ANTI-HERO.EXE [LitRPG]

Kael activated his communication implant with a sharp motion, his hands trembling with rage and helplessness. He couldn't afford to lose control—not now. On the holographic screen of his visor, the call rang out with a metallic echo before Dante's blurry image appeared.

—Kael, what the hell is going on? You look like you've seen a ghost.

Kael didn't waste time on pleasantries.

—They took Lira.

Dante's face hardened instantly.

—Who?

—The Butcher. He left me a note. He wants me at the Crimson Whisper tonight if I want to see her again.

Dante cursed under his breath and slammed the table in front of him.

—Shit! Do you know what this means? If he's got you in his sights, this isn't just a settling of scores. Do you have any idea who's backing that bastard?

Kael took a deep breath.

—I don't have time for games, Dante. Tell me what you know.

Dante closed his eyes for a second and moved his fingers through the air, scrolling through streams of data only he could see in his neural interface. Thousands of records flashed before his eyes until he found what he was looking for.

—The Butcher answers to someone big. Garrick Stonefist.

The name hit Kael like a slab of concrete.

—The hero?

—Yeah. He's not high-ranking, but he's got authority. He's protected by the System. That means you can't go to the enforcers—Garrick's got them in his pocket.

Kael clenched his jaw. His hopes of solving this without violence vanished instantly.

—Then there's no other choice.

Dante blinked, alarmed.

—Don't be stupid! Kael, if you walk in there, you're not walking out.

Kael remained silent for a moment. Then, without another word, he opened his interface and began transferring all the credits he had to Dante's account.

—Take this.

Dante stared at the transfer notification, his blood running cold.

—What the hell are you doing?

Kael met his gaze, his expression a mix of resignation and determination.

—I don't know if I'll make it out of this, Dante. But if something happens to me… I need you to take care of Lira.

The hacker shook his head, his voice cracking.

—No. No, don't do this to me, damn it. There's always another way.

Kael gave a bitter smile.

—Not when it comes to her.

Dante clenched his fists, feeling a knot tighten in his throat. He had no words to stop him, because he knew nothing would change Kael's mind.

—I'll find a way… —he whispered, but Kael had already ended the call.

Dante stared at the dark screen of his visor, his heart pounding. He knew his friend was walking straight into the lion's den.

The rain fell in thin sheets over the slums as Kael arrived at the Crimson Whisper. The neon lights flickered erratically over the bar, bathing the street in a red and violet glow. The air was thick with the stench of cheap liquor, sweat, and rusted metal.

Two enforcers intercepted him at the entrance—big guys with visible implants on their arms and faces marked by old scars. One of them shoved him against the wall, running a scanner over his body.

—Kael, right? —the taller one asked in a rough voice.

Kael didn't answer. He just held his gaze—cold, restrained.

—Get inside, little rat, —the enforcer growled, giving him a shove forward.

They led him through the bar, where a handful of patrons drank in silence, pretending not to notice the scene. They passed through a security door and descended a metal staircase into a warehouse dimly lit by flickering white lights.

There, standing in the center of the room, waited the Butcher.

He was massive—his muscles as hard as steel, his face crisscrossed with deep scars. His right arm was a combat implant, a grotesque fusion of metal and flesh, with fingers that looked like retractable blades.

Beside him, Lira was tied to a chair with electromagnetic restraints, her face streaked with tears, her hair a tangled mess.

Kael felt a tightness in his chest when he saw her.

—You were taking your time —grunted the Butcher, scanning Kael with a wrist device. The interface projected his stats on a holographic panel, and after reading them, the man let out a deep, guttural laugh.

—What the hell is this? —he sneered—. These are your stats? Are you this pathetic? I don't understand how the hell a guy with such lousy abilities took down three of my men.

The thugs flanking him laughed as well.

—Check if he's on any performance-enhancing drugs —the Butcher ordered.

One of the men shoved Kael against the wall and began patting him down. Another used a chemical scanner on his skin and clothes. Nothing.

—Clean, boss —the thug said, somewhat confused.

The Butcher clicked his tongue.

—Then it was just luck. Or those idiots were even more useless than I thought.

He stepped toward Kael with heavy footsteps, evaluating him with eyes as dark as the night.

—I suppose you know why you're here.

Kael didn't respond immediately. He looked at Lira, trembling and terrified, her eyes pleading. Then he lifted his chin and spoke firmly.

—You've got the wrong man. I'm not the one you're looking for. I just came to get my sister. Let her go. I'll stay in her place.

The Butcher smirked.

—Don't waste my time. —He snapped his fingers, and one of his men dragged a man out from the shadows.

It was the old man from the junkyard. His clothes were filthy and torn, his face lined with fear. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw Kael.

—Yes, it's him —he said in a trembling voice—. This young man helped us... my grandson and me... I'm sorry, Kael. Please, let me go. —the old man pleaded at last.

The Butcher nodded slowly, as if savoring the confirmation. Then he sighed and pulled a monomolecular knife from his belt.

—Thanks for your cooperation —he murmured, and with a swift motion, he slit the old man's throat.

Kael felt his stomach plummet into an abyss. The old man collapsed to the ground with a choked gurgle as blood gushed out in torrents.The Butcher crouched beside the corpse and wiped his knife blade on the old man's clothes.

—So, you want a trade? How noble... —He turned to Lira and grabbed a lock of her hair, making her shudder—. You know, kid? Blood sells well in these parts. Yours isn't worth much to me... but hers...

Kael felt rage boiling in his chest.

—Let her go! She's useless to you.

The Butcher watched him for a long moment, a twisted smile on his lips.

—I'll think about it... after we have some fun.

With a wave of his hand, he gave the order. Two thugs grabbed Kael and locked electromagnetic cuffs onto his wrists, pinning him against the wall. A shock coursed through his body as the cuffs activated, blocking any attempt at movement.

The Butcher crossed his arms, watching him with amusement as his men moved carefreely around the warehouse.

—I'm going to ask you one more time, kid. —His voice was a low growl, thick with menace—. How did a nobody like you take down three of my men?

Kael lifted his gaze, his jaw clenched.

—... They were careless. Just dumb luck.

The Butcher let out a dry chuckle.

—Alright, let's try this again. —He gestured, and one of his men grabbed Lira by the hair, forcing her head to tilt.

The knife's blade pressed against her throat.

—Tell us the truth, or she dies next.

Kael felt his breathing grow erratic. He looked at his sister, her eyes full of terror, and his hardened facade cracked.

—No! Don't do it! Alright! Alright! —he pleaded—. I... I used a drug...

The Butcher raised an eyebrow.

—What drug?

—I don't know... I don't have it anymore. I only had one dose...

The Butcher leaned in, scrutinizing Kael's every movement.

—You're lying.

Kael shook his head frantically.

—No... I'm not...

The Butcher was silent for a few seconds. Then, almost casually, he pulled out a communication device and activated a holographic screen.

An imposing figure appeared in the projection. Garrick Stonefist.

The hero had a cold, impassive expression. His right arm was covered in reinforced metal plates, the symbol of his power.

—So this is the kid —Garrick murmured in a deep voice—. I still don't understand how a nobody like him caused so much damage.

The Butcher nodded.

—Neither do I. But we'll find out.

Kael felt the weight of his fate closing in on him like a death trap.

The Butcher frowned, studying Kael with renewed interest.

—You're lying —he said again, coldly.

The thugs held Lira down as she struggled in vain. One of them ripped her clothes off, leaving her completely naked. Lira screamed and sobbed.

—Fuck the bitch —ordered the Butcher.

The thug punched Lira to stop her from moving, leaving her semi-conscious.

—Leave her alone! —Kael roared, shaking the cuffs desperately.

The Butcher tilted his head curiously.

—Check his stats —he ordered one of his men.

The thug tried to scan Kael, but his information was blocked.

—This is weird, boss —the thug said nervously—. Something's interfering with his data.

The Butcher cursed.

—Who the hell are you? —he asked, stepping closer with a sadistic grin—. A mercenary with a hacked implant? A government experiment?

Kael was breathing heavily. His heart pounded furiously in his chest.

—I'll tell you everything... but let her go —he said, his voice trembling—. Let her go, and you'll get your answers.

The Butcher crossed his arms and observed him in silence. On the other side of the screen, Garrick Stonefist, the hero, gave the okay.

—Fine —the Butcher finally said—. Release her.

The thugs shoved Lira to the ground. She struggled to sit up, still dizzy and aching from the blow. She grabbed her clothes with trembling hands to cover herself.

Kael closed his eyes, feeling a burning fury ignite within him.

—Speak —the Butcher ordered.

Kael took a deep breath. His mind raced. He had activated his Anti-Hero mode, but his stats were still too low to break the cuffs and take on all these thugs at once.

—I have a second identity.

The criminals exchanged confused glances before one of them scoffed:

—Oh yeah? And what is it?

Kael smirked darkly and answered firmly:

—I am an Anti-Hero.

For a second, silence dominated the room. Then, a burst of laughter erupted. The thugs clutched their stomachs, some doubling over the furniture as they howled with amusement.

—Oh, please! —one of them spat between laughs—. That story again?

—The Anti-Hero was always a myth —another added with a sneer—. A supposed error in the System, a virus designed to destroy it from within, but it was never proven to exist. Just a lunatic's tale.

—Yeah, right —another mocked—. And I'm the Emperor of the FUES.

Kael said nothing. He just watched them, feeling a growing pressure in his chest. Then, the gang leader pointed at Lira with a cruel smile.

—Enough nonsense. Kill her.

Kael's heart stopped for an instant. Something inside him shattered and rebuilt itself in a fraction of a second. Despair and fury boiled within him, reaching a point of no return.

Suddenly, a notification appeared on his stat screen.

[Anti-Hero Ability Unlocked: "Fallen's Judgment"]

A surge of dark energy coursed through his body. His cuffs groaned, and an overwhelming power pulsed in his veins. His skin prickled, his vision sharpened, and every muscle burned with an unfamiliar force.

The thugs took a step back as the air grew heavy. The laughter vanished when Kael flexed his arms, and the cuffs shattered like paper.

And then, the massacre began.