one hundred and forty

A man’s eyes narrowed as he watched the footage of Rhys’ rampage against the Shadows Organization. His face remained calm, but his aura seethed with a murderous intensity. He leaned forward, his fingers steepled together in a gesture of calculated contemplation.

“Fascinating,” he whispered to himself. “This kid…he’s a force to be reckoned with. The ferocity, the skill…he’s a wild card, unpredictable and dangerous.”

As he continued to watch, the man’s gaze lingered on the destruction, the chaos that Rhys left in his wake. He nodded to himself, his mind racing with possibilities.

“A tool, perhaps?” he mused. “A weapon to be wielded, a means to an end?”

At first, he had felt a creeping sense of unease. His plans, so carefully laid, were being unraveled before his eyes. The Shadows Organization, his unwitting pawns, were being decimated. And Rhys, that unpredictable wild card, was the reason why.

As the footage continued to play, his unease gave way to frustration. He had been so close to