The Monarch Crown System

9. The New Master Is The New Target

The card reader beeped once, then a second time, the sound sharp in the quiet tension of the hospital lobby. A row of digital dots flickered across its small display as the machine processed the transaction. Jeron folded his arms in a way meant to show confidence, but the stiffness in his shoulders betrayed his anxiety. Mr. Lowell leaned forward, almost pressing his nose to the screen as if willing it to flash the word he expected: declined.

People around them had already raised their phones, eager for the spectacle. They were ready to record Elias’s humiliation, ready to upload it, mock it, circulate it. A man like Elias transferring ten billion dollars for a hospital? Impossible. Laughable.

And then, suddenly, the screen stopped blinking.

TRANSACTION SUCCESSFUL.

The words glowed across the screen in glowing green letters, bold and unmistakable.

For a moment, no one spoke. No one even breathed.

Jeron’s smirk fell apart completely. His mouth hung open in shock as he grabbed the reader and shook it, as though the machine might reverse its own message. Mr. Lowell stumbled back a step, blinking rapidly at the monitor as if it had personally betrayed him.

The hospital’s account balance updated with a soft digital chime.

Ten billion dollars credited.

A collective gasp rippled through the reception hall. A woman’s phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. A nurse pressed both palms to her mouth. Even the security guards hesitated, no longer sure if they should intervene, congratulate Elias, or salute him.

Elias stood calmly, his hands in his pockets. A small, almost amused smile curved at the corner of his mouth as he watched their reactions.

Nearly twenty seconds passed before Mr. Lowell finally found his voice.

“This must be a mistake,” he sputtered, shaking his head so hard his glasses nearly flew off. “There is absolutely no way a man like you could have this kind of money.”

More people gathered, drawn by the rising chatter.

“Did he really just transfer ten billion?”

“No way. It must be fake.”

“But the account updated!”

“So he isn’t a fraud?”

“Then who is he?”

Elias opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly his vision blurred. The room swayed. Colors dimmed.

And in the next heartbeat, the Monarch Crown System appeared before him again.

A shimmering golden interface unfolded like the turning of a celestial page, visible only to him. His heart thumped in his chest as the familiar voice echoed inside his mind.

“Congratulations, Elias, on crossing your first threshold.”

He stiffened slightly, his fingers twitching at his sides.

The voice continued, calm and smooth.

“Choose one credibility to activate:

Long Life and One Hundred Percent Health

You cannot fall ill. No weapon can kill you.

Future Sight and Mind Reading

Physical Beauty and Enhanced Handsomeness.”

People around him whispered nervously.

“Is he talking to himself?”

“Maybe Jeron was right. Maybe he really is unstable.”

“This whole thing is too strange…”

Their voices sounded distant to Elias, like echoes underwater. His mind returned to the doctor’s earlier words, the cold diagnosis, the countdown he had been silently living with. Days left. Maybe weeks. No future.

A dying man did not gamble with hope.

“I choose number one,” he whispered under his breath.

The system chimed softly.

“Choice confirmed.”

A wave of warmth surged through him, sharp for a second before it settled into something soothing. His lungs expanded easily, fuller than they had in months. His heartbeat steadied into a strong, steady rhythm. Strength seeped into his muscles like warm light.

“Congratulations. You are now one hundred percent healthy.

No illness can harm you.

No weapon can kill you.”

Another notification slid into view.

“An additional ten billion dollars has been deposited into your account.

Spend it to unlock your next credibility.

Until next time.”

The golden interface dissolved. Reality rushed back like cold air.

The crowd’s stares snapped into focus again. Jeron still looked stunned, though anger had begun carving lines across his face. Before Elias could speak, a loud commotion erupted at the entrance.

Heavy footsteps pounded against the tiles. Six men stormed into the hall, their strides precise and coordinated. Their expressions were hard, their eyes sweeping the lobby with sharp, practiced efficiency. These were not ordinary visitors.

They found Elias almost instantly.

The tallest man pointed at him. “You!”

Everyone turned at once.

“What have you done?” the man barked.

Elias lifted his hands in a calm, instinctive gesture. “I… I didn’t do anything. I was just—”

His words cut off when he noticed it.

A tattoo, dark and intricate, shaped like a royal crown, now stained his forearm. The same symbol he had seen moments before the stranger died in his arms. The same symbol burned with meaning he didn’t yet understand.

The men’s expressions changed the instant they saw it.

Anger melted into something more dangerous. Recognition. Fear. A reluctant form of respect.

Elias slowly lowered his hands. He no longer felt weak or defenseless. There was a new energy inside him, steady and grounding.

The tall man stepped closer. “The master is dead.”

The sentence dropped into the room like a weight. Murmurs swirled through the spectators.

Mr. Lowell frowned.

Jeron blinked rapidly, struggling to keep up.

People raised their phones again, eager for even more chaos.

“And you,” the man continued, voice low and grave, “you inherited the Monarch Crown System.”

A chill slid down Elias’s spine.

The man leaned in, his lips curling into a slow, cold grin.

“That means…” He paused. The entire crowd leaned forward.

“That means you are the new master.

And you are also the new target.”

The words hit Elias like a cold wind. Master? Target? He had no idea who these people were, yet they claimed his life now belonged to something larger, something violent and dangerous.

He stepped backward.

The six men stepped forward in perfect sync.

Every instinct screamed at him to run.

He turned.

And in that split second, they moved.

One man drew a gun from his jacket with terrifying speed.

People shrieked. Phones clattered. Nurses ducked behind the counters.

The gun fired.

BANG.

The first bullet slammed into Elias’s chest.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

Four more followed, each one striking him with brutal force. His body jerked with every impact…

And then everything went still.