Rain clung to the cracked pavement in thin silver threads, turning the alleyway into a slick mirror. The streetlights were buzzing, their glow reflecting off metallic trash bins and old brick walls. Lucious pulled his hood tighter as he walked, hands in his pockets, steps unhurried.
He didn't need to rush.
The system hadn't given him a mission tonight, but it didn't need to. He knew exactly where he was going, and what waited for him.
He stopped in front of a dented metal door with peeling green paint.
Blackthorn Boxing Hall.
On the surface, it was a rundown underground fight club where money, anger, and desperation all bled into one room. But rumor had it that the new manager — a man named Goretti — was connected to a small-time gang that once worked for Titan Skincare's "external affairs division."
Lucious smiled faintly.
A coincidence?
Maybe.
But experience taught him nothing in this city was coincidence.
He pushed the door open.
The hall was loud — music thumping, men shouting bets, fists hitting bags. The smell of sweat mixed with cheap beer and tension.
Lucious pulled back his hood.
A few heads snapped toward him.
Some of the individuals there recognized him.
Whispers spread.
"Yo… that's him."
"Ren Lei?"
"No way he's alone…"
"He walks like he owns the place."
Lucious ignored them.
He walked straight toward the far corner where a thick man in a leather jacket watched fighters spar in the ring. His beard was patchy, his nose crooked from breaks, and his eyes sharp despite his size.
Goretti.
The man glanced up at him. "If you're here to fight, get in line."
Lucious said nothing.
Goretti frowned. "You deaf, kid?"
"I'm here for information," Lucious replied calmly. "A shipment. Two weeks ago. Taken from the Lower Docks. You handled the muscle."
Goretti froze.
Then laughed. Loud. Barking. "You came all the way here for rumors? Tell whoever sent you that I don't talk about business to pretty boys who walk around alone."
Lucious didn't smile.
He opened his system interface mentally.
A soft, blue-overlay lit the edge of his vision.
[Situation Detected]
Chance of peaceful negotiation: 12%
Chance of violent escalation: 88%
Chance of positive outcome if violence occurs: 94%
Recommended: Allow escalation.
Lucious blinked once.
Good enough.
Goretti crossed his arms. "What, cat got your tongue?"
Lucious stepped closer, voice steady. "The shipment was carrying raw compounds Titan was planning to use to duplicate a skincare formula. You intercepted it."
Goretti's jaw tensed — just a flicker, but Lucious caught it.
He continued, "You weren't supposed to keep it. But your boss has been holding onto it longer than Titan expected."
Someone behind Lucious whispered, "How the hell does he—?"
Goretti didn't laugh now.
"You're poking your nose somewhere dangerous," he growled.
Lucious shrugged lightly. "I live in danger."
Goretti stepped forward. "Walk away."
Lucious didn't.
Goretti swung.
A heavy, brutal punch aimed straight for his jaw.
Lucious moved like water — one smooth tilt of his head, letting the fist pass through air.
Gasps erupted.
He didn't counter immediately. He waited. Watched. Calculated.
Goretti swung again — faster, angrier.
Lucious ducked under it and stepped in close.
His fingers struck Goretti's sternum — not a punch, not a jab, but a precise pressure hit.
Goretti stumbled back, coughing, eyes wide.
"What—?" he wheezed.
Lucious didn't answer.
Goretti lunged with a roar, trying to grab him, lift him, crush him.
Lucious sidestepped and slammed his elbow into Goretti's ribs. The man folded, gasping.
Lucious grabbed his collar, pulling him close enough that only Goretti could hear him.
"Tell me who hired you to retrieve that shipment," he whispered. "Or next time, you won't walk out."
Goretti's breath stuttered.
Lucious wasn't loud.
Wasn't threatening.
He sounded like someone stating facts.
Goretti swallowed hard. "It—It wasn't Titan."
Lucious held still.
Goretti hissed, "It was a private buyer. Some shareholder. High-level. Someone off the charts.
Lucious's brows narrowed slightly.
A Titan shareholder…
Wealthy enough to order theft from Titan itself.
Hidden enough that no one knew his face.
Lucious didn't know the name.
But one thing was clear.
Someone powerful in the shadows was trying to steal formulas — not just Eversage's.
Lucious pushed Goretti back.
"Name," he said quietly.
"I—I don't know his name!" Goretti sputtered. "Nobody does. He sends people. They say he's one of Titan's ghosts."
That phrase landed heavy.
Ghosts.
Shareholders with no public records.
People Malcolm Veyra relied on — or feared.
Lucious stepped back, gaze cool.
"Who delivered the payment?" he asked.
Goretti hesitated, then muttered, "A woman. Red hair. Calls herself Leona. She—she meets at the old freight depot on 9th. Midnight Tuesdays."
The hall was silent.
Everyone watching felt it.
Lucious nodded once, turned, and walked toward the door.
Goretti collapsed to the ground, coughing, sweat dripping.
Lucious paused at the doorway.
He didn't turn around when he said:
"Thank you for cooperating."
A few men jumped aside as he passed, stepping clear of his path out of raw instinct.
Outside, the rain had softened to a drizzle.
Lucious exhaled, letting the cold air wash over him.
This wasn't random anymore.
This wasn't isolated.
Titan wasn't divided — it was fractured.
And someone was using those cracks to reach for more.
His phone buzzed.
A system notification.
[System Update]
You have uncovered a hidden connection.
Trajectory: Positive.
Involvement with 'Titan Ghost' may alter future fate paths.
Reward: +3% Destiny Correction
New Passive Activated: "Shadow Intuition" (Lv.1)
Lucious blinked.
A passive?
Shadow Intuition (Lv.1)
Subconscious detection of looming danger
Increased awareness of hidden motives
Slight boost to decision-making when paths are unclear
A slow smile touched his lips.
He pulled up his hood and started walking down the alley, boots splashing quietly through puddles.
His system chimed softly again.
[Next Optimal Move: Approach the Freight Depot Tuesday]
Chance of Valuable Outcome: 81%
Chance of Combat: 64%
Chance of Death: 4%
Lucious chuckled.
"Four percent? I can work with that."
He stepped onto the main road. Neon lights reflected off the wet asphalt. Cars passed in quick bursts, the city humming with its usual quiet violence.
Lucious tucked his hands into his pockets and walked into the night.
He wasn't chasing power anymore.
Power was gravitating toward him.