Cameraman Never Dies-Chapter 249: Gereon’s exercising partners

The moment of respite after Victor’s vanishing act was short-lived. Gereon had just finished convincing himself that a cigar and a nap counted as ’strategic recovery’ when the air shifted again — this time sharper, colder, like the world itself had sucked in a breath. He glanced up at the fractured cathedral spire, and sure enough, three silhouettes stood against the half-broken skyline.

"Wonderful," Gereon muttered, kicking a loose head aside; the blood had started to dry. "They’ve upgraded from dramatic solo entrances to ensemble performances. What’s next, a dance number?"

The first figure stepped forward. He looked almost unremarkable at first glance—neatly pressed shirt, dark vest, hands clasped behind his back—but the longer Gereon stared, the less there seemed to be. His boots didn’t crunch the rubble, his shadow didn’t fall right, and even the dust avoided him as if embarrassed by his existence.

"You may call me Luther," the man said calmly. "And you will find me... difficult to remember."

"Oh, sweetheart," Gereon smiled. "I don’t usually notice insignificant things, much less remember. But still, sweet of you to point it out to these old bones."

The second figure walked past Luther, rolling a coin across his knuckles with the kind of restless grace that screamed addiction. He had a grin too wide for his face, hair in a permanent state of just-lost-a-bar-fight, and eyes that sparkled like a man who knew the odds but never cared. The coin spun, flipped, landed on his thumb—always the side he wanted.

"Name’s Quill," he said with a mock bow. "And buddy, I don’t gamble. I win, always."

"Cute," Gereon said. "If you’re so great at odds, what are your chances of leaving here alive?"

Quill flipped the coin once. It landed on edge. Balanced perfectly. "Even."

"Try harder then," Gereon muttered. "I hope you are not someone who can manipulate probabilities or something. That would be boring, honestly, your whole drama just revealed that."

The last one stepped forward slowly, each footfall echoing unnaturally, like the world itself wanted people to pay attention. Her voice carried without effort, sharp and absolute. "I am May."

Her voice was... domineering, to say the least. She had an air of command around her.

"I don’t repeat myself," She spoke again, her tone more dominating this time. "Gereon Drakonis. Kneel."

The word hit like a hammer. The ground itself seemed to groan at the command, rubble shifting as if compelled. For a split second, Gereon’s knees bent, almost. Then his spine straightened again with a faint crack as he rolled his neck.

"You should’ve said ’please,’" Gereon said. "I’m old-fashioned that way."

May’s eyes narrowed. Her surprise was palpable, but the efforts to hide it were cute like a fumbling child. "Then crawl."

The cathedral floor cracked, pushing forward like invisible hands trying to shove Gereon face-first into the dust. He held firm, the invisible weight grinding against him. His boots slid half an inch before the pressure stopped dead.

"That’s adorable," Gereon said. "But I don’t crawl for anyone. Not even when my wife asked nicely."

Quill chuckled. Luther didn’t even blink. May’s jaw tightened.

"Well then," Quill said, tossing the coin high. "Three against one. Odds are better than usual. Let’s play."

The fight didn’t so much start as it detonated.

Luther vanished first — not invisibility, but worse. Gereon’s eyes just... stopped acknowledging him. One second he was there, the next second Gereon’s focus kept sliding off the space he occupied. Rubble disappeared near his feet, the cracks in the stone blinked out, even the cathedral’s ruined wall seemed whole again if Luther was in the way. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

"Someone’s been practicing the fine art of being forgettable," Gereon muttered, swinging his fist wide. He hit nothing. The air where Luther should’ve been refused to register.

From the corner of his eye, Quill tossed the coin high again. "Heads, your footing breaks."

The coin landed on heads. Immediately, the cracked stone beneath Gereon’s boot shattered like paper, dropping him a few inches before he pulled himself back up with casual ease.

"Really?" Gereon said. "That’s your big play? Rigging coin tosses?"

Quill grinned. "Don’t insult the classics."

May’s voice rang out, sharp as a whipcrack. "Fall!"

The world obeyed. The ceiling collapsed downward with the inevitability of gravity squared, entire beams ripping loose and plunging like executioner’s blades. Dust billowed, stone rained, but Gereon stood unmoved. The rubble smashed against him, shattered, and fell away as though the universe had been politely asked to break itself on his skin.

"You really don’t listen well," May hissed. "Then drown."

The cathedral floor bubbled. Water surged upward in an impossible tide, filling the hall, threatening to drag him down. Gereon just inhaled once, then exhaled. The water parted, unwilling to touch him, flowing around him in a circular void of safety.

"You know," Gereon said conversationally, "for people so eager to see me dead, you’re doing a fine job of redecorating instead."

Luther struck first — he reappeared only as a fist slammed into Gereon’s jaw, the kind of hit that could have pulped a lesser man. Gereon’s head snapped sideways, then back, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Congratulations," he said. "You exist again."

His return punch carved through the air with enough force to shatter the arch behind Luther. But the man blurred, slipping sideways, already half-ignored by reality again.

Quill darted in next, flicking the coin rapid-fire, each result bending the world. "Odds say your balance is shot. Odds say you trip. Odds say you bleed."

Gereon ducked the sweep of collapsing debris, only for his boot to skid on suddenly slick stone. He laughed as he caught himself. "If I had a coin every time someone wanted me dead, I’d still have more than you."

The coin landed tails this time. A jagged pillar split from the ground, aiming for Gereon’s ribs. He caught it in one hand, snapped it like a twig, and hurled the pieces at Quill. The gambler yelped, twisting aside just barely — because Luther had pulled him out of sight at the last second.

May raised her hand, palm outward. "Kneel."

Again, the air buckled. Again, Gereon felt his legs strain under the sheer authority of the word. He gritted his teeth, a chuckle bubbling up even through the weight. "Do you rehearse these? Or is your vocabulary naturally this limited?"

Her eyes flared. "Obey!"

The entire cathedral shook, every stone screaming at once to force him down. For an instant, Gereon bent—then straightened, exhaling through his nose.

"Lady, if you want me on my knees, you’re going to have to marry me first."

The fight became chaos. Luther unmaking weapons as they neared Gereon, Quill skewing probabilities until even falling stones curved like guided missiles, May bending reality with words alone.

They weren’t sloppy — each of the three had fought killers before, and together they moved with a terrifying synchronicity. Luther made threats vanish, Quill made accidents inevitable, and May turned the battlefield against him.

But Gereon wasn’t called the Drakonis patriarch for his cooking skills.

He caught a coin midair and crushed it into powder before Quill’s eyes. He walked through a wall May had ordered to collapse, brushing rubble off his coat like snowflakes. He swung a fist through a blur of not-there air, and Luther coughed blood anyway, dragged back into existence by sheer force.

And all the while, Gereon talked.

"Is this really your plan? Three of you, one of me, and I’m still the one carrying this fight?"

Quill spat blood and flipped his coin again. "You’re not invincible, old man. Even mountains erode."

"Yes," Gereon said, smiling faintly. "But I am not a mountain. I am the storm that buries it."

May snarled, her voice cracking the air: "Be still!"

For the first time, Gereon froze mid-step, his foot suspended above the cracked stone. The command seemed to have bound his muscles like iron chains. Quill’s coin spun, Luther’s fist drew back — three strikes, perfect synchronization.

The coin hit the ground.

But then—

Gereon moved.

One hand snapped to Luther’s throat, dragging him fully into reality with a bone-crunching grip. The other smashed the coin from Quill’s hand, scattering luck like broken glass. His gaze locked on May, and the sheer weight of it made her flinch.

"You want stillness?" Gereon said softly. "Watch closely."

Then he slammed Luther into Quill, the impact rattling the hall like thunder. May shouted another command — "Stop!" — but Gereon only laughed, a sound like rolling stone.

"Not today."