Odyssey Of Survival

His pajamas hung loose and tattered, stained in patches of blood. The night air was thick with smoke, gunpowder, and the coppery scent of death. Yet none of it seemed to bother him. Not even the pain. Not even the chaos.

He walked forward, his blood-streaked face calm, expressionless, as his eyes locked on the group of Crimson Hand men who had shot Lilith. His steps were slow, deliberate. Purposeful.

One of them turned, eyes widening. "Shit," the man whispered.

Liam raised his rifle, took aim—

Click.

The empty chamber echoed louder than any explosion. No more bullets.

Liam's jaw clenched as he tossed the rifle aside. His walk didn't stop. He was already shifting his weight, moving into the first target. The nearest man tried to raise his weapon, but Liam was faster—he grabbed the rifle and smashed it across the man's face. Bone cracked. Blood sprayed.

Another man shouted, lifting his gun to fire. Liam didn't flinch. He leapt at him, grabbing the knife tucked into the man's boot mid-air. The moment he landed, he drove it across the man's throat in one smooth, vicious motion. The spray of blood painted the ground as the man collapsed, gurgling.

The rest began firing, but Liam was already on the move again.

He grabbed the dying man with the cut throat and pulled him upright, using his limp body as a shield. Bullets tore through the corpse's back, but Liam stayed behind it, patient.

Braaat.

Another enemy reached reload.

That was all Liam needed.

He let the corpse drop and rolled across the ground toward the reloading man. His movements were fluid, animalistic. Before the man could shout, Liam stabbed him in the thigh, twisting the blade.

"AHH—"

The scream never finished. Liam yanked the blade up and drove it into the man's throat, killing him instantly.

The others backed away, panic in their eyes. There was no hesitation in Liam's movements. No fear. Only death.

"D-Devil...!" one of them muttered.

They turned and fled. All of them.

But Liam didn't chase. He stood amidst the fallen, blood dripping from the blade, chest heaving with quiet fury. His eyes were hollow, his body a machine.

All around the battlefield, the remaining Crimson Hand soldiers felt it—a crushing, invisible force. The tide had turned.

The man in pajamas.

The barefoot beast.

Liam.

They saw what he had done—overturned vehicles, destroyed mounted guns, taken out dozens of their own with only his hands. And now he stood over their comrades like a reaper bathed in crimson.

Fear settled like a fog. Some of them threw down their weapons, their spirits shattered. Others made fatal mistakes in their panic—standing too slow, shooting too wildly, missing too many shots. The Black Lotus took advantage, cleaning up what remained.

And then silence.

The battlefield stilled. Smoke and ashes danced in the moonlight.

Every surviving Black Lotus member stared.

There he was.

Liam.

No armor.

No shoes.

No mercy.

His blood-soaked pajamas fluttered in the wind. His body was covered in slights cuts and bruises. His face unreadable.

He turned slowly, glancing at the others. Their eyes met his, and for a moment, they saw not a man—but a god of war, risen from the wreckage.

Not one word was spoken. Not one cheer was made.

Because they all understood one thing:

Liam had saved them all.

And he had done it alone.

His blood-soaked feet crunched over broken glass and scattered bullet casings as he made his way back to Lilith. The battlefield behind him was a grim painting of what had just taken place—flames flickered from burning vehicles, bodies lay strewn across the ground, and the last echoes of gunfire faded into the wind. The stench of gunpowder and blood lingered thick in the air.

Lilith stood tall despite the pain, one arm held stiffly at her side. Her shoulder was bleeding—badly—but the bullet had gone clean through. She was lucky. Even then, she looked more regal than broken, her long golden-blonde hair now wild, clinging to her face and neck with sweat and blood. But her eyes remained sharp.

When she saw Liam approach, barefoot and in torn pajamas stained with crimson, something softened in her expression. She watched the way he moved—confident, composed, yet ready to strike again at any second. A man transformed. No… a monster forged.

And then, quietly—so quietly Liam almost didn't hear it—she said it.

"Thank you."

Two simple words. But coming from Lilith, they meant the world.

Liam blinked. He wasn't sure he'd heard right. But she looked him straight in the eyes, and there was no doubt.

"I mean it," she added, her voice breathy but sincere. "Without you, we would've been crushed. I knew you were strong… but not like this. You changed the tide, Liam."

He gave her a small, crooked smile. "Don't get used to it," he joked, though his tone was warm. "Right now, you need to get off your feet. That shoulder needs treatment."

She shook her head almost instantly. "No. Not until everyone is accounted for. The wounded, the dead… I owe it to them. I won't run away while they still need me."

Stubborn as ever, Liam thought.

Before he could say anything else, Leo stepped up from behind. His expression was unreadable. For a second, Liam thought he was going to back Lilith up again, be her voice of reason… but what happened next made Liam step forward in alarm.

With a swift, unexpected movement, Leo smacked Lilith on the back of the neck. Her body tensed—and then slumped.

"Hey!" Liam shouted as he caught her in his arms before she hit the ground.

Leo exhaled and crossed his arms. "Relax. She's fine. Just asleep."

Liam looked up with narrowed eyes, not bothering to hide the question in them. What the hell was that for?

Leo read his expression with ease. "You heard her. She wouldn't leave on her own. But she needs rest, treatment, and time to heal. It's your job now. Take her home. Take care of her. That's an order."

Liam glanced down at Lilith in his arms. She looked so peaceful now, almost like a different person than the one commanding guns and ordering attacks minutes ago.

He nodded, understanding completely. "Alright," he said simply.

Without another word, Liam carried her across the ruined battlefield. The few remaining Black Lotus members made way for him, stepping aside silently. No one said anything—they just stared in quiet awe. He passed burnt-out vehicles, scattered limbs, and pools of blood. He didn't flinch.

When he reached a nearby car that was still intact, he gently opened the passenger side and eased her inside. She didn't even stir. He buckled her in, closed the door, walked around, and slid into the driver's seat.

The drive to her penthouse was silent. The city outside was oddly peaceful. Liam didn't even bother about his bleeding and burnt feet, he will heal—his focus was on the woman next to him, making sure she didn't wake up suddenly and insist on going back.

It was the first time in a while Liam had a quiet moment to think. Everything that had happened in the past hour—no, the past day—had changed everything. He wasn't just another fighter in the shadows anymore. He was the reason the Black Lotus was still standing.

The car finally pulled into the underground garage of Lilith's building. Liam got out, walked around, and opened the passenger door again. He bent down and carefully picked her up in his arms. She was lighter than she looked, but every step he took reminded him of the exhaustion and pain stitched into his muscles. Overturning military vehicles was no easy job.

He made his way to the elevator, stepping inside, his arms still wrapped tightly around her. Her head rested gently against his shoulder, her golden hair brushing his cheek as the elevator ascended.

Then she stirred.

"Mmm…" Lilith's eyes fluttered open, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Where…"

"You're home," Liam said softly.

The adrenaline from the fight had long since drained from her system, and now the pain from the bullet wound registered fully. She winced and shifted slightly, but Liam held her steady.

"Don't move," he added. "That shoulder needs time."

She blinked up at him, her voice barely a whisper. "You carried me?"

He smiled faintly. "You can thank Leo for knocking you out. I just did the heavy lifting."

She gave a small, breathy laugh—and then groaned as her shoulder flared in pain again.

"Don't laugh either," Liam muttered. "Doctor's orders."

The elevator continued to rise, a soft ding announcing each passing floor. The quiet hum of the machinery was the only sound in the world now. And in that moment, Lilith felt something she hadn't felt in a very long time.

Safe.

The elevator reached the top floor with a soft chime. As the doors slid open, Liam stepped forward, carrying Lilith into the penthouse.

And the doors closed behind them.

****

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