NOVEL NEXT Chapter 4: fight!
After blowing my cover, chaos broke loose. I quickly aimed the gun at the ten men rushing up the stairs to the second floor. Without hesitation, I opened fire, each shot ringing out with deadly precision. By the time the clip was empty, five of them lay sprawled across the steps, lifeless.
Without missing a beat, I hurled the empty gun at one of the goons standing behind a man wielding a machete. The pistol struck his face, dazing him briefly. Meanwhile, a man with a knife charged at me, his blade aimed straight for my stomach.
I sidestepped his lunge with ease, grabbing his outstretched arm and twisting it sharply. A sickening pop echoed as his shoulder dislocated, and he let out a pained cry. The knife slipped from his grasp, but I caught it before it hit the ground. With a swift, decisive motion, I drove it into his skull.
The entire sequence took less than ten seconds.
By then, the machete-wielding goon had recovered, his rage boiling over. He stormed toward me, blood streaming from his face where the gun had struck him. I smirked behind my mask, pulling the knife free from the man I'd just killed.
The goon swung his machete in a wide, furious arc, aiming to cleave me in two. I ducked under the attack, the blade slicing harmlessly through the air. Rising quickly, I plunged my knife into his stomach.
He staggered back, clutching the wound as blood poured through his fingers. I gave him no time to recover. With a calculated flick of my wrist, I hurled the knife, aiming for his head.
"Look out," I taunted, my voice cold and mocking.
Instinctively, he looked up just in time for the blade to pierce his forehead. His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
I glanced at the remaining three goons. Fear was written all over their faces, their bravado evaporating in an instant.
"Come at me," I growled, my voice low and menacing. "I hate wasting time."
The men exchanged nervous glances, panic spreading among them. Without another word, they turned tail and ran for the exit, their footsteps echoing in their frantic retreat.
I watched them flee, my smirk growing beneath the mask. "Cowards," I muttered, stepping over the bodies of their fallen comrades.
The fight had been a good warm-up. As I stood amidst the aftermath, I focused on my shadow sense to scan the warehouse for any remaining threats. This ability was still new to me, like unlocking a sixth sense—an odd combination of seeing without sight and hearing without sound. It took effort to concentrate, but I was getting the hang of it.
After a thorough sweep, I confirmed the building was empty. Most of the goons had likely fled during the skirmish. That was fine by me. My objective had never been to wipe them all out. The goal was simple: get the money and leave.
I made my way toward the room where they kept their stash. Kicking the door open with ease, I stepped inside and was greeted by stacks of cash left out in the open, as if daring me to take it.
"Well, don't mind if I do," I muttered under my breath, smiling behind my mask. I grabbed a nearby duffel bag and began stuffing the money inside.
As I worked, my shadow sense suddenly flared. I felt a presence—a person—on the roof of the warehouse. Whoever they were, they had just jumped down and were now heading straight for me.
"Great," I muttered, zipping the bag shut in a hurry. I slung it over my shoulder.
Exiting the room, I was immediately greeted by the figure of a man in a skin-tight red costume, complete with a mask adorned with small red horns. He stood in front of me menacingly, a red baton twirling casually in one hand.
"Great," I muttered under my breath. "Daredevil."
His posture was firm, his voice low and edged with anger. "Did you do this?" he asked, his words sharp and accusing.
I raised my hands defensively. "Can we not jump to conclusions here? I didn't do anything that bad. I was just cleaning up some bad guys. So, it's fine, right?"
His jaw tightened. "What you did was not right," he said sternly. "I'm only going to tell you this once: stop what you're doing. Turn yourself in. Or I'll stop you myself."
I smirked under my mask, bending slightly to drop the bag of cash onto the floor. "Alright, alright. You win," I said with mock surrender. "I'll stop and hand myself over to the police."
His expression didn't soften. "You're lying," he said flatly.
"Yeah, I am," I admitted, straightening up. "Because there's no way I'm stopping. And as for you stopping me? You're welcome to try."
With that, I dropped the duffel bag onto the ground and squared my stance, ready for the fight. Confidence surged through me as I evaluated the situation. Judging by his movements, this Daredevil wasn't at his peak yet. Maybe new to the game. I could take him.
He tightened his grip on his baton and raised it, ready to respond.
He hurled his baton at me with precision, aiming straight for my head. I ducked just in time, feeling it graze my ear, but in that split second when my eyes weren't on him, he closed the gap.
His fist slammed into my side, driving the air from my lungs. Before I could fully recover, he pivoted, using his leg to strike at my head. Reflexively, I raised my hands, blocking the kick. Seizing the opportunity, I grabbed his leg and swung him with all my strength, sending him crashing into the nearby wall.
"Okay, he's good," I muttered under my breath, wincing as I clutched my stomach. The spot where his punch had landed throbbed with a dull ache.
But Daredevil wasn't down for long. He pushed himself off the wall with ease, dashing toward me with a renewed intensity. I steadied myself, bringing my hands together into a tight boxing stance.
This time, I struck first, aiming a punch straight at his head. He stepped back gracefully, avoiding the blow by mere inches. Before I could reset my footing, his leg lashed out like a whip, connecting with my stomach and forcing me to stagger backward.
"Alright, what the hell?" I growled internally, frustration bubbling up. "Why am I getting hit so much? Is this universe rigged with plot armor or something?"
I shook off the thought, narrowing my focus on him. He was fast, precise, and relentless, . It was time to get serious .
Daredevil didn't give me a moment to recover, dashing forward again with his fists raised. His movements were swift, and he aimed a punch at my face. But before his fist could connect, I grabbed his hand mid-swing and yanked him closer.
"Alright, enough games," I growled, narrowing my eyes behind the mask.
With my other hand, I formed a tight fist and drove it into his face with all my strength. His head snapped back from the impact, but I didn't stop there. I struck again, and again, each punch landing with increasing force until blood began trickling from his nose and mouth.
For a moment, I hesitated. The sight of his bloodied face gave me pause, and my grip on his hand loosened ever so slightly. That moment of hesitation was all he needed. With surprising speed, he twisted his body and delivered a sharp kick to my stomach, sending me stumbling backward.
I clutched my abdomen, the ache from his second blow flaring up. He was visibly struggling to remain upright, his movements sluggish and his breathing labored. Yet, the defiance in his stance was clear—he wasn't ready to give up
I tilted my head, a mixture of annoyance and respect flashing through me. "You don't know when to quit, huh? Admirable, but stupid," I muttered, stepping back.
He swayed on his feet but managed a faint smirk. "Justice doesn't... quit," he said through gritted teeth.
I rolled my eyes beneath my mask. "Yeah, yeah, save the heroic lines for someone who cares."
Turning my attention to the bag of cash, I slung it over my shoulder. "I could finish you off, you know," I said casually, glancing at him. "But let's be honest, i don't like heroic types."
I stepped toward the exit, the sound of approaching sirens growing louder. I paused at the doorway, looking over my shoulder. "Word of advice: stay out of my way. Next time, I might not be so nice."
Without waiting for a response, I activated [Shadow Step] an instant, I teleported from the warehouse. One moment, I was standing in front of Daredevil and the chaos I had created; the next, I emerged on the rooftop of a high-rise, several blocks away.
The night skyline stretched before me, the city lights shimmering like stars fallen to Earth. I crouched on the edge of the roof, feeling the cool night breeze against my skin. The bag of stolen money rested against my back, a heavy but satisfying reminder of my success.
I took a moment to catch my breath, letting the adrenaline fade. Glancing at my status interface, I saw the 100% Sunny Assimilation glowing faintly, confirming that I had fully inherited his abilities.
The warehouse was far behind me now, and the flashing red and blue lights were just specks in the distance. Daredevil wouldn't be able to follow, and I doubted he had the means to track me down.
Still, the encounter had been a reminder that I wasn't invincible. "Note to self: don't underestimate street heroes. They're tougher than they look," I said under my breath, already planning my next move.
I smirked, adjusting the strap of the bag on my shoulder. "Well, that was fun. Time to count my winnings."
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hope you enjoy it the fight
until next time