Chapter 1: The Beginning of Bloodshed
Mumbai never slept. The streets were always alive, a chaotic symphony of honking cars, hurried
footsteps, and distant laughter. The neon glow of shop signs reflected on the wet asphalt,
creating an illusion of beauty in a city that thrived on its own darkness.
But tonight, the city felt different. There was something in the air—something heavier than the
humidity, something that pressed against the soul like an invisible hand gripping the throat.
In a dimly lit alley, a lone figure stood.
His head was tilted slightly downward, his body unnaturally still, but his eyes… his eyes were
burning. They weren’t just filled with rage—they were consumed by it. A fire so intense that if
hell itself had a gaze, it would look something like this.
Blood dripped from his clenched fists. Warm, fresh. The metallic scent mixed with the filth of
the alley, staining the cold pavement beneath him. His breath was steady, calculated, but every
inhale was filled with the overwhelming stench of death.
His best friend was dead.
The one person who had stood beside him through everything. The one who had never left,
never abandoned him even when the world turned its back. And now, he was gone. Taken away
in an instant.
Murdered.
For fun.
Rolex squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw tightening as he tried to block out the sound.
The laughter.
That cruel, sick laughter.
It echoed in his mind like a broken record, each replay sending fresh waves of fury through his
veins.
He saw It over and over again. The way his best friend had smiled just moments before. The way
his body had jerked when the bullet tore through him. The way his blood had sprayed across the
concrete, painting the ground In a gruesome tribute to the life stolen from him.
And then… the killer.
Hidden in the darkness, faceless, unknown. But his presence was unforgettable. The way he
stood there, unaffected. Like he had just crushed an insect beneath his boot instead of ending a
life.
No remorse. No hesitation. Just a monster in human skin.
Rolex’s breathing grew heavier. He opened his eyes, staring down at his blood-stained hands. A
cruel irony—he had fought so many battles, shed so much blood. But this? This was different.
This wasn’t a war.
This was personal.
His fingers curled, his nails digging into his palms until they nearly broke the skin. His body
trembled, but not with sadness. Not with grief. With a rage so violent it could tear the heavens
apart.
“I swear…” His voice was low, guttural, barely above a whisper. “I swear I’ll find you.”
The city moved on around him, oblivious. The people laughed, talked, lived. But they didn’t
know what had just been unleashed.
Rolex lifted his head, his face shadowed beneath the dim streetlight. The man who had killed his
friend had made a mistake. A mistake that would cost him everything.
And when Rolex finally found him…
Begging wouldn’t be enough. Screaming wouldn’t be enough. Death wouldn’t be enough.
Because this wasn’t justice.
This was vengeance.
Chapter 2: The First Hunt
The Mumbai skyline loomed like a sleeping beast, the city’s heartbeat pulsing through the
streets. Neon lights flickered against the damp pavement, casting long, distorted shadows. The
air smelled of rain and sweat, a mixture of life and decay.
But Rolex wasn’t looking at the city.
He was looking at the blood on his hands.
His friend’s blood.
It had dried now, turning from deep crimson to a dark, almost black stain against his skin. He
had washed them—scrubbed until his knuckles burned—but it didn’t matter. The blood was still
there.
Because it wasn’t just on his hands.
It was in his mind.
In his soul.
The night felt heavier than usual. The weight of loss pressed against him, but it didn’t slow him
down. If anything, it made him faster.
He stood at the edge of a rundown building, his eyes scanning the streets below. Somewhere in
this city, his friend’s killer was walking freely. Breathing. Laughing.
Not for long.
He had spent the last twenty-four hours doing what he did best—hunting. Rolex wasn’t just a
fighter. He was a predator. And like any predator, he knew where to find the scent of his prey.
The underground.
Mumbai was a city of masks. People walked the streets with smiles, pretending they didn’t
know the darkness lurking just beneath their feet. But Rolex knew better. He had lived in that
darkness. Thrived in it.
And that was where he would find his answers.
His fists clenched as he looked down at a small bar tucked between two old buildings. A filthy
place, filled with people who dealt in violence and bloodshed. The kind of place where
information flowed as freely as alcohol.
He didn’t hesitate.
He jumped from the rooftop, landing with the silent grace of a man who had spent his life
dancing on the edge of death.
The moment he stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations quieted. Heads turned.
People recognized him.
They didn’t greet him.
They feared him.
Good.
He didn’t need words. He needed names.
Rolex walked straight to the bar, his presence like a storm rolling in. The bartender, an old man
with a scar running down his cheek, swallowed hard. He knew better than to pretend he didn’t
know why Rolex was here.
“I—I don’t want any trouble,” the bartender stammered.
Rolex didn’t blink. “Then don’t give me any.”
The bartender’s hands trembled as he poured a drink, avoiding eye contact. “What do you
need?”
Rolex leaned in, his voice low. Dangerous. “A man died last night. My friend.”
The bartender swallowed. “I—I heard.”
“Then you know who did it.”
Silence.
Rolex reached forward, grabbing the man’s wrist with bone-crushing strength. The bartender
gasped, his face contorting in pain.
“I don’t have time for games,” Rolex said, his voice sharp as a blade. “Who. Killed. Him.”
The bartender’s breath hitched. “I don’t know his name,” he choked out. “But… I know where
he went after.”
Rolex’s grip tightened. “Where?”
The bartender winced. “Warehouse… near the docks… but listen, man, this guy… he’s not
normal.”
Rolex’s eyes darkened. “Neither am I.”
He released the bartender and turned without another word.
The warehouse.
It was time for the first hunt.
And the night would end in blood.
Chapter 3: The Warehouse of Death
The docks stretched before Rolex like a graveyard of rusted metal and abandoned cargo. The
salty breeze carried the stench of oil, fish, and something darker—something rotten. The world
was quiet here. Too quiet.
He adjusted his grip on the butcher knife strapped to his side. It was a simple weapon. Brutal.
Unforgiving. Like him.
The bartender had been right about one thing—this wasn’t an ordinary killer. The man Rolex
was hunting had moved like a ghost, vanishing before anyone could even catch a glimpse of his
face.
But Rolex didn’t believe in ghosts.
He believed in death.
And tonight, he was delivering it.
He crouched low, his boots making no sound against the concrete as he approached the
warehouse. The massive steel doors were slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of darkness inside. The
sound of muffled voices echoed from within.
He slid inside, pressing his back against the cold metal wall.
Five men.
Armed.
Not with guns—machetes, iron rods, and knives. They were professionals. They knew that in
close combat, a gun was worthless against a man like Rolex.
They weren’t wrong.
But they had made one mistake.
They thought numbers would save them.
Rolex didn’t wait.
He moved like a shadow, his butcher knife flashing in the dim light. The first man didn’t even
have time to scream. A single slice—his throat opened like a broken dam, blood gushing out in a
thick river. He collapsed, hands clutching at his neck as he drowned in his own lifeblood.
The second man turned—too slow. Rolex drove the blade into his stomach and twisted. The
man let out a choked gasp before collapsing to his knees, his guts spilling onto the floor.
The others reacted fast, but Rolex was faster.
One swung a machete. Rolex ducked, grabbing the man’s wrist mid-swing and snapping it like a
twig. The machete clattered to the ground as the man howled in agony.
Rolex silenced him with a knife to the heart.
Three down. Two left.
The remaining men hesitated. They had thought this would be easy. They had thought Rolex
was just another angry man looking for revenge.
But now, they saw the truth.
Rolex wasn’t just angry.
He was death.
“P—please,” one of them stammered, his voice shaking. “W—we were just following orders.”
Rolex’s eyes burned. Orders. That meant someone had sent these men. Someone higher up.
Someone closer to his friend’s killer.
He grabbed the man by the throat, slamming him against the wall. “Who gave the orders?”
The man trembled. “I—I don’t—”
Rolex’s knife pierced his thigh.
The scream that followed was music to his ears.
“I won’t ask again.”
The man sobbed. “D—the man you’re looking for… he’s—”
A gunshot rang out.
The man’s body went limp in Rolex’s grip. A hole was drilled between his eyes, blood and brain
matter splattering against the wall.
Rolex’s head snapped toward the shadows.
A figure stood at the far end of the warehouse, hidden behind crates.
Silent. Watching.
The killer.
Rolex’s grip on his knife tightened.
This was it. The hunt had begun.
Preview: Chapter 4 – The Chase Begins
The assassin was fast—faster than anyone Rolex had ever fought. But this wasn’t about speed.
This was about who wanted to live more. As the chase led them onto the rain-slick streets of
Mumbai, Rolex knew one thing—he was going to make this bastard bleed.
Chapter 4: The Chase Begins
The moment the shot echoed through the warehouse, the assassin moved.
No hesitation. No wasted motion.
Rolex barely caught a glimpse—a shadow vanishing into the darkness, boots skidding against
concrete, the faint glint of a weapon disappearing behind the stacks of rusted cargo containers.
The bastard was fast.
But Rolex was faster.
He didn’t think. He didn’t hesitate. He ran.
The sound of his boots pounding against the ground mixed with the distant chaos of Mumbai’s
streets. The city never slept. Not even at this hour. Neon lights flickered through the gaps in the
metal walls, casting long, dancing shadows as he pursued his prey.
A metal door burst open ahead, swinging violently as the assassin crashed through it. Rolex
followed, exploding into the open air of the docks.
Wind howled. The scent of salt and oil filled his lungs.
Ahead, the assassin sprinted toward the edge of the docks. A black motorcycle was waiting,
engine already roaring. The bastard had planned this.
Rolex growled. Not today.
He launched forward, closing the distance in seconds.
The assassin swung one leg over the bike—
THUNK!
Rolex’s butcher knife spun through the air, embedding itself into the assassin’s shoulder. The
man screamed, staggering. Blood sprayed against the black body of the motorcycle.
But even in pain, he was fast.
With a desperate kick, he revved the engine and took off.
Rolex didn’t stop. He sprinted to the nearest parked bike—a battered old Bullet 350. He didn’t
know who it belonged to, and he didn’t care.
The owner was never getting it back.
The engine roared as he twisted the throttle, tires screeching against the wet pavement. He
could barely see through the storm of headlights and neon reflections, but he didn’t need to.
His prey was bleeding.
And Rolex could smell blood.
The assassin weaved through Mumbai’s streets like a ghost, slipping between traffic, vanishing
down alleys. He knew the city like the back of his hand.
But so did Rolex.
He cut corners. Anticipated turns. Gained ground.
The chase stretched into the heart of Mumbai, where the streets were alive with people,
celebrations, the chaos of a city that refused to sleep.
And then, the assassin made a mistake.
He took a wrong turn.
A dead end.
He realized too late. His bike screeched, tires slipping on the slick road. He tried to turn, but
Rolex was already there, leaping off his own bike mid-speed.
They crashed together.
Metal. Flesh. Concrete.
Pain exploded in Rolex’s ribs, but he ignored it. He grabbed the assassin by the collar, slamming
him into the wet pavement.
The man choked, blood spilling from his lips. The wound in his shoulder was worse than it
looked. He wouldn’t be running anymore.
Rolex knelt over him, knife pressing against his throat.
“Who sent you?” His voice was calm. Too calm.
The assassin smirked through the pain. His teeth were red with blood.
“You already know.”
Rolex’s grip tightened. “Say it.”
The assassin laughed. A cruel, broken sound. “You’re not ready for him.”
A gunshot rang out.
The assassin’s body jerked. His eyes went wide.
Blood poured from a hole in his forehead.
Someone else had killed him.
Rolex snapped his head up—scanning the rooftops, the alleyways, the windows above. But
there was no one.
Just the city. Just the neon lights. Just the hum of Mumbai breathing around him.
Whoever had taken the shot…
They were gone.
Rolex exhaled.
This wasn’t just a hunt anymore.
This was war.
Preview: Chapter 5 – Blood on the Pavement
The assassin is dead, but Rolex is left with more questions than answers. And as the first signs of
dawn paint Mumbai in blood-red hues, he knows one thing for sure—he is being watched.
Chapter 5 – Wrath Unleashed
The world outside carried on like nothing had happened. Cars honked, people laughed, and the
city breathed in its usual rhythm. But for Rolex, everything had changed. His world was no
longer the same. The only person he had—the one who stood beside him through everything—
was gone.
Gone.
Not lost.
Not missing.
Just… gone.
His hands trembled as he wiped the blood off his face, feeling it smear across his skin like war
paint. The weight of his best friend’s lifeless body had long left his arms, but the warmth still
clung to him like a ghost. His breath was shallow, yet his heartbeat was deafening. His ears rang,
drowning out the world’s noise as a new, twisted silence took its place.
A silence filled with only one thing—rage.
A deep, soul-crushing, mind-numbing rage that clawed at his insides, demanding to be
unleashed.
Rolex lifted his head slowly, his eyes burning with something inhuman. His pupils shrank, his
veins pulsed, and his jaw tightened until his teeth nearly cracked. He could still hear the last
words of his friend echoing in his mind, over and over again like a curse.
The ones who did this… they were still out there.
His fingers twitched, longing for a weapon. Any weapon. But he didn’t need one—not yet. First,
he needed to find them. And when he did?
He would rip them apart.
The Hunt Begins
The streets of Mumbai were alive with movement, but Rolex saw only red. Every shadow felt
like a threat. Every stranger felt like an enemy. He moved through the alleyways like a phantom,
his presence unnoticed, yet his aura suffocating. The few who passed him felt the air grow
colder around him, sensing something inhuman lurking beneath his skin.
The first name on his list wasn’t hard to find.
A low-level informant. A snitch. Someone who always knew things before others did.
Rolex found him drunk in a dimly lit bar, laughing like the world hadn’t just ended for him.
That laughter didn’t last long.
Before the man even realized he was being watched, Rolex had slammed his head against the
counter, shattering a bottle in the process. The bartender screamed, but Rolex didn’t even
flinch. The informant coughed up blood, his nose breaking on impact. He tried to scream, but
Rolex grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off his feet like he weighed nothing.
“Who?” Rolex’s voice was low, guttural—dangerous.
The man gagged, clawing at Rolex’s arm. “W-What?! Who what?!”
“The one who killed him.” Rolex tightened his grip. “Tell me before I make sure you never speak
again.”
The man’s legs kicked uselessly in the air. His face turned red, veins bulging from his forehead.
He tried to mutter something, but Rolex wasn’t in the mood for games.
He slammed the man’s back against the bar, causing bottles to crash around them.
“I— I don’t know!” the man wheezed.
Wrong answer.
Rolex grabbed a broken bottle and jammed the sharp end into the man’s shoulder.
The scream that followed made the entire bar go silent.
“Try again,” Rolex growled.
Tears welled in the man’s eyes. He nodded frantically, blood dripping from his wound.
“I—I heard… about a man,” he gasped. “He doesn’t have a name. But people call him the
Phantom.”
Rolex’s grip loosened just slightly. “Where?”
The informant gulped, his breath shuddering. “I swear, I don’t know where he is. But… but
there’s someone who does.”
Rolex leaned in closer, his breath hot against the man’s ear. “Then tell me where to find them.”
The man sobbed, his body trembling under the sheer weight of Rolex’s presence.
And then he whispered a name.
The hunt had begun.
[Preview of Chapter 6] – The deeper Rolex goes, the darker the truth becomes. Blood will spill.
Bones will break. And the path to vengeance will only grow redder.
Chapter 6 – The Red Path
The name given to Rolex burned itself into his mind. He had repeated it in his head over and
over again, like a mantra of death. It wasn’t just about revenge anymore—it was a promise. A
promise that every drop of blood spilled today would be avenged in a way that no one would
ever forget.
The air in Mumbai carried a scent of burning incense mixed with the humid salt of the sea. But
to Rolex, the only thing he could smell was blood—both the blood that had been spilled and the
blood that was yet to be.
He stepped out of the bar, leaving behind a broken man whimpering in pain, clutching his
bleeding shoulder. The world around him continued as if nothing had happened. People walked
past, unaware that they were mere specks of dust in a story far bigger than them.
But someone was watching.
Rolex had felt it the moment he stepped into the streets. A presence. A shadow trailing behind
him.
His body tensed. His mind sharpened.
If they wanted a fight, he would give them a war.
The Ambush
The narrow alley ahead was nearly pitch-black, but Rolex didn’t hesitate. His instincts told him
everything he needed to know. The walls were closing in. The echoes of distant footsteps were
getting louder.
And then—
Silence.
Rolex smirked. They were here.
The first attacker struck fast, a blade flashing under the dim streetlight. But Rolex was faster. He
caught the wrist mid-swing, twisting it until bones snapped like dry wood. The man let out a
strangled scream before Rolex grabbed his head and slammed it against the wall.
Blood sprayed.
One down.
But they weren’t alone.
From behind, another lunged, attempting to stab Rolex in the back. Rolex sidestepped
effortlessly, grabbing the attacker’s arm and driving the knife into his own stomach instead. The
man gasped, eyes wide in disbelief, before Rolex snapped his neck like a twig.
Two down.
The last one hesitated, fear flickering in his eyes.
Smart.
But not smart enough.
Before he could run, Rolex was already on him. A single, clean punch to the throat crushed his
windpipe. The man collapsed, gasping for air, clawing at his own neck. Rolex watched,
expression unreadable, as the life drained from his eyes.
Three down.
His breathing remained steady, his muscles coiled like a predator still hunting. He knew this
wasn’t a coincidence. They were testing him. Watching him.
And they had failed.
The Message
He didn’t leave the bodies untouched.
Instead, he carved a symbol onto each of their foreheads—a message. A warning.
He wasn’t coming for them.
He was already here.
And with that, he walked away, leaving behind the stench of death as his only trail.
The hunt continued.
[Preview of Chapter 7]
Rolex follows the lead deeper into the underworld, but what he uncovers is far worse than he
imagined. The path of vengeance only grows darker, and the shadows whisper the name of the
man who started it all—Dev.
CHAPTER 7: BLOOD, ASHES, AND VENGEANCE
The streets of Mumbai pulsed with life, oblivious to the storm of bloodshed that was about to
stain them. Rolex stood in the dimly lit alley, his butcher knife glistening under the flickering
streetlight. His fingers curled around the handle with an iron grip, his knuckles white from the
pressure. His breath was slow, steady, but his mind… it was a hurricane.
His best friend’s voice echoed in his head—laughter, jokes, those carefree moments that once
made life bearable. But now? Now, they were ghosts clawing at his sanity. He remembered the
moment he found his friend’s lifeless body, the blood-soaked ground beneath him, and the
sickening grin on the killer’s face before he vanished into the darkness.
That bastard did it for fun.
Rolex exhaled, his breath ragged. Fun. He clenched his teeth. Fun? Killing his best friend was
fucking fun for that psychopath?
A metallic clatter pulled him back to the present. A group of Dev’s men—six of them—stood at
the end of the alley, armed with knives, batons, and arrogance.
“You’re a dead man walking, Rolex,” one of them sneered, twirling his knife.
Rolex tilted his head, his face cold, emotionless. “So talkative… Let’s see how well you speak
when your jaw’s on the ground.”
The first thug lunged forward. Rolex sidestepped effortlessly, his butcher knife slicing through
flesh. Blood sprayed against the alley wall as the man collapsed, clutching his gushing throat.
The others hesitated for a second—just a second. But that was enough.
Like a storm, Rolex moved. His blade tore through muscle and bone, severing limbs like paper. A
scream erupted as one of the men lost his arm in a single stroke. Another tried to run. Rolex
grabbed him by the hair, slamming his face into the concrete repeatedly until his skull cracked
open like a melon.
The last thug, trembling, dropped his weapon. “P-Please… I was just following orders.”
Rolex’s lips curled into a snarl. “So was he.” His knife found the man’s throat, silencing his plea
forever.
As the bodies twitched and bled out, Rolex stood among them, his breath uneven, his heart
pounding. This was just the beginning. Dev’s empire was vast, but he would carve his way
through every last one of them.
The city moved on, unaware of the carnage in the shadows. But Rolex was just getting started.
Next: The Hunt Begins. Rolex takes his first step into the heart of Dev’s empire, where death is
waiting for him at every corner.
CHAPTER 8: THE HUNT BEGINS
The neon lights of Mumbai flickered in the distance as Rolex walked through the rain-soaked
streets. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, smoke, and the filth of the city. Every step he
took echoed in his mind, accompanied by the ghosts of his past.
His best friend was gone. The only person who had ever truly mattered. The one who had his
back in every fight, every damn moment that counted. And now? He was just another corpse
rotting in the ground—because of Dev.
Rolex’s grip tightened around the handle of his butcher knife. Dev. The name alone boiled his
blood. But before he could get to that son of a bitch, he had to carve through every one of his
men.
And tonight, he would begin.
A rundown warehouse on the outskirts of Andheri East. Dim lights buzzed, flickering like dying
fireflies. Inside, a dozen of Dev’s enforcers sat around, laughing, drinking, completely unaware
of the storm that was about to descend on them.
“Did you hear?” one of them chuckled, taking a swig from his bottle. “That bastard Rolex has
been seen around. Fucker’s got a death wish.”
Another laughed. “After what Dev did to his friend? If he’s dumb enough to come after us, he
deserves what’s coming.”
A blade whistled through the air. The first man’s head separated from his body, rolling onto the
table. Blood sprayed like a fountain, soaking the bottles of alcohol in red.
The room went dead silent. Then—
“WHAT THE F—”
Before he could finish, Rolex was on them. His butcher knife carved through flesh, slicing deep,
hitting bone. A man lunged at him with a metal rod, but Rolex caught it mid-swing, twisted it
out of his grip, and drove the blunt end into his face, shattering his nose. Blood and teeth spilled
onto the floor.
A gunshot rang out. Rolex twisted, dodging just in time. He grabbed a chair and hurled it at the
shooter, breaking his fingers as the gun clattered to the ground. Rolex wasted no time—he
drove his knife straight through the man’s stomach and ripped upward, spilling his guts onto the
concrete.
The remaining men scrambled to escape. One of them reached the door.
“HELP—!”
A butcher knife embedded itself in the back of his skull.
Silence.
Rolex stood among the bodies, his breath heavy, his clothes soaked in blood. He wiped his blade
clean against one of the corpses and stepped outside. The night air was cool against his skin, but
it did nothing to cool his rage.
This was just the beginning.
NEXT: The Empire Bleeds. Rolex infiltrates one of Dev’s strongholds, but this time, they’re ready
for him. Will he survive the onslaught, or is this where his war ends?
CHAPTER 10: BLOOD ON THE STREETS
The night was alive with chaos. Sirens wailed in the distance, people walked the streets in their
usual oblivion, and the city carried on as if nothing had changed. But for Rolex, everything had
changed.
He moved like a shadow, weaving through the alleyways, his butcher knife still stained with the
blood of Dev’s men. His mind raced, not just with thoughts of revenge but with memories—
painful, gut-wrenching memories of the only person who ever truly understood him.
YEARS AGO—A FLASHBACK
A dimly lit rooftop. The night sky stretched endlessly above, and the air carried the distant
sounds of Mumbai’s restless heartbeat. Rolex sat on the ledge, staring at the city below, lost in
thought.
“You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?”
His best friend’s voice broke the silence.
Rolex smirked but didn’t turn around. “Since when did you become a mind reader?”
His friend chuckled and sat beside him. “You’re easy to read, brother. You act all tough, but
when it comes to Rashmika… I see right through you.”
Rolex exhaled sharply. “She’s… different.”
“I know.”
“I don’t even know if she—”
“She loves you.” His friend cut him off. “And if you don’t do something about it, I swear to God,
I’ll get you both married myself.”
Rolex laughed—a rare, genuine laugh. “You’re serious?”
His friend nudged him. “As serious as the fact that I’ll always have your back. You know that,
right?”
Rolex nodded. “I know.”
PRESENT DAY
That promise. That fucking promise.
And now he was gone.
Rolex clenched his jaw as he approached his next target. A club. One of Dev’s major moneylaundering spots. He had no interest in the money, only the blood of the men inside.
The bouncer at the door barely had time to react before Rolex jammed his knife into his throat,
dragging it sideways. Blood spurted in hot streams as the man collapsed.
Inside, music thumped. People danced, oblivious.
Rolex walked in, his presence a storm. The moment Dev’s men saw him, guns were drawn.
But it was too late.
The blade sang as it cut through flesh. A man screamed as Rolex slashed his face open. Another
raised a pistol—Rolex grabbed his wrist, twisted it until bones snapped, then drove his knife into
his ribs.
Panic spread. Civilians ran for cover.
One of Dev’s lieutenants tried to escape through the back door. Rolex caught him by the hair,
yanked his head back, and whispered, “Where’s the next shipment?”
“I-I don’t—”
The knife slid into his stomach. Slowly.
“Try again.”
The man screamed. “Docks—T-two nights from now!”
Rolex let him fall, drowning in his own blood.
He turned toward the remaining survivors. Some were cowering behind the bar, trembling.
“Tell Dev,” Rolex growled, wiping his blade clean, “I’m coming.”
Then he disappeared into the night.
NEXT: The Docks of Death. Rolex prepares for his deadliest battle yet, but Dev is finally starting
to take him seriously. A trap is being set, and this time, Rolex might not make it out alive.
CHAPTER 11: THE DOCKS OF DEATH
The night was silent—too silent. The only sounds were the distant waves crashing against the
shore and the occasional creak of rusted metal containers stacked high at Mumbai’s port. Rolex
stood in the shadows, watching, waiting.
Two nights had passed since the massacre at the club, and Dev’s men had tightened security at
the docks. Rolex knew they were expecting him. But that didn’t matter.
He was here to kill.
A FEW HOURS EARLIER
Rashmika sat at the small dining table in her home, staring at the untouched plate of food. The
small apartment felt emptier than ever, like the walls themselves were grieving.
The only sound was the ticking clock, each second dragging like a blade through her heart.
She remembered how she used to bring food for Rolex every day. How he never said much but
always accepted it.
Now, he barely came home. And when he did, he reeked of blood.
A knock on the door.
Her heart jumped. She rushed to open it—only to see Rolex standing there, his eyes colder than
she had ever seen them.
“You’re hurt,” she whispered, noticing the blood on his knuckles.
“It’s not mine,” he muttered, stepping past her.
She turned, watching him sit at the table, staring at nothing.
“How long will this go on?” she asked softly.
“Until it ends,” he replied.
She wanted to say more, to beg him to stop, but she knew it was useless. The man she loved
was slipping further into the abyss.
And there was nothing she could do.
PRESENT: THE DOCKS
Rolex moved through the shadows, silent as death. The docks were heavily guarded—at least
thirty men patrolled the area, their rifles gleaming under the pale moonlight.
He exhaled, gripping his knife.
Then he moved.
A guard barely had time to react before Rolex’s blade plunged into his throat. Blood sprayed,
and Rolex caught the man’s body before it hit the ground.
Another guard turned—Rolex hurled the knife, embedding it deep into his skull.
Panic spread.
“HE’S HERE!” someone shouted.
Gunfire erupted. Rolex rolled behind a stack of crates as bullets shredded the wooden planks.
A grenade bounced near him. Without hesitation, he kicked it back—BOOM! The explosion tore
through Dev’s men, sending bodies flying.
Smoke filled the air. Screams echoed.
Then, out of the smoke, Rolex emerged.
A man charged at him with a machete—Rolex sidestepped, grabbed his arm, and twisted it until
bone snapped. The man screamed before Rolex slammed his head into a metal container,
leaving a bloody smear.
Another came at him—Rolex dodged, grabbed his wrist, and snapped his elbow in the wrong
direction. The man collapsed, wailing in agony.
But Rolex wasn’t done.
He grabbed the fallen man’s rifle, turned, and shot two more approaching enemies in the head.
Blood splattered across the pavement.
Now, only one man remained—a high-ranking officer in Dev’s army.
The man trembled, dropping his gun. “P-please,” he stuttered.
Rolex grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground.
“Where is Dev?”
“I-I don’t know!”
Rolex squeezed harder. “Wrong answer.”
The man gasped, his face turning red. “H-he’s waiting for you!”
Rolex narrowed his eyes.
“He… he knew you’d come here!” the man choked. “This was a trap!”
A faint click.
Rolex’s eyes darted to the side. A sniper. Hidden in the distance.
A shot rang out.
Rolex dropped the man and barely dodged, the bullet grazing his shoulder. Pain shot through
him, but he didn’t slow down.
Instead, he turned, picked up a rifle, and fired. One shot.
The sniper’s body slumped out of his hiding spot, falling lifelessly to the ground.
Breathing heavily, Rolex wiped the blood from his face.
Dev was waiting for him.
Good.
Because Rolex was coming.
NEXT: Dev’s Castle. Rolex finally infiltrates Dev’s fortress, but what horrors await inside? The real
war is just beginning.
CHAPTER 12: INTO THE LION’S DEN
The ocean roared beneath the blackened sky. Winds howled like spirits lost in the abyss, and the
salt in the air burned Rolex’s skin. He stood at the edge of the speedboat, gripping the metal
railing as the waves crashed against the hull.
Ahead, in the middle of the vast, endless sea, stood Dev’s fortress—an isolated monolith of
power, rising from the depths like a forgotten god.
The world belonged to Dev. But tonight, Rolex was coming for him.
EARLIER: THE SAFEHOUSE
The room was dimly lit, the only source of light being a flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling.
Rolex sat on the edge of the bed, bandaging the bullet graze on his shoulder.
Rashmika stood near the doorway, her arms crossed.
“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” she asked.
Rolex didn’t respond.
“You think this will bring him back?” Her voice wavered. “You think killing Dev will change what
happened?”
Rolex tightened the bandage and stood up. His face was unreadable. “It’s not about changing
what happened.”
“Then what is it about?” she demanded.
Rolex walked past her, stopping at the door. He turned slightly, his voice low.
“It’s about ending this.”
Then, he was gone.
PRESENT: DEV’S FORTRESS
The fortress was massive—a steel and concrete behemoth, surrounded by high walls and
patrolled by hundreds of Dev’s elite soldiers. Searchlights sliced through the darkness, scanning
for any intruders.
But they wouldn’t see him.
Not until it was too late.
Rolex slipped into the water, moving through the waves like a shadow. He reached the base of
the fortress, climbing onto a maintenance ladder. Rain poured down, drenching him as he
ascended the wall.
At the top, two guards stood, smoking cigarettes.
In a flash, Rolex struck.
He grabbed one guard, covering his mouth before slitting his throat. Blood sprayed against the
wall.
The second guard turned, eyes wide—Rolex’s knife plunged into his chest. He gasped, choking
on his own blood before collapsing.
Rolex dragged their bodies into the shadows and moved forward.
Inside the fortress, alarms blared.
They knew he was here.
And they were ready for him.
THE FIRST CHALLENGE: THE BLOODHOUND
The doors ahead burst open.
A massive figure stepped out, his eyes burning with a murderous hunger. The Bloodhound—one
of Dev’s strongest warriors.
“You finally made it,” the Bloodhound growled, cracking his knuckles.
Rolex said nothing. He simply raised his knife.
The Bloodhound charged.
The ground shook beneath his steps. Rolex barely dodged as the man swung a massive steel
pipe at him, smashing through a wall like it was paper.
Rolex countered, slashing at the Bloodhound’s ribs. The blade barely cut through his thick
muscles.
The Bloodhound grinned. “That all you got?”
He grabbed Rolex by the throat, lifting him off the ground.
For a moment, Rolex saw nothing but darkness. His lungs screamed for air.
Then—he drove his knee into the Bloodhound’s jaw. The giant staggered back.
Rolex didn’t stop.
He lunged, stabbing the Bloodhound’s shoulder, twisting the blade deep.
The Bloodhound roared in agony.
With one final move, Rolex grabbed his head and slammed it against the steel floor—once,
twice—until the Bloodhound stopped moving.
Blood pooled beneath him.
Rolex wiped his blade clean and stepped over the corpse.
One down.
Many more to go.
NEXT: The Tower of Death. Rolex fights his way through Dev’s strongest warriors. But as he
climbs higher, the truth begins to unfold…
CHAPTER 13: THE TOWER OF DEATH
The corridors of Dev’s fortress smelled of blood and gunpowder. Rolex moved like a predator,
his knife dripping red as he stepped over the lifeless bodies of the fallen.
The Bloodhound was just the beginning.
The real nightmare was waiting ahead.
THE FIRST FLOOR: THE EXECUTIONERS
The metal doors groaned as they slid open. The room ahead was dimly lit, the walls covered in
old bloodstains.
Then—movement.
Three figures emerged from the shadows, their bodies wrapped in black combat gear, their eyes
emotionless. The Executioners.
The first one lunged, swinging a machete at Rolex’s head.
Rolex ducked, his knife flashing as he slashed across the man’s throat. Blood sprayed against the
wall as the Executioner collapsed.
The second attacked, fists moving like hammers. Rolex barely dodged as a punch grazed his ribs,
sending a shockwave of pain through his body.
With lightning speed, he grabbed the man’s wrist, twisting it until bones snapped. The
Executioner screamed—Rolex silenced him with a blade through the heart.
The last one hesitated.
Big mistake.
Rolex grabbed him by the head and slammed it against the steel wall—again and again—until
the Executioner stopped moving.
The room fell silent.
Rolex exhaled, stepping over the bodies.
The stairs loomed ahead, leading to the next level.
SECOND FLOOR: THE BEAST
A deep growl echoed through the chamber.
A monster of a man stood in the center, his muscles bulging, his body covered in scars.
The Beast.
He grinned. “I was hoping you’d make it this far.”
Rolex didn’t respond. He simply cracked his knuckles.
The Beast charged.
The force of his attack sent Rolex flying into the wall, pain exploding through his back.
Rolex barely rolled away as a massive fist came crashing down, denting the steel floor.
This wasn’t a normal fight.
This was survival.
Rolex lunged, striking the Beast’s ribs with brutal precision. The giant barely flinched.
Then—he grabbed Rolex by the arm and slammed him against the ground.
Once.
Twice.
The world spun. Blood dripped from Rolex’s mouth.
The Beast laughed. “You’re weaker than I thought.”
Rolex gritted his teeth. He wiped the blood from his lips.
Then—he smiled.
The Beast hesitated.
That’s when Rolex struck.
A knee to the jaw. A knife to the gut. A headbutt that shattered bone.
The Beast staggered, gasping.
Rolex didn’t stop.
He grabbed the giant’s head and twisted—hard.
A sickening crack echoed through the room.
The Beast fell, his body hitting the ground with a thunderous thud.
Rolex stood over him, his chest rising and falling.
Another one down.
But the fight was far from over.
NEXT: The Final Three. Rolex faces the deadliest warriors Dev has left. But even he knows—this
is just the beginning.
CHAPTER 14: THE FINAL THREE
The air grew heavier.
Rolex’s body ached, his muscles screaming from the battles he had already fought. Blood
dripped from his fingers, some his own, most belonging to the men who had tried—and failed—
to stop him.
But there was no time to stop.
The next floor awaited.
And with it—three of Dev’s strongest warriors.
THIRD FLOOR: THE SHADOWS
The room was pitch dark.
A whisper.
Then—pain.
A blade sliced across Rolex’s shoulder, too fast to see. He spun, slashing in the direction of the
attack, but his knife met only air.
A laugh echoed. “Too slow.”
Another strike. This time his leg. A deep cut.
Then another. His ribs.
Rolex clenched his jaw. He wasn’t just fighting one opponent.
There were three.
The Shadows—Dev’s personal assassins, trained to kill before their target even knew they were
there.
If Rolex kept fighting like this, he would bleed out before landing a single hit.
He closed his eyes.
Listened.
Another whisper.
Rolex moved before the attack came, grabbing a wrist mid-strike.
A twist. A snap. A scream.
The first Shadow was down.
Now he had their rhythm.
The second came from the left. Rolex ducked, driving his knife into the assassin’s gut.
The third tried to retreat.
Rolex was faster.
A slash to the throat.
Silence.
The lights flickered back on. Three bodies lay around him, their black suits soaked in red.
Rolex exhaled.
Then he turned to the next door.
FOURTH FLOOR: THE TITAN
The room was small. No furniture. No weapons. Just a man standing in the center, cracking his
knuckles.
A monster.
Bigger than The Beast.
Bigger than any man Rolex had ever fought.
The Titan.
He grinned. “I don’t use weapons.”
Rolex wiped the blood from his blade. “Neither do I.”
The Titan lunged.
Rolex barely dodged before a fist came crashing down, breaking the concrete floor where he
had just stood.
This wasn’t just brute strength.
This was power beyond human limits.
Rolex countered, aiming for the ribs, but the Titan took the hit like it was nothing.
Then he struck back.
A punch to Rolex’s chest sent him flying into the wall. Bones cracked. Air left his lungs.
The Titan laughed. “That all you got?”
Rolex coughed, tasting blood.
He stood.
Slowly.
And he smiled.
The Titan frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“That was your strongest hit?” Rolex spat blood. “Pathetic.”
The Titan roared and charged.
But Rolex was ready.
He dodged, slipping past the attack, climbing up the Titan’s back like a beast.
A knife to the neck.
The Titan screamed, trying to shake him off.
Rolex didn’t stop.
He stabbed again.
And again.
And again.
Until the screams stopped.
The Titan’s body fell forward with a deafening thud.
Rolex stood, covered in blood, breathing heavily.
Only one enemy remained.
The strongest.
The final warrior before Dev.
Rolex stepped forward.
The door slid open.
And waiting inside was a nightmare.
NEXT: Rolex vs. The Demon. The strongest of Dev’s men. A fight to the death. And the final step
toward vengeance.
CHAPTER 15: THE DEMON
The final door creaked open.
A cold wind hit Rolex’s bloodied face.
The room was massive, far bigger than the others. Unlike the previous floors, this one had no
shadows to hide in, no weapons scattered about.
Just a throne.
And the man sitting on it.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
A long, jagged scar ran from his temple to his jaw. His muscles rippled beneath his black combat
gear. His fingers flexed, the tendons in his hands coiling like a predator ready to strike.
But his eyes—his eyes were what made Rolex pause.
They held no fear. No hesitation.
Only hunger.
This was no ordinary warrior.
This was Dev’s strongest soldier.
This was The Demon.
THE LAST OBSTACLE
The Demon stood, his towering frame making Rolex seem smaller in comparison.
Then—
He vanished.
A blur.
Rolex barely had time to register movement before pain exploded in his chest.
The next thing he knew, he was airborne—then crashing into the wall behind him.
Dust filled the air. Rolex struggled to his feet, coughing.
The Demon smirked. “You made it this far. But you won’t go any further.”
Rolex wiped the blood from his mouth. “You talk too much.”
He charged.
Their fists met in a collision that shook the room.
The Demon was strong—far stronger than anyone Rolex had faced before. Every punch was like
a sledgehammer, every kick a wrecking ball.
But Rolex had fought monsters before.
And he had killed them all.
THE FIGHT OF A LIFETIME
Their battle raged on, fists flying, bones breaking.
Rolex ducked a strike aimed for his skull and countered with a brutal elbow to the Demon’s ribs.
The impact echoed, but the Demon barely reacted.
Instead, he laughed.
Then he grabbed Rolex by the throat.
Slammed him into the ground.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The floor cracked beneath them.
Rolex’s vision blurred.
The Demon lifted him like a ragdoll, preparing to end it.
But Rolex had fought through worse.
Through sheer will, he twisted his body midair, locking his legs around the Demon’s arm. With a
violent snap, he broke it at the elbow.
The Demon howled in pain.
Rolex didn’t stop.
He grabbed his knife and drove it into the Demon’s thigh.
Then his stomach.
Then his chest.
The Demon coughed up blood, but still refused to fall.
“Impressive,” he muttered. “But I don’t go down that easy.”
With his good arm, he swung.
Rolex dodged, stepping behind him—
And with a single, clean motion—
He grabbed the Demon’s head and twisted.
A sickening snap echoed through the chamber.
The Demon’s body collapsed.
Silence.
Rolex stood over the corpse, his breath ragged. His vision swam, his body barely holding
together.
But he had done it.
He had killed Dev’s strongest warrior.
Now, only one man remained.
Dev himself.
With blood dripping from his fingers, Rolex turned toward the final door.
This was it.
One last fight.
One last kill.
One last step toward vengeance.
NEXT: Rolex vs. Dev. The mastermind awaits. The final battle begins.
Chapter 16: The Path of No Return
The heavy rain pounded against the blood-soaked ground as Rolex stood amidst the corpses of
Dev’s strongest warriors. The once-grand hallway of Dev’s fortress, lined with shattered glass
and bullet-ridden walls, was now a graveyard of fallen men. Their bodies lay twisted in
unnatural angles, some missing limbs, others with their heads brutally severed—the mark of
Rolex’s fury.
His breathing was heavy, his muscles screamed In exhaustion, but his mind remained clear.
There was only one thing left—Dev.
Rolex wiped the blood from his face and pressed forward, stepping over the bodies as if they
were mere obstacles in his way. The corridor ahead led to a massive iron door, reinforced with
thick steel. The entrance to Dev’s sanctum.
Behind him, the last surviving warrior of Dev’s elite forces gasped for breath. His body was
broken, but his will had not faded. With his last ounce of strength, he reached for a hidden
blade in his boot.
A mistake.
Before the blade could leave its sheath, Rolex turned and drove his boot into the man’s skull,
crushing it against the marble floor with a sickening crunch. Blood pooled around the broken
remains of his face.
Silence.
With one final deep breath, Rolex placed his hands on the cold iron door and pushed.
It didn’t budge.
He stepped back, rolling his shoulders. Then, with all his strength, he delivered a single,
devastating kick. The door groaned before bursting open, the metal hinges snapping like twigs.
And there he was.
Dev.
Standing near the massive glass window overlooking the dark ocean, his back turned to Rolex,
seemingly unfazed.
The room was vast and minimalist, a stark contrast to the rest of the fortress. The walls were
black, the furniture sleek and expensive. A single chandelier hung above, casting a golden glow
over the polished marble floor.
Rolex took a step forward. His fingers twitched, eager to strike.
Dev finally spoke, his voice calm, almost amused.
“You made it.”
Chapter 17: The End Till Now
Rolex didn’t respond immediately. His eyes scanned Dev from head to toe, every detail burning
into his memory.
Dev turned around slowly, revealing his face for the first time.
The scar. The beard. The long hair. The intense, piercing eyes.
The sight hit Rolex like a sledgehammer to the chest. His grip tightened into a fist.
“Long time no see, Deva.”
Silence filled the room.
Dev smirked. “So, you remember.”
The tension between them was suffocating, a storm brewing within the walls of the fortress.
Rolex’s blood boiled as memories from the past rushed back, moments of pain, betrayal, and
hatred all coming together.
Dev reached for the silver pistol resting on the table beside him. Without hesitation, he pulled
the trigger.
BANG!
The bullet tore through Rolex’s shoulder, sending him stumbling back.
Dev chuckled. “You should’ve come sooner, Rolex. Now, you’ll have to wait.”
The sound of helicopter blades filled the air. Dev walked toward the open balcony, the wind
from the sea whipping through his hair.
Rolex, bleeding but standing, took a step forward, his vision blurring.
Dev glanced back one last time. “This is just the beginning.”
And with that, he boarded the helicopter, the powerful machine lifting off into the stormy night.
Rolex clenched his jaw, his vision narrowing on the fading chopper.
The battle wasn’t over.
Not yet.
As the rain continued to pour, Rolex stood in the wreckage, his body broken, but his will
unshaken.
This wasn’t the end.
It was only the beginning.
To Be Continued…