Chapter 4: The Debt Collectors’ Nightmare
1315 Words
The elevator descended with a smooth, mechanical hum that masked the c*****e brewing below. Julian leaned against the mirrored wall, his reflection no longer showing a trembling addict, but a predator waiting for the cage to open.
"Twenty-one of them, Boss," Pip squeaked, doing a somersault in the air. "Fourteen handguns, three shotguns, and one guy in the back with a rocket launcher. They’re really not fans of your customer service!"
Julian checked the weight of the steel-tipped umbrella in his hand. It was light—pathetic compared to the Star-Crusher Greataxe he once wielded—but with his refined marrow, it would suffice. "The rocket launcher is excessive for a single mortal," Julian mused. "They must truly fear this Julian Thorne."
"Oh, they don't fear you," Pip giggled. "They’re just thorough. They want to make sure there isn’t enough of you left to put in a coffin. Remember: No killing! One corpse equals minus five hundred points!"
Julian’s eyes flashed a dangerous gold. "I make no promises for their teeth."
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open to the grand lobby of the Thorne Penthouse. Usually, this area was a silent sanctuary of marble and classical music. Now, it was a tactical kill zone.
The twenty-one men were positioned behind marble pillars and the reception desk. The leader, a man with a jagged scar running across his bald head named Viper-Eye, stood in the center, holding a cigar.
When the doors opened and revealed only a single man in a silk robe holding an umbrella, the entire room went silent.
"That's him?" Viper-Eye barked, a cloud of smoke escaping his lips. "That’s the 'God' who broke my three best men? He looks like he just crawled out of a spa."
The gangsters erupted in mocking laughter. The tension broke as they lowered their weapons slightly, amused by the sight of the "Trash CEO" standing defiantly in his sleepwear.
"Julian Thorne," Viper-Eye sneered, flicking his cigar toward Julian. "You’ve caused a lot of paperwork tonight. My boss doesn't like paperwork. He likes results. Kneel down, and I might make the first shot quick."
Julian stepped out of the elevator. His bare feet were silent on the cold marble. He didn't look at the guns pointed at his heart. He looked at the clock on the lobby wall.
"You have thirty seconds to leave this building," Julian said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a weight that seemed to dampen the air. "If you remain, you will spend the next six months learning how to eat through a straw."
The laughter stopped. There was something in Julian’s tone—a chilling, absolute certainty—that made the hair on the back of the gangsters' necks stand up.
"Kill him," Viper-Eye snapped, his amusement turning into irritation.
The first two gunmen stepped forward, raising their 9mm pistols. Before their fingers could even touch the triggers, Julian moved.
He didn't run; he flowed.
Julian lunged, the steel tip of the umbrella striking the first gunman’s wrist with the precision of a needle. Crack. The gun fell. In a continuous motion, Julian spun, the shaft of the umbrella whistling through the air to catch the second man in the temple.
Both men hit the floor before the echoes of the first strike died.
"Fire! Fire now!" Viper-Eye screamed.
The lobby erupted in thunder. Bullets shattered the marble pillars and shredded the expensive leather sofas. Julian, however, was no longer there. With his [Lesser Body Refinement], His reflexes were on the edge of the superhuman. He dove behind a heavy mahogany reception desk, the wood splintering under the hail of lead.
[Ding!]
[Stress Detected. The host is outnumbered. Would you like to buy 'Flash-Step' for 300 Karma Points?]
"Buy it!" Julian growled.
[-300 Karma. Current Balance: -999,830.]
[Skill 'Flash-Step' (Rank F) Activated. Duration: 60 seconds.]
Julian felt his world slow down. Every falling shard of glass, every streak of tracer fire, hung in the air like slow-moving insects.
He moved.
To the gangsters, Julian Thorne simply vanished into a blur of black silk.
Thwack! Crack! Thud!
Julian appeared behind the first line of gunmen. The umbrella moved like a rapier, puncturing the shoulders of two men, disabling their trigger fingers instantly. He then swept the legs of a third, the sound of the man's shin snapping echoing through the lobby.
"Where is he?! He's too fast!"
"Over there! By the fountain!"
Julian was a ghost of war. He didn't use flashy moves; he used the most efficient path to pain. He jammed the umbrella into a gunman’s solar plexus, then used the man's falling body as a shield against a shotgun blast.
The lobby was a chaotic mess of screaming men and flying debris. In less than forty seconds, fifteen of the twenty-one men were on the floor, groaning in agony. None were dead, but none would be fighting again this year.
Viper-Eye stood at the back, his hands shaking as he reached for the man with the rocket launcher. "Do it! Level the whole lobby! Kill everyone!"
The heavy-set man with the RPG-7 shouldered the weapon, aiming it at the center of the fountain where Julian had just appeared.
"Julian, move!" Pip screamed. "That thing will vaporize this body!"
Julian didn't move. He stood tall, the gold in his eyes burning like twin suns. He reached into his soul, pulling on the tiny 0.01% of his Godhood that had been restored by the marrow cleansing.
"Kneel," Julian whispered.
He didn't use the System. He used [Divine Pressure].
A wave of invisible, crushing weight expanded from Julian's body. The air itself seemed to solidify. The man with the rocket launcher felt as if a mountain had been placed on his shoulders. His knees hit the marble so hard they shattered. The RPG-7 clattered to the floor, unfired.
Viper-Eye fell as well, his face slammed into the floor, his lungs unable to draw air under the sheer weight of Julian’s presence.
Julian walked slowly toward Viper-Eye, his silk robe untouched by the blood or dust of the battle. He stood over the gang leader, the tip of the umbrella resting gently on the back of the man’s neck.
"Thirty seconds are up," Julian said.
[Ding!]
[Task Accomplished: 'Urban Cleaning'.]
[Reward: 1,000 Karma Points + Karma Shop Access Unlocked!]
[Bonus: You terrified the enemy into submission without a single casualty. +200 Karma.]
[Current Balance: -998,630.]
Julian felt a surge of vitality as the points hit his soul. The "Debt" was still massive, but for the first time in eons, the God of War felt a thrill. This world was weak, but the game was interesting.
"Who... who are you?" Viper-Eye wheezed, his eyes bulging from the pressure.
Julian leaned down, his voice a cold whisper that only the gang leader could hear. "I am the man who is going to take over your organization by dawn. Now, give me your phone. I need to have a word with your boss."
Viper-Eye fumbled with his pocket, handing over a gold-plated smartphone.
Julian stood up and looked at the elevator. Elara was standing there, the doors having opened just in time for her to see twenty-one of the city’s most dangerous men broken and kneeling before her husband.
She looked at the umbrella. She looked at the c*****e. Then she looked at Julian.
"Julian," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and awe. "What... How did you do all that?"
Julian smirked, tossing the bloody umbrella aside. "Can I get some tea? I'm thirsty. After tea, we have a board meeting to attend."
He walked back toward the elevator, stepping over the groaning bodies as if they were nothing more than litter on the street.
"Pip," Julian thought as the doors closed. "Open the shop. I think I need a suit. A God should never conquer a company in a bathrobe."
- Writer
