Sammy's reckless driving brought them screeching around a bend, and soon they arrived in the Workers' Ring. Towering gray block buildings dominated the landscape, each capable of housing thousands of weary souls. These plain utilitarian structures, much like the overworked citizens they housed, exuded an aura of resolute endurance. Mass-produced during the construction of New DC, they stood as proof to humanity's ability to prevail over the monsters, at least long enough to erect the city.

Lucian's eyes burned green with envy as he gazed up at the featureless gray buildings that loomed overhead. His childhood dream of belonging within one of those structures was still as vibrant as the days he sat on the rooftop of Gladkid Orphanage, peering out at them from the Broken Ring. The promise he had made to himself back then to reach those lofty gray heights remained unfulfilled, and it irked him to no end.

Regret pierced him in the heart, for it was not only a promise to himself but also one to Elina, a vow that he would one day bring her along with him up there. However, fate had dealt her a different hand, and she had found her own way to move up in the world, while he remained stuck where they had both started.

Their drive ended at the entrance of a dilapidated warehouse, its outward appearance a mere façade of abandonment and neglect. As they proceeded inside, the same squalor and desolation greeted them. It wasn't until they reached the rear of the building that the reality was unveiled—an unexpected transformation into well-built offices. Stepping into this jarring contrast of worlds, Lucian's eyes were drawn to a luxurious red carpet that covered the floor, extravagant furniture set upon it. Lucian’s eyes narrowed seeing a familiar set of Gatetech tools inside a box sitting on the floor—his Gatetech tools. Sammy gulped and hurried to one of the doors when Lucian’s accusatory gaze returned to him with mounting fury.

The loan shark swiftly opened the door, revealing an office with a man sitting at a black desk. His muscles strained against his shirt, stretching the fabric in ways that suggested power and control. He had a square jawline, sharp and defined, accentuated by a high and tight haircut. A thick cigar dangled from his lips, its smoky tendrils curling into the air as he flicked its ash into an ornate ashtray. Beside him, a woman stood startled by the sudden entrance, her attire a juxtaposition of professionalism and sex appeal. Her skirt clung tightly to her form, and her dress shirt revealed a generous amount of cleavage. She cast a wary glance at Lucian, whose jumpsuit was still stained with blood.

The man with the cigar nodded toward the door, signaling for the woman to depart. As soon as she left, he shifted his attention to Sammy, a silent cue to speak.

Stepping forward, Sammy raised his injured hand, then pointed accusingly at Lucian, saying, “This fucking clown beat the shit out of me and my boys! He thought he was badass enough to come meet you, boss. That’s why I brought him here.” He locked eyes with Lucian and added a sneer. “You’re in trouble now, bitch.”

The boss leaned back in his comfy office chair and grunted at Lucian, “You’re retarded to have come here. Fuck you and die. Go ahead, I’ll let you kill yourself and save me the trouble. Trust me. You don’t want me to get my hands on you.”

“I want my money back,” Lucian replied tonelessly.

“Alright, kid. You have balls, I get it. Now, shut your mouth.” He launched into a monologue, elaborating on his control over various groups like Sammy’s, all focused on funneling profits into his coffers. He boasted about his extensive network of connections and the competitors he had ruthlessly crushed along the way.

“…the most important thing that you must know,” the boss concluded, drawing in a long, slow breath from his cigar, then expelling a swirling cloud of smoke, “is that I am Anointed. That's right, kid. I've got more power in my pinky finger than ten of you combined. So, what's it gonna be, tough guy? Those big balls of yours still there or have they shriveled up?”

"I'm Anointed too," Lucian calmly responded, seizing a nearby chair and swatting Sammy with it. Sammy's body bounced off the wall like a human racket ball, leaving a sizable dent in the plaster.

The surprised boss looked down at Sammy unconscious on the floor and cursed, “Fucking guy fucked with an Anointed! Of all the fucking things he goes and does, he actually brings a fucking Anointed into my office.” He seized a bottle of brandy resting on his desk and flung it at Sammy, the glass shattering and drenching him in alcohol. With a thick finger, he flicked his cigar out, igniting Sammy into a fiery spectacle.

Sammy jolted awake, the flames devouring him, and his agonized screams filled the room. Lucian never looked away from the boss’ eyes, even when Sammy began to run around like a headless chicken while on fire.

“Enough with the theatrics,” Lucian grunted with impatience, “and let’s get to the main event: Me versus you.”

“Listen up, little man. I make the rules!” the boss shouted as he pressed a button protruding from below his desk. The door was opened and when Sammy ran out screaming, men in suits came in after carrying machine guns. “Fill this fucker full of holes.”

The gun barrels flashed as bullets were spat out toward Lucian. Blood then sprayed out as the bullets sunk into his body. Yet, they stuck out of the holes having been stopped. His Anointed muscles were too dense for these earthly weapons to pierce through.

[Angry Gremlin]

“Ah, that’s better,” he grunted, cracking his neck. Lucian loomed over them with his transformed muscular frame. His red eyes looked down on them like a man about to make a disobedient dog obey. The bullets could only make welts on his skin now. None could penetrate him while he was in his Mr. Hyde form.

His lack of reaction and his ability to shirk off bullets stripped the gunmen of hope and they stopped shooting without being told to. Their weapons clattered to the ground with the sound of utter defeat.

“I don’t accept your surrender,” Lucian said but soon grasped at his throat in surprise. “My voice transforms as well?” He sounded more beastly, raspier. Shrugging, he began to batter the boss’ men around until at least one limb was dangling loosely from their torso.

He then turned to the boss, now taller than him, “You’re turn, little man.”

At his words, the boss suddenly threw his desk toward Lucian and began their fight. However, it didn’t last long. The boss ended up having no Skills or Spells, not even a basic ‘Combat Art’. He was one of those Anointed that desperately clung to life and refused to fight monsters, relying on his supernatural strength to succeed in life by bullying normal humans.

An Anointed would never develop proper Skills or Spells without engaging in combat with monsters. It was speculated that this was a purposeful design choice by the Master System. Some say that was why there was no such thing as “experience points,” despite its video game functionality. It only rewarded results that it wanted, and that was the death of monsters.

In victory, Lucian made the boss empty his safe of its valuables. Lucian planned on taking it all. He told the boss to carry it for him while he left for the parking lot to drive off in Sammy’s car. When he saw the woman who had been in the boss’ office before, Lucian paused seeing her writing in a ledger.

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“B-boss…!” she sputtered, getting up in surprise causing her swivel chair to spin. She became wordless seeing her boss’ swollen, beaten up face.

“Are those the accounts?” Lucian asked. She simply nodded. “Of the money from the people you guys stole from?” She nodded again. Lucian shoved her aside and flipped through the ledger’s pages to see familiar names from his side of the Broken Ring, along with others. “Jesus, you people are really crooked.”

He looked to the valuables the boss was holding and sighed. He couldn’t leave things as they were.

Lucian forced the boss and the woman he found out was the boss’ secretary, to drive with him in Sammy’s sports car to each person listed in their records in order to pay them back. Although, he wouldn’t walk to their door to give them the cash himself, and instead made the boss do it as well as apologize. The boss could hardly bear the embarrassment. He had passed some men working for one of his competitors and they began to snicker seeing him apologize to slum dwellers and hand money out for free.

He then and there promised to do all in his power to get back at Lucian, no matter the cost.

Nighttime had come before they were able to cover enough names. They couldn’t return to everyone what they had lost as the valuables weren’t enough. The boss and his cronies had stolen quite a lot and had squandered most of it on a luxurious lifestyle. In the end, Lucian wasn’t left with anything as he gave it all away, only regaining his Gatetech tools as a sort of consolation prize.

Parked back at the abandoned warehouse sat Lucian, the boss and his secretary, all returning back to where they first met.

“Alright,” Lucian said, looking into the backseat where the secretary sat, “It looks like we’re done. You can go.”

“T-thank you, sir,” she stammered with a curt but respectful bow of her head.

“Oh, and do find other work. You aren’t going to work for your boss any longer.”

She nodded, her face filled with relief that she would survive and immediately left, her heels tapping across the pavement quickly.

“So, what now?” the boss asked, “You gonna keep up this superhero act and place me under arrest or something?” Scoffing, he popped a cigar into his mouth and lit a match. Smoking, he dismissed offhandedly, “I’ll be out in no time. This part of the Broken Ring belongs to me.”

He saw in Lucian a naïve boy trying to save a doomed place like the Broken Ring. So what if he lost his money now? There were more than enough suckers to cheat in order to refill his pockets. There were no stopping people like him who were meant to rule over destitute places like the slums. Matter of fact, he felt it was the nature of things, like a bird eating worms or a dung beetle rolling up balls of shit. Ruthless men like him were created to lord over these weak and hapless piss ants meandering uselessly about.

“Do you really think I’ll let you live?” Lucian asked. Coldness had crept into his eyes and his voice brooked no emotion. “After all you’ve done?”

The boss flinched seeing Lucian seem to become another person. For a moment, he felt a chill run through his body before he started to laugh.

“Oh, you really had me going there for a sec, kid,” he bellowed with laughter, “but cut the tough guy act. Mercy givers like you should just stick to prayers and stuffing dollars into donation boxes, so people like me can take it later for lunch money.”

Lucien was silent for a moment. The boss began to sweat feeling as if he’d gone too far but shook his head. He was a good judge of character. He may not be the brightest boss in the slums, but he knew people.

“You ain’t going to kill anyone,” the boss reiterated.

“I’ve done it before,” Lucian remarked, staring at the boss with hollow eyes.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m from Hellside.”

It was the boss’ turn to become silent.

Hellside had once been known as the Heelside District after City Congress aimed to rename the rings and districts following the completion of the innermost “Heart Rings.” Their vision was to give the city an anatomical theme, symbolizing that all citizens of New DC were interconnected components of a greater organism: the city itself. The Broken Ring had once been called the “Dermis Ring,” and the Workers’ Ring had been named the “Limbs Ring.”

However, the names never stuck as their efforts went no further than the symbolic gesture. They made no substantial improvements to the lives of the people. It was merely a superficial rebranding of New DC, designed to impress their social circles. They considered their work complete afterwards.

The transformation of the Heelside District into Hellside was a consequence of its inhabitants' unsettling and dark natures being exposed to all of New DC. When the nightly news hit about hundreds of children meeting their demise at Gladkid Orphanage, Hellside itself was placed under intense scrutiny. What was revealed beneath the surface of Hellside was not a community of ordinary humans, but a gathering of wicked souls. In this unforgiving district, humanity had succumbed to its vilest instincts.

One of their nefarious practices was they engaged in the trade of flesh, selling individuals of all ages in slave shops. Inhabitants of the Wasteland, known as Wastelanders, operated drug dens that served as the source of all Elysium crystal flowing like a poisoned river through the city's outer rings. Elysium, the most addictive drug known to humanity, was laced with bits of Gateshard, leaving its users with endless smiles. However, once their addiction ran its course, addicts became trapped like petrified statues, gazing eternally into the void with unending smiles.

Hellside concealed a hidden horrific history, its gruesome secrets laid bare by investigators who stumbled upon unreported massacres. They discovered piles of corpses and bones strewn about in junkyards, concealed beneath piles of rubbish, and unearthed even more buried within abandoned buildings. The New DC police responsible for upholding the law in the district were revealed to be complicit in its nefarious activities. Driven by greed, they readily accepted hefty bribes, elevating themselves to become one of the most influential and affluent factions within Hellside. Their collusion played an integral role in the district's descent into depravity and left the district’s people with no one to turn to when the law itself had become corrupted.

Desperate measures were implemented, and Hellside was forcibly shut down as an entire district. This forced its residents to disperse like a plague into neighboring districts, carrying their malevolence with them. In the years that followed, their abhorrent deeds earned anyone even remotely linked to Hellside the damning title of demon.

Though worried, the boss still tested him, “I still don’t believe you. You let my secretary live.” Also, he couldn’t help but ponder why someone from Hellside would bother giving stolen money back to those who’ve been robbed. It didn’t make any sense.

“I just didn’t want her to make a fuss when she saw you getting killed,” Lucian replied, his cold eyes unblinking as he stared at the boss, “I’ll be going in after her and the rest of your people when I’m done with you.”

“Fucking Hellside demon,” the boss spat, frantic and agitated. Of all the people he had to run into, it was an Anointed from that hellhole of a district.

The boss tried to run but a sinewy hand grabbed him by the back of the neck like a kitten being handled by its mother. He looked to Lucian and saw that he had transformed. Lucian now had sharp teeth and red eyes, his messy hair bristling up into spikes. Muscles bulged out from beneath his blood stained jumpsuit.

[Angry Gremlin]

With a twist of his hand, Lucian snapped the boss’ neck like a wishbone. He cast the lifeless body outside like garbage, and emerged from the sleek car, his silhouette a shadow against the backdrop of the abandoned warehouse.

They always smelled the same to Lucian, these predators in human flesh. No, it was a feeling. They always felt like pulsating boils in need of cutting. It was in Hellside where he had been able to recognize their nature, to feel their predatory presence.

Lucian couldn’t stand them, like a man couldn’t stand feeling his teeth get pulled out. Monsters took his family. People like the boss who took advantage of others had taken his friends, those in the orphanage—those friends who felt like his real family.

Inside the hidden offices, the secretary busily stood above her desk, plucking things off to gather them in a box. Her intentions were to gather her things and cut herself a piece of the pie that was about to be ruined. She knew of other separate stashes the boss had. Those would belong to her soon. The secretary didn’t notice Lucian had approached her from behind.

Her ambitions that night, including her hopes of reaping rewards and even leaving the office alive, were left unfulfilled.

Lucian strolled unhurried down a hallway guided by the faint murmur of men's voices. With dark intentions, he followed the sound until he reached a door. He pushed it open, revealing a gathering of men in tailored suits, arranged around a lavish lounge complete with a well-stocked bar. Each man sat groaning, tending to their respective injuries, all inflicted by Lucian himself.

Silence descended upon the room as the men became speechless as they watched Lucian walk in. Without a word, he quietly closed the door behind him and regarded them with an icy detachment.

“Good evening,” Lucian uttered, his voice’s tone dead with calmness. With only those words, he descended upon them like a lion upon helpless sheep.