The morning sun hit the glass fa?ade of the Eden Supermarket, turning the building into a prism of light.

  It was perfect.

  I stood on the raised platform near the entrance, adjusting my tie. Beside me, Grace looked impeccable in a business suit, waving to the cameras. Aiya stood on my left, looking proud.

  The parking lot was a sea of people. Thousands had gathered. They were believers. They were families pushing strollers, elderly couples holding hands, and teenagers streaming live on their phones. They had come because Eden represented something the rest of the world had lost: Safety. Predictability. Civilization.

  "They love you," Grace whispered, leaning in.

  "They love the idea of us," I corrected, but I couldn't suppress the smile.

  A drone lowered the red ribbon in front of us. I picked up the oversized ceremonial scissors. The crowd went silent, the anticipation hanging in the air.

  "Welcome to the new world," I said into the microphone.

  I clipped the ribbon.

  The silk parted and the crowd erupted into cheers.

  Five trucks, reinforced with scrap metal and rusted spikes, smashed through the perimeter fence at the south end of the lot. They plowed into the crowd.

  "Run!" I screamed, dropping the scissors.

  It was too late.

  Men with painted faces leaned out of the truck windows, firing automatic weapons into the mass of people.

  Bodies fell. The pristine snow of the parking lot turned red in seconds. The screams of children pierced the air.

  "Get inside!" I shoved Grace and Aiya toward the armored glass doors of the supermarket. "Lock it down!"

  "Kaz!" Aiya screamed, reaching for me.

  "Go!"

  I turned back to the carnage.

  My customers. My fans. People who had trusted me to keep them safe were being slaughtered like cattle.

  Something inside me snapped. A blinding rage I had never felt in my life.

  The trucks screeched to a halt. Men jumped out—a gang wearing furs and wielding machetes and chains.

  I covered fifty yards in one motion.

  The first man turned, raising a shotgun. I punched him in the chest. My fist, enhanced by Seed Stage strength, caved his ribcage in. He was dead before he hit the asphalt.

  My first kill.

  The second man swung a chain. I caught it, yanked him forward, and drove my knee into his skull.

  Two more rushed me from the sides. I ducked a machete swing, grabbed the attacker's wrist, and snapped it. I spun him around, using him as a shield as the fourth man fired a pistol. The bullets hit the human shield and I threw the corpse at the shooter, closed the distance, and crushed the shooter's windpipe with a chop of my hand.

  Four dead.

  The fifth man—the ringleader, wearing a thick wolf-fur coat—froze.

  He dropped his weapon and ran.

  I caught him at the edge of the lot. I grabbed him by the back of his coat and slammed him face first into the side of the Terramotta.

  "You're coming with me," I snarled.

  I dragged him into my house.

  I hauled him through the back door and threw him onto the Spirit Soil of my garden.

  "Dominion," I whispered.

  The Heavenly Bamboo stalks along the fence twisted and elongated, snaking inward like living pythons. They wrapped around the man, pinning his arms and legs, pressing thorns against his neck.

  "Please!" the man screamed. "I'm just a soldier! I'm just following orders!"

  I stood over him. "Name."

  "Holliday! My name is Holliday!"

  "Who sent you, Holliday? Why attack a supermarket? What is the profit in dead civilians?"

  "We... we're Holliday's Band! We run the south side!"

  I tightened the bamboo and a thorn pierced his shoulder. He shrieked.

  "Liar," I said. "White Hill destroyed the gangs months ago when Axehill wiped the city clean. You shouldn't exist."

  Holliday was sobbing now. "He didn't destroy us! He hired us!"

  I froze. "What?"

  "White Hill!" Holliday screamed. "They didn't wipe us out! They conscripted us! Every gang in the city... the looters, the raiders... we all work for Axehill! We pay him tribute, and he lets us operate! He sends us to hit targets he can't be seen touching!"

  Axehill lied?

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  He is really a crime boss running a protection racket on the entire city? Of course he is. He created the danger so he could sell the cure. And today, he had sent a hit squad to ruin my opening, to prove that Eden couldn't protect its people.

  And he was right.

  I looked down at Holliday. He was a Realm 1 Body Cultivator. Strong enough to bully civilians, weak enough to be a pawn.

  "I told you everything!" Holliday begged. "Let me go!"

  "You ruined my day," I said. "My reputation. My face."

  It's time to wash away the shame.

  I clenched my fist.

  The bamboo cage contracted.

  There was a crunch and Holliday’s screaming stopped instantly.

  I stood there in the silence of my garden. The sanctuary felt violated. My hands were shaking from the adrenaline of the slaughter.

  My phone buzzed.

  Massacre at Eden.

  14 Dead, 30 Injured.

  Is the Supermarket Safe?

  My reputation was destroyed. The trust I had built over months was gone in minutes. I had been too soft. Too confident. I thought money and branding made me untouchable.

  I walked to the center of the garden and looked up at the sky.

  "AAAAAAAAHHH!"

  I screamed. I screamed until my throat burned. I screamed for my reputation, for my naivety, for the war that was no longer avoidable.

  "The war begins now, Axehill," I whispered to the wind.

  I drove to Adam.

  I stormed into the Governor's mansion. Mayah looked up from her desk, startled by my blood spattered clothes.

  "Sir?"

  "Does a man named Bells Ruper live here?" I asked.

  Mayah blinked. "Bells? No. I don't know anyone by that name."

  "I saw him leaving the clinic the other day," I said.

  "The clinic is open to the public," Mayah explained nervously. "As long as they pay, we treat them. We don't keep records on non-citizens."

  "Right," I said. "Rushfall."

  I walked out.

  I drove the Terramotta to Rushfall. The town was quiet, the snow covering the grime of the shanties.

  I found him on the porch of the same dilapidated house near the pit. Bells Ruper was sitting in a rocking chair, drinking a bottle of cheap liquor. His hands were wrapped in dirty bandages.

  I walked up the steps.

  "I have a job," I said.

  Bells looked up and saw the blood on my shirt. He smiled. "You look like you've had a bad morning, Gardener."

  "I'm going to war," I said. "I need a soldier."

  "I'm expensive," Bells said, taking a sip.

  "500,000 Stones," I offered.

  Bells laughed. "Have you seen the price of eggs lately? Inflation is a bitch. One million."

  I gritted my teeth. "You greedy bastard. You've probably never seen a hundred thousand stones in your life, and you're demanding a million?"

  "Supply and demand," Bells shrugged. "You look desperate."

  I pulled out my phone. I didn't have time to haggle. I transferred the funds.

  Bells checked his pocket. He looked at the screen. His eyebrows shot up.

  "Get in the truck," I said.

  "Yes, sir," Bells said, standing up.

  He climbed into the passenger seat. As he buckled in, he held up his hands. The bandages were stained yellow. His fingers were stiff, curling into claws.

  "One problem," Bells said. "My hands. The local sawbones in Rushfall did his best reattaching them after our duel, but the nerves are shot. I can't channel wind properly. I'm fighting at fifty percent capacity."

  "We'll fix it," I said.

  We drove back to the city, straight to Drane's Auction House.

  The place was empty during the day. I banged on the side door until Mayumi opened it.

  "Mr. Kaaz?" She looked at Bells, then at me. "You look... intense."

  "I need a cure," I said. "Something that repairs complex cultivator injuries. Nerves, meridians, scar tissue."

  Mayumi nodded. "We have something in the vault. A 'Miracle Potion.' It came in last week."

  "Who sold it?" I asked. "The Cove?"

  "No," Mayumi said, leading us to the counter. "A third party scavenger. We assume it originated from The Cove—Misty keeps the market cornered on high tier alchemy—but they don't sell directly to us. This was likely stolen or found."

  "Does Misty know you have it?"

  "Probably not," Mayumi admitted.

  "Good. Give it to me."

  "It's—"

  "A million stones," I finished for her. "Of course it is. Everything is a million stones today."

  I paid. Mayumi handed over a small vial of glowing red liquid.

  We walked back out to the parking lot. I handed the vial to Bells.

  "Drink."

  Bells uncorked it and downed it in one gulp.

  He gasped. Red light surged through his arms. He ripped off the dirty bandages. The scars on his wrists faded into white lines and then vanished. His fingers straightened and he flexed them, and a small cyclone of air spun on his palm.

  "Back to new," he whispered.

  "Don't get any ideas," I warned.

  Bells grinned. "Why would I? You pay better than being a tyrant. I'm on the payroll now."

  We got back in the truck.

  "Northville," I said.

  Bells whistled as I merged onto the highway heading northwest.

  "We're cutting the head off the snake," I said.

  "What are we up against?" Bells asked, looking out the window. "How many cultivators?"

  "At our level? Maybe two or three," I said. "Axehill is strong. He'll have lieutenants. But that's not the problem."

  "What is?"

  "His army," I said. "He runs a military state. He has hundreds of non cultivators armed with military grade weapons, tech, and magical artifacts. He uses mixed unit tactics. Generals who can throw fireballs commanding squads with assault rifles."

  Bells nodded slowly. "So it's two guys against a military-industrial complex."

  "Yes."

  "Do you have any other people?" Bells asked.

  "No," I said. "They are not combat oriented. Their Paths are for building, not destroying. We are the army."

  Bells was silent for a moment.

  "Are you scared?" I asked.

  "Of course not. I don't fear death. I welcome it."

  "As all cultivators should," I said.

  We arrived at the gates of Northville an hour later.

  It didn't look like Eden or Seaside. It didn't have the biblical flair of the gas station or the sleek logistics of Seaside.

  It looked like the end of the world.

  Axehill had adopted the aesthetic of an imperial empire born from the ashes of Detroit. Massive walls of concrete and metal rose thirty feet into the air. Heads of monsters—and perhaps humans—were mounted on pikes along the ramparts. Black banners with a white mountain sigil hung limply in the air.

  It was brutal and intimidating. A showing of raw force.

  Guards in tactical gear stood atop the walls, tracking us with heavy machine guns.

  I stopped the Terramotta fifty yards from the gate.

  We got out.

  "You ready?" I asked.

  Bells cracked his knuckles, the air pressure dropping around him.

  "I'm never ready," he said.

  I drew my Sword.

  "Let's go," I said.