Unaware of Tristan's festering resentment, Lucas logged out and crashed onto his bed. He woke at 1 PM, grabbed a quick lunch, then launched into a brutal workout—all to be strong enough to kill Julian.
His father, a retired special forces soldier, had drilled him rigorously as a kid. In his past life, he'd spent five years honing his skills under his father's old comrades to avenge himself, earning the alias "Bloodfire" in the mercenary circuit—feared across Southeast Asia. Reborn, he aimed to surpass his former peak.
He practiced his father's martial arts, then switched to a Southeast Asian death squad's secret method—one that boosted physical strength drastically but was agonizing, with less than 10% of people enduring it. Two hours later, he collapsed, muscles screaming.
In his past life, hatred for Julian kept him going. This life, it was the same. He forced himself up, enduring for 30 more minutes before roaring to finish. He stumbled to the shower, letting cold water numb his pain as memories flooded in.
Loyalty often came from the unlikeliest places. His college roommate had betrayed him, but neighborhood friends like Leo, Liam, and Ethan had stood by him when he owed millions. Leo had died protecting him; the others had smuggled him out of the country. This life, he'd repay every bit of that loyalty.
Lucas bought a VR headset, then headed to the slums where Leo lived—an area of run-down shacks, home to the city's poorest. As he approached Leo's brick courtyard, he heard shouts.
"You think you can defy me? Where's the 50 Credits I told you to get?!" A rough voice yelled. "Steal it if you have to, you useless worm!" Lucas jumped over the wall to see a group beating a boy—Leo.
"Stop!" he shouted. The men turned, laughing. "Look, another fool here to pay up!" Gus Marlow, a ten-year-older local thug with a pockmarked face, pressed his foot on Leo's cheek. "Lucas, long time no see. Hand over 100 Credits, or you're next."
Gus had bullied them both as kids. But this time, Lucas didn't run. Gus lashed out with a kick to his stomach, but Lucas dodged effortlessly, slamming a perfect spinning kick into Gus's chest. Gus crumpled to the ground. The other four thugs charged—only to be taken down by Lucas's precise brick strikes. One bolted, terrified. Gus struggled to his feet, only to get clocked again, blood streaming down his face. Lucas's cold gaze locked on him—what would he do next?