The city never really slept.
It just changed moods — like a restless beast turning under the weight of its own lights.
From the top floor of Acacia Hotel, Jackim looked down at Sue City's skyline — alive, loud, and somehow lonely. His reflection in the glass didn't look like the same boy who once couldn't afford a twenty-dollar meal. The dark suit fit perfectly now, tailored like his confidence. But his eyes still carried that quiet shadow — a memory of nights when the world laughed at him.
He was supposed to be celebrating.
BragTech Global had just finalized a billion-dollar merger. The ballroom two floors below pulsed with music, champagne, and laughter — the kind that came from people who'd never missed a meal.
Jackim should've been smiling.
But the System's warning kept echoing in his head:
> "Host is under surveillance. Unknown threat approaching."
He ignored it at first.
Too many warnings lately. Too many enemies in designer suits.
Still, something in his chest felt off — like the city had gone too quiet for a Friday night.
Kelvin's voice broke through the earpiece. "Bro, the security team just picked up a weird heat signal on the roof. Want me to check?"
Jackim exhaled slowly. "No. I'll handle it."
Kelvin hesitated. "You sure?"
A smirk. "It's just one shadow, right? How hard can it be?"
He turned, slipping his black gloves on, the fabric whispering against his skin.
The elevator hummed softly as it rose. Jackim felt every second — each ding heavier than the last. By the time the doors opened, the air had changed.
Cold.
Thin.
Silent.
He stepped onto the rooftop.
The city stretched below him — skyscrapers glittering like stars trying to outshine the moon. Wind tugged at his coat. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed, lonely and tired.
Then he heard it.
A voice. Smooth. Flat.
"You've grown fast, boy."
Jackim turned.
A man stood near the edge of the rooftop — tall, lean, wrapped in black tactical gear. His mask gleamed faintly in the moonlight, the symbol of a spinning wheel etched on the forehead.
"Let me guess," Jackim said. "You're not here for an autograph."
The man's chuckle was dry. "I'm Ghost Blade. You're the system boy everyone's whispering about."
Jackim tilted his head. "You sound disappointed."
"Not disappointed," the man said. "Just surprised. They said you brag your way through everything."
"Careful," Jackim grinned. "I might brag about winning this fight too."
That earned a small pause — and then, with no warning, Ghost Blade moved.
He was fast — impossibly fast. His blade sliced through the air with a metallic whisper. Jackim ducked, the sound of the cut brushing past his ear like death's sigh. He countered with a sharp elbow strike, only for Ghost Blade to vanish — reappearing behind him.
The System's calm voice echoed in his head:
> "Shadow Reflex activated. Host reaction time increased by 300%."
Jackim spun, blocking a downward slash with his forearm. Sparks flew. Pain flared. His muscles screamed — but his focus sharpened.
"You fight well for a businessman," Ghost Blade said, stepping back.
Jackim cracked his neck. "And you talk too much for an assassin."
They clashed again — steel against instinct.
Jackim's movements flowed like water, quick, unpredictable. He could feel his martial arts training blending with the new Shadow Reflex skill — every dodge, every strike synced like rhythm and melody.
Ghost Blade pressed harder. A low kick swept Jackim's legs. He hit the ground, rolled, narrowly dodging another slash that carved sparks from the concrete.
Jackim gritted his teeth. "Nice sword. Mind if I keep it as a souvenir?"
Ghost Blade lunged. "Try earning it first!"
Jackim caught the assassin's wrist mid-strike — a perfect block that sent shockwaves up both their arms. He pivoted, slamming his elbow into the man's ribs, then drove his knee into his chest. The assassin staggered back, gasping, his mask cracked.
The city lights reflected on Jackim's face — half shadow, half fire.
Ghost Blade coughed, laughing through blood. "They told me you were a fraud. But you're the real thing, aren't you?"
Jackim didn't answer. He was already moving again — fast, silent, relentless.
A punch, a spin, a knee — each strike powered by both skill and fury. Ghost Blade blocked most of them, but not all. A final kick sent him crashing into the safety railing.
Wind howled.
The city seemed to watch in silence.
The assassin's sword clattered to the floor, sliding to Jackim's feet.
Jackim picked it up slowly. It was lighter than he expected — balanced, deadly, beautiful in a cruel way.
And then he saw it.
The mark near the hilt — a small engraved symbol.
His breath froze.
He'd seen that mark before.
On his father's old watch.
For a moment, the rooftop disappeared.
He saw flashes — his father's face, blurry memories of laughter, the smell of engine oil, the sound of an explosion. The night everything vanished.
Jackim's grip tightened. "Who are you really?"
Ghost Blade tilted his head. "You already know."
"Why does your sword have my father's mark?"
A soft chuckle. "Because he trained me."
The world seemed to stop.
Jackim's pulse thundered. "You're lying."
The assassin's voice softened — almost human. "Your father was one of us. A commander in The Wheel. Until he betrayed them."
The System pulsed faintly in Jackim's mind.
> "Truth level: 78%. Data conflict detected."
Jackim stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "Where is he now?"
Ghost Blade smirked. "Find the other three symbols. Then maybe you'll know."
And before Jackim could stop him — the assassin stepped back over the railing.
Falling.
Jackim lunged — too late.
Ghost Blade vanished into the night below, the sound of the wind swallowing him whole.
For a moment, only silence.
Then the System chimed softly.
"Mission Complete: Survive the Shadow. Reward: Martial Arts Lv.5 – Flowing Dragon Fist."
"Story Fragment Unlocked: The Wheel Connection (2/4)."
Jackim stood there, chest heaving, the city lights flickering across his bruised face.
He dropped the sword, letting it clatter on the rooftop. The wind tugged at his coat again, carrying away the last trace of smoke and blood.
Kelvin's voice came through the earpiece, panic in his tone. "Jackim! Bro, you okay?! Security says there was movement on the roof—"
Jackim's voice was calm. "Just cleaning up some old ghosts."
He turned to leave, but not before glancing once more at the edge — where the assassin had fallen.
A part of him hoped it was over.
Another part knew it was just beginning.
He looked up at the stars — quiet, sharp, cold.
"Dad…" he whispered. "What did you get yourself into?"
No answer.
Only the faint hum of the city and the soft glow of the System in his mind.
> "Host emotion detected: Conflicted. Processing data…"
"New Quest Available: Find the remaining marks."
Jackim smiled faintly, blood on his lip. "Bring it on."
And as he walked back toward the elevator, the camera of fate followed him — a silhouette under moonlight, calm after chaos, the man who turned bragging into destiny.