Chapter 2: Beneath the House
I stumbled through the alley behind our apartment.
The ruins of our home smoldered faintly under the orange streetlights.
Smoke curled from shattered windows, twisting into the night air.
The acrid scent of gunpowder lingered, sharp and biting.
A stray piece of paper skittered across the cracked pavement.
The city felt empty, indifferent, as if nothing had happened.
Broken glass crunched beneath my shoes.
Trash bins rattled in the cold wind.
Streetlights flickered, casting jagged shadows across debris.
Windows stared at me like hollow eyes.
The echoes of screams and gunfire still burned in my mind.
My chest ached—not from wounds, but from their absence.
My body—whole, alive—moved forward.
Every step reminded me: I had survived. They hadn't.
Yellow tape fluttered loosely, whispering reminders of what had been lost.
Strangers moved past in whispers, glancing at the ruins.
I stayed in the shadows, unnoticed.
My hands tightened into fists.
Every heartbeat screamed their names.
And then I remembered the basement.
As a child, they had called it "storage."
Something unremarkable. Something mundane.
But I had always sensed it was more.
Now it was the only place that might hold answers.
I approached the loose concrete slab behind the building.
My fingers traced the cold metal lock.
It clicked. Recognized me.
The door swung open.
Narrow stairs descended into darkness.
The air hit me, thick, cold, metallic, smelling of oil and dust.
A faint hum seemed to echo from the walls.
My pulse quickened.
Inside, the basement was a hidden world.
Weapons of every kind lined the walls: rifles, handguns, combat knives, throwing stars, even gadgets I couldn't name.
Ammo boxes stacked in neat columns, labels glowing faintly in the dim light.
Maps covered tables and walls, red circles marking cities and countries I had never heard of.
Notes scribbled in margins, in handwriting I recognized immediately—my parents'.
Every detail spoke of preparation, secrecy, of a life lived entirely in shadows.
Files stacked neatly, glowing faintly.
Every item told a story I hadn't been ready to read.
I picked up one labeled:
SUBJECT: Adrian Varga | STATUS: Potential Threat / High Risk
the system sprang to life.
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Host Profile Detected |
Name: Adrian Varga
[Status: Active ]
[Combat Efficiency: Pending]
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Abilities Locked (Experience: 0 ]
[ Targets Detected: 5]
The abilities were locked, dangling the power I would eventually wield.
Every rifle, every knife, every glowing folder reminded me of a truth I hadn't wanted to face.
My hands trembled slightly as I touched a combat knife, feeling the cold steel bite into my palms.
Then I saw my parents' messages, glowing in the dim light like urgent signals.
[MESSAGE FROM FATHER]
If you're seeing this, Adrian… it means we failed.
We tried to hide it from you, but they found us.
Run as far as you can and be careful who you trust.
[MESSAGE FROM MOTHER]
We wanted to protect you. This world is darker than you know, but you are stronger than you realize.
I sank to the floor, absorbing every word.
Rage twisted inside me.
Grief clawed at my chest.
Fear tried to rise, but I shoved it down.
I couldn't cry. Not here. Not yet.
Memories flooded me.
Father repairing broken electronics late at night, humming quietly.
Mother translating documents, precise and exhausted, her eyes scanning pages with sharp focus.
How normal they had seemed.
How deadly they really were.
The system pulsed again.
[SYSTEM NOTICE: All Initial Targets Marked | Target Count: 5 | Threat Level: High]
A mini-map appeared in the corner of my vision, glowing faintly.
Red dots blinked across the city layout.
Each one a face I remembered.
Distance indicators floated beside them, precise, calculating.
I traced the paths silently, memorizing streets and alleys, plotting revenge before it even began.
I saw them—the men who had invaded our home.
All five now glowed red, marked clearly in my vision.
Their faces burned into my mind.
I could feel the weight of every life they had stolen, every lie they had built.
I rose slowly, gripping a rifle I had never used before.
The cold metal felt alive in my hands.
The basement was no longer a sanctuary.
It was an arsenal.
Maps and files beckoned, glowing faintly.
I scanned the red circles and notes, realizing my parents had been ready for anything.
Everything they left me—every weapon, every instruction—was a seed of vengeance.
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Threat Analysis | Passive Skills Detected: Pain Suppression, Heightened Reflexes, Threat Detection]
[SYSTEM NOTICE: Abilities Locked | Combat Optimization, Target Analysis, Tactical Planning, Stealth Enhancement]
I inhaled deeply.
The hum of the system pulsed in my mind.
Red markers on the targets glared back at me like flames.
One by one, I saw them in my memory, shadows from that night.
Five men.
All responsible.
All marked.
I clenched my fists, knuckles white.
Somewhere beneath the layers of grief, beneath the rubble of my old life, something else awakened.
I was no longer just Adrian Varga.
I was something else.
Someone the Directorate had underestimated.
Someone about to strike back.
[REVENANT KILL SYSTEM – HOST: ADRIAN VARGA]
[Level: 1 | Experience: 0%]
[Base Stats]
Strength: 12
Agility: 14
Intelligence: 16
Endurance: 13
Perception: 15
Reflex: 14
[Passive Skills Detected]
- Pain Suppression: Active
- Heightened Reflexes: Active
- Threat Detection: Active
[Abilities Locked]
- Target Analysis
- Combat Optimization
- Tactical Planning
- Stealth Enhancement
[Hunt Status]
Targets Detected: 5
Proximity: Variable
The basement was silent.
The night outside was quiet.
But I could feel it—the hunt had begun.
And revenge… revenge would come.