The Last Successor

10. The Horizon

The black Rolls-Royce Phantom cut through the heavy rain smoothly. Inside the vehicle, the noise of the storm was completely muted.

The only sounds were the steady ticking of the mechanical watch on Adrian’s wrist and the quiet hum of the powerful engine. Outside the window, the tall skyscrapers of the center slowly vanished. They were replaced by the gray, rusted buildings of the industrial harbor district.

Adrian stared out at the passing container yards. For three long years, he had driven these exact same roads. Back then, he was steering a battered delivery van. He used to spend his days dodging potholes and constantly checking his fuel gauge, worrying if he had enough money to finish his route.

Today, he sat in a luxury car that could easily buy an entire fleet of those vans. Yet, his heart felt completely quiet. He did not feel any sudden greed or excitement. He only felt the heavy weight of the iron key resting inside his palm.

"Young Master," Winston said softly from the opposite seat.

He lowered a secure tablet and looked directly at Adrian, "We are only a few minutes away from the main gate of Northwind Logistics. The current situation is moving faster than we anticipated. Two hours ago, a subsidiary named Ironclad Heavy Industries filed a predatory lawsuit. They used a fake claim to freeze all of Northwind's local bank accounts and physical assets. We have confirmed that Ironclad is just a front company for The Forge."

"They move fast," Adrian remarked.

His voice smooth and entirely devoid of fear, "They did not even wait for the old man's ashes to turn cold before launching their attack."

Winston nodded. His face turning grim, "Victor Aurelius kept the nine factions completely in check for decades through absolute leverage. He held their secrets, their debts, and their lifelines. But now that the news of his passing has leaked, they believe the throne is empty."

Winston added, "They are going to scramble like rabid wolves to tear apart the foundation he built. Northwind Logistics may look like a failing transport company to the public, but its shipping lanes and underground facilities are the literal arteries of this region's trade. If The Forge takes it, they will control the supply lines of every major corporation in this city. That includes the Sterling Group."

Adrian’s gray eyes narrowed slightly as he looked back out into the rain.

"The Sterling Group is no longer my concern, Winston. They made their choice this morning. Let them starve if their supply lines collapse under the weight of their own arrogance. But Northwind belongs to the Founder. He spent his life hiding it, and in the end, he gave it to me. What is mine stays mine."

"A wise perspective, Young Master," Winston replied.

A hint of pride showing in his voice, "A true king does not look back at the fields he has already left behind. He only focuses on the territory ahead."

"It is not about being a king," Adrian said quietly.

"It is about a basic rule my father taught me. He always said that if you allow someone to steal a single brick from your house without fighting back, tomorrow they will return to take the entire roof. The world only tramples on those who keep stepping backward."

The convoy turned sharply. Its tires gripping the wet asphalt as it entered a massive iron-gated compound right at the edge of Pier 14. The large sign above the entrance gate read Northwind Logistics Co. in faded peeling paint.

The massive yard was completely packed with long rows of old cargo containers and dozens of heavy transport trucks. But today, the entire operation was completely dead. The trucks were parked and idle.

A large crowd of rough-looking men wearing grey tactical uniforms stood in a thick line around the entrance of the main brick office building. They were the private security force of Ironclad Industries, and they were actively blocking the local harbor workers from entering their own workplace.

The Rolls-Royce came to a silent halt right in front of the main concrete steps. The moment the wheels stopped moving, the doors of the escort vehicles flew open.

Ten black-suited bodyguards stepped out into the downpour. Instantly forming a tight protective wall with large black umbrellas.

Winston opened the car door, holding an umbrella high over Adrian’s head as the young man stepped down onto the wet asphalt.

Adrian looked up at the two-story brick building. The cold rain dripped from his black hair, but his gray eyes remained completely steady.

He could hear a loud and angry argument taking place near the glass doors of the lobby. In the middle of the crowd stood an elderly man wearing a faded blue uniform jacket. He was desperately holding a thick leather ledger against his chest while two of the grey-uniformed tactical guards repeatedly pushed him back against the brick wall.

"That elderly man is Director Thomas," Winston whispered near Adrian's ear.

"He has managed this port terminal for forty entire years. He is one of the very few old structural directors who remained absolutely loyal to the true lineage of the Founder, even when the company began to lose money."

"He kept his promise while the world changed," Adrian said.

His voice dropping into a cold tone, "That means he is family. And no one pushes my family while I am standing."

Adrian adjusted the old mechanical watch on his left wrist and began walking directly toward the steps.

The grey-uniformed tactical guards immediately noticed the arriving luxury convoy. The crowd of thugs went silent as a large, thick-necked man with a completely shaved head walked down the steps. He had a heavy military stride, and his right hand rested closely on the black baton attached to his tactical belt.

"This entire area is private property under legal transition!" the scarred leader shouted.

His rough voice easily booming over the sound of the falling rain, "No unauthorized vehicles or civilians are allowed on Pier 14! Turn your cars around and back off right now!"

Adrian did not slow his pace by a single fraction. He kept walking straight toward the massive concrete steps, his eyes locked on the leader.

"Who the hell do you think you are, kid?" the scarred leader hissed.

He stepped directly into Adrian’s path and blocking the stairs, "I said, back the hell off!"

Adrian stopped just inches away from the massive guard. The difference in their physical size was obvious to everyone watching, but the icy, immovable aura radiating from Adrian’s eyes made the leader instinctively stiffen his posture.

"My name is Adrian Veyron," Adrian said softly.

His voice carrying an absolute clarity through the howling wind of the storm, "And you are currently standing on my driveway. Move."