Ethan Cole - The Unlimited System

The dim warehouse on the edge of Novan City smelled of damp concrete and rusted metal.

It was the kind of smell that clung to your clothes, the kind that reminded people this place wasn't meant for the clean or the honest.

The whir of old machinery echoed faintly from the back wall, a low mechanical heartbeat that gave the place a sense of unease.

Donald leaned back on the metal chair, his thick fingers drumming lazily on the armrest as he took another puff of his cigar. Smoke curled up into the air above him. He looked far too comfortable for someone facing down a man like Lucien.

But that was the thing. Donald wasn't impressed.

To him, Lucien was just a young face playing dress-up in his daddy's clothes.

"So," Donald said, exhaling smoke through his nose, "you're the one who's been sending messages in place of Alexander now, huh?"

Lucien said nothing.

Donald chuckled, pointing his cigar at him with a scoff. "Didn't think Alexander would start sending kids to do his dirty work. But maybe he's getting too old for this game."

Lucien didn't blink. His posture remained the same. Calm. Centered. Dangerous.

Unlike Donald's flamboyant demeanor, Lucien exuded a quiet menace. Dressed in a tailored black suit, he sat with the air of someone used to power and control. His eyes seemed to pierce through the smoke-filled air as he studied Donald with mild disdain.

Another figure of a man knelt on the cold, dirty floor next to them. He was blindfolded and had a thick cloth gagging his mouth. His hands and feet were tied tightly. His head hung low, but his trembling shoulders showed he was afraid.

Every so often, a muffled sound of protest escaped his gag.

Behind Lucien stood Mike and Taison, two of his most loyal followers. Their imposing figures loomed in the shadows, their sharp eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger. Each of them carried an air of dangerous confidence, their hands never far from their weapons.

On the other side, Donald's entourage consisted of three rugged-looking men, each exuding a raw, primal energy. Their lean builds and alert postures marked them as mercenaries, and their presence left no doubt, they were Ascendants.

Donald took another puff of his cigar, the orange tip glowing softly in the low light.

"Lucien," he said in a deep voice, "I don't want to waste time. You know why I'm here."

Lucien leaned back in his chair, his expression calm.

"Ethan Cole," he said simply, as though the name were of no consequence. "Right?"

"I'm glad Alexander didn't send someone stupid." Donald grinned, showing teeth stained with years of indulgence. "That cocky bastard humiliated me back in Brooksville. He ruined my operation and made me a laughingstock. I want him broken."

Lucien tilted his head slightly. "And what makes you think I care about your petty vendettas?"

Donald's grin faltered, but he quickly recovered, leaning forward. "Because you want something too, don't you?"

Lucien maintained his calmness. He waited for Donald to continue talking.

"Jessica," Donald stated. "She was the woman who slipped through your fingers. We've got common ground here."

At the mention of Jessica, Lucien's eyes flickered with something dangerous. His calm expression briefly changed before returning to its usual stillness.

"You're right," he said quietly. "We do share an interest."

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Donald felt more confident, and he leaned back with a happy smile. "So let's cut the crap. You help me take down Ethan, and I'll help you get Jessica. Win-win."

Lucien's lips curved into a faint, razor-thin smile, though it didn't come close to touching his eyes.

"What makes you think I'm going to help?" he said, voice cool and composed. "And you assume I need your help."

Donald's jaw tensed. His grin vanished, replaced by a scowl that twisted the corners of his mouth. He leaned forward slightly, cigar still burning between his fingers, but his other hand began to twitch closer toward the holster under his coat.

A slow breath escaped his nostrils, sharp and hot.

Behind him, the three Ascendants shifted. One cracked his neck to the side. Another flexed his fingers with a flicker of faint power rippling under his sleeves. The last one reached behind his back, the faint metallic click of a weapon disengaging echoing too loud in the tight space.

They didn't speak, but the message was clear. One signal from Donald, and they'd end this talk in blood.

Yet across from them, Mike and Taison didn't even flinch.

Mike stood still, arms folded, gaze locked on the Ascendant with the twitching fingers. His posture didn't change, but the tension in the room bent around him like heat over a flame. A silent warning.

Taison's hand rested loosely at his side, but the way his foot adjusted slightly told another story. He had already picked his targets. And he wouldn't miss.

Donald growled under his breath, then in one smooth motion, yanked the pistol free and pointed it straight at Lucien's head.

The man on the ground, the hostage, let out a muffled gasp through the gag. His entire body trembled, shoulders shaking as if the air itself had turned electric. He couldn't see what was happening, but he felt it. The killing intent. The weight in the room. It pressed against his chest like an invisible vice.

Lucien didn't blink.

He didn't lean back.

He didn't even look at the gun.

Instead, he raised one hand, palm outward, in a casual, almost dismissive gesture.

"But, I won't pass up an opportunity," he said, voice like a whisper slicing through iron, "if it helps me reach my goals."

Donald's hand trembled slightly, though he clenched the grip tighter. The gun didn't move, but the weight of Lucien's gaze made it feel like he was the one being hunted.

Lucien slowly turned his head, eyes narrowing—not at the gun, but at the man holding it.

"You want war?" he added softly. "Or a deal?"

The room held its breath.

Donald's eyes narrowed. His finger hovered just a hair's breadth from the trigger, but even he knew what was happening.

Lucien hadn't moved an inch. He didn't need to.

And that made him dangerous.

Donald exhaled sharply through his nose, the tension leaking out in a short burst of smoke. Then, with a low grunt, he lowered the pistol—slowly.

The metal scraped softly as he placed it back onto the table between them.

"Tch." He leaned back in his chair again. "Let's go for a deal, then."

Behind him, the three Ascendants eased off. One let his arms drop to his sides. Another stepped back, exhaling through his nose like a hound just pulled off the leash. The third one gave a short nod, though his eyes never left Mike.

Across the room, Mike didn't budge.

Taison cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, as if disappointed nothing had happened.

Lucien's lips twitched, just slightly.

The hostage on the floor let out a quiet sob of relief, chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. His knees buckled from the adrenaline, but he stayed kneeling. Trembling.

"Smart choice," Lucien said quietly, his fingers steepled now in front of him. "Let's talk business."

The tension in the room was clear as the two men stared each other down. Finally, Lucien looked at the man kneeling beside them.

"Who is this?" Lucien asked, gesturing with a slight nod.

Donald's grin returned, wider this time. He reached down and grabbed the man by the hair, jerking his head back to reveal a bruised face. The man groaned in pain, his muffled protests growing louder.

"This guy," Donald said with a laugh, "is Joseph Moore."

Lucien's smile faded.

His eyes drifted toward Joseph Moore's swollen, bloodied face—then slowly rose to meet Donald's. For a moment, he said nothing. The room held its breath.

Then Lucien leaned back ever so slightly and murmured, "I don't want to use dirty methods."

Donald blinked. "What?"

Lucien's gaze turned distant, like he was speaking to a memory rather than the people around him. "Jessica… she's not someone you manipulate like a pawn. If she's going to come to me, it has to be because she chooses to."

Behind him, Mike tilted his head toward Taison without moving his body. Taison raised a single eyebrow.

"Here we go again," Mike muttered slowly.

"Didn't he just say we had a deal? And now he's going soft over some woman," Taison responded.

Donald stared, clearly thrown off. He released Joseph's hair and slowly straightened. "Wait, hold on. Are you saying… you don't want to use this guy to pressure her?"

Lucien turned his head back toward Donald, his voice unnervingly calm. "No. I want her to see who I've become. I want her to come to me because she wants to. Not because she's afraid."

Donald scoffed. "You've got some twisted version of romance in your head."

Lucien didn't flinch. "Everyone has a flaw, Donald. Mine is that I still believe in choice."

Mike sighed silently and turned his eyes toward the ceiling, as if already imagining the chaos this belief would cause. Taison looked down at the floor, lips pressed thin. Both men remained unreadable to outsiders, but to each other, their silence said everything.

Donald dragged a hand down his face and muttered, "You're out of your damn mind."

However, Lucien gave a small, unsettling smile. "Yes. But I think I'm done waiting."