20-05-2026, 01:57 PM
(CHAPTER CONTD)
SEPTEMBER 23 , 2004. MACAU, CHINA
The Red Dragon Hotel stood at the heart of Macau like a jewel dipped in blood. Flashbulbs cracked against polished marble. Wealth, perfume, and false smiles flowed beneath chandeliers the size of small moons. Tonight’s charity gala looked almost noble from the outside—red carpet, silk gowns, camera flashes, men laughing too loudly—but Hemant knew better. Behind those golden doors, girls disappeared. Behind those smiles, the syndicate called AZRAEL sold human lives to the highest bidder.
A black Hongqi Qijian CA7460 eased to a halt at the entrance. The rear door opened, and Hemant stepped out, every inch the part. Black tuxedo. Crisp collar. Shoes that caught the hotel lights. A killer disguised as a gentleman. He handed his entry pass to the valet.
"Welcome to the Red Dragon, Mr. King"
Hemant gave a faint nod and crossed the threshold. In his hidden earpiece, Will’s voice crackled with amusement.
"The bowtie doesn’t work on you at all"
Hemant’s mouth barely moved.
"Yeah? Guess I’m not cut out to be James Bond"
A low, smoky female voice slid into the channel.
"No" she said, amused.
"You’re too rugged to be Bond. But you’ve got certain qualities"
Hemant’s gaze shifted—and found her. Jinx. Already inside. Already working. She stood beside a crystal pillar in a violet gown that hugged every curve like a secret. The slit rode high enough to reveal toned legs as she crossed them with deliberate elegance, and the neckline was dangerous enough to make powerful men forget caution. Her lips curved when their eyes met.
![[Image: King-and-Jinx.png]](https://i.ibb.co/HTLXpdHB/King-and-Jinx.png)
Not affection. Not exactly. Just the kind of dangerous understanding that only came from surviving hell together. Then she turned away, drifting back into the glittering crowd, hunting monsters with a smile.
They split. Hemant was guided through a private corridor toward the upper levels. Plush carpet swallowed every footstep. A masked attendant handed him a lacquered black half-mask.
"For discretion, sir"
He slipped it on and entered the auction room. Inside, every face was hidden, every suit expensive, every silence predatory. Hemant scanned the room. He couldn’t identify them, but instinct screamed at him—Chinese Triads, maybe even men tied to the Russian Mafia. Somewhere below, Jinx was getting close to one of AZRAEL’s brokers, her beauty turned into a blade.
Then the auction began. One by one, girls were brought onto the stage beneath white light. Bare shoulders. Painted lips. Eyes hollow with terror. Hemant sat absolutely still while disgust crawled under his skin like acid. Every bid made him want to break someone’s jaw. But not yet. He had to play the part. Then one girl stepped into the light—young woman, trembling, but unlike the others she wasn’t completely broken. Her eyes were alert. Conscious. Watching. Hemant raised his paddle. Another bidder challenged him. Then another. He kept going, voice calm, heartbeat cold. Finally the hammer fell. Sold.
A masked escort led him to a private room higher up in the hotel. When the door shut, Hemant stood alone in silence and reached into his pockets. Tiny pieces. Two screws hidden in the first buttons of his shirt. A spring in the cuff seam. A sliver of machined steel in the lining. He assembled them with practiced hands. By the time the girl entered, he was seated calmly, the makeshift pistol hidden behind his leg. She froze when she saw him. Terror widened her eyes.
"It’s all right" he said quietly.
"I’m not here to hurt you"
It took a minute. Then another. Her breathing slowed.
"Do you know where the others are?" he asked.
She nodded, barely. Hemant showed her the weapon.
"Good. Then I’m getting you out"
They moved through the hall like shadows. Hemant fitted a suppressor onto the tiny gun. No elevator. Too exposed. Stairwells only. Every turn was a coin toss. Once, voices drifted close—guards laughing, keys jingling. Hemant pressed the girl against the wall, one arm around her shoulders, the other holding the pistol low. They passed without seeing them. Three floors down. Service corridor. Kitchen exit. Rain hit them the second they stepped outside into the neon glow of Macau. Twenty minutes later, the girl was inside a SENTINEL safe house, wrapped in a blanket, shaking but alive.
Jinx arrived moments later, breathless, heels abandoned somewhere between here and the hotel. A few strands of dark hair clung to her cheek, and for the first time all night she looked less like a socialite and more like the operator she truly was. Relief flashed across her face when she saw the rescued girl. Then the girl spoke.
"Someone else tried to save us" she whispered.
"A priest. The bad uncles took him. To the cemetery. They said… they’ll kill him there"
The room went still. Hemant felt something cold settle into his bones. Will got the confirmation minutes later.
"Father Dominic. Priest from London. He was in Macau for some Missionary work. He tipped SENTINEL off about the trafficking network. If the Triads have him, they’ll make an example of him"
"We need to get him" Hemant said immediately.
"No" Will snapped.
"Our objective is the girls. We use the witness, convince the authorities, bring in the raid. We cannot compromise the mission for one man"
"Hemant… he’s right" Jinx stepped closer.
He looked at her, and something in his expression made her stop talking.
"SENTINEL doesn’t have a choice" he said.
"I do"
He crossed to his bag and unzipped it. Steel whispered. Out came his signature weapon—a hatchet chained at the base of the grip, dark metal hungry for blood.
![[Image: Hemant-WEapon2.png]](https://i.ibb.co/KzfzCSjd/Hemant-WEapon2.png)
He slid a QSZ-92 into the back of his waistband. Jinx caught his wrist. For a second, the room narrowed to just the two of them. Her perfume, rainwater on bare skin, the warmth of her hand against his pulse.
"Don’t do this" she said, voice lower now.
"You’ll blow everything"
Hemant leaned closer, so close he could see the storm in her eyes.
"No" he said softly.
"I’m going to end their partnership"
He placed his phone in her hand.
"If I’m not back in an hour, dial the last number. Take her to PJ Law Enforcement HQ. Get the paperwork moving"
Then he turned and walked toward the door.
Jinx stood there, fingers curled around the phone, watching him disappear into the Macau night. Neon bled across the rain-slick street outside. Somewhere beyond the city lights, in a cemetery full of stone dragons and dead men, Father Dominic was waiting to die. And Hemant King—tuxedo stained with rain, chain coiled at his side, murder in his eyes—was coming for him.
AN HOUR LATER AT ST MICHAEL CEMETERY , LAZARUS STREET, MACAU
Midnight had long strangled the city in silence.
At the forgotten edge of Lazarus Street, the ancient grounds of St. Michael Cemetery slept beneath drifting fog and flickering sodium lights. Rainwater glistened across cracked stone pathways, reflecting rows of weathered gravestones like shattered mirrors. Above them all towered the great statue of Archangel Michael—wings spread wide, sword lowered in judgment—as though the cemetery itself waited for sinners to be weighed.
The peace broke beneath the sound of chains scbanging pavement.
A battered middle-aged man groaned as he was dragged through puddles and broken gravel. His wrists were bound in rusted handcuffs, chains wrapped cruelly around his chest like shackles for the damned. His priest’s collar was stained with dirt and blood, his face bruised from interrogation. Yet despite every bruise and every staggered breath, Father Dominic refused to bow his head.
Dragging him by the chains with a sneer carved across his scarred face was Johnny Ratface, one of the feared lieutenants of the 18K faction of the Triads. Rings glittered across his fingers as he shoved Dominic toward a freshly dug grave waiting like an open mouth in the earth.
"You should’ve minded your business" Johnny spat.
"Thought you could save our girls?" He kicked Dominic hard into the mud.
"You have no clue what kind of monsters run this operation. People disappear because of men above me"
Dominic coughed blood into the dirt but still raised his eyes.
"If innocent people are suffering, then someone must stand for them. I would make the same choice again"
He said quietly, His voice carried no fear. Johnny barked out laughter as the surrounding Triad thugs joined in.
"And where did that courage get you?" Johnny gestured to the grave.
"Right here, Father. Your final resting place" He pointed toward the towering Michael statue looming through the fog.
"You talk about God, justice, angels. But look around. This city belongs to devils. Even your precious saint watches and does nothing"
Dominic slowly lifted his bruised face toward the dark sky.
"He is a saint only for the innocent and the beloved" he whispered.
"For scum like you.....he is the raging fire of Justice!!!!"
Johnny crouched beside him with a grin full of rotting arrogance.
"Then lets see if his fire reaches here when I bury you six feet under.....there is no God here!!!!"
He spread his arms across the cemetery. Dominic shut his eyes. He prayed weakly into the freezing air.
"My lord......please… bring justice to this place...."
And that was the moment an eery silence filled for roughly a second. After which footsteps echoed. Every thug froze. Slow. Measured. Heavy.
Across the cemetery entrance, beyond the statue of Michael, a silhouette emerged through the fog. Streetlights behind him stretched his shadow impossibly long across the graves. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in a charcoal suit dark enough to vanish into the night itself.
A hatchet hung from a chain wrapped around one arm. Its steel edge glimmered. Hemant Kumar walked forward without hurry. The cemetery felt colder.
![[Image: Hemant13n.png]](https://i.ibb.co/3mgYT1QN/Hemant13n.png)
"Who the hell are you?" Johnny narrowed his eyes.
Hemant stopped beside the towering Michael statue. Fog curled around him like smoke rising from a battlefield.
"You must be Johnny right?" he said evenly.
"You goddamn right.." Johnny replied with pride and twisted cruelty before adding
"And you are"
Hemant's response was a grin , a grin that could be devilish but in Dominic's eyes it was assurance. That things will be right from now on. For Dominic, battered and half-conscious, the moment felt unreal. The statue behind Hemant seemed brighter somehow—light catching strange against rain and stone. Standing beside the archangel, the stranger appeared like an extention of the archangel. With that same grin Hemant responded.
"I am the one that kills Johnny!"
Johnny laughed again.
"This guy is funny. Boys , lets show him I am in no mood for comedy!"
He shouted to his men. The cemetery exploded into motion. Triad enforcers charged with cleavers, rusted machetes, iron rods, and Chinese batons. Hemant moved. The chain snapped through the air with terrifying speed. The hatchet spun outward like a guided blade and buried itself deep into the face of the first attacker with a wet crack. Bone burst apart as the man collapsed instantly. Hemant yanked the chain back violently—the weapon ripping free in a spray of blood before smashing into a second thug’s jaw hard enough to twist his neck sideways.
![[Image: King-In-Action1.png]](https://i.ibb.co/TBXkRRnc/King-In-Action1.png)
Three more rushed him.His Kalari instinct took over. Hemant stepped inside the first swing, twisted low, and drove the hatchet upward beneath a thug’s ribs. The blade punched through flesh and emerged slick with crimson from the other side. Before the body even dropped, Hemant pivoted and slammed an elbow into another attacker’s throat, crushing cartilage with a sickening crunch.
Steel flashed toward him. He ducked. The cleaver missed. Hemant answered by wrapping the chain around the attacker’s wrist and pulling hard. Bones cracked. The weapon fell. One brutal hatchet strike followed—clean and merciless—sending the thug crumpling beside gravestones painted red.
The cemetery became chaos.
Rain mixed with blood across old marble. Men screamed. One tried charging from behind only for Hemant to hurl the hatchet backward without looking. The blade buried itself in the attacker’s chest, pinning him against stone before Hemant retrieved it with another violent pull of the chain.
Johnny’s confidence evaporated.
"This psycho—kill him!" he shouted.
Another group rushed. Hemant met them head-on. A baton shattered against his shoulder but he ignored the pain, grabbing the attacker by the collar and smashing his face into a gravestone hard enough to split skin and teeth. Another lunged with a sword—Hemant caught the wrist, twisted until the arm bent wrong, then buried steel into the man’s neck.
One strike. One body. Again. Again. Until only Johnny Ratface remained. Breathing hard, soaked in rain and panic, Johnny backed away.
"You have no idea who you’re messing with"
Johnny growled, suddenly drawing a hidden knife and lunging in desperation. Hemant was already moving. The hatchet flashed once. Johnny screamed. Then again. His legs collapsed beneath him. Blood spilled violently across the mud as he crashed near the open grave, horror replacing arrogance. Hemant stood over him. Johnny coughed desperately.
"The Triads will hunt you—"
Hemant tilted his head.
"Don't worry Johnny....your Overlords....they will let you know who I am when I send them to you to the place you are going right now!"
He said quietly. One final kick sent Johnny tumbling into the grave. He landed hard, bleeding into the soil prepared for Dominic.
"In Hell!" Hemant finished with him.
No prayer came for him. Only silence. Hemant turned and broke Dominic’s chains.
"You alright?" he asked.
Dominic stared at him, shaken.
"Who are you?"
"A man who is interested with some devious activities here" Hemant answered.
"I rescued one of the girls from the Red Dragon Hotel. She told me about you"
Dominic’s face darkened.
"There are more...girls… women… held at a warehouse not far from here" he said urgently"
Hemant looked toward the city lights.
"Show me the way!"
The warehouse crouched near the waterfront like something abandoned by time. Rust bled down corrugated walls. Salt wind howled through broken windows. Dominic led Hemant through a side entrance, his breathing uneven as distant waves crashed somewhere beyond the industrial district. Inside, the silence felt wrong. Then they heard it. Whimpering. Behind stacked crates and concealed steel plating lay a hidden chamber secured with thick chains. Hemant shattered the lock with the back of his hatchet.
The door creaked open. Inside were frightened girls and women huddled together beneath flickering lights.Bruised. Terrified. Some barely looked old enough to understand what had happened to them. Dominic immediately rushed to comfort them.
"You’re safe now" he said softly.
Hemant turned toward the warehouse floor. Something felt off. Then the side door burst open.
"About damn time"
Jinx stepped through carrying tactical gear slung over one shoulder. Gone was the glamorous party attire from earlier. Now, Jinx wore combat armor fitted tight for movement, a rifle hanging against her back and pistols holstered at her waist.
"Took care of the surveillance blackout" she said.
"You look terrible"
Hemant glanced down at blood splattered across his suit.
"Not all of it are mine" he replied.
His eyes drifted toward a massive enclosed fishing truck sitting near the rear loading dock.
"Did you call the number?" he asked.
"Yeah. Nobody picked up" Jinx nodded.
"Noone's supposed to" Hemant said.
Her expression shifted.
"That number? It was your research work few days back isn't it?"
"Exactly , and that contact will help us clear this thing in whole" Hemant replied.
He pointed toward the rescued captives.
"Take Father Dominic and the girls to the PJ Law Enforcement headquarters. Use the truck and leave through the back"
That was when engines thundered outside. Headlights flooded broken windows. Vehicle doors slammed. Voices shouted in Cantonese. Jinx swore under her breath.
"They're here!"
Hemant calmly looked toward the warehouse entrance.
"Take them and go"
"What about you?"
He walked toward stacked crates.
"I’ll buy time. Give them a taste of the traditional SENTINEL shock and awe!"
The front shutter exploded inward. Triad gunmen stormed through carrying rifles, machetes, and iron weapons. One shouted the order to kill everyone. Hemant’s eyes landed on stacked crates filled with smuggled rifles. AK-47s. Illegal imports. He cracked open the crate and pulled one free. The firefight erupted. Automatic fire ripped through the warehouse.
Hemant moved like something ancient and merciless. Controlled bursts dropped the first wave before they even understood what was happening. Men crashed through stacked boxes as bullets tore through cover. One attacker rushed too close. Hemant dropped the rifle, swung his chained hatchet, and buried steel into the man’s shoulder before slamming him into shelving hard enough to collapse it. Another charged with a blade.
Hemant sidestepped and answered with brutal efficiency. Close combat became carnage. The warehouse floor transformed into a battlefield of overturned crates, shattered lights, smoke, and screaming steel. Triad enforcers expected fear. Instead they met a storm. Gunfire. Chain strikes. Broken bodies. Blood streaked across concrete. Every step Hemant took carved deeper panic into their ranks. Rumors were already beginning. Some whispered Johnny Ratface had been butchered by a ghost. Others claimed an executioner had come for the underworld. Tonight, fear gained a face. By the time the truck escaped through the rear gate carrying Dominic and the survivors, Hemant stood alone among wreckage.
The remaining enforcers hesitated. He used that hesitation. A flashbang taken from confiscated cargo detonated. Chaos followed. Hemant disappeared into the alleyways of Macau. But not before half the warehouse burned. The chase lasted minutes. Black SUVs flooded narrow streets. Gunmen poured out. Hemant vaulted fences, ducked through neon-lit alleyways, and fought his way across backstreets until he finally reached a dead end near the waterfront. Footsteps surrounded him. Weapons raised.
"End of the line" one enforcer sneered.
Then came headlights. A long black limousine drifted into the street like something from another world. The rear door opened. No hesitation. Hemant sprinted, slid inside, and the limo peeled away before gunfire could land. Inside sat Jiu Mey. The Current Red Pole of the Sun On Yee faction watched him quietly, dressed sharp despite the late hour.
"You really made a mess tonight" she said.
"They were trafficking children" Hemant leaned back, breathing steady.
"I heard" She nodded once.
The city blurred outside as the limousine carried them toward the coast. Eventually they stopped near a rocky seaside overlook where crashing waves struck black stone. Jiu stepped out first.
"You know, I was curious with your proposal when you came to me weeks ago. We were concerned you were a spy until what you proposed what we did and what you wanted in return. Your insight and intel helped our influence in many ways"
She said, lighting a cigarette against the cold wind. Hemant folded his arms.
"You took Water Street in Shanghai" Hemant stated.
"And two more territories, Sun On Yee’s stronger now" she answered.
She studied him.
![[Image: King-and-Triad-Queen.png]](https://i.ibb.co/WNKCRzGj/King-and-Triad-Queen.png)
"But 18K is getting desperate. More violent. This recent uprising from our side could be catastrophic"
Hemant stared toward the ocean.
"It has to, my interest is not in the 18k taking over the Triads" he said quietly.
She raised an eyebrow.
"You sound idealistic for someone covered in blood"
"Even if you're a hunter , you cannot keep your hands clean killing monsters"
Hemant answered.
"Desperate times need desperate measures!"
He looked toward her.
"Build a crew. People loyal to you. People willing to dirty their hands if it means protecting something better"
"I already have some" Jiu nodded.
"But if I move, I will become the next target" she added.
"Then make me the target" Hemant gave the answer without hesitation.
"What?" Her expression shifted.
"Don’t tie this to Sun On Yee" Hemant said.
"Create a new threat, someone that is believed to be the new enemy of the Triad coming from the sea across. An outside force determined to shake the Triads and its chain of leadership of crime!"
He stepped closer.
"A ghost. A mythical hunter who butchered Johnny Ratface. Someone coming after the worst of the underworld. A new danger to the triads. And when the overlords of 18K and the oblivious Triad masters are trying to find this new threat, the Sun On Yee can climb ranks and grow its influence in this chaos"
Fear was currency. Stories were weapons. Hemant intended to weaponize both.
"Turn me into a symbol of new challenge for the Triads. Make me a force they must be concerned!"
He continued. Jiu slowly smiled.
"You want me to build you into a legend?"
"No" Hemant replied.
"I want you to build a false crisis that will concern the Triads giving the Sun On Yee the opening to grow their worth!!!"
The next morning aboard a SENTINEL C-17 aircraft bound for Hereford, Hemant and Jinx stood in the control room watching international news. Macau law enforcement had launched massive raids. Trafficking warehouses were being dismantled. Arrests spread across criminal networks tied to 18K. National inquiries had begun. Jinx crossed her arms.
"So, this was your strategic masterplan?" she said
Hemant allowed himself the smallest smile.
"SENTINEL was made to maintain order of the world , and Shanghai's order lays in Sun On Yee's success. Its a bigger victory in the long road!"
Somewhere in Shanghai hours later, Jiu Mey assembled trusted figures in an underground meeting hall. Father Dominic stood nearby, protected and awaiting transport to England. Names were assigned. Territories discussed. Orders given. One man stood out.
Ricky Tan. A local operator chosen to help command the new movement. Mey’s people already whispered about Hemant. His SENTINEL codename—Mr. King—passed from mouth to mouth. Still, something about it felt incomplete. Then Dominic arrived carrying newspapers from Macau. Front pages displayed images from St. Michael Cemetery. Most focused on the massacre. But one image lingered. The statue. Archangel Michael standing above the fog. Dominic placed the clipping before Jiu.
"The name you are looking for is right here!!!" he said.
Jiu looked up.
"He came when darkness ruled as a beacon of justice , with ruthless strikes and burning vengeance"
Dominic said softly.
"I see the Archangel in him!!"
Jiu stared at the photo. Then smiled. Moments later she called a news contact. The reporter asked the question everyone wanted answered.
"Do you know who killed the Triads?"
Jiu leaned back. Her voice carried calm certainty.
"Yes , I know who the killer is!"
She paused just long enough for anticipation to grow. The city held its breath.
"His name…...is King........Michael King!!!"
END OF CHAPTER 34
The Red Dragon Hotel stood at the heart of Macau like a jewel dipped in blood. Flashbulbs cracked against polished marble. Wealth, perfume, and false smiles flowed beneath chandeliers the size of small moons. Tonight’s charity gala looked almost noble from the outside—red carpet, silk gowns, camera flashes, men laughing too loudly—but Hemant knew better. Behind those golden doors, girls disappeared. Behind those smiles, the syndicate called AZRAEL sold human lives to the highest bidder.
A black Hongqi Qijian CA7460 eased to a halt at the entrance. The rear door opened, and Hemant stepped out, every inch the part. Black tuxedo. Crisp collar. Shoes that caught the hotel lights. A killer disguised as a gentleman. He handed his entry pass to the valet.
"Welcome to the Red Dragon, Mr. King"
Hemant gave a faint nod and crossed the threshold. In his hidden earpiece, Will’s voice crackled with amusement.
"The bowtie doesn’t work on you at all"
Hemant’s mouth barely moved.
"Yeah? Guess I’m not cut out to be James Bond"
A low, smoky female voice slid into the channel.
"No" she said, amused.
"You’re too rugged to be Bond. But you’ve got certain qualities"
Hemant’s gaze shifted—and found her. Jinx. Already inside. Already working. She stood beside a crystal pillar in a violet gown that hugged every curve like a secret. The slit rode high enough to reveal toned legs as she crossed them with deliberate elegance, and the neckline was dangerous enough to make powerful men forget caution. Her lips curved when their eyes met.
Not affection. Not exactly. Just the kind of dangerous understanding that only came from surviving hell together. Then she turned away, drifting back into the glittering crowd, hunting monsters with a smile.
They split. Hemant was guided through a private corridor toward the upper levels. Plush carpet swallowed every footstep. A masked attendant handed him a lacquered black half-mask.
"For discretion, sir"
He slipped it on and entered the auction room. Inside, every face was hidden, every suit expensive, every silence predatory. Hemant scanned the room. He couldn’t identify them, but instinct screamed at him—Chinese Triads, maybe even men tied to the Russian Mafia. Somewhere below, Jinx was getting close to one of AZRAEL’s brokers, her beauty turned into a blade.
Then the auction began. One by one, girls were brought onto the stage beneath white light. Bare shoulders. Painted lips. Eyes hollow with terror. Hemant sat absolutely still while disgust crawled under his skin like acid. Every bid made him want to break someone’s jaw. But not yet. He had to play the part. Then one girl stepped into the light—young woman, trembling, but unlike the others she wasn’t completely broken. Her eyes were alert. Conscious. Watching. Hemant raised his paddle. Another bidder challenged him. Then another. He kept going, voice calm, heartbeat cold. Finally the hammer fell. Sold.
A masked escort led him to a private room higher up in the hotel. When the door shut, Hemant stood alone in silence and reached into his pockets. Tiny pieces. Two screws hidden in the first buttons of his shirt. A spring in the cuff seam. A sliver of machined steel in the lining. He assembled them with practiced hands. By the time the girl entered, he was seated calmly, the makeshift pistol hidden behind his leg. She froze when she saw him. Terror widened her eyes.
"It’s all right" he said quietly.
"I’m not here to hurt you"
It took a minute. Then another. Her breathing slowed.
"Do you know where the others are?" he asked.
She nodded, barely. Hemant showed her the weapon.
"Good. Then I’m getting you out"
They moved through the hall like shadows. Hemant fitted a suppressor onto the tiny gun. No elevator. Too exposed. Stairwells only. Every turn was a coin toss. Once, voices drifted close—guards laughing, keys jingling. Hemant pressed the girl against the wall, one arm around her shoulders, the other holding the pistol low. They passed without seeing them. Three floors down. Service corridor. Kitchen exit. Rain hit them the second they stepped outside into the neon glow of Macau. Twenty minutes later, the girl was inside a SENTINEL safe house, wrapped in a blanket, shaking but alive.
Jinx arrived moments later, breathless, heels abandoned somewhere between here and the hotel. A few strands of dark hair clung to her cheek, and for the first time all night she looked less like a socialite and more like the operator she truly was. Relief flashed across her face when she saw the rescued girl. Then the girl spoke.
"Someone else tried to save us" she whispered.
"A priest. The bad uncles took him. To the cemetery. They said… they’ll kill him there"
The room went still. Hemant felt something cold settle into his bones. Will got the confirmation minutes later.
"Father Dominic. Priest from London. He was in Macau for some Missionary work. He tipped SENTINEL off about the trafficking network. If the Triads have him, they’ll make an example of him"
"We need to get him" Hemant said immediately.
"No" Will snapped.
"Our objective is the girls. We use the witness, convince the authorities, bring in the raid. We cannot compromise the mission for one man"
"Hemant… he’s right" Jinx stepped closer.
He looked at her, and something in his expression made her stop talking.
"SENTINEL doesn’t have a choice" he said.
"I do"
He crossed to his bag and unzipped it. Steel whispered. Out came his signature weapon—a hatchet chained at the base of the grip, dark metal hungry for blood.
He slid a QSZ-92 into the back of his waistband. Jinx caught his wrist. For a second, the room narrowed to just the two of them. Her perfume, rainwater on bare skin, the warmth of her hand against his pulse.
"Don’t do this" she said, voice lower now.
"You’ll blow everything"
Hemant leaned closer, so close he could see the storm in her eyes.
"No" he said softly.
"I’m going to end their partnership"
He placed his phone in her hand.
"If I’m not back in an hour, dial the last number. Take her to PJ Law Enforcement HQ. Get the paperwork moving"
Then he turned and walked toward the door.
Jinx stood there, fingers curled around the phone, watching him disappear into the Macau night. Neon bled across the rain-slick street outside. Somewhere beyond the city lights, in a cemetery full of stone dragons and dead men, Father Dominic was waiting to die. And Hemant King—tuxedo stained with rain, chain coiled at his side, murder in his eyes—was coming for him.
AN HOUR LATER AT ST MICHAEL CEMETERY , LAZARUS STREET, MACAU
Midnight had long strangled the city in silence.
At the forgotten edge of Lazarus Street, the ancient grounds of St. Michael Cemetery slept beneath drifting fog and flickering sodium lights. Rainwater glistened across cracked stone pathways, reflecting rows of weathered gravestones like shattered mirrors. Above them all towered the great statue of Archangel Michael—wings spread wide, sword lowered in judgment—as though the cemetery itself waited for sinners to be weighed.
The peace broke beneath the sound of chains scbanging pavement.
A battered middle-aged man groaned as he was dragged through puddles and broken gravel. His wrists were bound in rusted handcuffs, chains wrapped cruelly around his chest like shackles for the damned. His priest’s collar was stained with dirt and blood, his face bruised from interrogation. Yet despite every bruise and every staggered breath, Father Dominic refused to bow his head.
Dragging him by the chains with a sneer carved across his scarred face was Johnny Ratface, one of the feared lieutenants of the 18K faction of the Triads. Rings glittered across his fingers as he shoved Dominic toward a freshly dug grave waiting like an open mouth in the earth.
"You should’ve minded your business" Johnny spat.
"Thought you could save our girls?" He kicked Dominic hard into the mud.
"You have no clue what kind of monsters run this operation. People disappear because of men above me"
Dominic coughed blood into the dirt but still raised his eyes.
"If innocent people are suffering, then someone must stand for them. I would make the same choice again"
He said quietly, His voice carried no fear. Johnny barked out laughter as the surrounding Triad thugs joined in.
"And where did that courage get you?" Johnny gestured to the grave.
"Right here, Father. Your final resting place" He pointed toward the towering Michael statue looming through the fog.
"You talk about God, justice, angels. But look around. This city belongs to devils. Even your precious saint watches and does nothing"
Dominic slowly lifted his bruised face toward the dark sky.
"He is a saint only for the innocent and the beloved" he whispered.
"For scum like you.....he is the raging fire of Justice!!!!"
Johnny crouched beside him with a grin full of rotting arrogance.
"Then lets see if his fire reaches here when I bury you six feet under.....there is no God here!!!!"
He spread his arms across the cemetery. Dominic shut his eyes. He prayed weakly into the freezing air.
"My lord......please… bring justice to this place...."
And that was the moment an eery silence filled for roughly a second. After which footsteps echoed. Every thug froze. Slow. Measured. Heavy.
Across the cemetery entrance, beyond the statue of Michael, a silhouette emerged through the fog. Streetlights behind him stretched his shadow impossibly long across the graves. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in a charcoal suit dark enough to vanish into the night itself.
A hatchet hung from a chain wrapped around one arm. Its steel edge glimmered. Hemant Kumar walked forward without hurry. The cemetery felt colder.
"Who the hell are you?" Johnny narrowed his eyes.
Hemant stopped beside the towering Michael statue. Fog curled around him like smoke rising from a battlefield.
"You must be Johnny right?" he said evenly.
"You goddamn right.." Johnny replied with pride and twisted cruelty before adding
"And you are"
Hemant's response was a grin , a grin that could be devilish but in Dominic's eyes it was assurance. That things will be right from now on. For Dominic, battered and half-conscious, the moment felt unreal. The statue behind Hemant seemed brighter somehow—light catching strange against rain and stone. Standing beside the archangel, the stranger appeared like an extention of the archangel. With that same grin Hemant responded.
"I am the one that kills Johnny!"
Johnny laughed again.
"This guy is funny. Boys , lets show him I am in no mood for comedy!"
He shouted to his men. The cemetery exploded into motion. Triad enforcers charged with cleavers, rusted machetes, iron rods, and Chinese batons. Hemant moved. The chain snapped through the air with terrifying speed. The hatchet spun outward like a guided blade and buried itself deep into the face of the first attacker with a wet crack. Bone burst apart as the man collapsed instantly. Hemant yanked the chain back violently—the weapon ripping free in a spray of blood before smashing into a second thug’s jaw hard enough to twist his neck sideways.
Three more rushed him.His Kalari instinct took over. Hemant stepped inside the first swing, twisted low, and drove the hatchet upward beneath a thug’s ribs. The blade punched through flesh and emerged slick with crimson from the other side. Before the body even dropped, Hemant pivoted and slammed an elbow into another attacker’s throat, crushing cartilage with a sickening crunch.
Steel flashed toward him. He ducked. The cleaver missed. Hemant answered by wrapping the chain around the attacker’s wrist and pulling hard. Bones cracked. The weapon fell. One brutal hatchet strike followed—clean and merciless—sending the thug crumpling beside gravestones painted red.
The cemetery became chaos.
Rain mixed with blood across old marble. Men screamed. One tried charging from behind only for Hemant to hurl the hatchet backward without looking. The blade buried itself in the attacker’s chest, pinning him against stone before Hemant retrieved it with another violent pull of the chain.
Johnny’s confidence evaporated.
"This psycho—kill him!" he shouted.
Another group rushed. Hemant met them head-on. A baton shattered against his shoulder but he ignored the pain, grabbing the attacker by the collar and smashing his face into a gravestone hard enough to split skin and teeth. Another lunged with a sword—Hemant caught the wrist, twisted until the arm bent wrong, then buried steel into the man’s neck.
One strike. One body. Again. Again. Until only Johnny Ratface remained. Breathing hard, soaked in rain and panic, Johnny backed away.
"You have no idea who you’re messing with"
Johnny growled, suddenly drawing a hidden knife and lunging in desperation. Hemant was already moving. The hatchet flashed once. Johnny screamed. Then again. His legs collapsed beneath him. Blood spilled violently across the mud as he crashed near the open grave, horror replacing arrogance. Hemant stood over him. Johnny coughed desperately.
"The Triads will hunt you—"
Hemant tilted his head.
"Don't worry Johnny....your Overlords....they will let you know who I am when I send them to you to the place you are going right now!"
He said quietly. One final kick sent Johnny tumbling into the grave. He landed hard, bleeding into the soil prepared for Dominic.
"In Hell!" Hemant finished with him.
No prayer came for him. Only silence. Hemant turned and broke Dominic’s chains.
"You alright?" he asked.
Dominic stared at him, shaken.
"Who are you?"
"A man who is interested with some devious activities here" Hemant answered.
"I rescued one of the girls from the Red Dragon Hotel. She told me about you"
Dominic’s face darkened.
"There are more...girls… women… held at a warehouse not far from here" he said urgently"
Hemant looked toward the city lights.
"Show me the way!"
The warehouse crouched near the waterfront like something abandoned by time. Rust bled down corrugated walls. Salt wind howled through broken windows. Dominic led Hemant through a side entrance, his breathing uneven as distant waves crashed somewhere beyond the industrial district. Inside, the silence felt wrong. Then they heard it. Whimpering. Behind stacked crates and concealed steel plating lay a hidden chamber secured with thick chains. Hemant shattered the lock with the back of his hatchet.
The door creaked open. Inside were frightened girls and women huddled together beneath flickering lights.Bruised. Terrified. Some barely looked old enough to understand what had happened to them. Dominic immediately rushed to comfort them.
"You’re safe now" he said softly.
Hemant turned toward the warehouse floor. Something felt off. Then the side door burst open.
"About damn time"
Jinx stepped through carrying tactical gear slung over one shoulder. Gone was the glamorous party attire from earlier. Now, Jinx wore combat armor fitted tight for movement, a rifle hanging against her back and pistols holstered at her waist.
"Took care of the surveillance blackout" she said.
"You look terrible"
Hemant glanced down at blood splattered across his suit.
"Not all of it are mine" he replied.
His eyes drifted toward a massive enclosed fishing truck sitting near the rear loading dock.
"Did you call the number?" he asked.
"Yeah. Nobody picked up" Jinx nodded.
"Noone's supposed to" Hemant said.
Her expression shifted.
"That number? It was your research work few days back isn't it?"
"Exactly , and that contact will help us clear this thing in whole" Hemant replied.
He pointed toward the rescued captives.
"Take Father Dominic and the girls to the PJ Law Enforcement headquarters. Use the truck and leave through the back"
That was when engines thundered outside. Headlights flooded broken windows. Vehicle doors slammed. Voices shouted in Cantonese. Jinx swore under her breath.
"They're here!"
Hemant calmly looked toward the warehouse entrance.
"Take them and go"
"What about you?"
He walked toward stacked crates.
"I’ll buy time. Give them a taste of the traditional SENTINEL shock and awe!"
The front shutter exploded inward. Triad gunmen stormed through carrying rifles, machetes, and iron weapons. One shouted the order to kill everyone. Hemant’s eyes landed on stacked crates filled with smuggled rifles. AK-47s. Illegal imports. He cracked open the crate and pulled one free. The firefight erupted. Automatic fire ripped through the warehouse.
Hemant moved like something ancient and merciless. Controlled bursts dropped the first wave before they even understood what was happening. Men crashed through stacked boxes as bullets tore through cover. One attacker rushed too close. Hemant dropped the rifle, swung his chained hatchet, and buried steel into the man’s shoulder before slamming him into shelving hard enough to collapse it. Another charged with a blade.
Hemant sidestepped and answered with brutal efficiency. Close combat became carnage. The warehouse floor transformed into a battlefield of overturned crates, shattered lights, smoke, and screaming steel. Triad enforcers expected fear. Instead they met a storm. Gunfire. Chain strikes. Broken bodies. Blood streaked across concrete. Every step Hemant took carved deeper panic into their ranks. Rumors were already beginning. Some whispered Johnny Ratface had been butchered by a ghost. Others claimed an executioner had come for the underworld. Tonight, fear gained a face. By the time the truck escaped through the rear gate carrying Dominic and the survivors, Hemant stood alone among wreckage.
The remaining enforcers hesitated. He used that hesitation. A flashbang taken from confiscated cargo detonated. Chaos followed. Hemant disappeared into the alleyways of Macau. But not before half the warehouse burned. The chase lasted minutes. Black SUVs flooded narrow streets. Gunmen poured out. Hemant vaulted fences, ducked through neon-lit alleyways, and fought his way across backstreets until he finally reached a dead end near the waterfront. Footsteps surrounded him. Weapons raised.
"End of the line" one enforcer sneered.
Then came headlights. A long black limousine drifted into the street like something from another world. The rear door opened. No hesitation. Hemant sprinted, slid inside, and the limo peeled away before gunfire could land. Inside sat Jiu Mey. The Current Red Pole of the Sun On Yee faction watched him quietly, dressed sharp despite the late hour.
"You really made a mess tonight" she said.
"They were trafficking children" Hemant leaned back, breathing steady.
"I heard" She nodded once.
The city blurred outside as the limousine carried them toward the coast. Eventually they stopped near a rocky seaside overlook where crashing waves struck black stone. Jiu stepped out first.
"You know, I was curious with your proposal when you came to me weeks ago. We were concerned you were a spy until what you proposed what we did and what you wanted in return. Your insight and intel helped our influence in many ways"
She said, lighting a cigarette against the cold wind. Hemant folded his arms.
"You took Water Street in Shanghai" Hemant stated.
"And two more territories, Sun On Yee’s stronger now" she answered.
She studied him.
"But 18K is getting desperate. More violent. This recent uprising from our side could be catastrophic"
Hemant stared toward the ocean.
"It has to, my interest is not in the 18k taking over the Triads" he said quietly.
She raised an eyebrow.
"You sound idealistic for someone covered in blood"
"Even if you're a hunter , you cannot keep your hands clean killing monsters"
Hemant answered.
"Desperate times need desperate measures!"
He looked toward her.
"Build a crew. People loyal to you. People willing to dirty their hands if it means protecting something better"
"I already have some" Jiu nodded.
"But if I move, I will become the next target" she added.
"Then make me the target" Hemant gave the answer without hesitation.
"What?" Her expression shifted.
"Don’t tie this to Sun On Yee" Hemant said.
"Create a new threat, someone that is believed to be the new enemy of the Triad coming from the sea across. An outside force determined to shake the Triads and its chain of leadership of crime!"
He stepped closer.
"A ghost. A mythical hunter who butchered Johnny Ratface. Someone coming after the worst of the underworld. A new danger to the triads. And when the overlords of 18K and the oblivious Triad masters are trying to find this new threat, the Sun On Yee can climb ranks and grow its influence in this chaos"
Fear was currency. Stories were weapons. Hemant intended to weaponize both.
"Turn me into a symbol of new challenge for the Triads. Make me a force they must be concerned!"
He continued. Jiu slowly smiled.
"You want me to build you into a legend?"
"No" Hemant replied.
"I want you to build a false crisis that will concern the Triads giving the Sun On Yee the opening to grow their worth!!!"
The next morning aboard a SENTINEL C-17 aircraft bound for Hereford, Hemant and Jinx stood in the control room watching international news. Macau law enforcement had launched massive raids. Trafficking warehouses were being dismantled. Arrests spread across criminal networks tied to 18K. National inquiries had begun. Jinx crossed her arms.
"So, this was your strategic masterplan?" she said
Hemant allowed himself the smallest smile.
"SENTINEL was made to maintain order of the world , and Shanghai's order lays in Sun On Yee's success. Its a bigger victory in the long road!"
Somewhere in Shanghai hours later, Jiu Mey assembled trusted figures in an underground meeting hall. Father Dominic stood nearby, protected and awaiting transport to England. Names were assigned. Territories discussed. Orders given. One man stood out.
Ricky Tan. A local operator chosen to help command the new movement. Mey’s people already whispered about Hemant. His SENTINEL codename—Mr. King—passed from mouth to mouth. Still, something about it felt incomplete. Then Dominic arrived carrying newspapers from Macau. Front pages displayed images from St. Michael Cemetery. Most focused on the massacre. But one image lingered. The statue. Archangel Michael standing above the fog. Dominic placed the clipping before Jiu.
"The name you are looking for is right here!!!" he said.
Jiu looked up.
"He came when darkness ruled as a beacon of justice , with ruthless strikes and burning vengeance"
Dominic said softly.
"I see the Archangel in him!!"
Jiu stared at the photo. Then smiled. Moments later she called a news contact. The reporter asked the question everyone wanted answered.
"Do you know who killed the Triads?"
Jiu leaned back. Her voice carried calm certainty.
"Yes , I know who the killer is!"
She paused just long enough for anticipation to grow. The city held its breath.
"His name…...is King........Michael King!!!"
END OF CHAPTER 34
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