Ghost Billionaire

Thick and blinding smoke exploded outward. It surged like a tidal wave, swallowing the space in seconds. Almost immediately, visibility dropped to zero. Mendez swore. Kray stepped back instinctively. Troy's eyes widened as he tried to track movement, but the fog choked everything.

Then a voice cut through.

"If you want me, catch me."

The engine roared again. The smoke stirred violently as the motorbike tore forward, vanishing out the same way it came. By the time the smoke began to clear, he was gone.

Mendez gritted his teeth. He hadn't expected that. They all thought this new Nexian would cower at the thought of a confrontation, especially under the Blood Moon. But no. Instead, he charged straight in, made his move, and escaped in plain sight.

"What a fearless cub," Mendez sneered.

It made no sense. No strategy. Just chaos. And somehow, that made it worse. Well… just what could he expect from a young dandy heir?

"Move. Follow him. Now."

Kray shot forward first. His boots thudded against the pavement. Then, his legs compressed. With a push, he launched himself into the air. His figure arced over the rooftops, leaping far higher than any human should. His ability allowed him to leap building to building with no effort.

Two others sprinted after the sound of the motorbike.

Mendez walked over to a nearby covered bike, ripped off the tarp, and kicked the starter.

"He won't get far. Viper took measures," he said, gripping the handles. "Stick to the plan." Then he eyed the two unconscious humans. "Watch those two!" Troy and one other guy stayed as Mendez took off.

...

Matthew clenched his jaw. He could feel someone behind him. Not on the road—above. Something large moved overhead, leaping roof to roof.

His eyes narrowed beneath the helmet. So they had a jumper. Luckily, his range isn't that much.

The bike he rode was built for speed but not flash. Cristoff had secured the model in advance. Matte black, muffled engine, untraceable serials. More importantly, he had already worked with Cristoff to disable the street cameras in a five-kilometer range. It wouldn't stop the Council or the police, but it would buy him time.

He leaned into the turn, the tires screeching slightly as he passed a familiar wall.

The school wasn't far.

Good.

He knew these people were after him.

And he knew they wouldn't dare harm civilians—at least not directly. The Council's decree was clear: Nexians were forbidden from laying hands on innocents. This was also included in the list of things that Dr. Muni had warned him about.

Matthew also understood something else—these weren't ordinary Nexians. They weren't part of any clean operation sanctioned by the Council. The man named Viper didn't look like someone who followed rules. No. He looked like someone who was used to slipping past them.

Which meant one thing.

They didn't have numbers.

Viper couldn't risk exposure. If the Tian Family, or any of the other big Nexian clans, caught wind of his movements, it would mean annihilation for his group. So they'd have to act carefully. No flashy powers. No public battles. No bodies in the open. That gave Matthew one advantage.

He just needed to keep things… messy. Unpredictable. Off the record.

And that's when the idea came to him—half-formed, reckless, and completely untested.

Take them to the school.

To the place where that creature lived.

The ghost girl had confirmed it. A spirit entity, she said—something not bound by physical laws. Something twisted and would become even more twisted because of the Blood Moon. And most importantly, something only Readers could sense. Only Readers had the ability to sense those twisted and dangerous spiritual energy. The others wouldn't even notice it until it was too late.

He recalled the way her voice had cracked when she warned him: "That creature is dangerous. If I am right, it could be a remnant of a wraithborn, and all it wants is to eat cores. Sadly, it wouldn't recognize an ally so you have to be careful."

Matthew exhaled through his nose.

It wasn't a real plan.

It was dangerous. In fact, it was dumb. The kind of decision an impulsive teenager would make.

But that's the thing.

He was an impulsive teenager again.

Only this time, he had the memories of his past life.

If they wanted him badly enough—if they wanted his core—they'd follow.

And if they followed?

Well.

Let the entity handle them.

He just had to bait the hook. He reached into his jacket and palmed the small sphere laced with a tiny drop of his blood. Another reckless move.

He smirked to himself.

"Come on then, Viper," he murmured, eyes gleaming as the school gates loomed ahead. "Let's see how much you want me."

…

Viper stared at the screen in front of him. The call came through fast. He picked up.

"He's on the move. Reckless. He's leading us through the city. Mendez and the others are following."

Viper clenched his jaw.

"Useless. Every single one of you," Viper massaged his temples. "Where is he? Tell me now. I'll handle that boy myself!"

"He looks like he's headed to the school," Mendez said. "Could be a trap."

Viper chuckled. "A trap? What's he going to do? Drop bombs on us?"

He stood up and grabbed his coat. "Wait for me. We capture that kid tonight. No matter what. Understood?"

"Understood."

...

Dean stood in the basement of the school's abandoned building. The floor was cracked. Yet the chalk circle he had drawn earlier remained unbroken, lit by the three salt-blackened candles.

He held the dagger in his hand. His eyes remained closed.

The air trembled.

Then it hit.

A pressure moved through the room, a ripple in reality. A tentacle struck his side. Dean stumbled but kept his eyes shut. His other senses guided him.

The spirit entity attacked again. He ducked and slashed. The dagger sliced air, met resistance, then nothing.

Dean focused. It would grow stronger soon. But before the Blood Moon peaked, it weakened.

That was the window.

The moment to kill it.

He stepped forward. Another tentacle lashed out. He turned his shoulder and drove the dagger into the source. A screech echoed inside his mind.

More tentacles rose. One clipped his arm. He winced, staggered, adjusted his grip.

Then the sound hit.

An engine.

Without warning, a motorbike tore across the basement's side entrance, the beam of its headlight slicing through the shadows.

Dean's eyes snapped open.

"What the hell…"