Chapter 101

Allison grabbed the drunk by the collar and effortlessly tossed him into a trash can, as if discarding a crumpled piece of paper. She slammed the lid shut and, to ensure there was no escape, placed a heavy stone on top. Dusting off her hands, she looked at the can one last time, her expression scornful. Her movements were so fluid and instinctive, they seemed rehearsed.

"Some people should think twice before biting off more than they can chew," she said, her voice soft but sharp, like broken glass. The comment was clearly directed at Colton and Melany, lurking in the shadows. Unfortunately, neither caught the warning.

Colton froze, realizing the problem wasn't his men's incompetence, but Allison's sheer, relentless strength. He was in too deep; turning back would be like abandoning ship in a storm. With Melany at his side, he followed Allison, only to see her slip into an old, decrepit warehouse, disappearing into the darkness.

Melany hesitated, unease evident in her voice. "Colton, I don't like this. The place looks like a death trap, and now Allison's vanished."

Colton frowned at the dilapidated surroundings. "Calm down. It has to be close. Stay calm." He couldn't understand how Allison had eluded them so easily. As he began to retrace his steps, the click of a lock echoed behind them.

Click.

Colton turned to find the warehouse door bolted from the outside. He threw his weight against it, but the iron frame held firm. Panic was reflected in Melany's eyes. She pounded on the door, her voice trembling. "There's someone out there! Help! Please!"

From the other side, Allison's voice, conveying lazy indifference, responded: "Oops, my hand must have slipped. But don't stress, it's just a warehouse. There shouldn't be anything inside, right?"

Colton slammed his fist on the door, his face twisted with rage. "Allison, you are totally vile!" In his frustration, he stubbed his broken finger, agony shooting through him, leaving cold sweat on his forehead. Melany gritted her teeth, realizing she'd fallen into Allison's trap again.

Allison scoffed. "Vile? I was defending myself. Since when is self-defense a sin? Amateurs like you have no business following someone out of your league."

"If it's just an empty room, I'm leaving," he said over his shoulder, disappearing into the alleys without another look. "I don't have time to follow trash."

With practiced ease, Allison headed to a sprawling, hidden underground warehouse. Tapping her foot on the worn cement floor, she activated a mechanism, and a large machine slowly emerged from the wall. She pressed her fingerprint against the scanner, and the heavy door opened. A wave of dust greeted her as she fumbled for the lights. The room flickered, revealing row after row of monitors, like silent sentinels, embedded in sleek, well-maintained servers.

In the center sat a colossal computer, showing signs of neglect. "I never understood why the Master insisted on burying the mainframe and servers here in Ontdale," Allison muttered, rolling up her sleeves and getting to work.

After some tinkering, she reactivated most of the machines, but the central computer wouldn't start. It had been unused too long and needed repairs. Without hesitation, she grabbed a toolbox and meticulously disassembled the computer with the precision of an expert surgeon. Absorbed, she lost track of time until a soft beep broke the silence. The machines came to life; the monitors lit up, displaying a pink-haired girl smiling innocently. The contrast with Allison's expression made the scene anything but innocent.

The hologram's sweet but disturbing voice sounded: "Welcome back online. Ready to reboot the hacker world." A message appeared on the screen. Without hesitation, Allison clicked "Confirm," quickly entering her ID and password. After navigating security protocols, she typed her username. Just as the system began to reboot, a sudden boom plunged the room into darkness.

Allison stared at the blank screen in disbelief. "You have to be kidding. So much work, and it shuts down in a second." The reboot had caused a complete blackout. Frustration took hold; she looked at the scant moonlight filtering through a small basement window. Trying to do everything alone was maddening, like a chaotic storm she couldn't control. She needed more hands, expert hands.

Meanwhile, on the Burnt Isles of Leswington, in a dimly lit room, a scarred man in a tailored suit sat rigidly before his computer, his eyes fixed on the screen. The holographic game, long thought missing, blinked briefly. The sudden burst of light made him jump from his chair.

"The hacker world...has restarted!" His eyes narrowed dangerously. That brief flash confirmed his worst fear: the woman who had dismantled his mafia was still alive. Worse, his trail now led abroad. His lips curled into a snarl. "Find her," he barked at his men. "Wherever she is. Bring her to me. I swear I'll make her pay."