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Ethan stepped closer, eyes locked on John. He could see it now—not with sight alone, but with something deeper. Veins darkened beneath John’s skin, pulsing as though something were crawling through them. The shadows around his chest thickened, clinging unnaturally.

“You didn’t cure him,” Ethan said coldly. “You poisoned him. Or worse—you empowered it.”

Morrison turned on him, anger flashing. “I told you to stay out of this. You’re not a physician—”

A sudden scream cut him off.

John cried out in agony, a raw, broken sound that echoed off the stone walls. His back arched violently, and for a split second, a dark shape pressed outward against his chest, as though something inside him were trying to tear its way free.

Chris stumbled back, horror etched across his face. “What… what is happening to him?!”

Ethan moved without thinking. He planted himself beside the bed, one hand hovering over John’s chest. The air beneath his palm burned cold, like frost and fire colliding.

“This thing,” Eth

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A long breath escaped John’s lips — something between shock and admiration. For a moment, he simply looked at Ethan, his gaze deep, thoughtful… and filled with something rare. Respect. Finally, he let out a quiet, incredulous laugh. “My God,” he murmured. “You… truly are your ancestors’ heir.” He shook his head slowly — not in disapproval, but in wonder. “To think… strategy of that scale… foresight of that depth… at your age…” His voice softened — almost reverent. “You are a genius, Ethan Storm.” Ethan didn’t smile. He simply bowed his head slightly. “I’m not a genius,” he replied quietly. “I’m just someone who refuses to let the world fall.” John’s gaze warmed. “That,” he said gently, “is exactly what makes you one.”Ethan lingered for a moment, watching John settle back into the pillows, his breaths slow and steady. “I… have a lot to do,” Ethan said finally, his voice calm but purposeful. “Preparations. Plans. I should leave you to rest for now, but I’ll remain in cont
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Ethan nodded slowly. “I know. That’s why I won’t fight them as a Knight.” A faint spark of stormlight pulsed beneath his skin. “This strike won’t be righteous,” he continued coldly. “It will be surgical. The Watsons believe themselves untouchable because they operate in shadows — hidden deals, hidden creatures, hidden masters. I’ll expose them… not to the world — not yet — but to their own foundation.”John’s brows tightened in confusion at Ethan’s last words. “Expose them… to their own foundation?” he echoed. “What do you mean?”Ethan’s gaze sharpened.“I won’t charge at the Watsons with swords or declarations,” he said quietly. “That’s what they expect. Demons thrive in chaos — they’re prepared for open confrontation. But what they cannot withstand… is controlled collapse.”John watched him closely.Ethan continued.“I’m going to rebuild what the Storms lost,” he said. “Not just a house… not just a banner… but an organization — one that strikes from the shadows just as they do. B
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But then — He straightened. His expression sharpened. And a cold, focused determination settled into his gaze. “…Good,” he said softly. John raised a brow. “Good?” Ethan’s lips curved into a faint, hard smile. “It means they built something,” he said calmly. “And anything that’s built…” Lightning flickered behind his eyes. “…can be dismantled.” John stared at him — a shadow of awe passing through his expression. Ethan’s voice turned low, steady, resolute. “I won’t rush in blindly,” he said. “If they’re everywhere now — business, crime, government — then striking directly will only alert them.” He crossed his arms. “I will take them apart slowly. Quietly. Piece by piece.” His thoughts sharpened like blades. Break the crime networks first. Expose the financial channels. Undermine the political puppets. “And while I tear down their influence…” Ethan continued, voice hardening… “…I will search for my family.”Ethan’s eyes hardened as the realization settled.“The Watso
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Ethan finally understood.The truth did not descend on him like a single blow — it settled slowly, layer by layer, until the full weight of it pressed against his chest.Everything… the fall of the Storms… the shattered legacy… the scars of his childhood…None of it had been coincidence.None of it had been fate.It had been orchestrated.“It was them,” Ethan murmured, voice low, steady, but trembling beneath the surface. “The evil forces. The demons… and the families who serve them.”John nodded solemnly.“Yes,” he said quietly. “Every tragedy that befell your house… every disaster that seemed random… every disappearance…” His eyes dimmed. “They were all connected.”Ethan drew in a slow breath.A memory flashed through him —Smoke.Screams.His mother’s voice calling his name in the darkness.His fists tightened.“My parents,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Where are they? Do you know?”John’s gaze softened — sorrow, regret, and uncertainty swirling inside it.“…No,” he admitted.
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“…But tonight,” John continued — eyes burning now with conviction — “I saw it again. The light. The storm. You did not merely fight the parasite… you purified it. You banished it completely.”He leaned forward, breath unsteady but filled with certainty.“Twenty years ago… a prophet came to us. Cloaked in gray. Eyes clouded with visions.” His voice grew hushed. “She spoke of the Storm family. She said: ‘The blood sleeps now… but a new Holy Knight will be born — one who will awaken the stormlight again. When darkness rises… he will stand at the edge of fate.’”His gaze locked onto Ethan.His hands trembled faintly on the blanket.“At first… many dismissed her. They believed the Storm gift extinct — a relic of myth. But there were others… people who did not react with disbelief.”His expression darkened.“They reacted with fear.”Ethan’s brow furrowed.“Fear… of the Storm power?” he asked quietly.John nodded, eyes shadowed.“Yes. Because the return of a Holy Knight meant something else
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“Everyone out,” John repeated.Chris blinked. “Father—? But—”John’s voice hardened.“Everyone. Including you, Chris. Leave the room immediately.”The room went still.Chris hesitated — confused — hurt — clearly reluctant to go.“Father… why? Ethan just—”John didn’t look at him. His gaze never left Ethan.“Because,” he said, voice low, unyielding.“I have something to tell Ethan. And it must be said to him alone.”For a moment, Chris stood frozen — torn between obedience and concern — until the guards moved beside him, making it clear the order was not optional. He was forced to leave.He swallowed, shaken.He glanced at Ethan — uncertain — searching his face.Ethan gave a small nod.“It’s all right,” he said calmly.Chris lingered a heartbeat longer… then bowed his head.“Very well.”He turned — guiding the guards and Morrison out.The door closed.Silence fell.Only Ethan and John remained.John exhaled slowly.His expression darkened.And when he finally spoke…His voice carried w

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