Ascension Of The Almighty General

CHAPTER 3

Scott was about to respond to what Mr. Evans said, but then, he reserved his comments. He didn’t want to talk too much but rather let Mr. Evans watch what was going to happen if Gale Harrington ever crossed him.

“I have to go now. I have to find Laura. I have to take back everything that she took from me,” he said to Mr. Evans, who seemed really afraid, wanting to still convince him from crossing their paths. 

“But Sir…” Mr. Evans started off, but Scott had already moved away from him.

But just as he was about to push the door open and step out into the sunlight, a sharp, arrogant voice rose behind him, breaking the silence instantly.

“Hey, you. Stop right there!” The voice yelled angrily. 

Scott stopped in his tracks, shocked by the audacity in the voice.

The voice carried the kind of tone that made people feel small. He slowly turned, his jaw around, followed by his entire body.

Striding toward him was a man in his early forties, his hair neatly combed back, with a clean and shaven face. He wore a tailored blue suit with shiny shoes that bounced loudly against the floor. His walk was stiff and full of pride, like someone who believed the world owed him respect.

He stopped just a few feet from Scott and wrinkled his nose as if he was perceiving an offensive smell.

“Is that a dead rat I smell,” he said, sniffling. He looked round dramatically as though he was really looking for a dead rat, and then finaly, his gaze ended on Scott’s face.

“Who let a church rat like you walk in here?” the man asked, with his lips twisted. “Look at you. You smell like gunpowder and sweat. You’re a disgrace to this premises.”

Scott blinked once. “Excuse me???”

“I said leave,” the man snapped, waving his hand as though he was dismissing a fly. “This is Harrington Dynamics, not a swine for pigs.”

Scott’s gaze was calm, but there was a storm just behind his eyes. “And who exactly are you?”

The man lifted his chin proudly. “I’m the manager here. Appointed personally by Mr. Gale Harrington. I run this place. So yes, I am like the second boss here. So If I ask you to leave, you leave. Is that understood?”

Scott’s brows rose slightly. “Not the manager I hired, then.”

The man scoffed. “Hired? Please. You probably came here looking for a janitor job. But we don’t hire unwashed strays.”

Scott’s jaw clenched. He didn’t move. His dusty boots from the dry fields he had walked across, remained planted on the floor.

“You’ve got no idea who you’re talking to,” Scott said quietly.

“Oh, I do,” the manager said with a wicked grin. “I’m talking to a nobody. A jobless, dirty human from the gutters. People like you come in here begging? One snap of my fingers and you’ll be behind bars for trespassing.”

The insult sank inn.

Scott remained still, his arms were by his sides, but his muscles tensed up immediately. His clothes were creased and worn, his shirt stuck slightly to his skin from the heat, his pants had dust from the road. 

But what the manager didn’t know was that this was the only set of clothes Scott had left at the military base before returning home. He hadn’t even thought of changing. All he wanted was to see his wife again. 

The truth was the name Scott Grayson was at the top rank of the military. He had made billions of dollars even from his first year of rising through the ranks. 

He had been hardened by the life in the military that petty things like clothes didn’t matter to him at some point, only survival.

Now this man stood here mocking the very clothes that had survived wars.

Just then, Scott’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

He brought it out and answered without looking at the screen.

“Commander Grayson, sir,” came the deep voice on the other end, the voice was deep and sharp. “We’ve locked onto your location. Confirm if this is the target building. Shall we move in? We’re prepared to shut it down. We’ll silence Laura and Gale Harrington at your command. And this arrogant clown too.”

The manager was still ranting, not paying attention. His voice echoed in the background like a barking dog.

Scott spoke into the phone with a calm and composed voice. “Not yet. It’s not time.”

“But sir—”

“I said stand down,” Scott replied. His voice didn’t rise, but it was a strong command. The kind of voice that made men follow orders without question.

“Yes, Commander. Standing by.”

He ended the call.

The manager narrowed his eyes. “Oh, what’s this now? Making calls? Trying to show me that you can disobey my orders?”

Scott pocketed the phone slowly. He didn’t even look at the man.

“I warned you,” the manager said, now growing red with anger. “You refuse to leave, so let me help you out myself!”

With a burst of rage, he swung his hand toward Scott’s face for a slap.

But he never got close.

Scott caught his wrist mid-air with ease.

The manager gasped. His arm froze in place. The look on his face changed from anger to confusion... then fear.

Scott didn’t speak. He stared into the man’s eyes and twisted his wrist.

CRACKKK!

A loud snap filled the air like breaking a thick stick in half. The manager screamed in pain, dropping to his knees, clutching his broken wrist.

Gasps echoed from across the hallway and all the employees froze.

Security guards, who had started approaching, stopped in their tracks. Their eyes widened as they saw the man they reported to now screaming on the floor.

Scott stepped forward and gave the manager a swift, powerful kick to the chest.

The man flew back like a doll, crashing hard against the wall behind him before sliding down with a loud groan.

There was silence. Everyone stared, frozen in place from the shock. They had never seen anybody stand up to the manager before and Scott was not the first person he had ever tried to slap, and he had succeeded in all other instances.

Scott turned his head slowly, scanning the room. The look in his eyes made grown men step back. He didn’t need to shout. His presence was enough to shake the fear into them.

“Anyone else?” he asked coldly.

Nobody answered.

The security guards, dressed in black uniforms, stepped aside. Some even lowered their eyes, unwilling to make contact with him.

Scott straightened his back. Not a scratch on him. The same man they mocked a few minutes ago now stood tall like a giant among ants.

Without saying another word, he turned and began walking toward the exit again.

He reached the glass doors to pull it open.

But just before he pushed them open, a broken, hoarse voice called out to him from behind him.

“You’ll regret this!” the manager screamed through clenched teeth, still on the floor. “You hear me?! Gale Harrington will deal with you! He’ll destroy you! He’ll bring you to your knees!”

Scott paused.

He didn’t turn around. His face stayed calm, his hand resting lightly against the door handle.

“Let him come,” he said calmly.

And with that, he pushed the door open and walked out into the sunlight.