2025-03-05 21:05:44The mortuary was eerily silent, save for the faint hum of the air vents. The fluorescent lights flickered, casting shadows along the cold, sterile walls.
Then, the mortician’s face twisted in sheer terror. His breath hitched as his eyes darted toward the funeral table. “G-Ghost…” Francis stammered, his voice barely a whisper. His body went rigid, his eyes rolling back—then he collapsed, hitting the floor with a dull thud. Klaus, crouched nearby, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. His pulse remained steady, but his mind was already calculating his next move. Footsteps. Voices drifted from the hallway, growing louder by the second. He had to hide. Without hesitation, Klaus slipped beneath the nearest funeral table, pressing his body against the cold tile. The door creaked open. A group of people entered, their movements crisp and deliberate. Among them was a stern-faced man in a white lab coat, his sharp eyes scanning the room. Beside him stood an elderly gentleman with nearly silver hair and a neatly trimmed goatee, his expression weighed with grief. A young woman with radiant blonde hair lingered near the doorway, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Their attention immediately fell on the unconscious mortician sprawled across the floor. The pathologist sighed in frustration, striding over to Francis. Without ceremony, he gave the man a sharp kick to the ribs. Francis jolted awake with a gasp, his arms flailing as he scrambled upright. He looked around wildly, panic still fresh in his eyes. The pathologist scowled. “Why the hell are you lying on the floor?” Francis swallowed hard. “Uh… I— I thought I saw a ghost.” His finger trembled as he pointed at the now-empty funeral table. The pathologist followed his gaze, then snorted. “Nonsense. If you’re done wasting time, go fetch the other body. I need to begin the autopsy.” Francis hesitated, his heart still hammering against his ribs. He wanted to protest, to explain that what he saw was real, but he knew better than to argue with his already-irritated superior. It’s impossible. What I saw… it’s impossible. With a slow nod, he turned on his heel and left the room. Minutes later, he returned, pushing a gurney with a black body bag atop it. The elderly man’s expression darkened, grief flickering in his weary eyes. “Sir, I still believe you shouldn’t look at the body,” the pathologist murmured cautiously. The old man’s voice was firm. “Show me. Now.” With careful precision, the pathologist unzipped the bag, revealing the lifeless form of a middle-aged man. His chest bore a deep purple bruise, a grim sign of shattered ribs. “The impact was devastating,” the pathologist explained. “The car crumpled inward, crushing his ribcage. Death was instant.” The elderly man inhaled sharply, his grief barely contained. “And the passenger?” “The other victim is in the cold room. If you wish to see him—” “There’s no need,” the man cut in, his voice thick with sorrow. He turned away, blinking rapidly. “I just… I just want to understand how this happened to my son.” The blonde woman, standing stiffly near the wall, exhaled shakily and stepped out of the room, unable to bear the sight of her brother’s corpse. The pathologist hesitated before speaking again. “I sincerely hope the authorities investigate this thoroughly. It’s… strange.” The elderly man lifted his gaze. “Strange how?” “The crash was severe—so severe that both vehicles went off the bridge. Normally, the iron railing would have prevented that.” The air in the room grew heavier. “But,” the pathologist continued, “the section where the accident occurred was mysteriously cut—as if someone had deliberately weakened it.” A slow, chilling realization crept into the old man’s face. “Are you saying…” “I’m saying this may not have been an accident.” The words lingered, thick and suffocating. The pathologist sighed, running a hand down his face. “Let’s step outside for some air. This is a lot to process.” As they exited the room, Klaus remained motionless beneath the table, his mind racing. Then— A purple screen flickered into existence before him, its glowing text sending a chill down his spine. [Mission: Escape the Mortuary in 5 minutes] [Condition: Avoid being seen] [Reward: Level Up] [Penalty: Death] Klaus’s breath caught in his throat. Death? A slow, bitter laugh escaped him. “Are you serious?” he muttered under his breath. The countdown had already begun. The city stretched out like a vast chessboard of concrete and steel. From the towering skyscrapers to the dimly lit alleyways, everything felt calculated, deliberate. Gabriel stood at his desk, hands pressed against a stack of police reports. He had a nagging suspicion about the accident. Something about it felt off—too precise, too unnatural. A hit-and-run? No. It felt like murder. A shiver ran down his spine. He had yet to examine the second body, and his gut told him he needed to. Now. Meanwhile, Back at the Mortuary The cold air stung Klaus’s skin as he moved swiftly, his hospital gown barely clinging to his form. He zipped up the body bag containing Mr. Lawson—the third victim—hiding within it for cover. With calculated movements, he slipped past the security cameras and into the bitter night air. A soft purple glow pulsed in his vision. [Host has successfully escaped unnoticed] [Perception Level Up!] Klaus exhaled. He was out. He was free, He needed clothes.
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Klaus, now miles from the hospital, found himself in the back of a dimly lit café, the hum of conversation blending with the clinking of glasses. His heart was still pounding. The mortuary. The escape. The system. He exhaled sharply and focused. With a thought, he tapped into the strange presence lurking in his mind. A glowing interface materialized in his vision. [Name: Klaus Whitlock] [Skills: Perception (E Grade) // Mirage (F Grade)] He frowned. This still didn’t make sense. Was he hallucinating? Dreaming? Then, another notification blinked into existence. [Mission: Earn 10 million dollars using the gift of gambling.] [Reward: 10,000 coins, 1,000 EXP, Steeze +10, One Skill Upgrade.] [Failure to complete the task within the time frame (5 hours) will result in severe penalties.] Klaus nearly choked on his breath. "Excuse me?" he muttered under his breath. Ten million dollars? That wasn’t gambling—that was lunacy. His fingers drummed against the table as he considered his o
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Meanwhile, Klaus perched atop a low rooftop, the city stretching before him. The adrenaline still hummed through his veins, but more than that—he felt good. The system’s boost was kicking in. His movements were sharper, his senses more attuned. A soft ping echoed in his mind. [Congratulations! You have successfully used your gambling skill for the first time.] [Reward: Permanent 20% boost in agility and grace.] [Luck stat: 180 pts.] Klaus exhaled, a smirk playing on his lips. [Convert money into digital form for bank account?] [Yes] [No] Without hesitation, Klaus selected "Yes." The bag of cash in his hands vanished, replaced by a sharp chime and a new notification: [Mission: $9,000,000 more to go] [System account: $1,000,000] Klaus exhaled, his lips curling into a grin. This was more than just numbers on a screen. This was the start of something new—an opportunity. He leaned against the railing of the pedestrian bridge, scanning the cityscape below. Neon ligh
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“I don’t recall asking for your input.” Her voice was sharp, her gaze sharper—cutting through the air like a finely honed blade. “Keep quiet unless I address you.” Silence. The guards stiffened, exchanging uneasy glances. Klaus, still bound in cold steel, merely watched her, wary but intrigued. She turned to him fully now, head tilted slightly, as if assessing a piece of art only she could understand. “What’s your name?” “Klaus.” A ghost of a smirk played on her lips. “Well, Klaus… how about we have a little chat inside? On me.” The guards paled. “Ma’am, this man—” “—is my friend.” She interrupted smoothly, every syllable wrapped in quiet authority. “And unless you’d like to find employment elsewhere, I suggest you uncuff him.” Hesitation. A breath held too long. Then, the reluctant click of metal yielding to her command. “Please, sir, it was a mistake,” one guard implored, knowing the Italian man was a well-known and affluent friend of the manager, making his threat
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Klaus slid his stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills onto the table. The soft rustle of cash against felt was almost drowned out by the silence that gripped the room. $120,000 now lay in the betting circle. Isabella’s breath hitched. Even in high-roller territory, this was lunacy. Klaus? He was smiling. The energy in the room changed. The low murmur of gamblers and dealers, the clinking of glasses, the distant jingle of slot machines—everything dulled, as if the casino itself was holding its breath. Eyes turned toward the table, drawn by the gravity of absurd stakes. The dealer, a woman with weary eyes but a sharp mind, studied Klaus. His confidence wasn’t arrogance. It was something else—something colder, more deliberate. Klaus closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He didn’t need to see the cards. He could feel them. Probability whispered to him, unseen forces shifting just slightly in his favor. When he opened his eyes, his gaze locked onto the dealer’s. With a smirk as bright as
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 9
Klaus sat back in his chair, eyes scanning the system screen floating before him. [Choose a skill to upgrade] He exhaled slowly, weighing his options. His skills were still at a beginner level, but Doppelganger stood out. It had the potential to be both a defensive and offensive asset. [Doppelganger: LV 2 – User can now create three clones. Clones remain active for two days.] A small smirk tugged at Klaus’s lips. Three clones… now that’s an upgrade. His mind shifted back to reality—the weight of his first mission settling on his shoulders. The sheer absurdity of it all was still sinking in. He had walked into the casino with nothing but strategy and his system’s luck stat. Hours later, he walked out with a mind-blowing $130 million from all the casino games he played. Of course, the casino wasn’t happy. Klaus had carefully split his winnings, accepting $80 million while the couple he had helped insisted on keeping only $20 million. A kind gesture on their part, but he knew they
The Indomitable Klaus Whitlock CHAPTER 10
Klaus followed him, brushing a hand through his disheveled hair. His fingers caught on knots, reminding him just how much he had let himself go. His beard was overgrown, his clothes slightly wrinkled from days of wear. He probably did look like a beggar. Behind them, two employees near the counter exchanged glances. "Does Steve not realize that man is a beggar?" a female attendant muttered under her breath. She folded her arms, watching them disappear into the grooming section. "He acts like this boutique is his entire world, always showing off what he knows." Another attendant, a male, scoffed. "He thinks he’s better than us just because he won Employee of the Year last year. I really hope he gets into trouble this time." The two chuckled quietly, glancing toward the entrance, where their supervisor, Mr. Jonathan, was due to arrive at any moment. "If the supervisor catches him wasting time on someone who clearly can’t afford anything, he’s done for," one of them whispered. They
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Klaus barely reacted as the security guards took him by the arms, their grips firm but not forceful—yet. His mind was still processing what had just happened. A few minutes ago, he had only planned to get a haircut and some fresh clothes, but now, he somehow owned Thera Supermarket and Hotel Suites—one of the most profitable chains in the city. He hadn’t even met the previous owner before, yet the ownership had inexplicably fallen into his lap. The part that truly astounded him? Thera Properties was worth far more than the $100 million transaction. A business like this could make that much in a matter of weeks, if not days. As a former businessman himself, Klaus understood the true value of assets like these. And now, as he was being escorted out like a common beggar, his lips curled into a smirk. The irony was almost poetic. --- Jonathan, the boutique supervisor, stood nearby, arms crossed, watching with thinly veiled disdain as the guards led Klaus toward the exit. "People l
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“I had no idea this was how your staff treated customers at Thera Supermarket,” Klaus said smoothly, his tone calm but edged with steel. “Your supervisor accused me of being a thief and a beggar… just because of my appearance.” Holiday’s gaze darkened as he turned sharply to Jonathan. “Klaus Whitlock was about to pay for his items when you chose to humiliate him instead.” Jonathan swallowed hard, beads of sweat forming at his temple. “I-I made a mistake,” he stammered, his voice trembling. “Please, sir, have mercy.” Klaus let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “This wasn’t a misunderstanding,” he said firmly. “It was a blatant abuse of power. I tried to explain, but you wouldn’t listen.” Holiday exhaled, rubbing his temple as frustration settled on his face. He knew Jonathan had made a serious error, but at the moment, he had no one else in line to take his place. “Jonathan, that’s enough. Be quiet,” Holiday ordered, his voice taut with irritation. Klaus turned to Holiday. “
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CHAPTER 92
And until his system came back online, he would have to rely on his own skills and instincts alone. He crossed the suite silently, pulling the curtains shut and checking his phone. No new messages. No updates from the system. Alone in the quiet, dim room, Klaus sat by the window, watching the street below, his mind already racing ahead, planning his next move. Klaus sat on the edge of the hotel bed, his fingers moving deftly over Allison’s phone. He connected it to a discreet black device Richard Fitzgerano had given him months ago, during the chaos of the hotel scandal. The device was a marvel of clandestine technology — capable of silently combing through every shred of data on the phone: text messages, call logs, voice recordings, images, even hidden notes. All of it was being quietly siphoned, streamed in a time-based format straight into Klaus’s laptop. The faint hum of the device filled the room, blending with the muted noise of distant city traffic. Klaus leaned back in t
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The black van, monstrous and relentless, gave chase immediately, its front grill dented but very much operational. It was clear now — they weren’t interested in following him or intimidating him. They wanted him captured or worse. One hand on the wheel, Klaus grabbed his phone and quickly dialed the emergency number. His voice was steady despite the pounding of his heart. “I'm being chased," he said curtly as he took a sharp left turn, tires squealing. "Black van, license plate—" he glanced in his rearview mirror, barely catching the numbers through the blur, "—partial plate 67P5. I’m headed toward Eastbrook Avenue. Requesting immediate assistance." He ended the call without waiting for a response. He couldn’t afford to split his attention any further. Right now, every ounce of focus was needed to stay alive. The city around him turned into a maze of obstacles — honking cars, confused pedestrians, flickering neon signs. Klaus dodged in and out of lanes, slipping between a deli
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"This asshole insulted me after trying to hit on me!" Vanessa cried, crocodile tears welling up instantly. "I think you must have fallen on your head as a child," Klaus said, voice dripping with disdain. "To accuse me of hitting on you is laughable." Donavan’s jaw tightened, puffing himself up like a rooster ready to fight. "You got a big mouth for a nobody. Maybe you need a lesson in respect," Donavan said, cracking his knuckles. Klaus tilted his head slightly. A slight grin curved his lips. The atmosphere thickened, the energy in the casino crackling. It was about to be another headache. Before Donavan could lunge, Klaus’s demeanor changed. Like flipping a switch, Klaus unleashed the aura he normally kept locked down—a low, oppressive pressure that weighed on the mind and body, subtle yet unmistakable. Only those tuned to instincts felt it first. The nearby players shifted uncomfortably. Vanessa paled without knowing why. Klaus’s voice dropped into something silkier,
CHAPTER 89
But for now, she’d retreat. Regroup. Plot. Because no one made Allison Hunt feel small and got away with it. Not even Klaus Whitlock. The look in her eyes as she walked away was a quiet vow, a storm gathering at the edges of the night, promising this wasn’t over. --- Klaus watched her leave with a small, amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Some people never learned. He tucked his hands into his pockets, remembering the phone he had "liberated" belonging to Allison, and the mysterious auction items that his system had made him buy. His mind shifted back to the more immediate concerns—Isabella. He went upstairs where Isabella was waiting for him, perched elegantly on a velvet settee like a queen in exile. The room they used for private meetings was awash with soft golden lighting, casting long shadows across the mahogany floors and marble-topped side tables. From here, the hum of the casino below was just a distant whisper, like a restless ocean under the
CHAPTER 88
A jackpot machine erupted in celebration. But at a table, seated beneath a cascade of golden chandeliers and a low halo of smoke and velvet light, the atmosphere was something else entirely. Klaus Whitlock now leaned back in a chair. Across from him sat Allison Hunt, radiating poise and danger in equal measure. She wasn’t just another pretty face dressed in designer silk with a glint of charm in her eyes. No—Klaus had never expected the woman he once loved to be so shameless and calculated. “I’ve never really had a good friend,” she said softly, tracing the rim of her wineglass with a manicured finger. “Everyone I meet is after something. Status, money, fame. I just... I think you and I could be different. You seem real, Klaus. Like someone who’s above all the noise.” He didn’t respond immediately. His eyes studied her, not with lust or curiosity, but with the same scrutiny one might give a snake basking in the sun. Attractive, yes. But venomous. Then Klaus leaned in slightly,
CHAPTER 87
Klaus felt a slight twinge of skepticism but kept his expression neutral. He didn’t trust her words, but it was difficult not to notice the softness in her tone, the subtle allure in her body language. She was being careful—too careful. It was all an act, and Klaus was a master of recognizing when someone was playing a game, even when they dressed it in sweetness. "I’d love to buy you a drink, Klaus," she continued, her voice carrying a hint of vulnerability now. "I think we could talk, get to know each other better. It’s been so long since I’ve had a real conversation with someone who doesn’t have an agenda, you know? It’s been... so lonely." She sighed softly, as if the weight of loneliness was somehow too much to bear, though Klaus was well aware of how she wore it like a mask. He could sense the subtle shift in her approach, the way she dropped the pretense of high society, trying to pull him into her world of fragile sincerity. But Klaus wasn’t fooled. He had seen enough lies
CHAPTER 86
She glanced at the laptop on her desk, eyes narrowing as she tapped a few keys. "Hold on, let me check the front entrance security cams," she muttered. The screen flickered for a moment, and she paused, her finger hovering over the mouse. “There. I see it. A black van.” Her voice was tight with tension as she turned to face Klaus. "Do you think they’re here for you? Or for me?" Klaus leaned forward, his eyes intense. "It’s hard to say. But I think it’s more than just about us. Whatever this is, it’s bigger. And it's hunting everyone connected to us." She could feel the chill in his words, the cold edge of fear that he barely allowed himself to show. Isabella swallowed hard, her throat dry. "Klaus, I don’t want to die. I can’t handle this. Between managing the casino, dealing with the constant threat on my life, and everything that's been happening… the disappearance of Silas Crane, Matthias Schneiden's death... it’s all too much." The sudden rush of emotion caught her off guard,
CHAPTER 85
The Floor Manager, his face a mixture of surprise and sudden respect, quickly bowed when Klaus showed his identification as a co-owner of the Megabucks Casino. The moment the realization hit, he immediately adjusted his posture, clearing his throat before offering to accompany Klaus to the office above. The air felt thick with the shift in power, the pit boss no longer seeing Klaus as just a patron but someone whose name carried weight in the casino. It was a small shift that spoke volumes. Klaus, ever the composed figure, acknowledged the change with a nod but didn't let his expression betray the undercurrent of satisfaction he felt. As they neared the entrance to the office, Klaus noticed Isabella standing there, her figure bathed in the dim light from within. She was waiting for him. The floor manager, bowing to her with the same deference, didn’t hesitate to retreat, his gaze lingering briefly on the powerful, enigmatic presence of Isabella before disappearing down the hallway
CHAPTER 84
Allison, ever the poisonous snake, massaged his shoulders. Klaus doubted they’d recognize him immediately. His features were different now, reshaped, refined. But they would remember the aura. And Duncan would remember the scandal at Thera Grand—the scandal that had flipped on national television, publicly castrating Duncan’s ambition. Klaus approached the dealer with casual grace. "Hey, I want in. I want to play." At the sound of his voice, heads turned. Duncan’s hand froze. He looked up, and a wave of disbelief struck his face—followed by immediate rage. His eyes narrowed. Allison’s hands stopped moving. Her face paled with fear, recognition flooding in. She looked at Klaus like a ghost had walked in and smiled at her. Klaus pulled a chair and sat without waiting for an invitation. He laid down a platinum case filled with chips. "Buy-in plus extra. Hope that’s allowed." The dealer looked to Duncan, who grunted and nodded. "Fine. Let him play." Round one began. The car
