Liam frowned in confusion.
The Chairman reached up, grabbed a handful of his sleek black hair, and violently ripped it off his head, tossing the wig carelessly onto the marble floor. Beneath it was a cropped mane of stark, snow-white hair.
"I am a former high-ranking commander of US Military Special Operations. I was the architect who trained those soldiers in this exact style. The name is Nemesis," the Chairman declared.
It can't be... Nemesis? The legendary ghost operative? What is a man like him doing running a branch?
Before Liam could finish the thought, his body exploded into motion. He launched a lightning-fast fist straight toward Nemesis's mouth. Nemesis snapped his head to the right to evade the knuckles, but Liam had already anticipated the dodge. Pivoting hard on his heel, Liam whipped his left leg around in a vicious high kick, catching Nemesis squarely in the temple.
The devastating impact launched Nemesis sideways, sending him crashing clean through the heavy oak doors of his own office. The wood splintered into a thousand pieces as he hit the floor inside.
"Why did a legend like you abandon the military?" Liam demanded, stepping through the ruined doorway into the smoke and dust.
Nemesis pushed himself up from the wreckage. Wiping a smear of blood from his lip, a wild, twisted smile spread across his face.
"I got bored," Nemesis hissed, his eyes gleaming with malice. "And I am not just the chairman of this branch, kid. I am the Number Two of the entire Loop organization."
He lunged from the floor like a coiled spring, his fingers extended like talons, barely an inch away from Liam's throat.
So fast... I couldn't see it. Liam thought.
Meanwhile, outside the abandoned hotel...
A heavily armed squad of men converged on the shattered glass entrance of the lobby, weapons drawn.
"Is this the spot?" one of the mercenaries muttered, checking his tactical display.
"Yeah. Boss confirmed that a few military intruders are currently raiding Loop's Fourth Branch. This is our golden opportunity to strike them while they're distracted," another replied.
"Enough running your mouths. Let's breach," a man named Vic commanded, stepping toward the threshold.
"Who are you people?" a cold, detached voice called out from the darkness behind them.
The entire squad spun around, raising their weapons. Out of the shadows of the alleyway, Ethan walked toward them. His movements were slow, silent, and predatory—like an apex predator tracking its prey.
Vic lowered his rifle slightly, a mocking smirk crossing his face as he took in Ethan's appearance. "Oh, look, the military actually sent a kid to do their dirty work. Is the army running a daycare now? Even if they were, they wouldn't send a teenager on a suicide mission like this. Besides..."
"You talk too much," Ethan cut him off, his voice completely devoid of emotion. "Now tell me who you are."
Vic's smirk vanished, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Listen carefully, kid. Watch what comes out of your mouth. A wrong word out here is an incredibly easy way to end up dead."
Ethan didn't even blink. His calm remained absolute, an icy weight settling over the alley.
Vic clicked his tongue, raising his weapon squarely at Ethan's chest. "We are the Shadow Syndicate."
The Shadow Syndicate? One of the Three Pillars. Ethan thought.
"What are you people doing here?" Ethan asked, his voice deadly calm. "Haven't you caused enough havoc already?"
Vic laughed, a harsh, arrogant sound. "And what can you do about it? Your entire Military is currently in utter chaos."
Ethan remained unfazed, but the piece of information clicked into place. Is he talking about the American Military? That would explain exactly what happened back at the summit.
A cold smile played on Ethan's lips.
Seeing the smile, three mercenaries lunged at him simultaneously. In the blink of an eye, Ethan launched himself upward, rotating flawlessly in mid-air. He delivered a succession of devastating, bone-shattering kicks directly to their faces, slamming them violently into the asphalt before they could even register his movement.
Vic's jaw dropped in surprise. Before he could call out an order, Ethan lunged straight at him. A massive mercenary stepped in front of Vic to act as a human shield, but Ethan didn't slow down. He drove a brutal punch straight into the guard's face, forcing the man's head to collide violently into Vic's nose. The sheer momentum carried both men backward, slamming them hard into the concrete wall.
"Forgive me, but I am in a hurry," Ethan muttered, stepping over the groaning bodies.
Suddenly, another mercenary rushed from the blind spot, reaching out to grab Ethan from behind. Without looking, Ethan leaped into the air, driving his heel down in a brutal axe-kick that stomped the man's head straight into the ground.
A final grunt swung wildly at him. Ethan slipped the punch effortlessly, countering with a precise strike to the man's chest. The mercenary gasped, staggering back, but managed to whip a specialized, heavy metal baton from his belt. Ethan leaped backward, creating a few feet of breathing room.
Vic pushed himself up from the wall, wiping blood from his nose, his face twisted in rage. "Enough playing around! Everyone, draw your custom metallic batons! There is no need to waste bullets on a kid. Save the bullets for later, against Loop."
The remaining syndicate members pulled the heavy, reinforced batons from their gear, the metal clicking into place.
Vic laughed manically. "Kid, you are dead."
Ethan remained completely undisturbed, adjusting his stance as the mercenaries surrounded him.
Things are about to get a little messy here, Ethan thought, his eyes tracking the weapons. I hope Asher and Liam are holding up okay. But there's no need to worry about them—they're strong.
The circle of men closed in, and with a unified roar, the Shadow Syndicate shock troops rushed at Ethan.