Terra Gang’s Revenge

Ethan Cross reclined in his chair, sniper rifle in hand, enjoying the power it gave him.

Through the scope, he scanned Crestview Heights.

It was night. No electricity in the other buildings—only pitch-black windows and dark shadows.

But the snow's reflection offered faint visibility.

Everything outside was bathed in a silver, lifeless glow.

Then—movement.

Ethan's eyes sharpened.

Two tiny black figures crept across the garage lot.

"Target acquired. Looks like they're after my snowmobile."

He chuckled coldly.

Earlier, he'd pretended to park the snowmobile in the garage. Clearly, the bait had worked.

But they were wasting their time.

Moments later, Uncle Ray arrived at the door.

When he saw the unopened box of instant noodles sitting at the entrance, his eyes went glassy.

"White Elephant brand? Damn, Ethan, you really came through…"

A full box like this, rationed properly, could feed three people for a week.

And knowing that Ethan's own stash wasn't infinite?

That made it hit harder.

What Uncle Ray didn't know: Ethan had over 20,000 boxes in storage—and hadn't eaten a single packet.

Why would he? He had hotel-grade meals ready anytime.

Uncle Ray picked up the box and knocked gently.

"Ethan, I'm taking the noodles. Thank you!"

Ethan set the rifle down and opened the door.

"Ray, no need to thank me. You're family."

Everyone else could die for all he cared—but Uncle Ray was untouchable.

He wasn't just backup—he was strategic value. A future gold-tier bodyguard. A human shield when necessary.

If necessary, Ethan thought.

Ray scratched his head and grinned.

"Don't take what Sherry said earlier too seriously. She just likes to run her mouth."

Ethan smirked.

"You think I care what a woman says? I'm not petty."

Then his voice dipped low.

"But Ray… you really gonna raise another man's kid?"

He spoke with careful hesitation—testing the waters.

He didn't like Sherry, but he didn't want to damage his relationship with Uncle Ray either.

Needling had to be subtle.

Ray forced a laugh.

"Man… in times like this, can't be picky. Just glad to have someone."

Ethan nodded slowly.

"That's fair. Sherry's not bad. Decent looks. Can bear children."

"But honestly, I think you're selling yourself short."

"You're strong, reliable, and can fight. In this world? You're prime real estate."

Ray chuckled.

"You think so?"

"Look around," Ethan continued. "All those pretty boys who could sing and dance? Dead weight now. Can't protect themselves."

"Real women want real men—men who make them feel safe."

Then Ethan changed tone slightly.

"Still… wouldn't it be better if Sherry gave you a kid?"

"Raising someone else's? That's a hell of a burden."

Ray's smile faltered.

He had been thinking it.

The crying baby… the sleepless nights… and it wasn't even his.

He'd been suckered in. Kept telling himself it didn't matter. That the baby would grow up and love him for it.

But now? Ethan had planted a seed.

Ray laughed it off, but something had changed behind his eyes.

"Maybe. Maybe down the road. If things settle."

"Of course, of course," Ethan smiled. "No judgment. I really hope you and Sherry stay happy."

"Alright," Ray said. "I'm heading back. Let me know if you need anything."

Once he was gone, Ethan loaded the sniper and stored it again.

Every rifle and long-range weapon would be kept ready, hidden in his dimensional space.

Emergency gear.

—

Water shut off in the bathroom.

Dr. Chloe emerged, wrapped in a pink towel.

Her milky white skin glowed under the lights. Legs long, toned, sculpted. Every move elegant.

Ethan lay on the couch, rubbing his temples.

"I'm tired. Come give me a massage."

Chloe nodded sweetly and started kneading his shoulders with gentle hands.

—

That night, the Terra Gang returned.

They'd lost four men days ago—and wanted payback.

They still didn't take the residents of Building 25 seriously. As far as they were concerned, Ethan was the only threat.

Leading the raid was Vincent Fang, Harold's nephew. Night raids were his specialty.

Around 2 a.m., he and eight men crept silently toward Building 25.

But just as they reached the stairs—

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG!

Bricks rained down from above.

The sentries on watch had spotted them—and immediately counterattacked.

They threw anything they could find: rocks, sticks, metal scraps.

At the same time, they slammed pipes, windows, and railings to wake the others.

Within minutes, the entire building was alive.

Vincent, filled with rage and hunger, pushed for a full assault.

But they were outnumbered—and worse?

Ethan's bounty still stood.

Kill one enemy, earn rations for five.

The residents swarmed in like bloodthirsty beasts, driven by desperation and hunger.

The fight didn't last long.

Everyone struck to kill.

Three corpses were left behind.

Vincent shouted:

"Fall back! Retreat!"

They ran.

But the residents chased, howling with joy.

One thug tripped as he climbed through the window—just as a butcher knife split into his ass.

He screamed like a pig, scrambling out with the blade still embedded in his cheek.

They escaped—but barely.

The residents didn't pursue too far.

Too dangerous in the snow-covered dark.

But the damage was done.

Upstairs, Ethan had been woken by the noise.

He stepped onto the balcony and saw the Terra Gang fleeing.

He raised his eyebrows.

"Hm… I wonder…"

"From this range…"

"Could I drop one with the sniper?"

A cold smile crept across his face.