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

The weight of the shotgun in my hands felt like a promise. Kross had come at me with everything he had, and now it was my turn.

Ghost paced beside me as Kai fed us details over the phone.

"Kross's real headquarters is in the old Zenith Tower. Top floors are completely private. Security is tight—armed guards, electronic locks, motion sensors. It's a fortress."

"Sounds like fun," Ghost muttered.

Kai didn't laugh. "Listen, Damien. This is different. He's not just hiding drugs or money there. I think he's running something bigger. Smuggling, weapons deals, human trafficking. If you go in blind, you won't make it out."

I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. "So what do we need?"

"An army," Kai said. "But since you don't have one, I suggest something better. A ghost."

Ghost smirked. "I like the sound of that."

Kai continued. "I'll disable the security for a window of ten minutes. After that, you're on your own."

Ghost and I exchanged a look. We didn't need more time than that.

"This is it," I said. "We end this."

Ghost grinned. "Then let's give Kross a night he won't forget."

The Zenith Tower loomed ahead, a steel giant against the night sky. The streets around it were quiet, but that meant nothing. Kross had men inside.

We moved fast, scaling the back fence. The alley was empty—Kai had made sure of that.

"Security cameras are looping," his voice crackled through our earpieces. "You have ten minutes. Go."

We slipped in through a maintenance entrance, quiet as shadows.

The first guard never saw me coming. I caught him in a chokehold, lowering him gently as his body went limp. Ghost dealt with the second, a swift blade across the throat.

"On it," Kai said. Seconds later, the doors slid open.

As we ascended, I steadied my breathing. This was it.

Hell broke loose.

Firefight at the Top

Bullets ripped through the air the moment we stepped out. We dove for cover, returning fire.

Ghost took down one guard, then another. I flanked left, moving low, putting two rounds into a thug's chest.

The hallway was chaos—smoke, shouts, gunfire.

We were outnumbered. But we were better.

I emptied my clip, ducked, reloaded. A thug lunged at me—I smashed the butt of my gun into his face, sent him sprawling.

Ghost threw a grenade down the hall.

Three minutes left.

I pushed forward, kicking open the final door.

Sitting behind a desk, calm, smiling.

"Damien," he said smoothly. "Took you long enough."

Ghost raised his gun, but I held up a hand. This was my fight.

Kross leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Let's talk."

I clenched my fists. "You had your chance to talk."

Now it was time to finish this.

To Be Continued…

Chapter 42: The Real War Begins