Episode 9 — Most Wanted
The sky above Nexus City was still black with smoke when the first transmissions hit the networks. Across billions of screens, in bars, in brothels, in markets on far-off worlds, the message was the same:
"WARNING. SUBJECT: KAIRO SHIN. ROGUE OFFICER. IMMORTAL. TERMINATE WITH EXTREME PREJUDICE. GALACTIC BOUNTY: UNLIMITED."
Kairo's face flashed across the stars. His cold eyes. His cigarette. His smirk. Underneath, a kill order signed by the High Council of the Multiverse Police.
The galaxy reacted like sharks smelling blood. Cartels licked their lips. Mercenary clans loaded their ships. Assassins sharpened their blades. Every world, every street, every dark corner wanted a piece of him.
Kairo watched the broadcast from a broken bar in Nexus's ruins, cigarette glowing against the neon rubble. He smirked. "Unlimited bounty, huh? Guess I'm the hottest bitch in the universe now."
The First Hunters
They came before the hour was out.
Not police this time. Freelancers. Mercenaries. Drunks with shotguns. Junkies with knives. Whole gangs rushing through the ruins, screaming his name.
Kairo stood in the open street, arms relaxed, calm. "Welcome to the party, boys."
Tentacles burst out, whipping through the mob. Skulls popped. Limbs flew. Blood painted the cracked billboards.
One merc with chrome arms screamed, charging with a chainsaw blade. Kairo caught him mid-swing, shoved the blade into his own throat.
"Cutting-edge technology," Kairo muttered, chuckling.
[Assassinations Confirmed.]
[Level Up: 16.]
[Intelligence Increased.]
His brain sharpened again. He didn't just see enemies anymore—he saw angles, factions, opportunities. If the whole galaxy wanted him dead, then he'd flip it. Turn the fear into power.
The Survivors
After the massacre, three men were left alive—gangsters too scared to run. One dropped his pistol, falling to his knees. "Please—please don't kill us—we—we'll work for you!"
Kairo lit a fresh cigarette, blood dripping off his boots. He studied them calmly.
"You're offering me loyalty?" he asked.
"Yes—fuck—yes! We'll serve! You're—you're a god, man—"
Kairo smirked. "Gods are boring. But servants? Sure. Fetch me intel. Find me every rat selling me out. Do that, maybe you'll keep your balls."
The gangsters nodded frantically.
And just like that, Kairo had his first pawns.
⸻
The Comedy of Fear
Later, in a ruined club, his new "recruits" brought him food, weapons, and a map of local gangs. One of them tried to slip poison in his drink, whispering to another.
Kairo took one sip, smirked, and spit the liquid back into the man's face. His skin melted instantly, screams filling the room as he collapsed into a puddle.
The others froze, pale.
Kairo chuckled. "Lesson one: don't poison the unkillable."
They nodded, trembling.
The Galactic Spread
The manhunt spread beyond Nexus within days. Entire galaxies lit up with chatter. Bars on distant worlds whispered his name.
"The immortal cop with steel tentacles…"
"They say he killed a commissioner…"
"They say he slaughtered hunters by the hundreds…"
"They say he can't die…"
Fear turned into myth. And myth turned into business.
Every bounty hunter alive wanted his head. Every cartel wanted to claim his corpse. Politicians painted him as the devil. Civilians whispered his name with dread.
And Kairo?
He sat on a throne of corpses in a Nexus alley, cigarette in one hand, whiskey in the other, smirking at the chaos.
"Keep talking," he muttered. "The more scared they get, the easier this gets."
⸻
The Hit Squad
One night, a professional crew finally came for him. Not junkies. Not street gangs. Real killers.
Six assassins, cloaked in light-bending tech, armed with blades that could cut through plasma tanks. They dropped from the rooftops like shadows.
Kairo exhaled smoke, calm. "Finally. A warm-up."
The first assassin lunged, blade aimed for his skull. Tentacle snapped his spine midair.
The second slit his throat open—but the wound sealed instantly, black liquid steel stitching it shut. Kairo grinned, headbutting him until his face turned into jelly.
Two more tried to double-team him. Tentacles caught one by the legs, ripping him in half while smacking the other into a wall so hard his organs painted it red.
The last two hesitated. Kairo chuckled. "Go ahead. Make me laugh."
They screamed and charged. Tentacles speared both through the chest, pinning them to the ceiling like trophies.
[Assassinations Confirmed.]
[Level Up: 17.]
[Intelligence Increased.]
His brain sharpened again. Now he didn't just predict betrayal—he orchestrated it. He knew who would turn, who would run, who would break.
The New Empire
By dawn, Nexus gangs were already whispering: working for Shin was safer than working against him. His reputation was no longer just "rogue cop" — it was "immortal executioner."
Kairo let the whispers grow. He didn't need friends. He didn't need family. He needed pawns. And the galaxy was full of pawns.
He called his new crew together—broken gangsters, terrified ex-cops, addicts who'd rather serve than die.
"You work for me now," Kairo said calmly. "You bring me intel. Guns. Drugs. Names of every rat who even says my name wrong. Betray me, and I make art out of your intestines. Clear?"
They all nodded, pale.
Kairo grinned. "Good. Congratulations. You just joined the winning side."
⸻
The Anti-Hero's War Expands
That night, sitting on the rooftop of a burned-out skyscraper, Kairo smoked and looked at the stars.
His intelligence burned sharper than ever, mapping not just Nexus but whole galaxies. He saw the cartels that hated him. The brass that feared him. The hunters that wanted him. He saw it all.
The galaxy had declared war on him.
But now he had soldiers.
Now he had pawns.
And soon, he'd have an empire.
⸻
[Current Level: 17 | Intelligence Status: Empire-builder. Reads factions like open books. Orchestrates betrayal before it happens. Cold, untouchable, manipulative genius.]