For half a second, nobody moved.

  Three thousand men stood across the open ground like a dark wall.

  Aykut Y?lmaz stepped forward.

  “Emrah!” His voice carried easily. “Your brother killed my only son. Now I’ll kill you. Then Aslan. Then Emre. After that, your sister. And your parents.”

  The words didn’t echo.

  They landed.

  Something tightened in Emrah’s chest. Not fear. Not even shock.

  Just heat.

  He turned his head slightly.

  Efsun. Efsane.

  Their faces were pale but steady.

  He gave James and Sofia a small signal.

  “Take them to the SUV.”

  “I promised myself I’d keep protecting you,” he said quietly, looking at the girls.

  Efsun shook her head immediately. “We’re not leaving.”

  Efsane tried to pull away. “We’re not hiding again.”

  “Put them in the car,” Emrah said without raising his voice.

  Two men grabbed them carefully but firmly. Efsane struggled and reached into her pocket on instinct. The small knife slipped in her grip. Her own blade sliced across her palm.

  She hissed.

  A thin line of blood ran down her wrist.

  No one had time to react.

  Across the field, rifles lifted.

  Emrah stepped forward.

  “I should’ve killed you the first time you tried to touch my family.”

  Aykut froze. “What are you talking about?”

  Emrah’s eyes didn’t blink.

  “You think I don’t see what’s happening around me?” His voice was calm. Too calm. “You’re careless. Your men talk. You leave footprints everywhere.”

  He inhaled slowly.

  “I wanted a normal life.” He almost sounded tired. “You people won’t allow it.”

  Aykut’s face twisted. “Kill them!”

  The first sniper fired.

  Emrah moved before the sound reached him.

  The bullet passed where his head had been a moment earlier.

  He didn’t look surprised. He just adjusted.

  Below, everything broke loose.

  Gunfire tore through the open space. Windows shattered. Men dropped behind doors and tires. The SUVs became shields.

  Yusuf leaned against the hood of one vehicle, firing with pin-point accuracy. Every pull of the trigger meant someone fell.

  Aslan ordered the men around between shots.

  Emrah didn’t stay behind cover.

  His cane shifted in his grip. Metal slid and reshaped, lengthening into a clean Katana.

  With a thought, the Infinity Gun appeared in his hand.

  He stepped into the open.

  Aykut was already retreating toward a waiting car, surrounded by bodyguards.

  Emrah began walking.

  Bullets came at him from three directions. He adjusted his steps as if he’d rehearsed it. A tilt of the shoulder. A slight shift of the torso. One bullet tore through his jacket but missed skin.

  He raised the gun and fired twice.

  Two bodyguards collapsed.

  The weapon shifted form mid-stride, compact frame snapping into something heavier.

  He didn’t slow down.

  People hesitated now. They had seen enough to know this wasn’t normal.

  From the SUV, Efsun whispered, “Am I hallucinating?”

  Sofia didn’t look away. “No.”

  Efsane yanked the door open.

  “I’m not sitting here.”

  “Efsane—” Sofia screamed after her.

  But she was already running.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Another gun lifted toward Emrah’s back.

  Efsane’s injured hand trembled.

  The blood dripping from her palm stopped falling.

  It thickened.

  It pulled upward, stretching unnaturally, shaping itself into something sharp and narrow.

  Her eyes widened — but she didn’t hesitate.

  She threw.

  The crimson blade cut clean through the shooter’s throat.

  He fell without finishing the trigger pull.

  She stared at her hand for half a second.

  Then she ran faster.

  Ahead, Aykut stumbled as one of Emrah’s bullets struck his leg.

  His bodyguards were dropping one by one.

  Emrah reached them.

  The Infinity Gun shifted again, compact and brutal now. He swept the remaining men aside with controlled bursts. No wasted movement.

  Aykut collapsed near the getaway car, dragging himself.

  Emrah stood over him.

  “Where is my family?”

  “In the car,” Aykut gasped. “I swear.”

  Emrah opened the back door.

  His parents.

  Sahra.

  Alive.

  He closed the door gently.

  Then he looked down at Aykut.

  “You think Emre killed your son.”

  Aykut stared up at him, confusion cutting through fear.

  “I am Emre.”

  The words landed heavier than the gunfire had.

  “Emre is the name I use to make Emrah disappear.” His expression didn’t change. “You’ve been chasing a ghost.”

  Aykut tried to laugh but it came out broken. “Kill me. You’ll lose anyway. My partner will finish this.”

  Emrah’s weapon reshaped one final time — sleek, futuristic, unfamiliar, humming faintly.

  “I don’t care.”

  He pulled the trigger.

  He didn’t look away. Not when the first shot hit. Not when the second followed. Not when Aykut stopped moving.

  Behind him, someone aimed.

  Efsane moved first this time.

  The blood along her arm stretched and hardened into a thin whip edged like glass. She flicked it once.

  The man’s weapon clattered to the ground as he fell.

  The battlefield grew quieter.

  Not silent.

  Just… thinning.

  Emrah stood there, breathing hard, gun lowering slowly.

  This wasn’t a normal life.

  And somewhere deep inside, he stopped pretending it could ever be one again.

  The last shot echoed longer than it should have.

  Smoke hung in the air. Engines were still running. Somewhere in the distance, a man was groaning.

  Emrah became aware of his breathing.

  Fast. Heavy.

  His parents were staring at him through the car window.

  Not injured.

  Just… terrified.

  He walked back to them slowly. The weapon in his hand dissolved back into nothing, slipping into that invisible space only he could reach.

  He opened the door.

  For a moment he didn’t know what to say.

  His mother’s hands were shaking. His father’s jaw was tight, eyes scanning him like he didn’t recognize his own son.

  Emrah swallowed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I should’ve told you.”

  No excuses. No explanations.

  Just that.

  He stepped aside and looked at Efsane.

  “Cut them loose.”

  She nodded. The blood along her arm thinned back into normal liquid, dripping harmlessly to the ground. With her uninjured hand she pulled her pocket knife and started cutting the binds around their wrists.

  Emrah didn’t stay.

  He turned and ran back toward the gunfire.

  Yusuf was behind one SUV, leaning awkwardly against the door. Blood soaked through his shirt near his ribs. Aslan was sitting on the ground a few meters away, one hand pressed to his thigh, face pale but still firing short bursts to keep enemies back.

  Emrah reached them just as Aslan’s weapon clicked empty.

  For a split second, something cold gripped his spine.

  He looked at the wound.

  Then he asked internally:

  Can the chocolate heal wounded individuals who take it?

  The system responded instantly.

  [Yes.]

  That was all he needed.

  He slipped his hand into his jackets pocket and pulled out two wrapped chocolates.

  He tossed one at Yusuf.

  Then one at Aslan.

  They both stared at him.

  There were bullets hitting metal around them. Men shouting. Glass breaking.

  And Emrah had just thrown candy at them.

  Yusuf blinked slowly. “You’ve lost your mind.”

  Aslan looked at the chocolate in his bloody hand. “Is this a joke?”

  Emrah grabbed Yusuf by the collar and shoved the chocolate toward his chest.

  “What?” he snapped. “I’m trying to help you. Eat it.”

  Another bullet sparked against the SUV.

  “Now.”

  They hesitated for half a second longer.

  Then Yusuf unwrapped it with shaking fingers and shoved it into his mouth.

  Aslan followed.

  For a brief moment, nothing happened.

  Then Yusuf’s breathing changed.

  The bleeding slowed first.

  Then stopped.

  The torn flesh around the bullet wound began knitting itself together in front of their eyes — not dramatically, not glowing — just steadily, like time was reversing only in that spot.

  Aslan looked down at his leg as the pain faded.

  “What the hell…” he muttered.

  Yusuf touched his side carefully. No blood on his fingers this time.

  Both of them looked up at Emrah.

  He didn’t smile.

  “Can you stand?”

  Yusuf pushed himself upright slowly. No weakness.

  Aslan stood next.

  Emrah exhaled once.

  “Good,” he said. “Because we’re not done.”

  Behind them, the remaining men were already starting to retreat. The sight of wounds closing and a man walking through bullets had done more damage than gunfire ever could.

  Aslan picked up his rifle again, flexing his leg once like he didn’t trust it yet.

  Yusuf gave Emrah a long look.

  “You’re going to explain that.”

  “Later.”

  Emrah nodded and checked the field.

  Enemies were faint in the distance now.

  This fight had ended and as it was the system said:

  [you have successfully completed the mission the reward is: Precognition ability level up]

  Emrah heard the faint sound of police sirens, his danger sense ability warning him.

  There was still gun smoke in the air. Someone was shouting orders. Another man was coughing somewhere behind a car.

  Then the sound cut through everything.

  Police.

  Not one car. Several.

  Emrah turned his head slightly, listening.

  He hadn’t planned for this.

  “Stop shooting,” he said, not yelling this time — just firm.

  The gunfire from their side slowed.

  He stepped forward so more of his men could see him.

  “Pick up our wounded. All of them. I don’t care how small the injury looks — put them in the cars.”

  One of the men hesitated. “Boss, they’re retreating—”

  “I know,” Emrah said sharply. “And when the police get here, they’ll start counting bodies. If one of ours is left here breathing, that becomes a whole different problem. Move.”

  That did it.

  Two men lifted someone with a torn shoulder. Another supported a guy limping heavily. Doors opened. Engines started one by one.

  Yusuf walked up to him, wiping blood off his jaw even though it wasn’t his.

  “We’re just leaving it like this?”

  “You want to stand here and explain three thousand rounds to a judge?” Emrah replied without looking at him.

  Yusuf gave a short breath through his nose. “Fair point.”

  Aslan was already shoving someone into the back seat of an SUV.

  The sirens were close now. No mistaking it.

  Emrah walked to the car where his parents were.

  His mother’s eyes were still wide. His father wasn’t blinking. and her sister looked pale.

  “Get in,” Emrah said quietly.

  His mother grabbed his sleeve. “What was that?”

  “Not here.”

  Efsane slid into the back without speaking. Efsun was already inside along with James and Sofia, glancing once at the field they were leaving behind.

  James started the engine.

  “Convoy,” Emrah said calmly, “same formation. We’re out.”

  Twelve SUVs pulled away almost in sync. Tires screeched. Gravel scattered.

  As they turned the corner, the first flashes of blue and red appeared at the far end of the street.

  Inside the car, the noise faded quickly.

  Yusuf’s voice came through the comm device.

  “You’re going to tell me what that chocolate was.”

  Emrah leaned back into his seat.

  “Drive first,” he said. “Talk later.”

  A few seconds passed.

  Then his father spoke from behind him.

  “You didn’t even flinch.”

  Emrah stared at the road.

  “There wasn’t time to.”

  That wasn’t really an answer.

  But it was the only one he was willing to give.

  The sirens disappeared behind them.

  But no one in the car felt relieved.

  And somewhere deep inside, Emrah knew this wasn’t the end.

  It was just the beginning.