NOVPUB
Chapter 154: Chapter 154 Revenge 2/4 II
She moved.
It was impossible to describe the way her body shifted—fluid, dreamlike, inhuman. As she stepped forward, a swirling haze of black smoke burst from behind her, trailing her form like a living shadow. The air distorted. Her figure wavered like heat rising from asphalt, rippling and bending in ways the eye couldn’t quite follow.
And then—CRACK!
A sickening snap echoed through the room.
One of the men closest to her had barely even raised his weapon before her hand was around his head. In a single, smooth motion, she twisted—and his neck snapped like dry wood. His lifeless body collapsed to the floor, eyes wide in shock.
"Shit!! SHIT!!" someone screamed.
"FIRE! FIRE!! Don’t let her get close!!"
A storm of bullets erupted.
Every gun on the floor turned on her.
Rounds flew at her from every direction—assault rifles, SMGs, pistols. Brass shells rained down like golden hail, the thunder of gunfire deafening.
But it was all useless.
Every bullet passed through her.
Literally through her.
Her body rippled with the same black smoke—like her form wasn’t solid at all. One second she was there, the next she seemed to flicker, reduce in size, and completely vanish before their very eyes.
"What the fuck?!" someone yelled.
Boss, hiding among his men like a rat, was sweating buckets. His heart pounded in his ears. He clutched his M4 tight but hadn’t fired a single shot. Not because he didn’t want to—but because he didn’t even know where to aim.
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" he screamed into the smoky air. "WHO SENT YOU?!"
No response.
"Are you with the Black Lotus?! Huh?! IS THAT IT?!"
Silence.
"FUCKING ANSWER ME!!"
Still nothing.
Then—"AHHHHHHHH! MY ARM IS GONE!!"
Everyone spun around at the scream.
One of the men had dropped to the floor, clutching the bloody stump of his arm. His severed limb twitched a few feet away. Blood sprayed across the already soaked floor, painting it darker.
He hadn’t even seen her.
None of them had.
Boss took a sharp step back, eyes darting across the smoke-filled space. His men were panicking, their fingers trembling on the triggers. None of them knew where she was now. None of them even knew what she was.
"Fucking hell..." one muttered. "She’s not human..."
Another whispered, "We’re gonna die here."
Boss stood frozen in place, trying to piece together what the hell was happening. He searched his mind, racking his memory. Who had he pissed off lately? What enemy could possibly afford to send this?
No answers came.
And then—footsteps.
Dozens of them.
Heavy boots pounding on concrete.
Through the blown-out entrance, more men stormed into the compound—Crimson Hand reinforcements, finally back from their patrols.
Over a hundred of them flooded the floor with their weapons drawn, eyes wide at the devastation they walked into.
The moment they entered, everything changed.
The air felt lighter.
The tension eased.
The oppressive weight that had gripped their lungs... lifted.
And just like that—she was gone.
The black smoke thinned.
The blood-soaked silence took hold once more.
Boss felt his knees weaken, and he nearly collapsed. Some of his men did. They dropped to their knees, gasping for breath. Even the toughest among them were shaking. Sweat poured down their faces, mixing with grime and soot.
One of the lieutenants stepped up to Boss, pale and wide-eyed.
"Sir... what the fuck just happened here?"
Boss didn’t answer right away.
He just stared ahead—at the bodies, at the blood, at the lingering wisps of black smoke that faded into nothing.
They thought they’d seen hell when they fought Liam and the Black Lotus.
But this?
This was worse.
At least Liam could be seen.
At least Liam could be fought.
But her?
She was a ghost in the dark.
A phantom wrapped in smoke and death.
----
In another part of the city, where the streetlights flickered and the wind whispered through alleys like a forgotten ghost, a shadow darted through the night.
A figure moved across rooftops, graceful and silent, like a phantom. A black bag was strapped to his back, swaying with each leap, yet never slowing him down. He soared from one rooftop to the next—twenty feet, thirty—distances that would break bones and snap legs if attempted by anyone else.
But not him.
Liam didn’t even pause.
He landed like the air itself caught him.
No noise. No thud. Just movement—fluid and precise.
Finally, he stopped atop a warehouse and crouched low at its edge. Below, in a dimly lit lot surrounded by rusting fences and trash piles, five figures stood. Daryl, tall and skinny with a cigarette dangling from his lips, and four thick, muscled men around him—goons, clearly. The kind who didn’t think twice before stabbing someone for a few bills.
They were smoking, laughing, not a care in the world.
Liam’s deep blue eyes narrowed.
Found you.
He stood up slowly, wind catching his dark hair, and then dropped.
He fell like a shadow cast from the moon.
Silence.
Not even the sound of his boots touching the concrete.
The five men turned quickly, startled by the sudden presence. They stared, slack-jawed, at the figure standing before them. A lean young man, sleeves rolled up, dark hair slightly messy, his expression relaxed—almost casual. But his aura told a different story.
He radiated danger.
Real danger.
The kind of energy you felt deep in your bones.
Daryl staggered back a step, his face turning pale. His hand began to tremble as he pointed.
"K-Kill him!! He’s here to kill me! He’s the one who took out Kyle!!"
The four men snapped to attention. Their eyes went wide. This was that guy?
The one who killed Kyle?
Impossible.
But they didn’t waste time thinking. They drew blades—long, cruel butcher knives. One of them even licked his lips, the hunger for blood taking over.
Daryl backed away, confidence returning now that his dogs were out. He smirked under the pale moonlight, whispering to himself.
"Idiot. You think you can get me like Kyle? Not with four men protecting me."
But Liam didn’t wait.
In one motion, he launched forward like a missile.
CRACK!
His boot met the first thug’s wrist—direct hit. The bone snapped like a twig, and the man howled, dropping his knife as he stumbled back, clutching his broken arm.
Before the others could react, another thug charged. His blade slashed horizontally.
Liam ducked—his body dropping low in a smooth, controlled motion. The blade sliced through the air just above him.
And then—
BOOM!
Liam’s fist rammed into the man’s thigh with inhuman force. A tremor shot through the thug’s body, paralyzing his leg instantly. He screamed and dropped to the ground, unable to stand.
Liam didn’t stop.
He reached down, grabbed the man’s hand holding the blade, twisted it back violently—pop!—dislocating the wrist. Then, with fluid brutality, Liam reversed the grip and drew the blade across the man’s own throat.
A clean, savage slit.
The man spasmed once... then collapsed in a pool of blood.
Ding!
Exp: +50
Liam didn’t even blink.
He stood calmly, the bloodied knife dangling in his fingers, his cold eyes fixed on the remaining three.
They froze.
They had seen a lot.
But never this.
What kind of monster had Daryl attracted?
The first thug threw his knife down.
The second followed instantly.
The third didn’t even hesitate—he turned and ran, bolting into the alley like death itself was chasing him.
The others followed.
All three vanished into the night, not even looking back.
Daryl watched in horror, his mouth hanging open.
"What the fuck...?"
His guards were gone.
One was dead.
And the devil who killed Kyle was standing just a few feet away—calm, efficient, and absolutely terrifying.
Liam turned his gaze on him.
Daryl felt his knees go weak.
There was no escape.
Not this time.
