The Rise of PhoenixSalt
The Rat Diggers were officially dead.
That was the story the world believed.
But beneath shipping docks, abandoned factories, and salt warehouses near silent coastlines, the gang was very much alive — quieter, sharper, and far more dangerous than before.
PhoenixSalt.
That was the name whispered across the international underworld.
It looked like ordinary salt.
Smelled like salt.
Felt like salt between the fingers.
But when mixed with nitrogen and sodium hypochlorite, its true nature revealed itself — a powerful synthetic painkiller that dulled agony, sharpened aggression, and left addiction burning behind the eyes.
It flooded black markets from Italy to Russia, from Eastern Europe to South America.
Demand exploded.
But India was untouched.
Not because the gang couldn't sell there —
but because Daniel refused to allow it.
Daniel's Refusal
Inside a hidden coastal factory, machines hummed softly.
White crystals poured into steel containers.
A man in a lab coat approached Daniel, holding a small glass vial.
"Boss," he said nervously.
"This is the final refined sample. Taste it. Just a pinch."
Daniel stared at the vial.
The crystals shimmered under the fluorescent lights.
He shook his head slowly.
"No."
The scientist hesitated.
"Sir… everyone who controls the market tests their product."
Daniel stood up, his face pale.
"I don't taste poison," he said.
"And I don't become part of it."
The scientist stepped back, confused.
Daniel walked past him, down the long iron staircase, out of the factory.
The smell of chemicals faded behind him.
Minutes later, Daniel drove alone toward the sea.
The Shoreline Conversation
Waves crashed violently against black rocks.
The sky was dull, heavy with clouds.
Joseph stood near the shore, pretending to fish — a wire hidden beneath his jacket, eyes scanning the distance.
Daniel parked the car and joined him.
Joseph didn't look up.
"They confirmed it," Joseph said quietly.
"After the death of the Twelfth Shadow, all PhoenixSalt samples vanished from Indian soil."
Daniel nodded.
Joseph continued,
"Now it's exported only. Europe. Russia. Africa.
The Drug Control Bureau thinks it's salt smuggling."
Daniel picked up a stone and threw it into the sea.
Joseph added,
"When mixed with nitrogen and sodium hypochlorite… it reveals itself."
Daniel closed his eyes.
"No more supply inside India," Daniel said firmly.
"I won't poison my own country."
Joseph smirked slightly.
"Oh? Since when did you become a patriot?"
Daniel turned to him.
"That's not the point," he said.
"In fifteen months, I die. According to the script."
Joseph went silent.
Daniel continued,
"After I kill Alfred's wife… he turns into a monster.
He kills on suspicion. On doubt. On rage."
The waves roared louder.
"You're the only one not written in the script," Daniel said softly.
"So you won't die."
Joseph swallowed.
"I'll manage this," Daniel said.
"Once everyone is settled… I end this business."
Joseph nodded.
"Ten months, right?"
Daniel didn't answer.
May 12 — A Morning of Love
Jessica woke early.
For once, there was no fear in her chest.
She stood before her wardrobe, fingers brushing over expensive clothes, finally choosing a red coat.
Her hair fell in soft curls.
She opened a drawer filled with car keys — twenty-five of them.
She picked one without thinking.
Outside, the city glowed in golden morning light.
Across the street, inside a glass-walled restaurant, Alfred waited.
Blue shirt.
Formal trousers.
Nervous hands.
When Jessica entered, time slowed.
Every step she took felt suspended.
Alfred's breath caught as their eyes met.
She smiled.
They sat across from each other, sunlight pouring between them.
After lunch arrived, Jessica took a deep breath.
"You men always propose," she said lightly.
"So let me do it this time."
Alfred blinked.
She continued, voice steady,
"As my college friend.
As my business partner.
As my lover…"
She reached across the table.
"Will you be my future husband?"
Alfred's eyes filled with tears.
Without hesitation, he stood, held her face, and kissed her.
"Yes," he whispered.
"I will be your future."
The world smiled for one moment.
The Global Collapse
That same day, hell broke loose.
From Naples to Moscow.
From underground ports to abandoned churches.
The Rat Diggers vanished overnight.
Distribution lines broke.
Middlemen disappeared.
Supply chains collapsed.
Demand tripled.
Gangs slaughtered each other for control.
In Italy, families cried as sons were dragged into wars they didn't understand.
In Russia, entire slums burned.
In Africa, children watched fathers die over white crystals worth more than gold.
Poor men fought rich wars.
Tears soaked money.
Daniel's Final Move
Daniel watched the chaos from a yacht drifting far from shore.
Satellite phones rang nonstop.
He ignored them.
He called Joseph instead.
"Run the business," Daniel said.
"They won't kill you. You're not in the story."
Joseph protested, but Daniel cut the call.
Daniel erased his identity.
No name.
No face.
No trace.
He disappeared to an island — far from law, far from gangs, far from fate.
But he knew one thing.
Alfred would follow the trail.
Through the Italian Mafia.
Through blood.
Through war.
And when Alfred reached the truth…
The script would demand its final scene.