Ghost Billionaire

Today, Gamariel's mission was simple. Grab a teenager, a newly awakened Reader.

This was Gamariel's first job out of the camp, and he already felt insulted. A Reader? Seriously? They gave him a damn Reader? He was a Shaper, someone who could triple the strength of his punch using Spiritual Energy.

He had been training since his awakening at twenty, two years ago. Even if his ability only lasted thirty seconds, it was still more than enough to do real work. Instead, they let him babysit some teenager.

"That's a dead end," his partner Troy said. Unlike him, Troy was just really good at using his kicks. Troy is a Shaper too. No one knows what his exact ability was, just that he was pretty good at controlling his legs for a couple of seconds. "Let's go, Mendez will block this alley," Troy added as they followed the teenager named Matthew.

"He knows that we are after him," Gamariel said. "He's a Reader." He must have sensed them earlier. "Why the heck would he come here knowing we are after him?"

"I heard no one's protecting him. He must have awoken by accident and was trying to work with the Tian Family. Sadly, it seems that he didn't succeed," Troy said. "Jona said Viper wants this guy's core. Let's make this quick."

The two found Matthew standing a few meters away from the teenager. Just as they expected, Matthew seemed weak. Lanky. "Mr. Lindberg, we'd like a word," Gamariel said.

What could a newly awakened Reader do to them? Readers are useless in combat, especially against Conduits or Shapers like him. So what gave this boy confidence to even stand here all by himself?

"Then talk," Matthew answered.

"The car is waiting," Troy gestured for the boy to follow them. A smart Reader would have immediately agreed. After all, there are two of them. And while they weren't particularly powerful compared to members of the prestigious Shaper clans, they were still Shapers.

"Talk here," Matthew said, his voice calm.

Gamariel's expression tightened. Reader pride, he thought, amused. Cute. He shifted his weight so the alley light caught the crest on his cuff. Let the boy notice who outranks who.

Troy kept the smile in place. "Mr. Lindberg, you're new, so I'll lay it out. Readers can't trade punches with Shapers. We aren't here to rough you up, only to discuss business. A sealed car is safer than…" He waved at the dumpsters and neon glare. "This."

Matthew's eyes narrowed.

Troy added. "Council guidelines, remember? Any civilian who sees even a spark triggers containment teams. Spare yourself the paperwork. Come quietly."

Gamariel watched Matthew's stance. 'Does he actually think he has leverage? One wrong breath and I can fold his ribs.' He let a small pulse of SE leak from his knuckles, just enough for Matthew to feel the difference in class. 'Step into the sedan, little Reader. Know your place.'

To his surprise, however, Matthew didn't seem intimidated by the leak. Instead, he turned his attention toward Gamariel.

"He seemed to believe he could fight us…" Gamariel smiled. "May I do the honor of teaching him a lesson?" he asked Troy. He didn't want to cause problems, but he really didn't like how Matthew was glaring at him as if he could do something.

Troy clicked his tongue. He turned. "No cameras here… go ahead. Make it quick."

Gamariel smiled.

Gamariel centered his stance and pulled. Crimson heat ignited above each kidney, sprinting up vessels to his shoulders. Then he drove forward and snapped a straight punch at the Reader's jaw.

He expected Matthew to take a few steps back. Readers always do.

Most of them are cowards that are good at running away. To his surprise, Matthew moved half a step. He showed no panic. Then he caught Gamariel's forearm with his left hand, thumb digging into the inner tendon. The grip felt steadier than steel. Before Gamariel could even think what happened, Matthew's right hand flashed up, fingers stiff like a knife edge.

A sharp line of pressure sliced across the inside of Gamariel's elbow. His skin didn't break, but the muscle lit with white pain. The surge in his veins staggered. Orange streaks flickered, then went dark past the cut. His arm dropped, dead weight from elbow to wrist.

"What—" He tried to step back, but the punch momentum carried him into Matthew's knee. The impact emptied his lungs. Adrenal Flood still roared in his torso, yet his right arm hung useless, fingers twitching without strength.

Matthew didn't wait for Troy to wind up. One heartbeat after shoving Gamariel aside, he shot forward—no wasted motion.

Through Reader's sight, he caught it again. He could see a bright copper strip along Troy's spine and the tensed gold in the man's right leg, pulsing harder as the Shaper readied a kick. The glow told Matthew exactly where the hinge would break and when the sweep would fire.

Troy pivoted, hips twisting for the arc. Matthew slid in, angle tight, inside the coming swing. His left hand snapped down, thumb and forefinger spearing the small hollow where the copper line flared hottest, right above the belt.

Troy's leg whipped halfway, then halted with a jolt as Matthew pinched the nerve bundle. The gold tendons spasmed, energy feedback cracked like a stun grenade in Troy's core.

Before the Shaper could gasp, Matthew's right elbow hammered the same spot. A dull thud echoed. The copper strip flickered, the white-hot vertebrae dimmed to ash gray. Troy's knees buckled. His kick fell limp against the pavement.

Matthew followed through with a palm heel to Troy's jaw. The Shaper's head snapped back, consciousness fizzled behind his eyes. He dropped beside the already crippled Gamariel, both men wheezing on the dirty concrete.

Shapers could be incredibly strong, but Dr. Muni had made one thing clear. Their strength was isolated.

If a Shaper had a powerful kick, then that power stayed in the legs. If their punch was deadly, then their SE gathered only in that hand, not the rest of the arm. Abilities don't spread or shift. They stay where they're trained to be.

Matthew had doubted that at first. But now, it all made sense. Every ability has its limits. That's why they were told never to reveal the full extent of what they could do—to anyone.

"That—" the ghost girl froze beside Matthew. "That thing… what are you doing?" she asked.

"What else?" Matthew smirked as he started climbing the wall. "Running."