Idle Money System

Benjamin's mind worked quickly, analyzing the room and their precarious situation.

The big man behind Valentine was tense, his finger hovering over the trigger of the gun pressed to her head.

Valentine seeing his father, the look of fear in her eyes disappear when she also saw the glimpse of his uncle Shanks.

"Dad!" she bellowed, which made the man frowned from the shout as he struck the muzzle of the gun a little in the back of her head making her in pain.

Benjamin clenched his teeth as the big man threatened her daughter, his tone cold and deadly.

"Stop shouting. Your voice is annoying," the man said, making Valentine bite her lip in frustration.

Around them, armed men lounged casually, some standing guard, ready to draw their guns at the slightest movement.

He stole a glance at Shanks, whose calm exterior belied the simmering rage beneath.

Benjamin knew they needed a good plan. One wrong move, and Valentine's life would be over in an instant.

"Shanks, listen," Benjamin whispered, keeping his eyes on the big man.

"We need a distraction, something to draw his attention long enough for you to close in. Let me handle it. Just be ready."

Shanks gave a small nod, his gaze unwavering, his body coiled like a spring ready to explode into action.

Benjamin turned his attention to the leader, the man with the gun pointed at Valentine.

"Alright, let's talk," he said in a clear, commanding voice, raising his hands slightly to signal he meant no harm.

The big man narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious but curios enough to listen.

"Talk? What could you possibly say to change this situation, old man?"

Benjamin just smiled faintly, "You don't want to do this. You must be a hired killer, right? And I'm sure your boss values negotiation over unnecessary bloodshed. Killing her now would be a waste, don't you think? After all, leverage is only valuable while it's alive."

The big man hearing this could not but laugh for a moment, the faintest grin was crossing his face.

Around the room, a few of the armed men stopped what they were doing to watch the exchange filled with amusement.

Benjamin was unaware that their boss intended to have them all killed in the most gruesome way.

"You think you can sweet-talk your way out of this?" the big man scoffed, but his grip on Valentine shifted slightly.

Benjamin took a step forward, keeping his movements deliberate.

"I think you're smarter than you look. You know who I am, don't you? I've got the kind of connections that could make you very rich—or very dead—depending on how this plays out."

The big man chuckled darkly, clearly amused but also slightly intrigued.

"And what exactly are you offering?" he said playing with him, since their boss is about to arrive.

Benjamin tilted his head slightly, pretending to mull it over. "I'll offer you something priceless: an opportunity to walk out of this alive."

The big man barked out a laugh, the sound filling the room. It was the reaction Benjamin had hoped for, an overconfident man who enjoyed being the center of attention.

As Benjamin continued speaking, he subtly shifted his body, angling himself away from Shanks to give him a clearer path to Valentine.

"Of course, that depends on whether you've got the guts to negotiate or if you're just a trigger-happy thug."

That final jab was enough. The big man's face twisted with annoyance as he stepped forward, his focus entirely on Benjamin now.

"You've got some nerve, old man. Keep talking, and I might just—"

He never finished the sentence. Not knowing that Shanks was stepping a little closer to close the distance and when it was finally met.

He exploded into motion, his body a blur as he closed the distance in an instant.

The armed men barely had time to react as Shanks crossed the thirty meters separating him from Valentine, his speed defying human comprehension.

Before the big man could turn, Shanks was already there. His hand struck like iron, disarming the gun in a fluid motion while his other hand delivered a bone-crushing blow to the man's chest, sending him sprawling.

The room erupted into chaos as the armed men scrambled to respond, but Shanks was already shielding Valentine, his eyes glowing with lethal intent.

When the big man was thrown to the ground with a heavy thud, the armed men quickly raised their guns and unleashed a flurry of bullets.

Shanks, fully prepared, grabbed Valentine and moved in an instant, reaching Benjamin and pulling him away as bullets rained down around them.

The big man, blood dripping down his face, watched the scene with burning anger. Realization hit him—he had been completely outplayed.

Wiping the blood from his lips, he grabbed an AK from one of his men and unleashed a barrage of bullets.

Even with Valentine and Benjamin in his arms, Shanks dodged effortlessly, weaving through the hail of gunfire. Over 50 guns aimed at his back, yet none could touch him.

"Shit! The rumors were true, this guy can dodge bullets like a damn magician!" the big man bellowed, frustration growing as he reloaded his rifle and took aim again.

But Shanks moved in a zigzag, dodging every shot with precision, making it impossible to land a hit.

Shanks then saw a steel crate stacking together. Gripping tightly the two hands, he rushed towards the place seeing what he was planning the big man shouted to aim in advance.

But it was still no use. Shanks was too fast, reaching the steel crates just in time. Bullets rained down, sparking as they struck the metal.

Valentine covered her ears as she lay on the ground, trembling. Benjamin hugged her protectively from behind, shielding her in case any stray bullet managed to break through.

Shanks crouched low behind the crates, his sharp eyes scanning the chaotic scene.

Bullets continued to ricochet around him, but he remained calm and focused.

"Stay down. and don't move," he said firmly, glancing back at Valentine and Benjamin before turning his attention to the armed men.

Without another word, Shanks darted out of cover, his speed so blinding that the nearest gunmen barely had time to react.

Valentine and Benjamin had no time to react as he moved so fast.

"Over there! Shoot him!" one of them yelled.

Shanks zigzagged across the floor, the sound of gunfire chasing after him.

He leaped onto a nearby stack of crates, his powerful legs propelling him upward.

From his elevated position, he spotted his first target—a man reloading his AK.

Shanks sprang forward, grabbing the rifle barrel mid-air, twisting it with a sharp motion.

The man's finger squeezed the trigger reflexively, sending a spray of bullets into two of his own allies before Shanks yanked the gun free and struck him across the temple with the stock.

The man collapsed as Shanks hit the ground, rifle now in hand.

"Take him down!" shouted another, but Shanks was already moving.

He rolled into cover behind a steel drum, popped out, and fired a single shot. The bullet whizzed through the air, striking a gunman squarely between the eyes.

Without pausing, he adjusted his aim and fired again, hitting another in the throat.

The man gurgled and fell, his weapon clattering uselessly to the ground.

The remaining men scattered, trying to reposition themselves, but Shanks wouldn't allow it. He dashed toward a group attempting to take cover behind a forklift.

As one man peeked out to aim, Shanks launched the rifle at him like a spear, the heavy stock slamming into his jaw and sending him sprawling.

Unarmed but undeterred, Shanks closed the distance with the other two. The first raised his gun to fire, but Shanks grabbed the barrel and twisted it upward, forcing the man to shoot into the ceiling.

With a sharp kick to the man's knee, Shanks dropped him to the ground, then delivered a precise strike to the neck, rendering him unconscious.

The last man swung the butt of his rifle at Shanks, but he ducked effortlessly, countering with an upward palm strike that sent the gunman stumbling back.

Shanks followed up with a roundhouse kick to the chest, knocking the man into a stack of crates that toppled over him.

By now, the remaining gunmen were panicking.

"He's too fast! Shoot, shoot!"

Bullets flew wildly as Shanks dashed between obstacles. He snatched a pistol from one of the fallen men and moved with grace.

He slid across the floor, firing as he moved, each shot precise. One man fell with a bullet between his eyes. Another dropped his gun and screamed as a round tore through his shoulder.

Shanks ducked behind a crate, reloaded the pistol in a fluid motion, then popped out and fired three more shots.

The first hit a man in the chest, the second grazed another's hand, and the third found its mark in the head of a gunman who had been hiding behind a stack of barrels.

With only about 70-75 men remaining and about 20 of them were down, Shanks shifted tactics.

He sprinted straight at them, dodging their bullets with quick, unpredictable movements.

One man aimed directly at him, only to gasp as Shanks vaulted over a a load bearing post made out of metal and landed behind him. A quick chop to the neck sent the man crumpling.

The last four grouped together, their hands shaking as they pointed their rifles at him.

"Stay back!" one of them screamed.

Shanks smirked, darting to the side. He grabbed a discarded AK from the ground, swung out of cover, and fired a short burst. The bullets struck two men, sending them crashing to the ground.

The remaining two tried to retreat, but Shanks was on them in an instant. He fired twice, both shots hitting their marks cleanly.

The warehouse fell silent as about 60 men remaining looking at this carnage, the stench of gunpowder lingering in the air.

Shanks stood amidst the carnage, his breathing steady as he surveyed the scene. Before he could take another step, a slow, deliberate clap echoed through the room.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Shanks turned sharply, his senses was on high alert as a figure emerged from the entranced door, his slow applause filling the tense air.

"Well, well," the figure drawled, a smirk playing on its lips.

"I must admit, that was quite the performance." he remarked.