Ethan Cole - The Unlimited System

Ethan and Mark were ushered inside the warehouse. The air smelled of oil and metal, and you could hear machines humming in the distance.

"Nothing dangerous so far, right?" Ethan whispered the question to Mark.

Mark nodded before adding, "But never lower your guard."

The area was a maze of stacked crates, old equipment, and poorly lit hallways. It was both chaotic and meticulously organized, a testament to the dual nature of the operations likely taking place here.

As they walked, Ethan's sharp eyes darted around, taking in every detail. The placement of cameras, the positions of additional guards, the locations of potential exits, all of it was committed to memory with uncanny precision.

'Lucky for me to have purchased that potion,' Ethan thought.

His recently unlocked eidetic memory allowed him to catalog the environment effortlessly, storing each piece of information for later use.

Mark, too, was scanning the surroundings, though his focus was more immediate. He noted the guards' movements, the type of firearms they carried, and the way they communicated.

Every detail was a potential advantage or threat. Without anyone noticing, he did something inside the pocket of his pants. Something that would later help to settle this problem.

"Hurry up! You guys are just wasting our time!" shouted one of the guards.

They used their weapons to push Ethan and Mark, urging them to move quickly. The two of them chose to just let it be for the moment. They were worried if they retaliated, things would not go as planned.

The group eventually arrived at a pair of heavy steel doors. One of the guards knocked twice in a specific rhythm before the doors creaked open, revealing a grand room beyond.

It was a stark contrast to the grimy warehouse outside. The room was richly decorated. The room had shiny wooden floors and leather chairs. At the far end, there was a large desk.

A chandelier hung from the ceiling. Its crystal parts reflected a warm light throughout the room. Behind the desk sat Donald himself, his face twisting into a smug grin as Ethan and Mark were led inside.

The guards stopped at the doorway, their formation holding as the two visitors were left standing before Donald.

Donald leaned back in his chair and placed his fingers together. "Well, well," he said, his voice filled with mockery. "Look who actually showed up."

Seeing that Ethan didn't respond immediately, Donald leaned forward, his smirk widening.

"Where's the money?" he asked, his voice laced with mockery.

Ethan stayed calm as he took the cheque out of his pocket. He raised it slowly, letting it catch the light before handing it over.

One of the guards stepped forward, snatching the cheque from Ethan's hand before bringing it to Donald.

Donald opened the cheque and looked at it, his smirk changing to a grin.

"A cheque?" he asked, sounding disrespectful. "Where's the cash? You said you'd have it ready in two hours."

"Yeah. My bad." Ethan's voice was even as he replied, "It's impossible to gather that much cash from a bank in this town on such short notice."

Donald burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the grand room. He shook his head with amusement and waved the check lazily in the air.

"Well, well," he said, grinning. "Turns out you're not some big shot after all. Just a spoiled brat flashing daddy's money around."

Ethan stayed calm. "Maybe. But I keep my promises. Can you say the same?"

Donald narrowed his eyes, his grin fading into something colder. "Still trying to act tough, huh?"

He stepped forward and pressed his hand firmly against Ethan's forehead, shoving him just enough to test him.

"Let's see how cool you are without your little fortune backing you up."

Mark shot a glance at Ethan, his shoulders tight with concern. He was ready to step in—worried Ethan might lose control and react badly to Donald's provocation.

But Ethan surprised him.

Not by staying completely calm, but by choosing a different kind of response.

Ethan brushed Donald's hand aside with a faint smile. "Look who's talking. Acting like a king just because this dump belongs to you."

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He took a slow step forward. Donald didn't even notice at first, but something shifted.

There was a weight in the air—heavy, cold. A killing intent that rolled off Ethan like a quiet storm.

"Are you really sure you're untouchable here?" he asked, his voice low but sharp.

Donald stiffened. On the outside, he looked angry—lips curled, jaw clenched. But deep down, fear crawled through his chest. He could feel it. That pressure.

The guards reacted immediately. They raised their weapons, eyes locked on Ethan.

Ethan raised a hand casually. "Relax. I didn't touch your boss," he said. "Yet."

Ethan knew better. He was just starting in this kind of world, and patience was a skill he was learning to master.

He reminded himself that there would come a time, maybe a year or just a few months from now when he'd return here and utterly crush Donald. Completely.

But now wasn't that time.

Donald, too, didn't wish to test his luck further. He raised the cheque and asked, "Are you sure there is no issue with this cheque?"

Ethan allowed a small smile to play on his lips.

"Don't worry," he said lightly. "This is just a small amount. My family has no problem with this."

He tilted his head slightly, keeping his tone measured. "We're settled, then, right? Can I take your word that you'll leave the Moores alone from now on?"

Donald and his underlings exchanged glances before breaking into a smile. Not the friendly kind, but the kind that made it clear they had something else in mind.

Donald said, "Of course," but his tone showed that he was not sincere. "I'm a man of my word. You don't need to worry. The Moores are safe now."

Ethan gave a small nod, his face calm but unreadable. He turned as if to leave, lifting a hand slightly—just enough for Mark to catch the signal.

But they didn't get far.

Two guards stepped forward, blocking their way with practiced ease. Their expressions were blank, but their intent was clear.

Ethan halted. His eyes narrowed, just a flicker, as he studied the men in front of him. He didn't say anything right away. Instead, he took a half-step back—not in retreat, but to reassess. To weigh his options.

Mark, standing just behind him, stayed composed. His expression didn't change, but his stance did—feet planted, shoulders just a bit looser. He was ready for anything.

Truth be told, this was exactly what Mark had expected.

He'd seen this pattern before. The "friendly deal" that turned sour the moment money was handed over. He knew men like Donald didn't trust clean exits. And he was almost certain Ethan knew it too.

Ethan's voice dropped to a grave tone, his patience clearly on the edge. "What are you planning, Donald?"

Donald let out an evil laugh, leaning casually against his desk.

"Well," he drawled, "it's not every day that a rich kid comes into my place, throwing money around like it's nothing. You're an interesting one."

"Is that so?" Ethan's lips curled into a faint smile, but his eyes remained sharp. "And what do you want, Donald? More money?"

Mark's eyes flicked toward Ethan, surprised at how calm he seemed. He had expected Ethan to be more rattled, but instead, Ethan's composure remained intact.

Donald shivered slightly under Ethan's gaze, though he quickly masked it with bravado.

"This is my territory," he said, stepping closer. "Don't think for a second that your calm little act scares me."

Ethan tilted his head and spoke calmly but firmly. "If that's what you believe, let's get to the point. What do you want?"

Donald leaned back on his chair. He tried to play with Ethan's emotions by tapping his fingers together.

"Who are you really, Ethan Cole?" he asked, his voice slow and deliberate. "You have no background. Suddenly, you're rich. Starting up a tech company, buying a building worth tens of millions."

He paused for a moment before adding, "You sure are something, Ethan."

"I didn't think someone like you could actually do your homework," Ethan said, keeping his tone level and his face unreadable.

Outwardly, he looked calm. Controlled. But inside, his thoughts were racing.

How did he find out that much about me?

They had only met recently. The most Donald should've had was his face and name. Maybe some basic public info if he knew where to look. But this felt deeper. Too detailed.

There was only one explanation—and it wasn't a comforting one.

Donald wasn't working alone.

Ethan's mind shifted quickly, connecting the pieces. Someone had to be feeding him information. Someone with reach. Resources. A motive.

One name crept into his thoughts like a shadow.

The LaRues.

He didn't have proof, not yet. But the feeling in his gut was enough.

And Ethan had learned to trust that feeling.

Donald's grin widened as if he could read Ethan's thoughts. "You must be wondering how I know all of this, right?"

His tone was taunting, and his smugness grating. "In this world, it's easy to get any information. The right connections, the right price… and voila."

Ethan exhaled slowly and replied in a calm tone, "I don't really care how you got your information. Just state what you want so we can settle this quickly."

Donald's smirk faltered for a split second as if he hadn't expected such a dismissive response. But he quickly recovered, snapping his fingers sharply.

At his signal, more guards appeared, stepping out from hidden corners and forming a circle around Ethan and Mark.

Donald chuckled as he stood up, walking slowly toward them. "Now, Ethan, tell me. How on earth did you manage to get rich? No background, no connections... You must stumbled into something, right?."

Ethan glanced at Mark, who remained calm and steady, his sharp eyes assessing the new threats around them.

Ethan, on the other hand, was struggling to maintain his composure. His face betrayed no emotion, but beneath the surface, his nerves were on edge.

Donald's eyes shifted to Mark, his grin turning predatory. He circled him like a predator, inspecting its prey before stopping in front of him.

"Mark Spencer," Donald said, his tone laced with mock astonishment. "I never imagined I'd meet one of the Five Ghosts of Nemesis."

Ethan's gaze flicked to Mark, the name catching his attention. Five Ghosts of Nemesis? He had never heard that title before.

Mark met Donald's gaze, his voice cold and measured. "You really have done your homework."

Donald laughed, clapping his hands together. "Oh, I have, Mr. Spencer. You and your little band of ghosts—legends in the field. Covert ops, classified missions, the kind of stuff most people can't even dream about."

He looked around before his gaze landed on Mark again. "And now, here you are, babysitting this rich kid. Quite the career change, isn't it?"

Mark didn't reply, his expression remaining unreadable.

Donald leaned in slightly, his grin widening. "Tell me, Mark. What's a man like you doing protecting someone like him? Or is there more to this boy than meets the eye?"

Ethan stepped forward, cutting off whatever Mark might have to say. His voice was firm but calm. "Enough. You wanted me here to settle the debt, and I'm here. If you have something else in mind, say it now."

Donald straightened up, still amused. "Oh, I have a lot in mind, Ethan. But let's start—"

BAM!

The door burst open with a loud bang. A guard rushed in quickly.

"Boss! We're being attacked!"