Master of Lust-Chapter 318 - -

Chapter - 318

The Cigarette boat cut through the South Pacific swell at sixty knots, its hull slapping the water with a rhythmic, bone-jarring violence that matched the pounding in Rick’s head. Behind them, the orange glow of the burning villa was shrinking, a bonfire of vanity and seven million dollars’ worth of real estate sinking into the horizon.

Rick stood at the helm, the salt spray stinging the fresh stitches on his forehead. He was shirtless, wearing only his linen shorts and a tactical vest he’d looted from a dead mercenary.

"You know," Rick shouted over the roar of the twin engines, "I owned that island for exactly forty-eight hours. That has to be a record for property depreciation. I didn’t even get to try the jet skis."

Sharon was sitting on the white leather bench seat at the stern, reloading a magazine for her SIG Sauer. She looked like a Valkyrie who had been dragged through a swamp. Her gunmetal bikini was ruined, stained with soot and oil, and she had thrown a mercenary’s oversized windbreaker over her shoulders.

"You’re worried about the jet skis?" she yelled back, snapping a magazine into place. "We just fought a man named ’The Huntsman’ who eats bullets for breakfast, and now we’re fleeing international waters in a stolen boat. I’m worried about fuel, navigation, and the fact that I’m currently an accessory to about fifty counts of first-degree murder."

"Self-defense," Rick corrected, checking the GPS. "It’s only murder if you enjoy it. Or if you start the fight. We did neither."

"You enjoyed it a little," Nadia chimed in. She was curled up in the co-pilot seat, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the GPS screen. She looked fragile again, the confidence of the bedroom replaced by the calculating fear of a hunted animal. "I saw your face when you hit him with those lightning knuckles. You were smiling."

"That was a grimace of exertion," Rick lied.

He pulled up his System Interface. The adrenaline was fading, replaced by the cold, hard logic of the next move.

[Rick Smith - Level 16]

[Class: Chaos Agent]

[Current Wealth: $6,824,000 (Liquid)]

[System Inventory: 12/50 Slots Used]

He mentally opened his Inventory. It was a feature he hadn’t fully utilized yet, treating the System mostly as a magic ATM and a quest giver. But now, looking at the icons floating in his vision, he realized he had been thinking too small.

Inside the inventory, suspended in a digital void, were the items he had ’stored’ or purchased:

The Black Laptop (Croft Data)

Bent 9-Iron (Sentimental Value)

High-Voltage Taser Knuckles (Low Battery)

Barrett M82A1 Rifle (3 rounds left)

Thermal Goggles

Passports (Fake x3)

Cash Bundles ($200k)

Broken Platinum Rolex (Scrap)

Claymore Mine (x1)

Bottle of Cristal (Half-empty)

"We need to re-supply," Rick said, his eyes unfocused as he navigated the menu. "And we need a plan that doesn’t involve me punching people with jewelry."

"Johnson is dark," Sharon said, checking her burner phone. "No signal. The Huntsman jammed us good. We’re on our own until we hit a major landmass."

"New Zealand," Rick said, spinning the wheel. "We head for Auckland. It’s the closest hub. We ditch the boat, get clean, and then we go hunting." 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

"Hunting?" Nadia asked, her voice trembling. "Rick, Silas Warner is in the Alps. He’s surrounded by a private army. You saw what he sent here? That was just the cleaning crew. The Chateau is a fortress. You can’t just walk in."

"I don’t intend to walk in," Rick said, a cold plan forming in the chaotic soup of his mind. "I intend to be invited."

Twelve hours later, they were in a penthouse suite at the SkyCity Hotel in Auckland. It wasn’t as private as the island, but it had high-speed internet, 24-hour room service, and thick walls.

Rick stood before a glass wall overlooking the city, but he wasn’t looking at the view. He was looking at a holographic projection that only he could see.

[System Shop: Special Items / Black Market]

He had six million dollars. To a normal person, that was retirement money. To a Chaos Agent going to war with a global oligarch, it was a startup budget.

"Okay," Rick said, turning to the women. They had showered, eaten, and raided a local boutique. Sharon was wearing jeans and a leather jacket, looking every inch the rogue cop. Nadia was in a sharp business suit, her ’Raven’ persona creeping back in as she worked on a laptop Rick had bought her.

"Here’s the reality," Rick began, pacing the room. "Silas Warner knows we’re alive. The Huntsman survived. He’s probably tracking us right now. If we run, we die tired. If we hide, we die scared. The only way this ends is if Silas Warner dies first."

"Agreed," Sharon said, cleaning her nails with a combat knife she’d bought at a surplus store. "But Nadia is right. The Chateau is impossible. I looked up the specs on the dark web. It has air defense systems, thermal perimeters, and a guard rotation of fifty ex-special forces. It’s not a house; it’s a bunker."

"Which is why we aren’t going to siege it," Rick said. "We’re going to infect it."

He looked at Nadia. "You know his schedule? His habits?"

Nadia nodded, typing furiously. "Silas is old-school. He doesn’t trust digital tech for the big stuff. He holds an annual summit—’The Winter Conclave’. It’s in two weeks. Heads of state, shadow brokers, energy tycoons. They all gather at the Chateau to divide up the world for the next year."

"Two weeks," Rick mused. "That’s our window."

He turned back to the System Shop. He needed to plant seeds. He needed assets that wouldn’t just help now, but would pay off down the line.

Rick scrolled to the ’Business & Assets’ tab. He filtered for ’Switzerland’ and ’Service Industry’.

[Asset for Sale: ’Alpine Delights Catering & Logistics’]

[Status: Near Bankruptcy.]

[Contracts: Servicing the Warner Chateau Winter Conclave (Pending Cancellation due to health code violations).]

[Cost: $1,200,000.]

Rick grinned. "I’m buying a catering company."

"You’re what?" Sharon asked, looking up.

"Alpine Delights," Rick said, tapping the air. [Purchase Confirmed]. "We now own the company contracted to feed Silas Warner and his friends. Or we will, once I use the System to fix their health code violations and bribe the inspector."

"We’re going in as cooks?" Nadia asked, skeptical.

"Cooks, waiters, sommeliers," Rick said. "Invisible staff. Rich people don’t look at the help. We’ll be ghosts in aprons."

Rick looked at his inventory. The Black Laptop. It was encrypted, useless to them, but valuable to everyone else.

"Nadia," Rick said. "Can you make a fake copy of the Croft ledger? Something that looks real but is filled with tracking malware?"

"Give me six hours and a pot of coffee," she said. "I can make it sing."

"Good. Because we’re going to sell it."

"Sell it?" Sharon stood up. "To who?"

"To Valerius," Rick said.

Sharon frowned. "Who’s Valerius?"

"The guy on the phone," Rick said, remembering the conversation he’d overheard on Sparrow One’s phone, and the snippets Nadia had told him. "There’s a third player. Someone Silas fears. Someone who called him after Marnus died. If we can find out who Valerius is, we can sell him the fake drive. He’ll bring it to the Conclave to blackmail Silas. And when he plugs it into Silas’s mainframe..."

"...it infects the whole building," Nadia finished, her eyes lighting up. "It kills the security grid."

Rick nodded. "Exactly. But we need to find Valerius first. And I have an item for that."

He went to the System Shop.

[Item: ’The Black Market Beacon’]

[Description: When activated, it pings the dark web with a signal indicating high-value contraband for sale. Attracts high-level brokers.]

[Cost: $500,000.]

"Bought," Rick said. The item appeared in his inventory—a small, black obsidian pyramid.

Rick paused. He had a lot of money left. He needed something for the future. Something crazy. He scrolled to the ’Experimental/Sci-Fi’ section of the shop. Items here were expensive and weird.

[Item: ’Bio-Synthetic Skin Mask (Programmable)’]

[Cost: $2,000,000]

[Description: Allows the wearer to perfectly mimic the face and voice of one target. Requires DNA sample of target.]

Rick bit his lip. Two million. That was a huge chunk of his war chest. But if he could get close to someone high up... if he could become someone Silas trusted...

"Purchase," he whispered.

The money vanished from his account. A sleek, silver metal case appeared on the coffee table.

Sharon stared at it. "Did you just conjure a briefcase?"

"Inventory," Rick said, waving his hand. "Don’t ask."

He opened the case. Inside was a translucent, gelatinous mask and a small DNA sampler kit.

"This," Rick said, "is for later. Keep it safe, Sharon. It goes in your bag. Do not break it. It costs more than this hotel."

"Okay," Rick said, rubbing his hands together. "We have the entry (the catering company). We have the distraction (Valerius). Now we need the gear. We can’t smuggle heavy weapons into Switzerland on a private jet. Customs is too tight."

"So we go in naked?" Sharon asked.

"No. I go in naked," Rick corrected. "Or rather, my luggage does."

He opened his System Inventory again.

"The System Inventory," he explained, "is a pocket dimension. It doesn’t trigger metal detectors. It doesn’t weigh anything. I can carry an arsenal through a TSA checkpoint and they’d just compliment my smile."

He turned to the Shop. He went on a spree.

[Purchase: C4 Plastic Explosives (10kg) - $20,000] -> Stored in Inventory.

[Purchase: Barrett M82A1 Ammo (Armor Piercing) - $5,000] -> Stored.

[Purchase: Poison Vials (Ricin/Cyanide/Laxative - Variety Pack) - $15,000] -> Stored.

[Purchase: Suppressed MP7 Submachine Gun (x3) - $18,000] -> Stored.

[Purchase: Monofilament Tripwire - $2,000] -> Stored.

He looked at his remaining balance. $3,000,000.

He needed one more thing. Something for The Huntsman. That guy was a problem. He had survived the lightning knuckles. He was persistent.

Rick scrolled to the ’Traps’ section.

[Item: ’The Pandora’s Box’ (Random Effect Trap)]

[Description: A small, unassuming box. When opened by an enemy, it unleashes a random Chaos Effect ranging from ’Confetti Explosion’ to ’Black Hole Singularity’ (Tiny version).]

[Cost: $500,000.]

Rick laughed. "Oh, I have to." Bought.

He pulled the small, ornate wooden box out of the air. It looked like a jewelry box. He tossed it in his hand.

"What’s that?" Nadia asked.

"A surprise for our friend The Huntsman," Rick said. "If he catches up to us, I’m going to leave this on my pillow."

He put it back in the Inventory.

The planning was done. The adrenaline was fading. Now, they were just three people in a hotel room, waiting for a fake passport delivery from one of Johnson’s local contacts.

The silence grew heavy.

Sharon was cleaning her new MP7 (which Rick had briefly pulled out of inventory for her to inspect before storing it away). Nadia was typing code. Rick was eating a room service burger.

"So," Nadia said, not looking up from her screen. "Last night."

Sharon dropped the magazine she was loading. It clattered on the glass table. "We don’t have to talk about it."

"I think we do," Nadia said, a small smirk playing on her lips. She stopped typing and looked at Sharon. "You were very... vocal. For a cop."

Sharon turned a shade of crimson that rivaled the blood from the shipyard. "I was drunk. And traumatized. And... it was a stress response."

Rick chewed his burger, watching them with amusement.

"It didn’t feel like stress," Nadia purred. "It felt like you’ve been wanting to do that for a long time. You and Rick have... tension. I just helped break the dam."

"It was a one-time thing," Sharon insisted, looking at Rick for backup. "Right, Rick? A tactical release of tension. We are professionals."

Rick swallowed. [System Notification: Opportunity Detected.]

Option A: "Totally. One time. Professional." (Safe. Boring.)

Option B: "I don’t know, Sharon. You seemed pretty into the non-professional parts." (Teasing. Fun.)

Option C: "Why limit ourselves? We survived death. We should enjoy life. All of it." (Bold.)

Rick chose Option B.

"I don’t know, Lieutenant," Rick teased, wiping ketchup from his lip. "You seemed pretty enthusiastic about the ’tactical insertion’ protocols. You even suggested a few maneuvers that aren’t in the police manual."

Sharon threw a pillow at him. "Shut up! Both of you! We are going to kill a global oligarch. Can we focus on the murder and not the... the orgy?"

"It wasn’t an orgy," Rick said defensively. "It was a threesome. An orgy requires a quorum of five. Check your regulations."

Nadia laughed, a genuine, light sound. "I like this team. We’re dysfunctional, violent, and morally flexible. We’re going to fit right in at the Conclave."

Rick’s phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number.

"Package delivered. Lobby. Blue locker. Code 7734."

"Passports are here," Rick said, standing up and brushing crumbs off his suit. "And the jet is fueled. We leave in an hour."

He walked to the window, looking out at the Auckland skyline. Somewhere out there, The Huntsman was tracking them. Somewhere in the Alps, Silas Warner was plotting revenge.

Rick checked his Inventory one last time. He had guns, bombs, poisons, a magic face-mask, and a box of chaos.

He felt the familiar itch. The need to disrupt.

"One last thing," Rick said, turning back to them.

"What?" Sharon asked, still red-faced.

"We need code names. Using real names at the Conclave is suicide."

"I’m Raven," Nadia said instantly. "It has a reputation now."

"Too much heat," Rick said. "Silas knows Raven betrayed him. You need a new skin."

He looked at the catering company file. "You’re Chef de Partie Sophie. You handle the wine and the VIPs."

He pointed to Sharon. "You’re Head of Security Logistics, Eva. You handle the perimeter and the staff checks."

"And you?" Sharon asked.

Rick straightened his tie. He grinned.

"I’m the Sous Chef. Nobody pays attention to the guy chopping the onions. But he’s the one holding the biggest knife."

The private jet sat on the tarmac, a sleek Gulfstream G650 that Rick had chartered using a shell company he’d set up five minutes ago.

As they walked across the tarmac, the wind whipping their clothes, Rick felt a sudden, sharp pain in his head.

[System Alert: Proximity Warning.]

[Nemesis Detected.]

Rick stopped. He spun around, scanning the terminal building a mile away.

"Rick?" Sharon asked, her hand going to her concealed holster.

"He’s here," Rick whispered. "The Huntsman."

He couldn’t see him. But he could feel him. A cold, heavy pressure on his chest. The Huntsman wasn’t attacking. He was watching. He was letting them leave.

Why?

Because he wants us to lead him to the Chateau, Rick realized. He can’t breach Silas’s fortress either. He needs us to open the door.

Rick smiled at the distant terminal. He raised his hand and waved.

"Let’s go," Rick said, turning back to the jet. "He’s hitching a ride."

"You’re letting him follow us?" Nadia hissed.

"I’m counting on it," Rick said. "I bought a surprise for him." He patted the pocket where the Pandora’s Box (conceptually) resided in his inventory.

They boarded the jet. The engines whined to life.

As the plane lifted off, banking toward Europe, Rick settled into the leather seat and closed his eyes.

He had two weeks to learn how to cook, how to be a waiter, and how to kill a man surrounded by fifty guards without spilling the soup.

[System Quest: The Winter Conclave]

[Objective: Infiltrate the Warner Chateau.]

[Time Remaining: 14 Days.]

Rick opened his eyes and looked at Sharon and Nadia.

"Ladies," he said, popping the cork on a bottle of champagne he’d pulled from his inventory. "Welcome to Alpine Delights Catering. Let’s go serve some cold revenge."

** ** ** ** **