Chapter 7: Bullet Time
BOOM—!
The explosion from the grenades roared like thunder. Flames and shockwaves engulfed the scene, throwing bodies like rag dolls. Those closest were instantly torn apart.
"Shit! Who the hell is it?!"
The deal's leader screamed, clutching his bleeding forehead. Shrapnel had ripped across his face, staining half of it in blood.
He had expected a simple black-market deal—at worst, a little double-crossing.
But before anyone could make a move, someone else had already hijacked the night.
Meanwhile, Billy's crew ran into trouble of their own. Just as they were about to drive off and escape the chaos, a metal shipping container door came flying out of the dark.
CRASH!
The iron slab split one of their SUVs in half like a blade.
"Shit! We're under attack!"
Billy's face went pale. That was his ride—he'd been about to get in before the blast distracted him.
Looking toward the direction the door had come from, Billy spotted the figure behind it:
A man clad in a full-body black combat suit, standing tall atop a container.
There was no doubt—this was the bastard who ruined everything.
"Sir, keep your eyes on me."
Valen's voice came through the comm calmly.
Then he moved.
He leapt from container to container like a shadow in motion, dodging gunfire mid-air as bullets clanged harmlessly off the steel beneath him.
Twin pistols slid from his thighs—
Bang. Bang. Bang.
With mechanical precision, he took down enemy after enemy. Even from ten meters out, every shot was a kill.
Enhanced vision, improved reflexes, and upgraded hardware—Valen was a storm of death.
"Fagana! Get your men over here, now! You want to die too?!"
Billy roared as his crew fell one by one. He turned to the other side's leader, whose face was still half-covered in blood.
Fagana, wounded and raging, clenched his jaw. The two grenades had cost them over a dozen men—and they still didn't know who they were fighting.
"Move out! Kill that bastard!"
He barked orders, pumped his shotgun, and joined Billy's forces.
With both gangs converging, Valen was now facing down over 60 armed men.
Even with his enhancements, this wouldn't be easy.
Back in the manor, Kyle frowned.
"Valen, activate your ability. Now."
There was no hesitation. This was no time to test limits.
"Yes, sir."
Valen dropped to the ground, took a breath—and everything changed.
His eyes closed… then snapped open.
Heart rate surged. Adrenaline flooded his system. Neurons fired faster than lightning.
Time… slowed.
To Valen, the world shifted.
Bullets crawling through the air like lazy sparks.
People moving like they were underwater.
Every movement around him was slowed to a crawl.
"This feels way better than the lab tests."
Smirking, he holstered his pistols and drew his twin knives.
If he was going to use Bullet Time—he would feel every slice.
He dashed forward, weaving through gunfire like it was falling confetti.
Knives flashed—throats slit, hearts pierced.
Every strike, lethal and exact.
Back at the manor…
Kyle had gone pale.
His chin rested on his hands, eyes glued to the screen. This was his first time watching a real killing—and in first person.
The gore, the sound, the chaos—it all felt disturbingly real.
For a few moments, he felt sick.
But… after a while, his mind adjusted.
By the end of the minute, he was watching with steady breath.
Every glint of silver on the feed meant another life extinguished.
Valen danced through the bullets like a specter of death.
"I don't need to watch anymore."
Kyle shut the laptop. He already knew the outcome.
No one could stop Valen now.
At the port, Valen ripped open a locked shipping container barehanded.
What normally required tools or explosives—he broke apart like a soda can.
Meanwhile, Kyle's thoughts turned elsewhere.
"Good timing. The new antacid formula is already in production. Umbrella Corp's registration should be approved by tomorrow…"
He had a lot to do.
Making money was now priority one.
Before the main storyline even started, it was hard to farm points.
He needed at least a billion dollars per pull from the system's lottery. Right now, he had to bet everything on the Super Antacid.
A miracle cure for the modern gut—enhanced with trace amounts of Crystal No.7's energy.
Just a few safety tweaks left, and Vought could mass-produce it.
If that failed… he still had Plan B: the cosmetic serum.
When it came to women and beauty, demand always exploded.
"Sir, the area's been cleared. Heading back now."
Valen's voice crackled in Kyle's ear, smooth and calm.
Kyle glanced at his watch.
Only five minutes had passed.
He was a bit shocked.
No matter how many men came next…
Valen was ready for war.
(End of Chapter 7)
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