Haruto arrived at Newlax's high-security private villa, stepping through the grand double doors and entering the central conference hall. To his surprise, he wasn't the only one summoned. Gathered around the massive obsidian table were all nineteen District Managers of the city.
Nineteen districts... Haruto thought, his eyes sweeping across the room. Each of these individuals controlled vast territories, commanding thousands of men. Though a single District Manager was a monstrous force on their own, they all ultimately answered to the supreme overlord sitting at the very top.
As Haruto stepped further into the room, Newlax swaggered in from a side door, a wide grin plastered across his face. "Hello, everyone. Take your seats."
Before sitting down, Haruto was handed a package from his hotspots—a set of custom formal attire meant for high-level syndicate gatherings. Though the sharp suit felt a bit tight and restrictive compared to his usual combat gear, Haruto slipped it on without a word, standing tall among the other overlords.
Once everyone was seated, the high-ranking managers immediately began murmuring and exchanging notes, hashing out logistics—discussing the current volume of illegal smuggling across sectors, reviewing territory margins, and making sure the gang networks were maintaining strict control over their respective turrets.
Just as the tension in the room began to peak, a set of grand double doors at the side swung open, and an elaborate banquet feast was rolled in.
Haruto stared, genuinely taken aback. Spread across the long tables were lavish, extravagant dishes, accompanied by dozens of varieties of exotic desserts, rich pastries, and high-end delicacies he hadn't seen anywhere else in this rotten city. Waiters in pristine black-and-white uniforms immediately stepped forward, pouring fine drinks and serving the guests.
Once everyone had settled with their plates, Newlax stood up at the head of the table, clearing his throat to get their attention. He raised his glass, gesturing directly toward Haruto.
"Before we dig into the main business of the night," Newlax announced with a sly smirk, "I want to officially introduce the newest addition to our high ranks—District Manager Echo."
The banquet hall erupted into noise as all nineteen District Managers dug into the feast. Haruto sat quietly, picking at his food without a word. Even though he had spent the past month eating simple, standard rations or whatever the captured officers cooked in his safe house, he wasn't about to risk taking off his tactical mask in front of nearly two dozen rival syndicate lords.
Once the dinner wrapped up and the other managers trickled out into the night, Newlax gestured for Haruto to stay behind.
"Echo, hold on a second. Come with me," Newlax said, turning on his heel and walking down a private corridor toward his personal office.
Haruto followed silently, stepping into the lavishly decorated room. Newlax poured two glasses of high-end liquor, sliding one across the desk before leaning back in his leather chair.
"I have to hand it to you," Newlax began, a twisted smile crossing his face. "You're one of my best men. Managing a volatile district and keeping a massive group of bloodthirsty thugs in line like that isn't easy. I genuinely appreciate your work. Because of your district's chaos, the crime rates across the city are surging just like I wanted."
Haruto simply slid his drink away, keeping his voice carefully level beneath his mask. "Crime is already rampant enough as it is. It's practically everywhere."
Newlax chuckled darkly, swirling his glass. "Of course it is. We are the crime."
Haruto's eyes narrowed behind his mask. His tone turned sharp. "If you ask me, thugs aren't just here to commit random crimes. Real syndicate control isn't about mindless chaos—it's about building a social order and keeping the population terrified enough to stay in line, ensuring nobody steps out of bounds or lets the police abuse their authority. But what you're doing with all this unchecked illegal smuggling..."
Newlax's smile vanished instantly. A vein throbbed on his temple as his face flushed with sudden, explosive rage.
"You dare lecture me?!" Newlax roared, slamming his fist onto the desk. In a blur of motion, he lunged forward, throwing a vicious, heavy-knuckled punch straight at Haruto's face.
With instantaneous reflexes, Haruto effortlessly ducked and sidestepped, his hand shooting out to effortlessly catch Newlax's wrist mid-swing. The room went dead silent. Haruto stared down the enraged overlord, his voice a cold, unyielding whisper.
"What the hell is this?"
Newlax yanked his wrist back, a cold, twisted grin spreading across his face as he slumped back into his leather chair. "Nice... you're even stronger than you let on."
Haruto didn't lower his guard, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp edge. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Newlax chuckled darkly, steepling his fingers, "while your work is useful, it also means you're standing on borrowed time."
"What are you talking about?" Haruto demanded, his tone turning ice-cold.
"For the little speech you just gave me," Newlax hissed, "there's a price to pay."
With a sharp snap of his fingers, Newlax called out into the shadows. "Bring him in."
From the dark archway, the elderly slave shuffled forward at terrifying, unnatural speed. Before Haruto could even blink, the old man closed the distance. Despite his frail appearance, his physical stats and speed were incomprehensibly high—so fast that Haruto couldn't even react in time.
With blinding swiftness, the old man slammed heavy, reinforced restraints onto Haruto's arms and legs, pinning him down completely.
"Beat him," Newlax ordered coldly, leaning forward with a sadistic gleam in his eyes. "Remind him who he works for."
The old slave picked up a heavy, reinforced iron rod. Moving with ruthless efficiency, he brought it down across Haruto's shins, his arms, his ribs, and finally, his hands, shattering his fingers one excruciating bone by one.
Agony unlike anything he had ever felt surged through Haruto's nervous system. He gritted his teeth, but a choked, agonized scream tore past his lips as the sheer brutality of the beating overwhelmed his body.
Newlax watched the display with amusement, walking up to tower over the pinned, broken form. "For a month, I was actually curious to see what your face looked like under that mask," Newlax sneered, crouching down. "But honestly? You're not interesting anymore. If you somehow manage to survive this, crawl away, strip yourself of the District Manager title, and die quietly somewhere else. I'll just find another dog."
With a wave of his hand, Newlax had the guards drag Haruto's battered, unmoving body out of the room and toss him ruthlessly onto the cold dirt outside the front gates of the villa, leaving him to rot in the night.
Hours melted into the cold night as Haruto lay motionless on the desolate dirt road outside the villa. Slowly, his fingers twitched.
Driven by his passive healing factor, the shattered bones in his hands and limbs began to snap back into alignment, knitting themselves together with a sickening crunch. Groaning in pain, Haruto forced himself up. He ripped off the ruined, blood-stained custom formal suit Newlax had given him, tearing it away to free his movement.
Whew... that was close, he muttered, clutching his side.
Because Newlax's brute and his old slave had relied entirely on raw physical trauma and a heavy iron rod rather than magic, his innate physical healing factor had managed to save him. If they had used magic-imbued strikes, he would have been done for.
A heavy, suffocating wave of rage washed over him—he wanted nothing more than to tear Newlax apart limb from limb. Yet, deep inside his mind, that strange, emotionless void remained locked in place, keeping his cool calculation intact beneath the surface.
Gritting his teeth, Haruto took out his mask, reached into his pocket and pulled out the advanced, hacker-grade terminal device he had purchased with his 30,000 credits. He tapped the glowing interface, activating the portable hacking suite. Lines of code cascaded across the holographic screen as the device bypassed local firewalls, syncing with the city's hidden infrastructure.
A detailed tactical map of the upper sectors popped up, highlighting a blinking, encrypted coordinate deep within a restricted zone.
Haruto pushed himself up off the ground, a fierce determination driving him forward as he limped toward the glowing location. But after only a few steps, his body betrayed him. The residual shock of the beating and the energy drain from his rapid cellular healing caught up all at once. His legs buckled, and he collapsed hard onto the pavement.
Dragging his heavy, unresponsive limbs, he managed to crawl inch by inch until he reached the safety of the dark shadows beside the road. Completely spent, Haruto closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.
When Haruto finally fluttered his eyes open, he realized with a jolt that he was resting his head in someone's lap.
Before he could even process the warmth, a soft, amused voice chimed from above him. "Hello~ looks like you're finally awake."
Haruto snapped fully alert, his eyes flying open. He stared up, instantly recognizing the face looking down at him. Lilith.
Panic surging through his bruised body, he scrambled backward in a desperate rush, stumbling to his feet and pointing a wary finger at her. "You—! What are you doing here?!"
Lilith raised her hands in an exaggerated gesture of surrender, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "Relax, will you? You're reacting like I'm about to murder you."
Haruto glared at her, backing away another step, his heart hammering against his ribs. "What do you want from me?"
"Oh, stop being so dramatic. Come on, let's just talk," Lilith urged, patting the ground beside her.
Memories of how she used to tease and mess with him flashed through his mind, and Haruto immediately shook his head, turning on his heel. "Forget it. Get out of here." He started limping away down the path.
"Hey, sit down for a second, will you? We have things to discuss," Lilith called out lazily.
"I have nothing to say to you," Haruto barked back without looking back.
With a soft, melodic laugh, Lilith snapped her fingers.
Snap.
In a disorienting flash of light, reality violently twisted around him. Haruto blinked hard, stumbling forward—only to realize he was right back where he started, flat on his back with his head resting comfortably in Lilith's lap once again.
He rubbed his eyes in sheer disbelief, staring up at her with wide, uncomprehending eyes. "What the—this isn't real..." He quickly shoved himself up, backing away wildly. "Stop dragging me into whatever sick game you're playing!"
Lilith tilted her head, blinking innocently as she looked at him. "What on earth are you talking about? Seriously, I have no idea what you mean."
Haruto bolted upright, panic and frustration boiling in his chest as he turned and sprinted away. The sheer helplessness of the situation clawed at him—no matter how fast he ran, no matter how hard he tried to fight back, he was completely trapped in the palm of her hand.
With a lazy flick of her wrist, Lilith snapped her fingers again.
Snap.
Instantly, reality fractured. Haruto's eyes snapped open to find himself right back where he started, his head resting squarely in her lap.
"Stop playing with me!" Haruto roared, shoving himself up and lashing out with a furious, high-velocity punch straight toward her face.
Lilith didn't even flinch. She simply raised a hand and caught his fist effortlessly.
Snap.
Before his knuckles could make impact, the world reset, and he woke up with his head in her lap yet again.
"What is wrong with you?" Lilith sighed, gently shifting aside as Haruto scrambled backward in a frenzy. She looked down at him with a calm, unbothered smile.
For the next thirty to forty cycles, Haruto refused to give up. He tried sprinting in different directions, launching surprise attacks, threatening her, and trying every escape route his mind could conjure. But every single time he crossed a certain imaginary boundary or attempted to retaliate, the timeline violently snapped back, resetting him right back to her lap.
Exhausted, battered, and utterly defeated by the impossible loop, Haruto finally stopped fighting. Breathing heavily, he dragged himself a short distance away and sat down hard on the bare ground, glaring up at her with a mixture of exhaustion and cold defiance.
Lilith met his gaze, her expression softening into something eerily serene.
"You can stop fighting now," she said softly, her voice echoing strangely in the open space. "This is just a dream you're trapped in. None of this is real, which means you can't change anything here."
She leaned back, resting her chin in her hand as she offered him a knowing smile. "Besides... I'm not actually Lilith. I'm just a phantom avatar—a projection you conjured up and built deep inside the dark, desperate corners of your own mind." She lied.