The Tattooed Emperor: Reborn Before the Apocalypse

Chapter 7: Winning Over the Crowd! Step One

Bang!!

A heavy thud rang out, followed by a burst of dust and grit.

Jonah Doyle hit the concrete floor hard enough to crack it, driven down by a force that didn't look remotely human.

Is that even possible?

Every man in the warehouse froze, staring at Jonah pale, bleeding from the corner of his mouth, flat on his back.

Damon looked out at the wall of blank, stunned faces and finally broke the silence.

"That power wasn't for show. It was proof for what I'm about to tell you."

He raised his right hand.

Across the room, the medical kit sitting in the corner began to rattle.

A murmur of unease started rippling through the crowd and then Damon spoke, low and clear, and the mark between his brows flared to life with pale gray light.

"Come here."

The kit tore itself off the shelf, sailed clean across the warehouse in a smooth arc, and landed squarely in Damon's outstretched hand.

He knelt beside Jonah, pulling out supplies, setting bones and treating the worst of the bruising as he spoke without looking up.

"You could probably talk yourselves into a dozen explanations for what you just watched. Sleight of hand. A trick. Luck."

"But explain this."

The mark on his forehead blazed brighter and a wall of invisible pressure crashed down evenly across every single man in the room.

It hit without warning. Dozens of men some of the toughest fighters in the Syndicate dropped straight to one knee, gasping like the air itself had turned to lead.

Even the ones fast enough and strong enough to stay upright found themselves hunched forward, straining against a weight that had no source, no shape, and no mercy.

"Jesus Christ"

"What is that?!"

"Is this some kind of witchcraft? Or does the Prince actually have"

Every man on one knee wore the same expression: pure, unfiltered disbelief.

Even Uncle Frank, watching from the edge of the crowd, couldn't stop his jaw from dropping.

He'd already heard Damon explain it. He'd believed him, even. But hearing about it and standing directly underneath it were two very different things.

Damon scanned the sea of stunned faces and allowed himself a satisfied nod.

Good. This part just got a lot easier.

"What you're feeling right now is telekinesis. Think of it as a superpower, if that word's easier to swallow."

"And what I'm about to tell you is exactly how the rest of you can get one too. It probably won't be telekinesis specifically but I promise you, every single one of you can walk away from this with real power."

Dead silence swallowed the warehouse.

Even the tattoo artists scattered around the room several of them among the most sought-after names in the country froze mid-stroke, needles hovering, every eye locked on Damon.

Superpowers.

In a world this calm, this ordinary, who wouldn't want that?

Damon let the tension build another second before delivering the answer with total confidence.

"The fastest, most direct way to get one is through tattoos."

"*What?!*"

"Your Highness, tell me you're joking right now."

"I don't read much, but I know bullshit when I smell it."

"Is that actually true, boss?"

Half the room turned toward the nearest tattoo artist, who abruptly dropped his needle and yanked at his own collar, frantically checking his own ink like it might suddenly start glowing.

"Sorry, sorry got a little excited there!"

Catching the sea of hard stares aimed his way, the artist laughed nervously, sat back down, and picked his needle back up like his life depended on finishing the piece.

Damon let the chaos settle before continuing, unbothered.

"Don't assume getting power this way is quick or painless."

"When a tattoo awakens, it puts the body and the mind through something close to hell. It's not just physical. If either one breaks under the strain, you die. Right there, on the spot."

"How bad that pain is depends entirely on how fierce the tattoo is. A Grey Wolf tattoo and a full dragon across your back are not going to hurt the same amount when they wake up. Not even close."

"And the power difference between those two? Just as massive."

He paused, sweeping his gaze slowly across the crowd men whose eyes had gone sharp and hungry the second the word "power" left his mouth.

His voice dropped, edged with something colder.

"I already know what half of you are thinking. More tattoos, more power. Simple math, right?"

The easy smile disappeared from his face entirely, replaced by something absolute.

"Every man standing in this room is my brother, my elder, and loyal to the Sterling name to the bone. I want every one of you walking away from this stronger than you've ever been."

"But I need you alive to be strong. So hear me clearly."

"This isn't a joke. Stick to the tattoo list I gave Uncle Frank one design per person, no exceptions unless you'd like to find out firsthand what it feels like to come apart from the inside."

"Two tattoos awakening at once is a different math problem entirely. Even our top ten fighters here would be looking at better than fifty-fifty odds of dying trying it."

"And before anyone gets clever thinking you're safe if you just skip the tattoo altogether no. If you already have ink on you right now, it will awaken on its own, whether you want it to or not. There's no opting out once you're marked."

A visible shudder ran through the crowd especially through the men who already had tattoos scattered across their arms and backs.

So that's why he wants everyone stripped clean first.

The gang members took it in stride most of them had one or two pieces at most, nothing dramatic.

The tattoo artists, on the other hand

"Oh, hell no"

Nearly half of them went pale on the spot, hands trembling around their needles.

Damon pulled his gaze off them and kept going, voice steady.

"Now, if any of you have gotten used to how comfortable things are right now. If you've grown tired of the grind, the risk, the climb, and you'd rather just live quietly and only step in for me when things get bad that's fine."

"If that's you, get your ink removed, then walk out that door with your head held high. I'll make sure you get that peaceful life. That's not a threat, and it's not an insult."

"It's a promise. From me to you."

His expression was dead serious, no trace of mockery in it.

"As for 'stepping in when I need it' I appreciate the sentiment, genuinely. But I'd rather you sit this one out entirely than risk your life for a fight you're not prepared for. An unmarked man can't help me survive what's coming."

"Because make no mistake the end of the world isn't a theory."

"It's two days away.”