Chapter 68
[Quest: Fulfill Your Plans]
You have created your plans, and now it is time to fulfill them. By the end of today, you must acquire $40,000 to reach your goal.
Reward: 1,000 System Points | 1,000 EXP
Completed
The morning light came through the window in thin pale stripes, falling across the bed where Elijah lay with his eyes open.
He had been awake for hours.
Just lying there, staring at the ceiling of Lisa's bedroom, counting the cracks in the plaster, listening to the soft rhythm of her breathing beside him. His body was still heavy from the night before. But the physical pain was not what kept him awake.
It was the faces.
He saw them every time he closed his eyes. The man with the revolver, the one whose chest he had opened with the black blade. The woman with the blue hair and pale green eyes, whose head he had cut from her shoulders. The second fighter, the one whose throat he had opened. The first, whose life he had ended with a single strike.
Eight of them.
Eight people who had been alive yesterday morning, who had woken up in their beds, who had eaten breakfast and walked through the world and made plans for the future. And now they were gone. Their bodies were in a morgue somewhere, or on a table in the back of the warehouse, or maybe already in the ground. Elijah did not know. He did not want to know.
He had thought it would become easier.
That was what people said, wasn't it? That killing got easier the more you did it. That the first one was the hardest, and after that, your conscience hardened, and your heart turned to stone, and you stopped feeling anything at all.
But it had not become easier.
The first man he had killed—the big man in the park, the one who had taken Mai—Elijah had barely thought about him afterward. There had been too much else to think about: the blood loss, the unconsciousness, the two days of healing. But these eight were different. These eight he had faced one after another, had cut and stabbed and killed in cold blood, had watched the light leave their eyes and felt nothing in the moment but the need to survive.
Now, in the quiet of the morning, with Lisa's warmth beside him and the sunlight on his face, he felt everything.
He did not regret it.
That was the strange thing. He did not regret killing them. They would have killed him. The man with the revolver had shot him, had tried to end his life. The woman with the blue hair had raised her pistol and fired. The others had come at him with blades and axes and fists, and they would not have stopped until he was dead. It had been them or him. He had chosen himself.
But he also did not want to take their lives.
That was the weight he carried now. He had not wanted to kill them. He had wanted to live. Those two things should have been the same, but they were not. He could feel the difference in his chest, a hollow space where something used to be.
He thought about his mother. About the way she smiled when he walked through the door, the way her eyes softened when she looked at him across the kitchen table. He thought about Amy, about her fierce, protective love, about the way she had told him to always come back to them.
He was alive. He was here, in this bed, in this room, in this city that was trying to chew him up and spit him out. He was alive because he had killed eight people, and because he had been willing to kill eight more if he had to.
He sighed.
The sound was soft, barely a whisper, but Lisa stirred beside him. Her dark hair was spread across the pillow, her face half-hidden in the sheets, her lips slightly parted. She was beautiful in the morning light, the kind of beautiful that had nothing to do with makeup or clothes or the careful way she held herself in public. This was just her, unguarded and asleep, and Elijah felt something in his chest loosen at the sight of her.
Her eyes fluttered open.
They were dark brown, warm, and they found his face immediately. She did not startle or frown. She just looked at him, her brow furrowing slightly, her lips curving into a small sleepy smile.
"Elijah," she said. Her voice was rough with sleep. "Why are you awake?"
He could have told her the truth. He could have told her about the faces, about the blood, about the weight in his chest that would not lift. But he did not. He looked at her, at the way the light caught her dark hair, at the warmth in her eyes, and he smiled.
"I'm okay," he said. "Just couldn't sleep. I was thinking about you."
Lisa's smile widened. She reached up and touched his face, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his cheek, the edge of his lips. "You were thinking about me in the middle of the night?"
"All night."
She laughed, soft and low, and pulled him closer. Her lips found his, and he kissed her back, slow and deep, letting himself sink into the warmth of her. His hands found her waist, her hips, the curve of her back, and she pressed against him, her body fitting against his like it belonged there.
They kissed for a long time. The morning light grew brighter, the shadows on the ceiling shifted, and the world outside the window began to wake up. But in that room, in that bed, there was only the two of them, and the soft sound of their breathing, and the quiet promise of something that felt like peace.
Lisa pulled back first. Her lips were pink, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright. She looked at him for a moment, then smiled.
"Later," she said. "I want you to stay, but I also need coffee. And you need to eat something. You feel thinner than you did yesterday."
Elijah laughed."I'm not thinner."
"You're always thinner. You never eat enough." She sat up, pulling the sheet with her, and ran a hand through her tangled hair. "Stay in bed. I'll make coffee. And then we can—" She raised an eyebrow, her smile turning mischievous. "Continue."
She climbed out of bed and walked toward the door, wearing nothing but one of his shirts, the fabric falling to her thighs. She looked back at him over her shoulder, her dark eyes warm, and then she was gone.
Elijah lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling.
Kai sat in the office upstairs, his back against the wall, his feet propped up on the edge of the desk. The room looked different than it had yesterday. Someone had brought in a couch—faded green fabric, sagging cushions, but comfortable—and a small table near the window with bottles of whiskey and glasses. The walls were still bare, but there were plans for them. Paintings, maybe, or maps of the territory. Something to make the space feel like theirs.
Henry was on the couch, his legs stretched out, his arm finally free of the sling. He had been training the men all morning, and his body was tired, but his eyes were bright. Aurora sat in the chair by the window, her silver hair loose, her blue eyes fixed on something outside. Rena was at the desk, her notebook open, her pen moving. Mai sat on the arm of the couch, her purple hair falling across her face, her phone in her hand.
And Tristan stood near the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his purple eyes watching everything.
"We need to talk," Kai said.
Everyone looked at him.
"Elijah isn't here. He's resting. But there are things you need to know. Things about last night."
Henry sat up straighter. "What happened last night?"
Kai was quiet for a moment. He had been debating with himself all morning about whether to tell them. Elijah had not asked him to keep it secret, but he had not asked him to share it either. In the end, Kai decided that silence would do more harm than truth.
"He fought ten matches," Kai said. "One after another with no breaks and no rest. The kind of fights where people die."
The room went still.
"Ten?" Henry's voice was flat. "You mean the Royal Rumble candidate selection"
"Yeah." Kai's voice was steady. "He won all ten, and then he entered the Royal Rumble."
Aurora turned from the window. Her blue eyes were sharp, focused. "Serious, don't they get fifty thousand dollar prize to the winner."
"Yes."
Mai's hand had gone still on her phone. Her purple eyes were wide, her face pale. "How did he do it?"
Kai looked at her.
"He killed eight of them," Kai said. "The ninth yielded. The others—the ones in the Rumble—he didn't have to kill them. He used something else which I don't understand. And made them yield without a fight."
Tristan pushed off from the wall. His purple eyes were thoughtful, almost curious. "I was there. I watched it happen. The moment he stepped into the ring, the other fighters just—collapsed. Like something was pressing down on them. Like they couldn't breathe."
He looked at Kai. "I haven't seen something like that."
Kai nodded slowly. "Neither have I."
Henry leaned back on the couch, his green eyes distant. "He risked his life and killed eight people in one night."
"Yes."
"He's alive," Kai said. "That's what matters."
Henry was quiet for a moment. Then he let out a long breath and shook his head. "Why didn't he tell us so that we could go and fight with him. He was risking his own life by himself."
"No," Kai said. "He didn't wanna any of you to risk your life somewhere he knew, he would be helpless to save you."
The words hung in the air.
Rena smiled and asked, "How much money did he bring back?"
Kai pulled out a stack of bills.
"Fifty thousand from the Royal Rumble," Kai said. "Plus thirty-two thousand from his bets on the death matches which the total is Eighty-two thousand."
He set the money on the desk. Rena picked it up, her fingers moving over the bills, counting without seeming to count.
"We already had sixty thousand," Rena said. "From everyone's contributions, from the fights, from the shops. That's one hundred and forty-two thousand total."
She looked up at Kai. "That's more than we need. The tournament, the gambling den, the club renovations, the training equipment, the security. It all adds up to about one hundred thousand."
"So, we have forty-two thousand left over," Aurora said.
"Yes."
Kai leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "All of the rest of the money is going to be place to our leader is anyone against this."
He looked at each of them in turn.
"Elijah put his life on the line for this. He walked into a cage knowing he might not walk out. And he did it because he believes in that everyone's plan here would become a success and we needed to act fast."
His voice dropped lower.
"I'm not going to let his sacrifice be wasted. None of us are. We're going to put everything we have into this. Every dollar, every hour, every drop of blood. We're going to make the Azura Gang something that people remember."
Henry nodded slowly. "I'm in, all the way."
Aurora said, "Same."
Mai looked at Kai, her purple eyes steady. "I'll help however I can."
Rena picked up her pen. "I'll have the budget ready by tonight."
Kai turned to Tristan, who was still standing near the door, his purple eyes watchful.
"You're not part of this gang," Kai said. "But you helped Elijah last night. You got him into the death matches. You brought him back here when it was over."
Tristan raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me to join?"
"I'm asking you to consider it. And we could use someone with your experience, your connections, your skills."
Tristan was quiet for a moment.
"I'll think about it," Tristan said.
Kai nodded. "That's all I'm asking."
He stood up and walked to the window. The sun was high now, the streets of the 9th District spread out below him. The bar was open, the gambling den was under construction, the club was being renovated, the tournament invitations were being sent.
"Let's get to work," he said