Just as Damon reached for the ring, the cathedral doors thundered open with a violent bang that silenced the entire hall. Heads snapped toward the entrance. The string quartet froze mid-note. The emcee stuttered, unsure whether to continue or run. A cold, mocking voice echoed through the marble chamber: “Your weakling gift has arrived.” Everyone turned. A group of strangers marched into the venue like they owned the place—like they’d been waiting for this exact moment. At the front walked a man in a black trench coat that dusted the floor with every step. He moved with quiet intensity, his presence heavier than the silence that followed him. His jaw was clenched, his gaze razor-sharp, and there was a storm behind those eyes—a storm everyone present thought they had weathered two months ago. Adam. But this wasn’t the Adam they remembered. Gone was the man they mocked at the Deity Banquet, the man they spat on and kicked while he was down. This Adam looked… dangerous. Reborn

Damon lips curved into a condescending smile. “So you finally know your place, Adam,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “Good. Now, let’s see this so-called gift of yours. If it amuses me, maybe I’ll let the past go.”The crowd chuckled and murmured, half-relieved that the scene might end peacefully, half-hungry for the drama to escalate.But behind Damon’s arrogant smirk, something darker simmered.He didn’t plan to let Adam walk away from this.He only wanted to pacify the situation long enough to avoid a scandal mid-ceremony. Once the vows were said and the cameras off, Adam would pay—in blood.Adam stepped forward calmly, a glint of cold amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’ll love it. With this gift, I can guarantee you’ll never have to worry about shelter again,” he said smoothly.He turned slightly and snapped his fingers.At that instant, the six men from the Supreme Pavilion—dressed in black suits with golden pins—pulled back the red silk cloth covering the large objec

The room cracked with tension. Rage surged like a current waiting to snap.Damon’s fists were clenched so tightly, his knuckles had turned white. His chest rose and fell with rapid fury, every breath louder than the last. He looked one second away from launching himself at Adam."You arrogant son of a—""Enough!" Tessa cut in, panic flashing in her eyes. Her voice wavered between fear and frustration. “Adam, stop this madness! You’re bluffing, and everyone here knows it! Keep running your mouth like this, and even I won’t be able to protect you!”Adam turned to her slowly, a calm smirk dancing at the edge of his lips. "Protect me?" he repeated, like the words amused him. “I’m not the one who needs protection. And I’m not bluffing. I’m just being honest.”His voice dropped, smooth as ice.“The Cross family? Insignificant. Ants.”Gasps rippled through the crowd like a wave slapping stone.“You bastard!” Eleanor barked, her eyes flaring. “A loser like you has no right to insult the Cross

“Since you’re so eager to go to the afterlife, I’ll grant your wish!” Damon roared.In a flash, he lunged forward like a viper unleashed, a blur of expensive fabric and murderous intent. His eyes burned with bloodlust as he aimed a slap straight at Adam’s face—no mercy, just humiliation. He didn’t plan to end him quickly. He wanted to enjoy it. Drag it out. Break him slowly.But Adam didn’t flinch.Instead, he watched Damon’s incoming hand with the kind of calm that didn’t belong in a room full of enemies.And then he moved.It was swift—barely noticeable to most—but in the next heartbeat, Damon’s wrist was caught in a vice grip. The smugness drained from Damon’s face, replaced by a flash of confusion.He tried to pull away, but his arm wouldn’t budge.Adam’s fingers were like steel—unyielding, suffocating.“W-What the hell...?” Damon muttered, panic setting in. He twisted, yanked, even tried to summon a burst of inner strength. But it was useless.“You’re trembling,” Adam said, voice

“I’ve heard the Iron family had a top-tier bodyguard… but I didn’t think the rumors were actually true.”A man in the crowd suddenly widened his eyes. “Wait a second—I know him! That’s Megan Atla! The Iron Fist!”Gasps rippled through the room like a wave of thunder crashing through silence. Faces turned pale. Drinks were dropped. Whispers erupted.“That can’t be him... the Iron Fist’s just a myth!”“No. Look at his hands—those scars. That’s him, alright.”Brielle’s eyes lit up, lips curling with a mix of awe and sadistic excitement. “Mr. Trent,” she turned, almost breathless, “is he really that dangerous?”Trent smirked, savoring the moment like a man who’d just unveiled a loaded gun at a knife fight. “Dangerous? He’s a human weapon. They say his fists alone could shatter concrete. My father saved him years ago, that’s the only reason someone like Megan even bothers staying under our roof. Otherwise, a warrior of his caliber would be standing at the top of Dawnhaven’s power structure