Chapter 15: Jamie’s First Kill: Part 1

Alexander stood still, eyes locked on the man who had captured his blade. His breathing slowed, every muscle centered into a single point of focus.

“Alright… I get it now,” Alexander said, calm yet edged with steel. “You contracted your muscles—formed a knot to trap my weapon.”

The man smirked, pride curling his lips. “You’re bright. And right! But—” his voice swelled into a booming laugh, “you’ve forgotten something. With the upgrades from the blue points… I am invincible! Hahaha!”

The blade hung useless, clamped against his iron-hardened thigh.

“You are,” Alexander admitted, his tone colder now, “but I’m sorry… I’m a bad match for you.”

The man blinked. “Your words mean nothing?”

“Lemme show you.”

In a blur, Alexander shifted his grip and surged forward. His blade shot toward the man’s flank.

Clang!

The sword bounced off as though it had struck steel. No wound, not even a scratch.

“I told you it wouldn’t work!” the man roared, chest swelling with invincible bravado.

Alexander’s eyes narrowed, his voice low. “The body has many weak points. Strike them correctly… and even the strongest fall.”

Then he unleashed. Relentless, surgical—his blade carved through the air, slicing at flanks, cuffs, and the faint seams between hardened muscle. Every thrust was a riddle, every slash a solution.

Gojo stood arrogant, arms wide, laughing. “I told you, you ca—”

His words snapped off. Pain twisted his face.

Alexander’s blade had slipped through—past the fortress of muscle. A thin line of blood seeped, bright against invincibility.

For the first time, Gojo staggered. His weapon twitched upward for a counter—too slow.

Alexander’s blade screamed across his neck. Flesh parted.

The head came free in a grotesque arc, blood spraying like a crimson fountain.

“I told you,” Alexander said coldly, mercilessly, “we’re a bad match.”

“Gojo!!!” a voice shrieked. Shock tore through the ranks; faces froze—terror, grief, disbelief.

One man’s gaze locked on Alexander, hatred burning so hot it was nearly silent. He wanted—no, needed—to rip Alexander apart.

But then—

“All builders, retreat!!” the man barked.

Two blurred into motion, snatching their comrade’s body before vanishing through the gate.

“Should we go after them?” Bray asked.

“Not yet,” Alexander replied, firm and final.

Only three remained now. Black masks covered their faces, their slim black attire blending into shadows. Their movements were sharp, footwork crisp—faster, cleaner than Alexander’s own. Danger coiled off them like smoke.

One glanced at Alexander and signed quick signals. The others stepped back in unison.

“Their movements… too precise. Pros,” Alexander thought grimly.

“Don’t pull away!” Charlotte screamed, fury twisting her face.

“They would’ve killed you,” Alexander said flatly.

“Overwhelming you on purpose,” he added, eyes locked on them. “Luring me in.”

The masked fighters froze—caught. Their silence betrayed their broken plan.

“You’re outnumbered!” Bray barked, pointing his blade.

“My, my, my…” a new voice drifted down from the roof.

Two figures stepped into view—the girls from the portraits. Former teammates. Now branded with the mark of the Gun Symbol group.

Beep.

A mechanical pulse rose from the ground. Every head snapped downward.

Bray and Alexander’s system screens flared to life. A yellow glow bathed the base, words flashing like a death knell:

[+30 Endurance points]

[+20 strength points]

Beneath was

[Broken Shields > 0 bases]

[Guns > 2 bases]

Hearts dropped. Blood turned to ice.

At those words, terror carved through them. The Broken Shields had fallen.

—

At the Broken Shields’ base…

The Guns swarmed the residence, their arrogance casual, their laughter heavy. At the center stood the commander, beaming over a map like a king at his board. Power radiated from him, humming through the air. None dared challenge him. The vice commander stood at his side, silent—a hurricane waiting to be unleashed.

Near the house, Jamie’s body lay still. Broken. Bloody. Lifeless.

“The girls are late!” one soldier muttered.

“Give them time,” another scoffed. “Didn’t I say we’d secure this place in minutes?”

The commander ignored them, grin widening, his aura heavy with triumph. He was untouchable—at the top of the food chain.

Then the floor trembled.

The commander’s grin cracked. Dust slid across the map. Vibrations climbed the walls until they shook. Panic whispered, spread.

“What… what’s happening?” his thoughts raced as fear crept under his skin.

A blinding yellow light burst from Jamie’s body, stabbing into the sky. The shockwave hurled soldiers back.

Light swelled—violent, divine.

Jamie rose.

His wounds sealed. His hair flared golden. His eyes burned with radiant fire. Golden thunder crawled along his skin, alive, snarling.

The soldiers shielded their eyes.

A voice rang through the blaze, deep and unshakable.

“Ever since I arrived here… I’ve seen humans forced into killers. The powerless murdered. The wicked praised.” Jamie’s voice rolled heavy, steady. “I waited for justice. For light. But nothing came.”

His gaze cut through them, burning.

“In my last moments I realized—if no one will bring justice to this cursed world… then I will.”

The light receded, leaving him transformed. Innocence gone. His frame sparked, yellow thunder threading his arms and legs like living scars.

They stared—horrified, stunned.

A soldier broke first, lunging forward with a katana. The blade fell—

Clang.

Jamie raised a single finger. The sword froze, held as if pinned against invisible steel.

The soldier’s eyes bulged in terror.

Jamie’s fist slammed into his chest. Bones cracked. The man flew back, ragdolling through the air.

“This message is for you,” Jamie said coldly.

Another soldier charged. Jamie stepped aside, flicked his forehead. The man crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

“Those who choose evil… and support it… will fall.”

The vice commander struck—faster than lightning, stronger than a storm. But Jamie’s thunder-lit gaze saw it all. His hand swept the blow aside, and his counter tore the arm from its socket.

The man screamed.

Jamie seized his skull, unyielding as iron. The vice writhed, powerless in his grip.

“I will give you all the justice you deserve,” Jamie intoned. Thunder poured into the man’s body.

The scream that followed was raw, animal, blood-curdling.

The commander staggered back, disbelief shattering his composure.

“What skill is this? Overhaul? No… it feels solar—like the sun—but that thunder—two skills? Impossible! He had only one golden point!” a soldier cried, voice breaking.

Jamie’s eyes locked on the commander. His hand rose, thunder crawling outward like a storm unleashed. The vice commander’s body fell to the ground, bloody, unconscious.

“Yellow Sun,” he declared, voice resonant, low as judgment. “A Special Skill that envelopes my body with: sun and lightining —all combined.”

He didn’t boast. He pronounced a sentence.

“I told you what my skill does,” Jamie said, stepping closer. His thunder illuminated the walls like a coming dawn. “Now… let’s see how you get out of this one.”

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