The Last Successor

08. The Arrival of the Obsidian Fleet

Raymond Sterling frowned deeply. His anger momentarily replaced by confusion. He stood up from the fabric sofa and adjusting his jaw bandage.

Raymond walked quickly to the large glass window to stand beside Elena, "What the hell is that noise? Did the lower-class neighbors call a heavy construction crew into this alley during a rainstorm?"

But the moment Raymond leaned forward and looked down at the narrow street, his eyes widened into absolute shock. The words caught in his throat. His hands began to shake against the window frame.

The modest cracked asphalt road outside their ordinary apartment complex was completely blocked from end to end.

A terrifying line of six matching Rolls-Royce Phantoms had brought all local traffic to a complete halt. The vehicles were painted in a deep obsidian black that seemed to drink the morning sunlight. Behind the grand sedans stood four large, heavily armored black luxury SUVs.

Before the family could even speak, the doors of the SUVs flew open in perfect unison. Eight incredibly tall men dressed in identical black tactical suits, dark sunglasses despite the rain, and secure communication earpieces stepped out into the storm.

Without a single wasted movement, the men formed a tight and professional military perimeter around the building’s entrance. They completely ignoring the pouring rain as they cleared the sidewalk.

"What... what company is that?" Raymond stammered.

His usual corporate arrogance instantly vanishing as he stared at the sheer wealth below, "Look at those cars... those front license plates are all single digits. Not even the city mayor or the governor has that kind of traffic authority!"

Edward Sterling stood up from his armchair. His deeply ingrained business instincts screaming at him that something dangerous was happening. His eyes narrowed into slits as he watched a senior gentleman step slowly out from the luxurious rear compartment of the lead Rolls-Royce.

The gentleman wore a flawless three-piece charcoal suit beneath a dark trench coat. He carried a polished mahogany cane topped with a solid silver wolf's head handle.

"That is... Julian Vance," Edward whispered.

The old patriarch's voice suddenly trembled and the strength seemed to leave his legs.

Vivian looked at her husband Her face twisted in complete confusion, "Who is that, Edward? Is he a new investor for Raymond's real estate project? Why are you shaking?"

"He is the senior managing partner of Vance & Associates," Edward said.

A cold sweat breaking out across his forehead as he took a step back from the window, "They do not represent ordinary investors, Vivian. They represent the ancient shadow trusts that own the federal reserve banks and control the national treasury."

Edward added, "One single word from that old man's mouth can liquidate the entire Sterling Group and freeze our bank accounts before the stock market closes today. Why is a god of global finance standing in a slum like this?"

Before any of them could form another thought, three loud knocks struck the wooden door of the apartment. The knocks were precise, carrying a weight that demanded immediate submission.

Raymond quickly ran to the door. He was pulling it open as he forced his bruised face into a wide smile, "Mr. Vance! What an incredible, unexpected honor. If you are looking for the Sterling Group headquarters, sir, our executive offices are just ten minutes away—"

Julian Vance walked right past Raymond Sterling as if the young CEO were made of thin air. He did not grant Raymond a single glance. His sharp dark eyes scanned the modest living room, completely ignoring Vivian’s polite bow and Edward’s extended shaking hand.

Julian stopped exactly three paces away from Adrian Veyron.

The entire room held its breath so tightly that the sound of the rain outside seemed to fade. Raymond and Vivian exchanged quick glances. They assumed that Adrian had committed some massive corporate crime during his delivery jobs and was about to be publicly ruined or dragged away by a global power.

"Adrian Veyron?" Julian Vance asked. His voice was deep, aristocratic, and carried the natural weight of a man who dealt in the fates of nations.

"Yes," Adrian replied calmly. His gray eyes met the powerful lawyer's intense gaze without a single hint of fear or hesitation.

Julian looked down at Adrian's left wrist, his eyes resting for a moment on the scratched old mechanical watch. Then, his gaze dropped to Adrian's right hand, which was casually resting near his trousers pocket. That is where the heavy geometric iron key lay hidden.

With a sudden solemnity that shocked the room, Julian Vance took off his fedora hat. He held it over his chest and bowed deeply at a perfect ninety-degree angle before the young man in the damp suit.

The moment he bowed, the two gray-suited lawyers sitting at the dining table instantly stood up. They closed their briefcases with a loud snap and bowed low toward Adrian as well.

Edward Sterling froze like a stone statue. Raymond’s jaw dropped so low that the white medical bandage slipped completely off his chin.

Elena turned around from the window. Her beautiful gray eyes widening in sheer disbelief as she stared at her former husband.

"The Dominion King has finally returned to the dust," Julian Vance announced.

His deep voice echoing like a royal decree through the small apartment, "The dynamic seals have broken across the global servers. By the absolute, unalterable decree of the late Founder, Victor Aurelius, the Succession Protocol is now fully active."

Adrian stunned, waiting more words comes out from Julian, "We have searched every corner of this earth for twenty years, young master."