The Heir's Return

Chapter 11

North city, amidst the silent hills, stood an abandoned holiday villa.

The concrete skeleton of a failed ambition, it was now overgrown with wild grass swaying in the twilight breeze. In the vast field before it, a strange scene was laid out.

A line of burly men knelt in silence. Their hands were tied behind their backs, and a long, sturdy rope connected them all, its end tied to the bumper of a car. They kept their heads bowed, not daring to make a sound, letting cold sweat soak their backs in the cooling night air.

Javon sat casually in the driver's seat, the car door wide open. He plucked a blade of wild grass and played with it between his fingers, his eyes gazing at the reddening horizon. He had ensured Sherly was safe and was now simply waiting for the arrival of the shadows.

The brief interrogation on the way here had been sufficient. His mind now held a complete map of the Proteus Society in Selvana—their locations, structure, and secret codes. The brutal interrogation methods he had witnessed in the Black Coral Prison had made these thugs melt like butter.

Wushhh—

The roar of several approaching car engines broke the silence. It wasn't a coarse roar, but a smooth and powerful hum.

From behind the hill, a convoy of identical black sedans appeared, gliding silently like a pack of nocturnal wolves. They stopped in unison with military precision, their headlights casting sharp beams on Javon.

The door of the lead car opened before it came to a complete stop. An old man with hair as white as snow stepped out nimbly. He wore a perfectly tailored three-piece suit, with a small ruby brooch glittering on his collar. His face was full of wrinkles, but his posture was upright, and his aura was as serene as aged wine.

He hurried before Javon, followed by dozens of other men in black suits who moved in disciplined formation.

"Master Zero!"

The old man bowed deeply, his voice laden with sincere respect. "My name is Megias. On Master Herera's orders, I have come to serve you."

"Greetings, Master Zero!"

The bodyguards behind him greeted in unison, their voices deep and steady.

Megias of Nocturnal Hall. Herera's right-hand man and confidant, the keeper of the organization's core secrets. Javon knew this man's loyalty was beyond question.

Javon gave a short nod, accepting the homage.

Megias took a step forward, presenting a small sandalwood box with both hands. "This is a token of trust from Master Herera for you, Master Zero."

Javon took the box and opened it. On a black velvet cushion lay a ring. It was made of polished obsidian, with an engraving of a blood-red dragon pattern that seemed faintly alive.

"The Chairman's Ring," Megias explained. "With this, all resources of Nocturnal Hall are under your command." He then presented a black metal card. "And this, an initial operational fund of one billion. Master Herera's message was: 'Spare no expense for my little brother'."

One billion. His Fourth Sister never did things by halves.

Javon took the ring. It felt cool and heavy in his hand, filled with power and responsibility. He slipped it onto his right thumb. It fit perfectly, as if it were made for him.

The Forger family's crisis, which had once felt like a mountain, now seemed like a pebble.

With these funds and this power, he could not only save the company but also launch it to heights never before imagined.

The men of the Proteus Society kneeling on the ground stared at the scene in horror. Cold sweat drenched their bodies.

What kind of monster had they just provoked?

"As per your orders, all members around Selvana are on standby to assist your operation," Megias continued. "This small troop will serve as your personal bodyguards."

"Unnecessary," Javon cut in. "I don't need protection. I need an assault force. Task them with eradicating the Proteus Society in Selvana, down to its roots. Leave nothing behind."

Megias's eyes lit up. "Yes, Master Zero!"

The first order had been given. The Shadows were finally moving under the command of their new leader.

***

The Proteus headquarters was an old factory at a city crossroads, near a canal tributary—a perfect location to disguise smuggling activities.

A van stopped in front of its gate. The scarred man, whom we now knew as Tavip Huda, was pushed out by Javon. "Act normal," Javon whispered. "Cooperate with me, and maybe you'll live to see another sunrise."

Tavip nodded, trembling, and walked inside, with Javon following behind him like a shadow.

Inside, the air was filled with the stench of stale beer, sweat, and rust. The sounds of coarse laughter, clinking tiles, and the faint sobs of a woman could be heard from one of the back rooms. A group of men were gambling when they saw Tavip.

"Hey, Tavip! All beaten up? Who did you run into?" one of them laughed. "The boss told you to catch the—"

His laughter died as his eyes caught the sight of Javon walking calmly behind Tavip. "Javon?"

All eyes were now on Javon. They looked at the battered Tavip, then at Javon, who was neat and completely unscathed.

"Damn it, you couldn't even beat this pretty boy?"

Javon ignored them. He walked to the center of the room, found the most comfortable chair, and sat down as if he owned the place.

His calm demeanor only enraged them. "What an arrogant bastard! Already captured and still acting like a boss!"

"Get the boss over here! The package has arrived!"

"But before that," said a man as he took a leather whip from the wall, "let's teach him the rules of the Proteus Society."

Several men advanced, their faces twisted into sadistic grins. Tavip squeezed his eyes shut, not daring to look.

The circle slowly tightened.

Javon sat casually, his head tilted slightly, looking bored. He raised three fingers.

"I'll count to three," he said, his quiet voice carrying clearly throughout the room. "Anyone who kneels and begs for mercy, I might consider not breaking your legs."