Dom hit the exit at full sprint.

The guards were already in position.

Over fifty of them spread across the yard in a wide formation — rifles raised, bodies pressed behind abandoned train cars, broken cargo containers, and rusted rail structures.

Ten RPG units lined both flanks in rows of five, each one loaded and ready.

It was obvious that Vance had foreseen this outcome ahead of everyone—including him.

"That old-timer is really smart." Dom finally understood why Dark Chain’s executive valued him so highly.

He kept running straight through the line.

"All of you — open fire on whatever comes out of that door!" he shouted as he cut through them. "Don’t save a single round."

A senior guard stepped forward. "Sir, your people are still—"

"They’re already dead!."

He didn’t slow down. His face had shed every pretense of authority — it was pure survival now.

CLANG!

The metal door burst open, and a shadow stepped through it. Whatever they felt in that moment made them instinctively sense death.

RATATATATATATAT—

Fifty guns firing at once didn’t sound like gunfire. It sounded like the air itself coming apart.

The outer walls crumbled. Dust and fragments burst outward across the yard. After that, the RPG’s.

BOOOM!

The explosion that followed was deafening, a single compressed roar that ripped through what remained of the walls.

Dom didn’t dare look and kept running.

"Hurry up!" Vance was already in the SUV, waiting.

A glimpse of hope finally appeared, and he reached out—

ZZZZZZ!

A crimson beam split the air and took half of Dom with it.

It didn’t stop there. It tore through the driver’s seat, punched through four more vehicles, and forced Vance out onto the ground.

Slowly, he stood up and watched a horrifying scene unfold before him.

Dom was kneeling on the ground, only half of his body remaining, while the rest of the guards were being slaughtered like animals.

"No..."

He spent decades in the criminal world. He ordered brutal executions. He watched men die in different ways.

Vance thought he already understood what cruelty looked like.

He was wrong.

What stood before him didn’t belong to that world. It should not belong to any world, for that matter.

It was something else wearing the shape of a human—and even that wasn’t enough to hide the overwhelming bloodlust.

RATATATATATATAT—

The gunfire kept echoing across the yard.

Then less of it.

Then less again.

The explosions that followed weren’t tactics. They were the sound of men who had run out of every other option.

And then even that faded.

"We finally meet again. How is it? Did you like my work?"

Francis stepped through the wreckage. His face was back to normal, but the same sadistic smile remained.

Vance didn’t run.

There was nowhere left to go, and some part of him—the part that had allowed him to prosper in the underground world by reading situations clearly— knew it.

There was no escaping the monster in front of him.

"You’re not running? That’s disappointing. I was starting to enjoy the idea of chasing you. Wherever you go, I end up having a feast."

"Why go this far?" Vance gritted his teeth. The frustration and the thought of his impending death pushed past his fear.

"I’m here because you ran away from me. We could have ended this sooner."

Vance let out the breath he had been holding. "Do you really think I believe you?"

"I can tell you came here just to kill me. No need to pretend you’re working for an organization that doesn’t exist.

"Who did I hurt? Who did you lose? Someone close to you? Your family? Someone whose life was destroyed because of our drugs?"

Francis shook his head. "If you had touched my family, you wouldn’t be standing here talking. I just want to kill you."

"I don’t believe you. There’s no way you’re doing this without such a reason." Vance shot back.

"You want me to justify my actions?" Francis asked in a sarcastic tone. "Would it be easier for you to accept if I said I did it for a noble cause?"

He stayed quiet for a moment before going on.

"No need to look for meaning. I did it for myself. I simply hate those who deal in illegal drugs—and you fit that role."

The silence afterward wasn’t doubt — it was recognition.

"I see..." Vance trailed off. "So that’s it...You’re nothing but a psychopath."

"That’s one way to put it,"

Vance’s expression darkened. "You took everything from me. If I’m going to die, I’m dragging you down with me to hell."

His hand slipped into his pocket and came out with a long metallic syringe. He drove it straight into his chest, and pushed it down.

A loud groan escaped him as dark veins spread from the chest, crawling up his neck and across his face.

They kept spreading, until they covered every visible inch of him.

Francis’s eyes narrowed. His vibration sense picked up the changed in the air.

"Did you know?" Vance spoke, his voice breaking slightly as he exhaled.

"For people like us, the first thing to age is our appearance. Our internal organs stay relatively healthy.

That’s why we can live up to a hundred years, as long as we don’t overuse our abilities."

It was clear he was keeping the conversation going—buying time for his body to adapt.

The air around him began to vibrate from the sheer pressure his body was releasing.

Francis stayed silent. He wondered if the drug he took was the same one the Federation used on Lex.

If it was, then letting him reach his peak would bring the most reward.

"In my prime—" Vance let the words sit for a moment. "I could’ve been the best Defense Force this city ever produced. Top rank. No question."

"Why didn’t you then?"

Vance said nothing at first. He just rolled his neck, one side then the other.

"Because the more powerful one is, the faster they burn through their lifespan."