Villain Origin : Every Crime I Commit Helps Me Level Up-Chapter 24: Collision Course

The night air hung heavy with anticipation as Ken positioned himself on the rooftop overlooking Solar Shade's storage facility. From this vantage point, he could see the entire compound—a nondescript warehouse flanked by a small security office and a loading dock. The place looked ordinary enough, but Ken knew appearances were deceiving in their world.

Three men from Red Hawk crouched beside him, their expressions focused and serious. They'd been handpicked for this operation—veterans who understood the stakes and wouldn't hesitate when the moment came. Beside them were three from the Stray Dogs, newer to Andre's alliance but hungry to prove themselves. And then there was Dax, Ken's own man, someone he'd trusted with his life more times than he could count.

Ken adjusted his earpiece, his voice low as he addressed the team. "Remember the plan. We go in quiet, plant the charges, and get out. No heroics, no improvisation. This isn't about killing—it's about sending a message."

Seven nods answered him. Ken checked his watch. 2:17 AM. Security would be at its lowest point now, most guards either drowsy or distracted. Just as Zaria had told them.

"Alright," Ken continued, his voice steady. "Red Team takes the east entrance. Blue Team, you've got the west. Plant the charges at the support columns we marked. You've got ten minutes before we rendezvous at the extraction point."

Ken watched as the teams slipped away, moving with practiced stealth toward their objectives. He remained on the rooftop, binoculars trained on the compound, monitoring the operation from a safe distance while maintaining communication.

"Red Team in position," came the first report through his earpiece.

"Blue Team approaching west entrance," followed shortly after.

Ken's eyes narrowed as he watched the teams infiltrate the building. The security was exactly as Zaria had described—minimal, with just two guards patrolling the perimeter and one stationed at the main entrance. All three were quickly and quietly neutralized.

For the first five minutes, everything proceeded according to plan. The teams reported steady progress, confirming each step as they moved deeper into the facility.

"First charge placed," reported one of the Stray Dogs.

"Second charge in position," came another voice.

Ken allowed himself a small smile. Perhaps this would be easier than expected.

Then, abruptly, the communications began to falter.

"Red Team, status report," Ken demanded, pressing his earpiece closer.

Silence.

"Blue Team, check in."

Nothing.

Ken's instincts flared. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Then, a burst of static, followed by a panicked voice—one of the Stray Dogs. "Second charge placed, but—" The transmission cut off with what sounded like a strangled cry.

Ken's pulse quickened. "Report! What's happening in there?"

More silence, stretching painfully.

Then, Dax's voice, low and urgent: "Ken, something's wrong. Two of our men are down. I heard screaming from the east wing, then nothing. It's not the guards—they're all accounted for. There's someone else in here. Someone—"

The transmission cut off abruptly.

Ken cursed under his breath, already moving. He descended from the rooftop with quick, practiced movements, drawing his weapon as he hit the ground. Protocol dictated he should retreat, call for backup, and reassess. But Dax was in there. His men were in there.

He pressed his phone, sending an urgent text: "Operation compromised. Send backup immediately. Storage facility."

With that done, Ken moved toward the building, staying in the shadows. The main entrance was still clear, the guard they'd neutralized earlier still unconscious. Ken stepped over him, entering the dimly lit interior of the warehouse.

The silence inside was oppressive. No sounds of struggle, no movement, nothing to indicate what had happened to his men. Ken moved cautiously, his weapon raised, every sense on high alert.

"Dax?" he whispered into his comm. "Anyone, report."

To his relief, Dax's voice crackled through, though it was faint and strained. "Ken... east wing... stockroom... hurry..."

Ken moved with purpose now, navigating through the warehouse toward the east wing. As he approached, he noticed something odd—there were no signs of a firefight, no bullet holes or shell casings. Just... silence.

The stockroom door was ajar. Ken approached cautiously, weapon ready. He pushed the door open with his foot, revealing a scene that made his blood run cold.

Four bodies lay sprawled across the floor—two from Red Hawk, two from the Stray Dogs. They weren't dead, but they weren't moving either, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles. In the center of the room stood Dax, his face pale with fear, backing away from a figure Ken couldn't quite make out in the shadows.

"Dax!" Ken called out, raising his weapon.

Dax's head snapped toward him, relief flooding his features. "Ken! Thank god—"

The rest of his words were lost as a blur of movement crossed the room. One moment, the shadowy figure was near the far wall; the next, it was directly in front of Dax. Ken barely had time to register what was happening before Dax was lifted off his feet, a hand clamped around his throat.

Ken fired two shots, but the figure moved with impossible speed, seeming to glide across the floor. Dax was thrown aside like a rag doll, crashing into a stack of crates.

Ken fired again, but the figure was already moving. A powerful force slammed into Ken's chest, sending him flying backward through the doorway. He hit the ground hard, his weapon skittering away across the concrete floor.

Dazed, Ken struggled to his feet, fighting through the pain radiating from his ribs. The figure emerged from the stockroom, now clearly visible in the dim light of the warehouse.

It was a man—tall, broad-shouldered, with a face that might have been handsome if not for the cold, predatory smile that curved his lips. He wore a simple black suit, immaculate despite the violence he'd just unleashed.

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"You must be Ken," the man said, his voice surprisingly soft. "I've heard so much about you. The strategist. The planner." He stepped closer, and Ken felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine. "I'm afraid your plan has some... fatal flaws."

Ken backed away, reaching for his backup weapon. "Who the hell are you?"

The man's smile widened. "Marcus Vale, Lieutenant of Solar Shade. But I think you already knew that." He tilted his head, studying Ken with cruel amusement. "Did you really think we wouldn't be prepared? That we wouldn't know you were coming?"

Ken's mind raced. How had they known? The operation had been kept secret, with only—

Zaria. The realization hit him like a physical blow. She had betrayed them.

Before Ken could process this betrayal, Marcus moved again, crossing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. Ken barely had time to raise his arms in defense before a fist connected with his chest, sending him flying backward once more.

The impact drove the air from his lungs. Ken gasped, trying to breathe, as Marcus approached again. This time, Ken was ready. He feinted left, then rolled right, coming up with his backup weapon drawn.

He fired three shots in rapid succession.

Marcus moved like water, seeming to flow around the bullets. Then he was in front of Ken again, his hand closing around Ken's wrist with crushing force. Ken felt the bones grind together, his fingers going numb as the gun clattered to the floor.

"I'm disappointed," Marcus said, still smiling that cold smile. "I expected more from Andre's right-hand man."

With casual ease, Marcus lifted Ken off his feet and hurled him across the warehouse. Ken braced himself for impact, but it never came. Instead, he collided with something—someone—who caught him before he could slam into the wall.

Strong hands steadied him, and Ken looked up to see Andre's face, tight with concern and rage.

"I'm here now," Ken managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "He's stronger... than anything I've seen."

Andre's expression darkened as he looked past Ken to where Marcus stood, that unnerving smile still in place.

"Marcus," Andre said, the name coming out like a curse. "Lieutenant of Solar Shade."

Marcus's smile widened. "Nice to finally meet you, Atlas. I've been expecting—"

Before he could finish, Andre moved—a blur of motion too fast for Ken's eyes to follow. One moment, Andre was beside him; the next, he was across the warehouse, his hand gripping Marcus's face as he slammed the man's head into the concrete floor with enough force to crack the cement.

The impact echoed through the warehouse like a thunderclap. Andre released his grip and turned, walking back toward Ken's prone form.

Behind him, Marcus began to laugh—a chilling sound that filled the warehouse. Slowly, impossibly, he rose to his feet, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead but otherwise appearing unharmed.

"I see now," Marcus said, his voice tinged with excitement. "You're one of them."

Andre stopped, his back still to Marcus. Ken saw a flicker of something—confusion? doubt?—cross Andre's face.

"Karmic," Andre whispered, almost imperceptibly. His eyes flickered momentarily, as if processing information only he could see. "Is he a Vessel?" he murmured, his question clearly directed at something—or someone—unseen.

"So you're not dead," Andre said finally, turning to face his opponent. The air around him seemed to thicken, a tangible aura of power emanating from his body.

"Takes a lot to kill me," Marcus replied, his own aura beginning to manifest—a dark, pulsing energy that made the air around him shimmer.

Marcus shifted his stance, his movements becoming fluid and almost weightless as he prepared to engage. Andre's eyes narrowed, and Ken could see his focus sharpen.

"Karmic," Andre whispered again. He stood perfectly still for a fraction of a second, then his expression changed subtly—a flash of recognition crossing his features.

For a moment, the two men stood facing each other, the tension between them crackling like electricity. Ken could almost hear Andre processing information from his system, his eyes darting across Marcus's form with analytical precision.

"Weightless Force," Andre muttered under his breath, clearly receiving information from his system. "無重力拳, Mujūryokuken. A secret technique passed down among secluded warrior Taoist-monks, developed to harness power without reliance on brute strength and speed."

Then, as if responding to some unspoken signal, they moved simultaneously.

The clash that followed defied everything Ken knew about physical combat. Andre and Marcus moved with impossible speed, their blows creating shockwaves that rattled the very foundations of the warehouse. Concrete cracked beneath their feet, metal beams warped from the force of their impacts.