Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

Chapter 204 Race For Infinity Loyalty

"Mr... uh, Black, can I—uh—help you?" The teacher's voice cracked mid-sentence, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. The dude straight-up jumped at the sight of Parker standing there like a ghost. No footsteps, no door creak, nothing. Just—bam—there he was. And the creepy part? Parker didn't even acknowledge him. Not a glance.

His eyes, sharp and cold, swept across the room with laser focus, cutting through the noise and chatter like none of it mattered.

Then his gaze landed on that one damn spot—Naomi's seat. Empty. The chair sat there awkwardly between two other students, both buried in their notes like everything was normal. But her bag wasn't there as well. No phone charger lazily hanging out of the side pocket, no water bottle with the dumb little sticker that always made Parker roll his eyes. Nothing. She hadn't just bounced to the bathroom. She was gone.

"She's not here," Parker muttered under his breath, voice low enough to get swallowed by the buzz of the class. He could've asked, sure. Could've turned to the teacher, or maybe even the students, but what was the point? They'd just confirm the pit already growing in his gut.

Evelyn, just stepping into the hall for another lesson, caught sight of him and froze mid-step. Her eyes narrowed, scanning his face. Was that fear? Parker Black—looking like he just got sucker-punched by life? Before she could even ask, Parker spun on his heel and bolted like hell itself was clawing at his back.

****

The abandoned building was a whole different beast—dark, cold, and stinking of damp concrete and regret. And him? He was pacing like some strung-out maniac, muttering under his breath, eyes darting around like the shadows were out to get him.

"Why the fuck is this taking so long?" The thought scratched through his head like nails on glass. He was running on fumes after draining himself just to stay hidden—stalking Naomi like some damn ghost, snatching her from the bathroom, and grabbing her stuff without anyone so much as blinking.

That little stunt had sucked the energy right out of him, left him bone-dry.

Now he was stuck here, biding time, stalling while he tried to pull himself together. Talking to Naomi, playing nice—ugh, like he gave a shit about small talk—but it bought him minutes to recover while traumatizing his target. Every cell in his body screamed to vanish, but karma? Oh, she was a vindictive little whore today.

At least he'd planned for this. He always planned. But then her phone had buzzed. One goddamn ring—and his stomach had twisted. He knew who it was. That smug-ass Blackwood piece of shit. The thought of him made his blood boil.

"Hero Boss? Fucking seriously? Who the hell comes up with that weak-ass name?" His voice tore through the silence, loud, bitter, and dripping with hate when he remembered the contact name he'd seen.

Naomi didn't even flinch. She was just sitting there on the cold floor, still as death, like she'd already accepted whatever was coming. But she was thinking. Why wait? If this was his hideout, why the hell wasn't he making his move? It didn't add up. He was just talking...?

But it wasn't about her, not really.

Then his voice cut through the room again, but this time it was different—lower, sharp with that ugly edge of satisfaction. "Ah... yes..."

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'Hold on, Naomi. Just hold the fuck on.'

****

Inside the decaying skeleton of the abandoned building, the air felt thick with something wrong. Like the walls themselves knew what was happening and just didn't give a shit.

The man stood over Naomi, every muscle twitching with restless energy, like his body was already halfway out the door. He wasn't patient. Patience was for people who didn't have origin descendants breathing down their neck. Every second felt like a clock ticking toward dead.

The bindings around Naomi loosened, her wrists falling limp as soon as the ropes untwined. She wasn't going to just sit there, though. The moment she felt freedom, her instincts roared back to life.

She thrashed. Kicked. Fought like hell, like any ounce of hope meant survival.

But then—his hand touched her forehead.

And just like that, it was over.

It wasn't pain—it was worse. It was like someone flipped a switch inside her skull. Her eyes rolled back, body going slack like a puppet with its strings cut. No struggle. No fight. Just... nothing.

"Fucking exhausting," he muttered, slinging her bag over his back like a shitty souvenir and tossing her limp body over his shoulder. His breath came quicker now—not fear, but urgency.

His body rippled, shadows bleeding out from his skin like smoke laced with blood. The air around him darkened, his figure warping, shifting—becoming something less human. He was no longer just a man—he was a smear of nightmares, a moving void that carried Naomi's unconscious form like she weighed nothing.

Time's up.

He couldn't risk staying. He could feel the shift in the air, like something was hunting him already—coming for him. But running now meant abandoning Naomi, ditching everything he'd worked for. Although Parker's presence couldn't be felt, this man could still feel the scent of the approaching terror.

And fuck that. He will take her with him although it would slow his escape since his energy was still a bit low.

His shadow-soaked form bolted through the broken hallways, every step leaving behind a smear of darkness. His heartbeat wasn't fear—it was strategy. Get out. Now.

He just had to move faster than the storm that was already crashing down behind him.