2025-11-19 08:01:46The sun beat hard against the half-finished construction site, turning steel beams into scorching metal and the air into a wavering haze. Ethan Ward wiped sweat from his brow with the back of a dusty hand, forcing himself to stay focused as he inspected a crooked support frame. He could see the mistake instantly, something any competent foreman should have caught.
But Ethan wasn’t a foreman anymore.
He wasn’t anything.
Not after the last few months.
“Hey, Ward!” a young supervisor barked from across the concrete slab, waving hastily scribbled blueprints. “You’re doing the grunt work today, remember? Leave the thinking to people who still have reputations.”
The men around him snickered.
Ethan didn’t answer. He just tightened the loose bolt and stepped back to check the alignment. He used to be the one giving orders, designing structures, coordinating multimillion naira projects. Now he hauled bags of cement and tightened bolts like a day laborer barely trusted with tools.
One signature destroyed everything.
Well… it wasn’t just a signature. It was the name attached to it.
Malcolm Drake.
The moment Ethan’s mind brushed over that name, something cold, sharp, and familiar scraped down his spine. His jaw tightened. He forced himself to breathe evenly.
Malcolm Drake, his father-in-law. The man who had smiled in his face for years, pretending to support him. The man who had stepped in, “out of concern,” when Ethan’s business hit a rough patch. The man who had made sure the world believed Ethan was a fraud, an embezzler, a liar.
And the man who had made sure Ethan had nothing left.
Not a job.
Not a home.
Not a marriage.
Not a future.
“Ward!” The supervisor stomped toward him, red-faced. “Are you deaf? I said...”
“I heard you,” Ethan replied calmly, though his pulse was starting to hammer.
He had learned to swallow pride. Pride didn’t feed him. Pride didn’t get him work. Pride didn’t erase the headlines branding him a thief.
He turned away to pick up a toolbox, but a sudden burn seared across his right shoulder sharp, quick, deep like someone pressed a heated blade into his skin.
Ethan sucked in a breath.
Not again.
The pain pulsed once… twice… then settled into a simmering ache.
He tugged his shirt collar lower, checking the mark he had hidden his entire life. A dragon-shaped symbol, sharper than any tattoo, almost carved into the skin itself. He never remembered getting it. His adoptive parents claimed it appeared when he was three months old. Doctors couldn’t explain it. As he grew older, it grew with him almost alive. And sometimes, like now, it burned without warning.
“Ward? You good?” a coworker asked skeptically, watching him straighten up.
“Yeah,” Ethan lied. “Just a muscle pull.”
The man shrugged and walked off. No one cared enough to ask further. No one ever did.
Ethan exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulder to shake off the lingering sting. He couldn’t afford to draw attention not after everything that had happened.
But as he lifted the toolbox, a shadow fell over him.
A shadow he recognized instantly.
“No wonder this site is behind schedule,” a cold voice said. “They’ve hired criminals now.”
Ethan froze.
Malcolm Drake stood a few feet away, polished shoes untouched by dust, designer suit crisp and immaculate, as if the world bent itself to avoid staining him. Two of his assistants flanked him, both of them sneering in quiet amusement.
Ethan didn’t turn. Didn’t speak. Didn’t move.
“Look at you,” Malcolm said, stepping closer, voice dripping satisfaction. “Used to sign contracts worth tens of millions. Now you tighten bolts with day workers.”
Ethan felt the heat in his shoulder spike. The dragon mark throbbed sharp, angry.
He clenched his fists to steady himself.
Malcolm circled him slowly, like inspecting a broken piece of equipment.
“Your fall was spectacular, Ethan,” he mused. “You lost your company, your home… your freedom. And you still haven’t figured it out, have you?”
Ethan turned his head slightly. “Figured what out?”
Malcolm smiled, cold, razor thin.
“That I was the one who buried you.”
The words punched the air out of Ethan’s lungs.
Not a guess.
Not an implication.
A statement.
A confession disguised as mockery.
Malcolm leaned close enough that only Ethan could hear the next sentence.
“And I’m not done.”
Ethan finally met his eyes, the mark on his shoulder flaring hotter and hotter almost reacting to Malcolm’s presence.
Malcolm’s smile widened, pleased by the reaction.
“Whatever you think you have left,” Malcolm whispered, “I will take. Until there’s nothing. Until you understand you were never..."
A violent jolt of heat surged through Ethan’s shoulder, cutting Malcolm off. Ethan winced, hand darting instinctively to the burning mark.
Malcolm’s eyes flicked downward.
And for the first time ever, Ethan saw something in the man’s expression.
Not arrogance.
Not disgust.
But fear.
A flash quick, buried instantly but real.
Malcolm straightened abruptly.
“We’re done here,” he said to his assistants, voice tighter than before. “Let’s go.”
He turned and walked off quickly, leaving Ethan standing in the dust, breathing hard, the burn searing deeper beneath his skin.
The mark pulsed again hotter this time, almost alive.
Ethan stumbled back against a beam, gripping his shoulder.
What was happening to him?
Why had Malcolm looked afraid?
And, what exactly was this mark reacting to?
The question echoed in his skull.
And for the first time, Ethan wondered:
What if the downfall of his life wasn’t the end… but the beginning of something far more dangerous?
Previous Chapter
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The Rise To Powe
The days that followed the revelations about his past were brutal yet exhilarating. Each morning, Ethan now Aurelius Kael woke to a world that demanded more of him than he had ever imagined. The Aurelian estate, with its infinite corridors of high-tech brilliance, was no longer just a home it was a battlefield. Every decision carried weight, every interaction held the potential for betrayal, and every glance from the people around him hinted at hidden motives.Ethan had spent the previous week reviewing every accessible file, analyzing every report, and questioning every senior member of the Order. It was exhausting work, but it was necessary. He discovered layers of deceit within the organization: internal rivalries that had festered for decades, strategic missteps by caretakers of the empire, and the occasional inexplicable gaps in records like the files surrounding his kidnapping. Someone had carefully constructed a web o
The Web Of Deceit
Ethan’s muscles still ached from the relentless drills of the past weeks, but it wasn’t the physical exhaustion that weighed on him now. It was the gnawing uncertainty the cracks forming in the carefully constructed reality he had been thrust into. He had survived the training, pushed past limits he didn’t know he had, and unlocked a power within himself that responded to the dragon shaped sigil on his shoulder. Yet, the more he learned about the Aurelian Order, the more questions surfaced, each one sharper and colder than the last.In the sprawling halls of the Aurelian estate, every corner seemed to hold a secret. The estate itself was a labyrinth of high tech corridors, security checkpoints, and rooms filled with data screens pulsing with cryptic symbols. Ethan had been shown the “archives,” a vast repository of the Order’s history, past operations, and confidential files. He had expected answers confirmation of who he was, why he had been taken,
The Training Begins
The gates of the Aurelian stronghold closed behind Aurelius Kael with a resounding clang that echoed through the cavernous halls. He stopped for a moment, breathing heavily, the heat from the dragon shaped sigil on his shoulder still lingering. The mark throbbed, as if sensing that this was only the beginning.Shen Gao led him down a corridor lined with polished panels that glimmered with holographic data, showing networks, diagrams, and moving images of distant operations. Machines hummed softly in the background, their presence both foreign and unsettling. Every step reminded Aurelius that the world he had known was gone. Every familiar memory of Caleb Ward, the life he had clawed to survive was now an unrecognizable fragment beneath the weight of the legacy he had just inherited.“You will start your training immediately,” Shen Gao said without preamble, his voice firm. “There is no time for acclimation. By the end of the wee
The Revelation
Caleb’s hands shook as he followed Shen Gao toward the convoy. Every instinct screamed at him to flee, to disappear into the night, to retreat into the anonymity of the village he had clung to for years. And yet, the old man’s calm, authoritative presence made hesitation feel almost foolish.“You need to understand,” Shen Gao said, his voice steady but urgent, “what I am about to show you cannot be unlearned. You are not who you believe yourself to be. You were never meant to live as Caleb Ward.”Caleb laughed, a hollow sound that seemed to echo off the empty streets. “And who exactly am I supposed to be? A superhero? A reincarnated warrior? Or are you just another lunatic looking to exploit me?”Shen Gao didn’t flinch. He extended his hand toward Caleb’s shoulder, eyes fixed on the dragon-shaped mark. “Look at it. Really look at it. That mark is not a birthmark. It is a sigil, a hereditary emblem of the Aurelian Order, a lineage that ha
The Convoy
The night had settled over the village like a soft, oppressive blanket. Caleb sat at the small wooden table in his cramped room above the bar, staring at the note over and over, as if doing so could unlock the secret it contained. “They are coming. You are not alone. You are the heir.”Every word felt like a spark against dry kindling, igniting a fire of curiosity and unease he couldn’t contain. But who? And why now?The stillness of the night shattered suddenly. A distant roar, low and mechanical, grew rapidly louder. Caleb’s head jerked toward the window.Black shapes moved through the misty village streets, their lights cutting through the darkness. At first, he thought it was a convoy of trucks, but the vehicles were sleek, armored, and impossibly heavy. The sound of engines and tires crunching over the gravel made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.Caleb’s instincts screamed at him to flee. Years of sur
The New Low
The clang of the prison gates echoed in Ethan Ward’s ears like a death knell. He had counted every day, every hour, every second, and now the waiting was over. The man who had been stripped of his family, his career, and his reputation was walking out into the world or at least, what remained of it.The sun hit him like a physical blow. It was brighter than he remembered, too harsh, too indifferent. He squinted, adjusting to the freedom that didn’t feel like freedom at all. The weight of the world had not lifted; it had merely shifted. Out of prison, he realized, meant facing a reality far more brutal than anything behind bars: a world that had moved on without him, a world that no longer had a place for Ethan Ward.He had learned one truth behind the gray walls of the penitentiary: survival was about adaptation. Strength was about cunning. And vengeance, if it was to ever come, needed patience. The man who emerged from the gate
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