“I won’t ask again,” Andrew said, his voice quieter now, but colder. “Give me the herb.” Cain took a slow sip, like a man who’d already decided how the story would end. “Let me get straight to the point, then,” he said, voice slurring with pleasure. “You want the crimson herb? Prove you deserve it.” Andrew took a step closer, his tone sharp and cold “Defeating Hades wasn’t enough?” Cain shrugged. “That was the condition, Mr. B. But you see, this place?” He gestured lazily around. “There are no rules here. Rules can be rewritten. Replaced. Or ignored completely. Especially when they no longer serve us.” He leaned forward again, eyes gleaming now. “You have two options. Prove yourself again by becoming Shadow Furnace’s new head fighter… or walk out of here without the crimson herb.” Andrew didn’t respond. Not immediately. He stood still, staring at the man across from him, but his mind raced. The pieces snapped together faster than he expected. There was no herb. There never w

Andrew decided to meet with Mr. Torino, the man Cain had mentioned—the one who supposedly held answers about the crimson herb. Whether the man could be trusted was still uncertain, but at this point, Andrew knew one thing for sure: the deeper he went into this web, the more every move mattered. When he arrived at the office, he saw five other men already seated in the narrow waiting area. They didn’t look like ordinary clients. Their suits were crisp, their silence loaded. Men like these didn’t sit in waiting rooms unless they were waiting for something very valuable—or someone very powerful. And none of them seemed like the type to be kept waiting for long. Andrew took a seat without a word. His eyes didn’t scan the room. He didn’t acknowledge anyone. There was no point in drawing attention to himself when all he wanted was information. His thoughts were elsewhere—fixed on the herb, Cain’s warning, and now this mysterious Mr. Torino. Minutes passed. He was still thi

Silence fell in the room, Thick and heavy . No one spoke, not even Amik. Every man in that lounge had gone still, as if suddenly realizing they’d been standing beside royalty and hadn’t known it. Every man in that lounge knew exactly who he was now. “This is Amik Brandon, the CEO of Amiklin Corp” One of the men said out loud , his voice trembling with amazement “Of course it's him !” Another yelled in astonishment Amik Brandon. The man the whole of Jashem was buzzing about. The man whose name had been plastered across every media channel four days ago after the shocking announcement that A and U Group had partnered with him. A partnership of that level was unheard of. Almost mythical. Every tech CEO in the city had been trying for years to get A and U’s attention, and yet somehow, Amik had done it. Practically overnight, he'd become Jashem’s newest obsession. People wanted to know how he pulled it off. Was it innovation? Was it bribery? Was it sheer luck? It didn

Andrew slowly took the phone away from his ear, his thumb still resting on the screen. He didn’t blink. He didn’t move. His face stayed calm—too calm. But the room around him was not. Suddenly, loud laughter exploded in the air, sharp and mocking. It was cruel. It was on purpose. Each laugh was louder and meaner than the last, filled with pride and disbelief. They weren’t just laughing at what he said. They were laughing at the idea that someone like him could say it and actually believe it. One of them clapped loudly, almost choking in his amusement. “You hear that?! He cancelled the contract,” he managed to gasp, slapping the armrest beside him. “The bloody contract! What’s next? He owns Jashem too?!” Another man snorted and leaned in, eyes glinting with ridicule. “Only the chairman can make that call. And last I checked, the chairman doesn’t wear cheap jeans and second-hand shoes.” The laughter doubled. It wasn’t just sound—it was assault. “You must really enj

His voice, once proud and sharp, broke down into pleading. “I-I’m sorry,” Amik stammered, hands trembling, “Please… I didn’t know… If I had known… I swear, I wouldn’t have…” He looked up at Andrew like a drowning man begging for rope. “I was wrong. I was so wrong. Please forgive me. Just one chance, just one.” But Andrew didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He didn’t show the rage they had mocked, or the power they had denied. He only looked at Amik with the same quiet calm that had shaken them all to the core. It was that stillness that made it unbearable. “I didn’t know,” Amik repeated, now more desperately. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t know who you were!” Amik begged harder, his voice growing more frantic. He promised anything, everything—money, favors, loyalty—but deep down, he knew it was too late. It was all his fault . His voice was shaking, words tumbling over each other, but Andrew’s expression didn’t change. There was no mercy in his eyes. He had given him chan