To Hayden, the hitmen’s attempt to flank him was as pathetic as a circus act.
Tracking the glowing red boxes through the engine block, he pivoted sharply.
He leveled the heavy barrel at the thug rushing him from the right flank and pulled the trigger.
Boom!
A devastating spread of buckshot shredded the air.
It instantly blew a massive, bloody cavity straight through the assassin’s chest.
The man was launched backward by the sheer kinetic force, crashing heavily onto the asphalt.
He did not twitch again.
A horrific spray of gore and bone fragments painted the highway guardrail red.
With just two pulls of the trigger, Hayden had cleanly and efficiently obliterated two professional killers.
Watching the carnage unfold, the one-eyed veteran turned the color of ash.
Cold sweat poured down his face.
He finally realized they had kicked a terrifying hornet’s nest.
He spun around, desperately sprinting back toward his SUV.
Hayden was much faster.
“Trying to run?” Hayden whispered coldly.
He twirled the Winchester, seamlessly chambering another shell.
Raising the heavy shotgun with one hand, he aimed squarely at the driver’s side door and pulled the trigger.
Boom!
The armor-piercing buckshot shredded the reinforced steel of the car door as easily as wet paper.
The veteran’s legs were blown entirely off below the knees.
He shrieked in absolute agony, slumping backward into the driver’s seat as a fountain of blood soaked the leather upholstery.
Hayden walked over slowly.
He yanked the shredded door open and roughly dragged the bleeding veteran out onto the highway.
He stared down at the dying man with hollow eyes.
“Who sent you?” The one-eyed man trembled violently from the sheer pain.
“The Black Sovereign Syndicate,” he stammered, his voice weak and shaking.
“We were just taking an open contract.
Please.
Spare my life.” The veteran looked up at the cold, unyielding face behind the gun barrel.
Suddenly, recognition hit him like a sledgehammer.
He realized this was not a helpless college student.
This was the terrifying rookie from The Continental’s speakeasy.
A profound wave of regret washed over him.
If he had known who this kid really was, he never would have taken the job.
Hayden narrowed his eyes.
It was exactly as he suspected.
The Black Sovereign Syndicate was still hunting him.
He remembered the subway station vividly.
Gideon Cross had nearly killed him over this exact bounty.
If he had not awakened his System abilities in time, he would be a rotting corpse.
A terrifying rage consumed Hayden.
His eyes flashed with a freezing, lethal light.
His jaw clenched tight enough to pop.
He was going to make the Black Sovereign Syndicate pay in blood.
He raised the shotgun and pressed the scorching hot muzzle directly against the old man’s forehead.
“In your next life, make sure you know exactly who you are hunting before you take the job.” Bang!
The blast shattered the veteran’s skull like a dropped melon.
Hayden casually stored the shotgun in his inventory.
He climbed back into his M4 and sped away from the gruesome scene.
During his meeting with Valerie’s black-market weapons broker earlier, Hayden had made a fascinating discovery about his System.
The LitRPG interface could assign special modifiers to classic, vintage firearms.
The Winchester M1887 lever-action shotgun was severely outdated by modern standards.
Compared to fully automatic tactical shotguns, it was heavy, slow, and cumbersome.
However, the System had assigned this specific weapon the [Armor Piercing] attribute.
To this gun, heavy ballistic vests, reinforced vehicle doors, and tactical shields were about as durable as toilet paper.
The projectiles effortlessly shattered defenses to obliterate the targets hiding behind them.
That single modifier elevated the vintage shotgun to a God-Tier weapon.
It was Hayden’s ultimate countermeasure against heavily armored targets.
Valerie’s voice crackled through his earpiece, tinged with a hint of teasing amusement.
“Looks like someone tried to cause you some trouble.” “Just three bottom-feeders,” Hayden replied calmly.
“They are dealt with.” “By the way, I need you to dig up everything you can on the Black Sovereign Syndicate.” Valerie sounded genuinely surprised.
“So you are the ‘Hayden Brooks’ they posted that massive open bounty on?” She let out a low chuckle.
“The Black Sovereign Syndicate really bit off more than they can chew this time.” “I am not intimately familiar with their corporate structure, but I know their underground dealings,” Valerie explained.
“They control a massive slice of the black market.
Weapons, narcotics, and the infamous human organ trade.” “I will tap into the Obsidian Cartel’s intelligence network immediately.
You will have a complete dossier by midnight.” “Good.
Thank you,” Hayden said, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.
“Has Richard Vance’s position changed?” “While you were busy with the street trash, he arrived at the theater.
He has a massive security detail with him,” Valerie warned.
“You have twenty minutes before the concert begins.
I suggest you approach this carefully.” Valerie paused, her tone dropping its playful edge.
“I also just intercepted some highly concerning chatter.” “What is it?” Hayden asked.
“Vance Corporation is officially panicking.
The patriarch, Arthur Vance, just authorized a blank check to mobilize elite private military contractors to protect the core family members.
They are flying into Rookwood City tonight.” “They hired Aegis Vanguard,” she added grimly.
Hayden frowned.
“Aegis Vanguard?” “They are one of the top five PMCs in the country.
They specialize exclusively in counter-assassination and intelligence blackouts,” Valerie explained.
“Those mercenaries are the mortal enemies of the Assassin’s Guild.
Hundreds of our professionals have died trying to breach their defensive perimeters.” “It seems the Vance family is genuinely terrified of you.” Hayden clenched his hands around the steering wheel and sneered.
“Being afraid will not save them.
Every single one of them is going to die.” The BMW M4 roared down the expressway.
Hayden’s eyes burned with pure murderous intent.
This hunt had only just begun.
…
The North District.
The Rookwood International Theater.
A long queue of luxury vehicles crawled toward the grand entrance.
A pristine red carpet stretched from the theater steps all the way to the curb.
Tonight, the theater hosted an internationally renowned concert.
Almost every prominent wealthy businessman, socialite, and politician in Rookwood City was in attendance.
Hayden parked his car discreetly on a side street several blocks away.
“Two o’clock.
Look up,” Valerie’s voice whispered in his ear.
Hayden glanced up.
Perched on the roof of a high-rise opposite the theater was a tiny, inconspicuous shadow.
A faint glint of silver hair peeked out from beneath a tactical hood.
“Do you have a clear shot?” Hayden asked.
“Negative.
The sightlines are terrible.
Unless the target steps outside the main lobby, providing sniper support is basically impossible.” “Time is running out,” Hayden muttered.
“I need to move fast.
Is there any way to slip inside without triggering the security checkpoints?” Valerie paused, genuinely impressed by his relentless drive.
“The main entrance is locked down by corporate security and theater staff.
Nobody gets through without VIP credentials.” “However, you can bypass the metal detectors if you disguise yourself as a maintenance worker and enter through the loading dock.
I already dispatched a courier.
Your uniform and toolkit will be in the alley next to you in two minutes.” Hayden nodded.
The Obsidian Cartel’s logistics were incredibly efficient.
“I just intercepted the concert’s VIP program,” Valerie’s tone suddenly turned strange and eerie.
“There is someone on the lineup you might be very interested in.” “Who?” “Victoria Lancaster.
She is the eldest daughter of the Lancaster dynasty from Kingsport.
She just graduated from Juilliard and is the star performer tonight.” “Is she a threat?” Hayden asked, narrowing his eyes.
“She is…” Valerie hesitated for a moment.
“She is Marcus Vance’s fiancée.”