System S.E.X. (Seduction, Expansion, eXecution)-Chapter 330: The God of Ruin

Ethan stood before the wall of fire on the bridge, his silhouette flickering against the orange glow. He took a deep breath, his chest expanding as the spiritual energy of the Black Flower merged with the atmospheric static.

"Let’s see if my training was worth the effort... Lightning Descent!" Ethan said.

The sky above North End didn’t just darken; it bruised. Without warning, dozens of violet bolts tore through the clouds, striking the bridge with the force of artillery shells. But the lightning didn’t just hit the ground—it stayed. Thick, jagged pillars of electricity remained rooted to the concrete, creating a high-voltage forest.

Ethan’s body suddenly blurred. Using the electromagnetic field generated by the bolts as a rail-gun track, he was pulled forward like a lethal magnet. He didn’t just run; he launched.

He slammed into the first line of mercenaries like a kinetic shell. His fist connected with a man’s chest, and the impact didn’t just break ribs—it created a vacuum that imploded the man’s torso before sending him flying into the burning tanker.

Ethan roared, a sound of pure, unadulterated fury that drowned out the explosions. His purple eyes glowed with the cold, unforgiving light of a God of Death. He was a lion in a pen of panicked sheep, and the "hunt" had officially turned into a harvest.

"Die! Just die!" a mercenary screamed, emptying a magazine at point-blank range.

Ethan didn’t even flinch. He moved through the hail of lead as if the bullets were moving through water. He grabbed the shooter’s head and squeezed. There was a sickening crack, and the man slumped to the ground, his skull crushed like a dry gourd.

"This isn’t what they promised! This isn’t a Level 1 threat! This is a fucking nightmare! He’s a monster... a goddamn monster!!!" another hitman shrieked, dropping his rifle and trying to climb over the bridge railing.

Ethan appeared behind him in a flash of purple light. He caught the man by the spine and ripped him backward, the force of the movement snapping the man’s back like a twig.

The bridge became a corridor of gore. Ethan moved with terrifying, fluid efficiency. A kick severed a man’s waist; a backhand strike sent a head spinning into the river below. The blood didn’t just splatter; it hissed as it hit the electric arcs radiating from Ethan’s skin.

He was no longer the CEO of Royal. He was the apex predator of a world that had forgotten how to fear.

Minutes passed, or perhaps hours—time had no meaning in the slaughter. When the last arc of lightning finally faded and the smoke began to clear, the bridge was silent. There were no more shouts, no more gunfire. There was only the sound of burning metal and the heavy, rhythmic breathing of a man standing in a lake of crimson.

Ethan stood in the center of the carnage, his suit torn, his hands stained dark. Hundreds of bodies—or what remained of them—littered the concrete for three hundred yards. Not a single soul was left standing.

He looked toward the Royal Tower, his eyes still burning with that terrifying purple hue.

"Crul... status," Ethan said, his voice a low, vibrating growl.

[The bridge is clear, Master. But the Tower’s internal sensors show the Black Skull Elites have reached the 20th floor. Jason is engaged in heavy combat.] Crul said.

Ethan didn’t say a word. He simply turned and began to run toward the Tower, his speed cracking the pavement beneath his feet.

Outside the final vault on the 20th floor, the hallway had become a tomb. Jason was a silhouette of gore and desperation. His tactical vest was shredded, and a deep gash across his thigh leaked a steady stream of crimson onto the polished floor. Surrounding him were the bodies of nearly thirty Black Skull operatives, but more kept emerging from the stairwells like shadows.

He fired his last magazine, the slide of his pistol locking back with a hollow click. Without a second thought, he hurled the empty weapon at an approaching assassin’s face and drew his combat knife.

"Is that all you bastards have?!" Jason said, his voice a ragged snarl.

He parried a blade, drove his shoulder into a mercenary’s chest, and sliced upward, but a second attacker lunged from his blind spot, burying a knife into Jason’s shoulder. Jason roared, snapping the man’s neck with a brutal twist of his arms, but the weight of his injuries finally brought him to one knee.

He was spent. His vision was blurring, the edges of the hallway beginning to spin. With trembling fingers, he reached for the final thermobaric grenade on his belt. He pulled the pin and held the spoon down.

"See you in hell," Jason said.

He hurled the grenade into the cluster of advancing Elites and used his remaining strength to throw his body toward the vault’s massive circular door. The explosion rocked the entire floor, a wall of fire and pressure washing over the hallway.

Inside the vault, the monitors flickered. Cassandra gripped her rifle, her knuckles white.

"We have to open it! He’s right outside, I can hear him crawling!" Cassandra said.

"If we open that door, we compromise the safety of everyone in this room. The protocol is clear, Cassandra. We stay sealed!" Lena said, though her eyes were shining with unshed tears.

"To hell with the protocol! He’s dying for us!" Cassandra said.

Before the argument could escalate, a cold, slender hand reached past them and slapped the manual override. Sarah, stood there with a face of stone.

"He is Royal. We do not leave our own to rot," Sarah said.

The heavy gears of the vault groaned as the door hissed open just a few inches. Sarah and Cassandra reached out, grabbing Jason by his tactical harness and dragging his limp, bleeding body into the sanctuary. They slammed the door shut just as the first wave of reinforcements rounded the corner.

Jason lay on the floor, coughing up blood, but he managed a weak, bloody grin. "Took your... sweet time," Jason said.

Outside the vault, the surviving Black Skull Elites gathered. Their leader, a man with a jagged scar running across his throat, stepped over the charred remains of his comrades and pressed his hand against the cold steel of the vault.

"It’s a Class-S reinforced bunker. Standard charges won’t tickle it," the leader said.

"Then bring up the thermal drills and the condensed nitro. We have a ten-billion-dollar prize behind this door. I don’t care if we have to melt the entire floor to get to him," the second-in-command said.