Stella in Trouble
At the crack of dawn, the first gray light of morning filtered softly through the heavy blinds of the quiet apartment. Arthur slowly opened his dark eyes.
As consciousness rapidly returned to his resting mind, his supernaturally keen senses revived just as quickly, instantly mapping the immediate environment. The faint, rhythmic sound of breathing beside him drew his attention.
His still-foggy brain soon clearly recalled the intense, uninhibited indulgence of the previous night. He vividly remembered returning to the secluded house with the four officially approved bail papers securely tucked in his jacket pocket. It had been around nine in the evening.
The beautiful, alluring girl beside him, completely overcome with profound excitement and a massive wave of overwhelming relief at her brother's impending release, had violently unleashed astonishing, raw passion on her capable lover.
The exhausting, highly physical result of that intense reunion was evident. She was still fast asleep, her long, dark hair tangled beautifully across the soft pillows, looking exactly like she was truly, fundamentally worn out from the night's rigorous activities.
Arthur's biological body clock was now perfectly calibrated by his superhuman physical attributes. He only ever needed to sleep five or six hours at the absolute most to achieve complete, flawless recovery.
Seeing the faint daylight beginning to illuminate the bedroom, he casually glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. It was already well past six in the morning.
Though it felt incredibly early for the rest of the sprawling city, he firmly decided to get up and start his calculated day.
Without disturbing the deeply sleeping Mia in the slightest, he rose silently from the warm bed, his bare feet making absolutely no sound on the hardwood floor, and headed straight for the adjacent bathroom.
Last night, he had been entirely too physically tired and comfortable to bother taking a proper shower after their intense activities. Waking up this morning, he naturally felt a bit sticky and grimy with dried sweat.
June in Los Angeles was already heating up significantly, the relentless California sun baking the city asphalt daily. Fortunately, it was a coastal harbor city, never entirely short of cooling sea breezes and ocean moisture, making the sweltering summer heat far more bearable than inland cities sitting at the exact same latitude.
But the heavy, suffocating feel of mid-summer was already undeniably hanging in the morning air.
Arthur stepped into the tiled enclosure and turned the heavy brass handle, opting for a freezing cold shower. He preferred the icy water whenever the weather turned even slightly warm, letting the freezing temperature rapidly shock his nervous system into absolute, lethal alertness.
He let the cool, high-pressure water stream powerfully over his broad shoulders and down his heavily sculpted torso.
As he meticulously rinsed the soap away, Arthur mentally replayed the massive, calculated gains and potential risks of the past few chaotic days.
Saving Dom's stubborn life and pulling his crew out of federal custody this time around should absolutely ease the lingering, hostile tension between us, Arthur analyzed silently, staring at the swirling water draining at his feet.
Apart strictly from Vince and the rest of the guys who I previously injured, the others probably absolutely won't be hostile or deeply suspicious toward me anymore.
But I personally stepped into the blinding spotlight to contact a high-profile, notoriously expensive lawyer for their federal bail.
The FBI will highly likely notice my direct financial involvement and sudden appearance very soon. I will absolutely have to lie incredibly low for a quiet while to completely avoid federal crosshairs.
Once I securely pick Dom up this afternoon from the LAPD holding cells, I will aggressively remind them to start thinking seriously about fleeing the city. At the very absolute least, we cannot make any massive, illegal moves on the streets for the time being.
After flawlessly finishing his quick shower, he reached his calloused hand into the empty air and took a clean, dry cotton towel directly from his invisible private space, quickly drying his muscular frame.
He then seamlessly pulled out a fresh, dark set of tactical clothes and clean underwear from the exact same dimensional void.
Ever since his private space had miraculously grown vastly larger from his recent skill level-ups, Arthur thoroughly enjoyed stuffing significantly more highly useful things into its limitless capacity.
By now, perfectly organized inside his invisible private space were pristine spare clothes, high-end toiletries, heavy mechanical tools, loaded firearms, non-perishable canned food, fresh organic ingredients, and aromatic seasonings.
All manner of critical daily survival necessities were meticulously stocked and categorized.
However, Arthur absolutely hadn't had much liquid cash on hand recently, so he completely hadn't gone on a massive, unrestricted buying spree just yet.
Besides, absolutely nothing securely stored in the dimensional private space would ever spoil, rot, or degrade in quality. That physics-defying fact only heavily encouraged his primal, survivalist instinct to systematically stock up on everything he could possibly need for a sudden, violent getaway or an extended period off the grid.
The absolute only thing still actively reining him in from aggressively hoarding an entire supermarket was his frustrating lack of cold, hard cash.
After dressing silently, Arthur walked smoothly into the quiet kitchen.
He seamlessly took out some high-quality, fresh ingredients from his private space and aggressively cooked himself a massive, protein-heavy skillet of eggs and seared beef, calling it a highly effective, simple breakfast.
While patiently waiting for Mia to finally wake up, he casually fished out a thick, highly advanced computer programming book directly from his private space and began to read with intense, terrifying focus.
It flawlessly killed three birds with one single stone: it rapidly earned systemic experience points for his [Reading] skill, and it also heavily boosted his highly valuable [Computer] and [Foreign Language] skills simultaneously.
It was an almost miraculous, supernatural loophole in the proficiency system!
In his past life, Arthur couldn't exactly be called stupid he certainly had his highly clever, ruthless moments. Once, when a toxic corporate supervisor had aggressively targeted him and made his daily work a living hell, Arthur had quietly retaliated. He hadn't yelled or complained; he simply found the exact blind spot in the parking lot surveillance cameras and flawlessly slashed all four tires of the man's luxury car.
By the time Arthur finally left that terrible company, the furious boss absolutely still hadn't found the elusive culprit. Pulling that flawless vandalism off under the ubiquitous gaze of security cameras took some serious, undeniable ingenuity.
Yet he had historically hated formal studying, barely scraped through a standard college, and after his graduation, earned very little money while suffering plenty of corporate abuse. Even after miraculously transmigrating to this dangerous, cinematic world, he still fundamentally disliked traditional learning.
But whenever he deeply thought of his golden finger the supernatural proficiency system whose unique skills, once successfully leveled high enough, could massively strengthen his biological body and even miraculously enlarge the total cubic volume of his private space, he found boundless motivation.
The study-hating Arthur genuinely surprised himself by patiently, relentlessly grinding experience points for hours on end without a single complaint.
Many of the specialized skills he had successfully triggered were highly complex and leveling them was incredibly tedious, demanding serious, focused research and a massive amount of dedicated time. Yet he thoroughly enjoyed every single minute of the quiet, empowering grind.
Absorbed completely in the heavy technical book, he soon lost his highly intelligent mind entirely in the complex digital code.
What Arthur absolutely didn't know at that exact moment was that by aggressively moving against the treacherous Steve ahead of Charlie Croker's meticulous schedule, he had violently set off a massive, unpredictable butterfly effect that was already beginning to show its lethal consequences.
While Arthur was quietly reading in the safety of Mia and Dom's place, a hundred kilometers away, in a completely different, upscale part of the sprawling city, Stella Bridger finished her usual morning routine.
She washed her beautiful face, ate a quick breakfast, changed into a sleek, professional outfit, grabbed her heavy leather bag, and confidently headed out to actively meet Charlie Croker.
Charlie had been meticulously investigating Steve for quite some time now. They heavily planned to completely infiltrate Steve's fortified luxury villa very soon.
To confidently achieve that infiltration, Handsome Rob, one of Charlie's elite getaway drivers and the crew's resident, charismatic playboy, had easily, flawlessly charmed a female employee of the local cable TV repair company.
Rob had passionately slept with the woman and smoothly swiped her official, corporate ID badge while she was distracted.
They brilliantly intended to flawlessly disguise the stunning Stella as that specific TV-company repair woman, stage a minor, localized cable malfunction on the street, and slip Stella directly into Steve's heavily guarded home to actively scope out the internal security and map the layout.
Today was supposed to be the absolute, critical day of the scouting operation.
But as Stella confidently left her high-end apartment building and pulled out her electronic keys to unlock her parked car, she absolutely didn't realize the lethal danger lurking in the morning shadows.
Several massive, burly men wearing dark, tailored suits had already securely set their cold sights completely on her.
Seeing her walk elegantly towards her vehicle, the burly men exchanged a sharp, highly coordinated glance.
In a single, violent instant, their heavy black SUV started up rapidly, the massive engine roaring as it accelerated aggressively to completely cut off Stella's path of escape, its tires screeching against the asphalt.
"You... what exactly is this?"
Stella gasped, violently startled. She froze in her tracks, her blue eyes widening in absolute shock as she watched several massive, burly men rush aggressively out as the heavy car doors swung violently open.
Just as she was desperately about to shout a loud warning for help, she clearly saw one of the ruthless men pull a heavy, lethal handgun directly from his suit jacket and aim the cold, black barrel squarely at her chest.
"Miss Bridger," the armed thug sneered, his voice dropping into a cold, lethal threat that offered absolutely no room for negotiation. "Our boss would like to have a very serious word with you."
[ Dear readers,
The long-promised mass release is finally here.
20 chapters.
Translating and rewriting this novel has been a slower process than many expected, but some stories lose their soul when rushed. I wanted every chapter to carry the weight, atmosphere, and emotion it deserves.
To everyone who stayed patient during the silence — thank you. Your reviews, comments, theories, and Power Stones have kept this journey alive far more than you know.
This arc marks the beginning of something far deeper within the story. As you read, I'd genuinely like to hear your thoughts, interpretations, and predictions. Some details are easy to miss. Others are meant to linger.
And if you enjoy the release, please continue supporting the novel with reviews and Power Stones. Every bit of support helps the story reach further.
For now… enjoy the chapters.
The calm rarely lasts long. ]