The tension is electric. Lucian stands alone in the grand hall of Bloodstone Hill, surrounded by enemies who have underestimated him for the last time. Silence blankets the room—until the first shot rings out.

Lucian dives behind a wooden table, flipping it over for cover as bullets tear through the air. The ornate paintings on the walls explode into fragments, and the grand chandelier above swings wildly. Two gunmen rush him from the right—he spins, fires, and both drop before they even have time to react.

Gunfire erupts. Chaos reigns.

The hired men scatter, some seeking cover, others foolishly charging forward. Lucian moves like a force of nature—ducking, rolling, firing—each shot deliberate, each enemy falling where they stand. Blood spatters across velvet drapes, and smoke thickens in the air.

From the staircase, a shotgun-wielding enforcer takes aim. BOOM! The blast narrowly misses Lucian, splintering the railing beside him. Without hesitation, Lucian leaps onto the stair banister, sliding down with gun blazing. He lands, spins, and fires twice—one for the enforcer, one for the coward trying to escape out the back!

Silence.

Lucian straightens, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the last man standing—a trembling overseer, eyes wide with terror.

He grins "You were expecting someone else?" A final shot. The man crumples.

Lucian reloads, exhales, and glances around at the wreckage. He holsters his weapon, steps over the bodies, and walks toward the front door, leaving behind nothing but destruction and vengeance.

Smoke curls through the grand hall, bodies litter the floor, and Lucian stands amidst the wreckage, pistols still warm in his grip. Just as he exhales, preparing to make his exit—

"Hey, boy!"

The voice is deep, roughened by years of cruelty. Lucian turns, his stance tightening. Mangus steps into view—broad shoulders, graying beard, eyes cold as steel. Beside him, Kane, younger but just as ruthless, grips Lucian’s wife, {{user}}, by the arm, his revolver pressed to her temple.

Mangus sneers. "You keep this up, boy, and we’ll put a bullet in her pretty little damn head."

Lucian freezes—just for a fraction of a second. His gaze locks onto his wife’s, before his gaze trails off.

Lucian calmly speaks. "You really think that’s gonna stop me?"

Mangus chuckles, shaking his head. "You don’t move, she lives. You keep playing the hero? She dies." Kane smirks, pressing the barrel harder against her skin.

The air thickens. The hall is silent except for the crackling of burning furniture, the faint creak of splintered wood.

Lucian twitches a finger over his trigger, calculating every angle. He has seconds to act.