“What are you doing?” Alex demanded, his voice tinged with a faint, accusing disdain as his arms folded across his chest.

  Jonathan turned slowly, meeting Alex's hardened gaze without flinching. “I'm heading out to fulfill that dying man's wish,” he replied firmly, raindrops cascading down his solemn features.

  Alex released a heavy sigh, irritation etched deeply into his expression. “Using the family’s resources on a whim isn’t something you should be doing, brother,” he growled in a low, menacing tone.

  “He’s not squandering anything!” Michael interjected sharply, stepping between them and gripping Alex’s arm firmly, pulling him to the side.

  “Oh, little brother, you’re here too,” Alex sighed condescendingly, shaking off Michael’s grip with ease. “However, I suggest you think carefully before pushing me.” Alex stood his ground, unyielding beneath his brother's defiance.

  For a tense, breathless moment, the two brothers glared at each other, eyes gleaming fiercely with restrained savagery. Around Alex, an invisible force surged outward, pushing the rainfall away, creating a sphere of clarity amidst the storm's chaos. His aura expanded in a visible demonstration of raw, magical might, a silent yet clear threat intended to subdue his younger sibling.

  “Next time you challenge me like this, you might find yourself in a terrible accident,” Alex warned, his voice dangerously low.

  Yet Michael did not waver, his resolve unshaken even under the immense pressure radiating from his elder brother. His eyes meticulously traced every subtle shift within Alex’s potent aura, defiance sparkling clearly within them.

  “You know, older brother,” Michael began, a small, defiant smile tugging at his lips, “for someone so strong, you’re quite dumb.”

  “What did you just say to me?!” Alex roared, anger overtaking reason as he lunged forward, grabbing Michael fiercely by the collar.

  But the aggression did not go unnoticed. Abruptly, an overwhelming presence saturated the air, thick and oppressive, halting the very raindrops in their descent. Two figures emerged from the shadows near the front gate, their forms etched by a radiant intensity, their eyes ablaze with a quiet yet devastating fury.

  “Young master Alex,” Vince spoke, his voice calm yet underscored by unmistakable menace. “I strongly advise you to release young master Michael immediately, unless you wish to see your hand rolling into the distance like a tumbleweed.”

  Alex scoffed, a bitter smirk curling on his lips. “You’re just a servant, old man,” he sneered dismissively, releasing Michael and approaching Vince, arrogance fueling each step. “Do you think you can do whatever you want just because my parents favor you?”

  In a sudden, breathtaking instant, the charged air around them erupted violently. Alex was hurled backward as if struck by an unseen force, his body slamming brutally against the estate wall. Masonry cracked sharply under the impact, a sound resonating sharply above the storm’s relentless rhythm.

  “Now that that’s settled,” Jonathan remarked coolly, flexing his fingers as if shaking off the residual energy from the strike.

  A stunned hush blanketed the courtyard, only the patter of relentless rain and distant rumbles of thunder piercing the thick silence. Alex sat slumped against the damaged stone, eyes wide in stunned fury and disbelief, temporarily subdued by the sheer magnitude of power that had just assailed him.

  Jonathan lowered his hand gracefully, betraying no effort or concern, as though such displays of dominance were routine. Beside him, Michael stood alert yet relieved, the rigid tension in his shoulders slowly unwinding, while Vince watched vigilantly, his expression unreadable but his stance resolute. The storm's twilight cast long, dramatic shadows across the rain-slicked courtyard, outlining the group in stark, poetic contrast.

  “Come,” Jonathan urged quietly but decisively, stepping forward into the storm. “Let’s head out.”

  And so, the group moved swiftly toward the garage, their steps echoing sharply through corridors that seemed more hollow under the weight of their grim purpose. They entered the elevator, a silent descent into subterranean depths beneath thick layers of reinforced concrete. The underground garage greeted them with a resonant electric hum, a pulse of latent energy that spoke of countless hours waiting in quiet readiness.

  Pale cones of illumination cast by low-hanging lights bathed six formidable vehicles in ghostly pallor, each meticulously parked, aligned like soldiers awaiting their orders. Their hulls were reinforced with thick steel plates, pockmarked from previous expeditions, their robust tires thickly treaded to tackle treacherous terrain. Dust lingered in their angular corners, gathered in the wheel wells—a whisper of past battles fought, missions completed under shadows and storm. The air in the confined space thrummed with tense anticipation, the stillness heavy, as though even the machines themselves longed to surge forward into action.

  Michael, Vince, Jonathan, and several men swiftly boarded one of the waiting vehicles, while their companions settled into another. Engines roared to life, vibrating through their bones, a powerful surge that sliced through the garage's oppressive quiet. Headlights blazed defiantly as the vehicles hurtled out of the garage, leaving behind a swirling wake of dust and echoes.

  Their headlights pierced the velvety darkness as they maneuvered through the skeletal remains of Berlin, carving paths northwest toward Hamburg. Two decades had scarred these roads deeply, their asphalt surfaces fractured, riddled with potholes and fissures like wounds from a cataclysmic upheaval. Rain poured down relentlessly, pooling in ruts, reflecting the storm's fury in rippling waves of uncertainty.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Thunder echoed mournfully, a distant, wounded beast roaring across desolate landscapes. Lightning lashed the heavens, splintering the sky and illuminating starkly the twisted frames of buildings that had once proudly defined eastern Berlin’s horizon. Those towering monuments of civilization, now reduced to mere silhouettes against intermittent bursts of electric brilliance, served as silent witnesses to humanity's overreaching ambitions.

  The storm intensified, a torrential curtain smothering the windshield and swallowing the world beyond in a relentless barrage of water. Wipers swung desperately, fighting a losing battle for clarity. Where once the city streets had pulsed with the rhythmic flow of traffic, now only the wind howled its wild symphony, accompanied by metallic groans as rusted infrastructure strained against the elements. Bridges, once proud feats of engineering, lay in ruins—shattered steel girders rising from turbulent waters like skeletal remains, entire sections vanished, devoured by time and tempest.

  Fields that had nurtured crops and livestock now stood abandoned and wild, reclaimed entirely by nature’s patient grasp. Rusted tractors lay scattered amidst rampant grasses swaying violently under the storm’s wrath. Tall stalks rose defiantly, forming ghostly shapes whenever illuminated by flashes of lightning, their silhouettes shifting like restless spirits in the tempest. Sunflowers, symbols of bucolic peace, now drooped mournfully beneath the weight of unending rainfall, their heads bowed low as if grieving the lost world.

  The roads leading north were twisted, labyrinthine scars forcing repeated detours. Decaying villages sprawled along their route, hollowed husks of homes whispering memories into the wind. Weather-worn signs leaned precariously, letters faded into illegibility, barely hinting at destinations long rendered irrelevant. Amidst mud and ruin, a lone battered sign stubbornly announced their approach toward Hamburg, its surface riddled with grime and bullet holes, a testament to violence long past but never truly forgotten.

  On a desolate stretch, Michael's eyes caught sight of an abandoned military checkpoint, its barrier arms snapped and useless like broken limbs. Something intangible yet deeply unsettling lingered there, trapped within cracked windows and peeling frames, resonating quietly through the marrow of his bones.

  Nature’s unchecked fury revealed itself with each lightning strike. Forests of pine leaned precariously, roots clawing desperately at eroded soil. Some trunks lay toppled, sprawled across the road like colossal, fallen warriors. The wind howled eerily through the broken branches, a ghostly choir singing lamentations over the land. Occasionally, wild beasts—foxes, and creatures twisted by magic and darkness—darted across their path, eyes reflecting uncanny glows under flashes of spectral illumination.

  As they drew near Hamburg, faint glimmers pierced the swirling darkness ahead, uncertain lights flickering like hesitant stars against a tempestuous backdrop. Approaching the port, a low, menacing growl rolled out from shadows, predatory and patient, waiting for an opportune moment to strike.

  The vehicles halted abruptly, engines rumbling in cautious defiance as they gazed toward their destination. A massive freighter loomed in the harbor, casting imposing shadows over the docks, its interior lights piercing through the gloom in solemn beacons of humanity's stubborn persistence amidst devastation.

  Darkness sprawled beyond the feeble reach of the overhead lamps, splashing fragmented pools of sickly yellow onto the rain-slick asphalt. The convoy had traveled through roads dimmed by storm and decay, finally halting beside a battered chain-link fence dividing the harbor docks from the barren streets. A restless wind danced low along the ground, carrying faint whispers of briny salt and the pungent rot of decaying fish from the nearby ocean. Engines ticked rhythmically as residual warmth dissipated into the chill of the night air.

  Michael stepped out first, swiftly joined by Vince and Jonathan. He took a deep breath, savoring the sharp night, but instantly recoiled, his senses assaulted by an acrid stench—charred, smoky, and disturbingly familiar. Jonathan's brows knitted tightly in suspicion, his stance stiffening, while Vince’s hand instinctively moved toward his sidearm, alert eyes darting across the shadowy perimeter. Towering stacks of cargo containers, bathed in weak floodlight, loomed over them like ancient sentinels guarding their secrets within.

  “Fire,” Vince murmured, the single word rippling with tension, heavy with foreboding.

  Michael's pulse quickened as his gaze swept nervously around the area. The eerie calm of the night was broken only by the rhythmic crash of distant waves and the faint, mechanical hum of generators aboard the moored freighter. There were no sirens, no voices raised in alarm—only an unsettling quiet, underscored by the persistent, choking scent of smoke.

  Without warning, a monstrous form erupted from the cloak of shadows. A creature, black as midnight, scaled like a dragon and massive as a lion, launched itself toward the group. Its heavy paws slammed against the ground, sending tremors through the wet pavement. Fire burst forth from its gaping beak, the roaring flames slicing through darkness, illuminating faces frozen momentarily in shock.

  Jonathan gasped, instinctively leaping backwards as heat surged around them, searing the air and turning raindrops to steam. The creature's scales shimmered ominously under the orange glow of the fire, sparks exploding violently as its flames lashed the pavement. Michael and Vince scrambled out of harm’s way, narrowly escaping the fiery assault. Heartbeats thundered, their breath rapid and shallow, minds racing to grasp the sudden peril.

  Gunfire erupted around them, soldiers desperately opening fire, bullets pinging uselessly off the beast’s thick, armored hide, creating a dazzling, deadly shower of sparks. The creature howled with fury, thrashing its powerful tail and clawing forward relentlessly.

  Michael steadied himself, his focus sharpening to a razor's edge as he raised his hand toward the beast. Placing it firmly within the crosshair of two trembling fingers, he whispered firmly, "Curse of binding."

  Immediately, the beast crashed down violently, convulsing as unseen restraints seized its limbs. Furious growls echoed as it thrashed uselessly, restrained by magic as powerful as invisible iron chains.

  Jonathan stepped forward with deliberate calm, his voice resonating deep and firm amidst the chaos. “Soul,” he chanted.

  A blade darker than the depths of night manifested in Jonathan’s steady grasp, a weapon forged from shadows, greedily absorbing every fleeting spark of light around it. In one swift, brutal motion, he swung the blade, effortlessly cleaving through the creature's thick neck. Its head spun grotesquely through the air before landing with a wet thud in a puddle of murky rainwater. Inky blood sprayed outward, sizzling ominously upon contact with the earth.

  Jonathan's eyes lifted grimly toward the ship, muscles taut with anticipation, as the chorus of monstrous howls split the stormy night, rising from countless throats hidden in the darkness. Wind surged angrily, carrying forth the sharp tang of ozone and wet, rancid fur, heralding a threat that lurked just beyond sight.

  “Get ready,” Jonathan commanded, his voice edged with steel. “More are coming.”