Records of Supremacy #2: Universal Hitman Agency

The world revered martial arts above all else. Strength was power, and those who stood at the pinnacle were treated as gods. Raven Hale had once stood at the edge of that summit, an avid martial artist and a man driven by unrelenting ambition. His journey to the top had been arduous but promising. He trained relentlessly, honing his craft until his name echoed in martial circles. He was known as the "Unyielding Shadow," a fighter with unparalleled discipline and technique, feared and respected by all.

But fate was cruel.

The day of his greatest battle—a match against the reigning weaponry martial arts champion, a man revered for his thousand straight victories—was also the day his dreams were ripped away. His childhood best friend, someone he had trusted with his life, betrayed him. Poison seeped into his veins during the warm-up, leaving his body feverish and sluggish. Raven knew what had happened the moment the heat surged unnaturally through his body, but he refused to surrender.

The arena buzzed with anticipation as he stepped onto the stage, his movements unsteady yet defiant. The poison clawed at his insides, sapping his strength with every breath, but he fought anyway. Each strike, each block, and every counterattack was a testament to his iron will. For a moment, it seemed he might triumph despite the odds. His opponent, a seasoned warrior, faltered under the onslaught of Raven's determination.

Then, the poison took hold.

His vision blurred, his limbs weakened, and he stumbled. The crowd gasped as he fell to his knees, his strength drained. His opponent showed no mercy. With a wicked grin, the champion moved in for the kill, slashing Raven's tendons in a calculated strike that ended his career—and his ability to move—forever.

The arena erupted in cheers for the champion, but Raven's world went silent.

Thirty years had passed since that day. Raven Hale, once a name that inspired awe, now languished in a forgotten corner of society. At forty-nine years old, he lived in a dilapidated nursing home, his body a husk of what it once was. The poison had ravaged him, leaving him paralyzed and voiceless, unable to do anything but exist.

Every day, he prayed for release.

He couldn't speak, but his mind screamed. He remembered his youthful days, the joy of training, the thrill of competition, and the camaraderie he once shared. Those memories haunted him, mocking the hollow existence he now endured. His caregivers barely acknowledged him, tending to him only out of obligation.

Tomorrow would be his fiftieth birthday. A milestone he dreaded. He didn't want to see another day, let alone another year.

It was Christmas Eve. The nursing home was eerily silent. The other residents had families who came to take them home for the holidays, leaving the building empty except for Raven. Even the staff had abandoned the premises, celebrating elsewhere, confident that Raven's immobile form wouldn't care.

As he stared at the ceiling, waiting for the hours to crawl by, he prayed one last time: "Let me die."

Then it happened.

BANG.

FLASH.

The building shook violently as an explosion tore through it. Walls collapsed, fire spread like a hungry beast, and smoke filled the air. Raven's lungs burned as he struggled to breathe. The flames licked closer, and for the first time in decades, a small smile graced his lips.

His prayer had been answered.

But before the fire could claim him, a sound pierced the chaos.

Ding.

A melodic chime echoed in his mind, followed by a voice devoid of emotion:

SYSTEM AWAKENED: MOONLIT HITMAN AGENCY CREATED.

(DUE TO THE AWAKENING HAPPENING UNDER MOONLIGHT, THE SYSTEM HAS BEEN NAMED ACCORDINGLY.)

Raven's eyes widened as a sudden wave of energy coursed through his broken body. His muscles twitched, his veins burned, and his mind screamed in disbelief.

Then, it hit him.

"FUCK THIS SHIT!" he roared, his voice raw and trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

For the first time in thirty years, he had spoken. He could scream. The sound of his own voice reverberated in his mind, startling him more than the explosion that had started it all.

"I CAN—" he began, but the words caught in his throat. His joy turned to despair as he realized that while his voice had returned, his body remained unresponsive. His arms, his legs—they still refused to obey.

The flames grew closer, and the smoke thickened, suffocating him. Raven screamed again, this time out of frustration.

His vision blurred, darkness crept in, and the system's voice echoed in his mind one last time before everything faded:

WELCOME TO THE MOONLIT HITMAN AGENCY.