Shadow of Vengeance Returns

Chapter 1: The Graveyard Encounter

The old cemetery was quiet as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. A tall man stood alone before a weathered tombstone, his dark coat moving slightly in the cold wind. His name was Marcus Vale, and he had come back to a place he swore he would never return to.

On the stone was carved a single word that made his blood boil: "Madwoman."

Ten years ago, Marcus's life had been shattered in a single night. His father, a wealthy businessman named Richard Vale, had brought home a new woman and told them to leave. Just like that. No warning. No mercy. Marcus's mother, Elena, had begged at the gates, tears streaming down her face, but Richard turned away as if she meant nothing to him.

That night, Marcus was only twelve years old. His little sister, Sarah, was just seven. They ended up on the streets with their mother, sleeping in shelters and eating whatever they could find. Then came the attack. A drunk man had tried to rob them, and Marcus's mother had fought him off to protect her children. She won, but the injuries were severe.

For two years, Marcus watched his mother fight to keep them alive. He went to school hungry. He came home to an empty apartment. He took care of Sarah while his mother worked three jobs just to afford their tiny room.

Then one day, everything fell apart.

Marcus got a call from the hospital. His mother had jumped from a building downtown. When he arrived, she was already gone. The doctors said she had been under tremendous stress. They found threatening letters in her pocket, all signed by the same person: Agatha White.

Agatha White had been his mother's best friend once. They had done everything together. But after his father left, things changed. Agatha had wanted something that belonged to Marcus's mother, and when she couldn't have it, she decided to destroy everything Elena loved.

Using her family's wealth and power, Agatha had forced them from their home. She had sent thugs to threaten them. She had spread lies about his mother throughout the city. And when Elena finally broke under the pressure, Agatha made sure everyone knew about it. Even in death, Agatha had not stopped. She had defaced his mother's grave and forbidden anyone from mourning her properly.

"Mom, I'm back," Marcus whispered, touching the cold stone. "I promised I would come back, and I did."

He had been alone that night when the stranger found him and Sarah crying in the rain, broken and lost. The man had offered them a choice: stay broken, or become strong. Marcus had chosen strength. He had trained for ten years under the mysterious warrior, learning combat, strategy, and discipline. He had become so skilled that when his country needed him most, he had been the one they called.

During the border war, Marcus had fought like a demon. Single-handedly, he had turned the tide of an entire battle. Soldiers called him the King of War. Generals praised his tactics. But before anyone could discover his real identity, he had disappeared.

Now he was back in Ravenmoor, hidden behind a common face and simple clothes.

The sound of footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Five men walked into the cemetery, their boots heavy on the gravel path. They looked tough, the kind of men who were paid to hurt people and ask questions later.

"Hey, you!" one of them shouted. "This is private property. Get out!"

Marcus turned slowly, his eyes cold as ice. The men didn't recognize the danger they were in.

"We're here to do some work," another man said, holding up a chisel and hammer. "Miss Agatha White sent us to make sure this grave stays properly marked. As a madwoman's grave should be."

Something inside Marcus snapped. His fists clenched so hard his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood.

"Who sent you?" he asked quietly.

"Does it matter?" the largest man stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "We're paid to do a job, and you're in the way. So either move, or we'll move you. Your choice, kid."

Marcus had spent ten years learning to control his power. He had learned that strength without control was just violence. But sometimes, violence was the only language bullies understood.

"I'm only going to say this once," Marcus said, his voice dropping to barely a whisper. "Leave this place. Now."

The men laughed. The largest one swung a fist at Marcus's face, a slow, clumsy punch that any trained fighter could see coming from a mile away.

Marcus moved his head to the side. The punch missed by inches.

Then he struck back.

It was fast. Too fast for the untrained eye to follow. His palm connected with the man's chest, and the impact sent him flying backward five meters. The man crashed into a stone monument and didn't get up.

The other four men stared in shock for half a second before reaching for weapons. But Marcus was already moving. He was a blur of motion, and in less than ten seconds, all five men were on the ground, groaning in pain but still breathing.

Marcus didn't kill. He never killed innocent people, no matter how much they deserved it. These men were just tools, weapons used by someone else. The real enemy was Agatha White, and she was still out there.

"Tell Agatha White that Marcus Vale has returned to Ravenmoor," he said coldly. "And tell her that the King of War is coming for her."

He turned back to his mother's grave and knelt down, placing his hand on the stone. Behind him, the men were struggling to their feet, fear in their eyes. They would run back to Agatha. They would tell her about this encounter. And Agatha would finally understand that her safe, comfortable life was about to come to an end.

But Marcus had no idea that Agatha White was not working alone. There were others in Ravenmoor who wanted to keep their secrets hidden. And some of them were far more dangerous than a simple businesswoman with a grudge.

As Marcus stood up and walked away from the cemetery, a figure watched him from the shadows between the trees. This watcher smiled, knowing that the return of the King of War would change everything in Ravenmoor.

The game had just begun.