Chapter 1
The rain in the lower district didnβt wash away the dirt; it only made the blood slide faster into the storm drains
Rain soaked through the heavy fabric of Maxim's coat, cold and relentless, as the high pitched hum of flickering neon signs echoed down the narrow alleyway. Crimson light washed over the wet asphalt, reflecting off puddle after puddle.
Maxim leaned against the brick wall, drawing a deep, steadying breath. Blood dripped down the side of his face from a split eyebrow. Around him, the low groans of his two remaining men choked through the heavy downpour
He and his gang were trapped.
"End of the line, kid," a voice rasped from the dark opening of the alley.
Footsteps echoed heavy, synchronized, and far too many. Out of the shadows stepped three distinct groups of men: tactical jackets, street gang leather, and expensive tailored coats. Most importantly, they were all armed.
Three rival syndicates, working together for the first time in history just to eliminate Maxim Voroni, the heir to the Voroni family.
They blocked the main exit, sealed off the fire escapes, and lined the rooftops above. At least thirty armed men, guns raised, lasers cutting through the rain and locking directly onto his chest.
"You really thought you could run the underground for so long?" the lead enforcer scoffed, clicking the safety off his submachine gun. "You outplayed everyone on the streets, but you forgot one thing nobody survives when everyone wants you dead."
Maxim wiped the cold rainwater and blood from his eyes, surveying the scene.
Zero escape routes
Outnumbered thirty to one
Outgunned
A low, humorless chuckle rasped from his throat. Maxim's men looked at him, panic blinding their eyes. They thought this was the end. They thought they were dead.
They didn't know about his last resort ; the ultimate weapon in his hands.
Slowly, he lifted his left wrist. Hidden beneath the soaked sleeve of his jacket was a heavy, matte black tactical bracelet forged from reinforced steel and dark glass. No branding. No serial numbers.
It was an "uno reverse" card handed to him a few months ago by a whisper in the dark a direct line reserved strictly for when death was staring him in the face. A direct link to the most terrifying, powerful, and mysterious figure in the underground.
"What are you looking at, a watch?" the syndicate boss sneered. "Aim for his head. Don't let him speak."
Maxim's thumb slammed down on the hidden pressure sensor on the side of the bracelet.
Click
For two agonizing seconds, nothing happened. The rain fell. The men aimed their weapons.
Then, the cold metal against his skin began to pulse with power.
The dark glass interface burst to life, casting a harsh, blinding crimson glow against his wet skin. Water droplets sizzled off the glass as two glowing crimson letters locked into the center of the display:
**RR**
His heart hammered against his ribs.
They actually answered. The mysterious figure really answered him back.
Before the syndicate boss could order his men to pull their triggers, the temperature in the alleyway seemed to plunge into freezing cold.
A heavy, suffocating silence dropped over the narrow street. The ambient noise of the city vanished, swallowed by a terrifying pressure that made every instinct in everyone's body scream danger.
From the shadows behind the rival gang, a single pair of heavy boots struck the wet pavement.
Tap
The syndicate boss froze, his cocky smirk vanishing instantly. The gunman beside him began to tremble, his weapon shaking so violently the laser sight danced across the wall. The fear in their eyes wasn't an act.
"N-No..." someone whispered from the back of the crowd. "It can't be."
Out of the deep darkness stepped a solitary figure clad in a long black trench coat. A terrifying, obsidian mask completely concealed their face, carved with subtle red accents that mirrored the glowing light on his wrist.
In their right hand, held loosely between two fingers, was a single chess piece.
A Queen. Blood red.
Every single man in that alley recognized the figure instantly. The legend of the underground. The ghost who turned entire cartels into dust in a single night. The absolute ruler who sat at the top of the food chain.
Red Reign
"Kill them!" the syndicate leader shrieked, his voice cracking in sheer terror. "KILL THEM NOW!"
Thirty guns swung away from Maxim and aimed toward the shadow in the mask.
What happened next didn't look human.
Red Reign moved not like a person, but like a blur of dark violence. The sound of gunshots exploded through the alley, but before the brass shells could even hit the ground, Red Reign was already inside their defense line.
A sickening sound of snapping bones and shattering metal echoed off the brick walls.
Thud. Crash. Crack.
In the span of four second less time than it took to draw a single breath the gunfire ceased completely.
Bodies hit the wet pavement one by one, incapacitated or dead before they even knew what hit them. The thirty-man ambush had been completely dismantled. Cleared out in seconds.
Silence returned to the alley, broken only by the steady pitter-patter of the rain.
Breathing heavily, Maxim pushed himself off the brick wall and took a step forward, his chest heaving with adrenaline. He looked down at the pile of defeated rivals, then snapped his gaze up to thank the legend who had just saved his life.
"Waitβ" he called out.
The alleyway was completely empty. He was too late.
No footsteps. No shadows. Red Reign had vanished into the rain as quickly as they had arrived, leaving no trace behind.
Maxim stumbled forward to where the masked figure had been standing just seconds ago.
There, resting on the dark asphalt in the middle of a puddle, sat the blood red Queen chess piece. Red neon light flickered across its glass surface, proving that what just happened wasn't a hallucination. It was a silent mark left behind. A signature.
Slowly, he knelt down, picked up the cold glass piece, and closed his hand tightly around it.
He stared into the dark, rain soaked alley and whispered to the air:
"Who the hell are you, actually?"
