Shea—his head of organ trafficking—had reported a "miracle" in an orphan boy. Hugo had been vague, promising a full report once the boy was secured. Then Hugo vanished. Then the Broker vanished.
"What is this kid hiding that Vance Corp is willing to protect him?" Kensen leaned back, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Maybe I’ve stayed quiet too long. If Vance thinks they can snatch my prize, it’s time to remind this city who truly owns the night."