The warehouse was a monolith of steel and shadow, looming in the heart of the industrial district like a fortress of crime. Alexander stood at its entrance, Vasili at his side, the scent of oil and gunpowder lingering in the cold night air. The sentries lay dead, their bodies swallowed by the abyss, leaving the entrance unguarded. But Alexander knew better than to assume the rest of the men inside would be as easy to deal with.
Dimitri Kovac was no ordinary crime boss.
A former black ops operative turned weapons dealer, Kovac was feared not just for his ruthlessness but for his military mind. Unlike street thugs, his men were disciplined, well-trained mercenaries. Alexander could already sense them—heartbeats steady, footsteps calculated. This wasn't a den of reckless criminals. This was a battlefield.
A smirk touched his lips. Perfect.
He pushed the heavy warehouse doors open, stepping into the dimly lit expanse. The air inside was thick with the metallic scent of ammunition and cold steel. Stacks of crates, marked with international arms trade logos, lined the vast space. Overhead industrial lights buzzed, casting flickering shadows against steel beams. A single elevated platform stood at the back, lined with monitors and weapon caches.
In the center of it all, standing behind a reinforced console with multiple monitors, was Dimitri Kovac himself.
The man was tall, broad-shouldered, his black tactical gear fitting like a second skin. His face was rugged, marked with scars of a life lived in the trenches of warfare. His dark eyes locked onto Alexander, analyzing him in an instant, calculating every possible scenario. Unlike his men, Kovac did not panic.
Instead, he smirked.
"So, you're the ghost that's been haunting my men," Kovac said, his voice edged with amusement. He tapped on the console beside him, showing live footage of his dead guards on the monitors. "Impressive work. Silent. Efficient. You remind me of myself."
Alexander tilted his head slightly, his violet eyes glowing under the dim lighting. "I'm nothing like you."
Kovac chuckled. "No? Then why are you here, in the shadows, hunting those who thrive in them? You're not a hero. You're a predator."
Alexander didn't deny it. Instead, he took another step forward. "You already know how this ends, Kovac."
Kovac sighed, almost disappointed. "Perhaps. But I didn't get this far by rolling over."
He snapped his fingers.
Instantly, the warehouse erupted into chaos.
Gunfire roared as Kovac's mercenaries sprang into action. The overhead lights flickered, revealing heavily armored soldiers taking cover behind crates, moving with the precision of trained killers. Unlike common criminals, these men did not waste bullets—they fired in controlled bursts, their shots aimed to pin Alexander down.
But Alexander was already moving.
The shadows around him twisted, morphing into a defensive veil as he surged forward, dodging bullets with inhuman reflexes. A mercenary attempted to flank him, but Vasili materialized behind the man, a shadow dagger slicing through his throat before he could react. The body barely hit the ground before Vasili was gone again, melting into the darkness.
Kovac had already moved, vanishing into the maze of containers. Smart. He wasn't one to engage directly unless necessary. Instead, he would let his men soften the threat before stepping in himself.
Alexander smirked. Let's see how well that strategy works against the abyss.
He lifted his hand, and the warehouse dimmed.
The remaining lights flickered and died as the shadows expanded, swallowing the room in utter darkness. Panicked shouts echoed as Kovac's men lost their bearings. They were trained for combat, but not for this. Not for an enemy that turned the very darkness against them.
One by one, the mercenaries fell—some to Vasili, others to Alexander's own attacks. He moved like a specter, weaving through the battlefield with a lethal grace. The last soldier barely had time to scream before a shadowy spear impaled him against a crate.
And then, only one heartbeat remained.
Dimitri Kovac.
A slow clap broke the silence. "That was… impressive," Kovac admitted, emerging from behind a container. His expression was calm, but Alexander could see it—the tension in his muscles, the subtle shifts in his stance. He knew he was outmatched.
But he wasn't done fighting.
In a blur of motion, Kovac pulled something from his belt—a flash grenade. He hurled it to the ground, the blinding explosion of light rupturing the darkness.
Alexander instinctively recoiled as the sudden burst disrupted his shadows. In that moment, Kovac struck.
The former operative was fast—inhumanly fast for a regular man. He closed the distance in seconds, drawing a combat knife and slashing toward Alexander's throat. The blade barely missed, grazing the edge of his collar. Kovac pivoted, his other hand pulling a pistol, firing three precise shots aimed at Alexander's vitals.
Alexander dodged, but the third bullet scraped against his shoulder, a sharp sting of pain registering in his mind.
He grinned. Finally, a fight.
Kovac didn't hesitate, pressing the attack. His movements were calculated, aggressive yet controlled. He had fought enhanced enemies before—he knew better than to rely on brute force alone. Every attack was aimed at exploiting weaknesses, forcing Alexander into a defensive stance.
But Alexander wasn't human.
His movements became sharper, faster. Shadows coiled around his limbs, reinforcing his strikes. Kovac's next knife thrust was met with a solidified tendril of darkness, stopping it mid-air. The ex-operative's eyes widened slightly, realizing his mistake.
And Alexander took advantage of it.
He stepped forward, grabbing Kovac by the throat with an iron grip. The man struggled, his free hand attempting to stab at Alexander's ribs, but the blade was useless—swallowed by the abyss.
"Good effort," Alexander murmured. "But it's over."
He tightened his grip. Kovac's struggles weakened, his body twitching as his oxygen ran out. His mind, trained for war, likely raced through every possible escape. But there was none.
With one final gasp, Dimitri Kovac went limp.
Alexander let the body fall, exhaling slowly. This one had been a true challenge.
And that made his next move even more satisfying.
He extended his hand, the abyss swirling around him. His voice, deep with authority, echoed through the warehouse.
"Arise."
The darkness trembled, twisting around Kovac's corpse like a living entity. A deep, guttural sound reverberated through the room as the abyss claimed its prize.
And then, Kovac moved.
His form solidified, his once-human flesh now laced with shadow. His scars remained, but his eyes burned with an unnatural violet glow. Slowly, he knelt before Alexander, his voice stripped of defiance, replaced with something far more powerful.
"My king… I serve."
Alexander's lips curled into a smirk.
Another piece had fallen into place.
The Shadow Monarch's army had grown.
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