Ultimate Choice System: I Became The Richest!

Sam groaned, shaking his head to clear the haze. His legs wobbled as he pushed himself upright, his eyes darting back to the shattered window. He half-expected Noah to come leaping out after him like something out of a horror movie.

Instead, Noah stepped calmly to the edge of the window, the shards crunching under his boots. He leaned slightly forward, peering down at Sam with an almost bored expression.

Sam's chest heaved as he stared up at him, a mix of fear and defiance flickering in his gaze. "Stay back!" he shouted, stumbling a step backward. "I'll—I'll call the cops, man! Don't think I won't!"

Noah's lips quirked into a faint smirk. "Sure. You do that."

Sam froze, his threat deflating before it even left his mouth. He didn't wait to see what Noah might do next. Spinning on his heel, he took off into the alley, limping slightly but moving as fast as his adrenaline-fueled legs would carry him.

Noah's smirk faded as the last echoes of shattered glass settled into silence. His gaze lingered on the broken window for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he turned on his heel and walked out the way he came. His boots crunched against the scattered debris, the sound steady and unhurried.

By the time he stepped back onto the street, it was like he'd never been there at all.

...

In a dimly lit alley three blocks away, Sam Richard stumbled to a stop, his chest heaving as he gulped in shallow breaths. The stink of rotting garbage and wet asphalt surrounded him, but it barely registered past the hammering in his chest. He whipped his head around, his bloodshot eyes scanning the shadows.

Nothing.

No footsteps. No heavy breathing. No hooded spectre calmly stalking him.

He bent forward, resting his hands on his knees as he gasped for air. A nervous chuckle escaped his lips, sharp and shaky. "Who the hell was that lunatic?" he muttered, spitting onto the ground.

Sam straightened, running a trembling hand through his dishevelled hair. His mind raced, replaying the last few minutes in vivid detail—the door exploding inward, the unrelenting way that guy walked toward him, those cold eyes that didn't flinch at a flying bottle.

His laugh grew louder, more unhinged. "Jesus Christ, what was that guy even made of? Steel? Freakin' Terminator?"

He took another glance over his shoulder, just to be sure, but the alley remained empty. Relief trickled in, though it did little to calm his frayed nerves.

"Thank god he didn't follow me," he muttered, slumping against a damp brick wall. His head tilted back, and he closed his eyes for a second, letting the rain start to drizzle over him.

But relief didn't last. The reality of his situation hit him like a sucker punch. "Tsk." His tongue clicked against his teeth, frustration replacing fear. "Where the hell am I supposed to stay now?"

He glanced down at his scraped-up arm, the faint sting barely noticeable compared to the sharp ache in his legs. "I can't go back there. He probably thinks I'm stupid enough to try. Hell, he's probably waiting by the door already, just hoping I show up again."

The thought sent a shiver crawling down his spine.

Sam dug into his pockets, fishing out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He pulled one out with his teeth, flicking the lighter with shaky hands until the flame caught. The first drag hit his lungs like a bitter slap, but it steadied him.

Smoke curled from his lips as he stared blankly at the ground, his mind spiraling. "Should I call the cops?" he asked aloud, the words sounding ridiculous even to himself.

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, right. Like that's gonna do anything. They'll maybe throw him in lockup for a night or two, but guys like that?" He took another drag, the ember glowing bright in the dark. "He'll come after me the second they let him out. And this time, he won't just be knocking down my door."

The rain started coming down harder, but Sam barely noticed. He flicked ash onto the ground, his gaze unfocused. "So what the hell am I supposed to do? Lay low? Move to the other side of the city? Change my name?"

The thought made him laugh again, bitter and hollow. "Yeah, because I can afford to disappear. Sure thing, buddy. Just let me grab my private jet and head to paradise."

The cigarette burned closer to his fingers, but Sam didn't seem to notice until the heat kissed his skin. He hissed, flicking it into a puddle, watching the ember sizzle out with a faint hiss.

The cigarette burned dangerously close to Sam's fingers, but the sting didn't register until the ember finally bit into his skin. He yelped, flicking it away with a curse. The glowing stub landed in a puddle nearby, extinguishing with a faint hiss.

"Shit," he muttered, shaking his hand and sucking on the burned finger. His nerves were still frayed, his thoughts spiraling, but he couldn't stay here. He shoved his hands into his pockets, ready to slink off into the night.

Lifting his gaze from the rain-slicked ground, Sam froze mid-step.

Noah stood there.

Silent, unmoving, and as unrelenting as a statue carved from shadow. The hood obscured most of his face, but Sam didn't need to see his eyes to feel the weight of his stare. It pressed down on him, suffocating, rooting him in place like a deer caught in headlights.

"Y-y—" Sam stammered, his voice strangled and weak. But before he could finish, Noah moved.

With a sudden, fluid motion, Noah drove his knee straight into Sam's gut. The impact was brutal, a crushing blow that knocked the wind out of him with a sickening whoof. Sam doubled over, gasping for air that refused to come, his legs buckling under him.

Noah didn't give him time to recover. Grabbing Sam's arm with a grip like iron, he pivoted and threw him over his shoulder with a perfectly executed overhand toss.

Sam's body hit the concrete with a bone-rattling thud, the back of his head smacking the ground hard enough to blur his vision. Pain exploded through his spine, radiating outward in fiery waves.

"Arghhh!" he groaned, his voice raw and cracking, as he writhed on the ground.

Noah didn't hesitate. He crouched down, still holding Sam's arm in his grip, and raised one boot over Sam's trembling hand.

"Wait—no, no, no!" Sam rasped, panic surging through his veins.

Noah's boot came down hard, the stomp accompanied by a sickening crunch.

Sam's scream echoed through the narrow alley, high-pitched and guttural, a sound born from pure agony. His body jerked involuntarily, his good hand clawing at the ground as the broken one hung limp, fingers twisted unnaturally.

Noah's expression didn't change. Calm, detached, and utterly devoid of pity. He adjusted his stance, shifted his weight, and moved to the other hand.

"Please, don't—"

The second stomp came down with the same unflinching force. Another crack tore through the air, followed by Sam's ragged, choked sobs.

Both hands now lay shattered, mangled beyond recognition. Blood seeped from the broken skin, pooling on the wet concrete beneath him.

Sam's cries had lost their volume, reduced to whimpers and gasping breaths. His body trembled as he lay sprawled on the ground, utterly defeated.

Noah stood over him for a moment, the rain washing over his hood and shoulders. He looked down at Sam without a hint of emotion, his face as unreadable as ever.

Then, without a word, he turned and walked away.

Sam's vision blurred with tears, his mind unable to process the sheer finality of what had just happened. His body was wrecked, his hands utterly destroyed, and the man responsible for it had disappeared into the shadows like he was nothing more than a fleeting nightmare.

For a brief moment, Sam thought about screaming for help, but he knew no one would come. Not here. Not in a place like this.

As the pain consumed him, one thought echoed in his mind, louder than the rain, louder than the agony.

I should've ran further.

Noah walked down the dimly lit alley, his boots splashing softly in shallow puddles, and emerged onto the main street without a backward glance. The hum of distant traffic and the faint glow of neon signs painted the slick pavement in fractured colors. Raising his hand, he flagged down a taxi, the vehicle pulling up with a screech that echoed through the quiet night.

Sliding into the backseat, Noah gave the driver the hotel's name in a calm, low voice. The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror, his tired eyes lingering on Noah's hood and rain-dappled face for a moment too long.

"Late night?" the driver asked, his tone half curious, half indifferent.

Noah didn't answer, his gaze fixed on the blurred city lights outside the window.

The ride was silent except for the occasional rumble of the engine and the rhythmic swipe of the windshield wipers. When they arrived, Noah handed over the fare and stepped out.

...

Back in his suite, he shrugged off his damp jacket, letting it fall onto a chair. The silence of the room wrapped around him, heavy and comforting. Heading to the bathroom, he turned the shower handle until steam filled the air, the sound of water cascading onto the marble tiles.

Noah stepped under the spray, the heat soaking into his muscles, washing away the grit of the night. He stood there for a long moment, letting the water stream over his face, his thoughts quiet. No anger. No triumph. Just a blank, focused calm.

After drying off, he dropped onto the bed, his head sinking into the pillow. The world outside the windows hummed with life, but Noah shut his eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

The soft knock on his door came in the morning, rousing him from his rest.

"Noah, honey, come on out. Breakfast is ready," Caroline's voice called from the other side, her tone warm but with a familiar thread of insistence.

Noah opened his eyes, blinking at the sunlight filtering through the curtains. For a moment, he lay still, his mind quickly snapping into focus, scanning the room out of habit.

"Alright, Mum," he replied, his voice still low and rough from sleep. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet meeting the plush rug. Rising, he headed to the bathroom. The cold water from the sink jolted him fully awake as he splashed it over his face. He rubbed a towel over his skin, staring into the mirror briefly.
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His reflection stared back, with a soft warm smile.