Prykus

They call me a hero. They call me a villain. But I never cared for names.

Damien walks a razor’s edge between justice and chaos. In a city drowning in corruption and shadows, he is neither a savior nor a destroyer — but something in between.

Haunted by a past he can't escape and debts he can't repay, Damien takes on the jobs no one else dares to touch — dismantling syndicates, hunting killers, and exposing dark conspiracies that rot the city from the inside out. But every deal he makes, every life he takes, drags him further down a path he can't return from.

When a mysterious organization emerges from the depths — more dangerous and connected than anything he's faced — Damien is forced to confront the ultimate question: how far will he go to fight monsters without becoming one himself?

The Damned Path: Chronicles of Damien

Ghost drove fast, weaving through the rain-slicked streets like the devil himself was on our tail. Maybe he was. The city never slept, and now that my name was out there, every killer, mercenary, and wannabe thug would be hunting me down for a quick payday.

The car's headlights sliced through the darkness, but my mind was elsewhere—on Raze. I hadn't forgotten the way he looked at me that night in the warehouse, the way his lips curled into something between amusement and hunger.

Kross was business. Raze was a monster.

"You got a plan?" Ghost asked, voice steady, hands gripping the wheel.

I stared out the window, fingers tapping against my knee. "Yeah. Find him first."

Ghost chuckled dryly. "That's not a plan, Damien. That's a suicide wish."

I turned to him. "Then let's make sure we don't miss."

We pulled into a rundown parking lot behind a half-burned-out building. Ghost killed the engine, and for a second, the only sound was the rain pattering against the windshield.

"Because if we're gonna win this, we need someone who plays dirtier than Raze," Ghost said, unbuckling his seatbelt. "And I know just the guy."

I followed him inside, stepping over broken glass and graffiti-covered walls. The air stank of mold and cigarettes. At the end of the hall, a door stood slightly ajar, flickering blue light spilling into the corridor.

The door creaked open, and a woman with short, spiked hair and a half-smoked cigarette hanging from her lips peered at us. Her eyes flicked to Ghost first, then to me.

"Well, well," she said, exhaling smoke. "You finally brought me something interesting."

Ghost smirked. "Kai, meet Damien. Damien, meet Kai."

Kai's grin widened. "So, you're the guy Raze wants dead."

I crossed my arms. "That a problem?"

She blew out a slow stream of smoke, then laughed. "Hell no. That just makes you my favorite kind of person—a walking storm."

Ghost stepped inside, and I followed. The room was filled with monitors, maps, and weapons. A true war room.

Kai flicked through the bounty posts on one of her screens. "Looks like Raze upped the price. You must've really pissed him off."

I stepped closer. "Then let's make him regret it."

Kai's smirk turned sharp. "Now you're talking."

Chapter 35: The Devil’s Playground