Their Little Brother Is the Supreme King

Chapter 008

The legend of Master Scott Hughes had been shattered in a single, fluid heartbeat.

For over three decades, the Herman family had treated the old man as their ultimate insurance policy, a living god of combat who had never tasted defeat. In the insular, power-hungry circles of Ambershire, Master Scott was a name that commanded silence; he was the primary reason no other rival family dared to encroach upon the Hermans' territory. But now, that pillar of strength lay crumpled on the marble, his severed hand a grotesque testament to his sudden obsolescence.

"I... I gave my life to this house," Master Scott wheezed, his face a ghostly mask of shock. He looked at the stump of his wrist, then at the girl in pink who stood with her blade held low. "There is no way... a girl your age... you are a monster from the Hall of Supreme."

The elite Guards of the Earth, who had been poised to strike just moments before, were now paralyzed. They were witnessing the impossible. If their master, a man who had allegedly touched the threshold of the Supreme Master rank, could be dismantled like a training dummy, what hope did they have?

Jason Herman felt the foundation of his world shifting. The arrogance that had sustained him for forty years was being replaced by a cold, primal terror. Beside him, Julian Herman had lost all color in his face, his legs shaking so violently that he had to lean against a mahogany pillar to keep from collapsing.

"Ethan Smith," Julian gasped, his voice cracking like dry parchment. "You... you can't do this. You're a fugitive! You're a ghost! If you kill us, the Governor will have your head! I am the son-in-law of Deputy Governor Jeremy Schlesinger! Do you hear me? You touch us, and the entire weight of the Veridian government will crush you!"

Ethan watched the young man's desperate display with a look of detached pity. He slowly walked toward Julian, the rhythmic click of his boots on the blood-slicked floor sounding like the ticking of a countdown clock.

CRACK!

Before Julian could even blink, Catherine Jones's hand blurred. A resounding slap sent Julian spinning through the air like a discarded rag doll. He collided with a serving table, sending crystal flutes and expensive hors d'oeuvres flying before he hit the ground, rolling until he stopped at Ethan's feet.

"You speak of the Governor as if he is your personal shield," Ethan said, looking down at the groveling heir. "I just moved you. What is your 'shield' going to do about it?"

Julian spat out a broken tooth, his eyes wide with a mix of fury and soul-deep fear. He wanted to scream more threats, but the cold steel in Ethan's eyes silenced him.

"I will grant you a stay of execution," Ethan continued, his voice resonating with an authority that seemed to vibrate the very walls of the mansion. "I am giving the Herman family exactly ten days. Ten days of grace. During this time, you will go to the authorities and confess every sin—every child you sold, every life you ruined at Apex Village, and every hand you had in the ambush on Moonlit Mountain."

He leaned in closer, his shadow engulfing Julian. "And most importantly, you will travel to the Ambershire People's Hospital. You, your father, and every member of your clan will kneel in the dirt outside the entrance. You will beg for the forgiveness of my sister, Bree Smith, and you will stay there, heads bowed, until she opens her eyes. If she does not wake, or if you fail to show the proper contrition, I will return. And on the eleventh day, the name Herman will be erased from the history of Solinar."

Without waiting for a response, Ethan turned and walked out of the hall. Catherine followed, her blades vanishing back into her sleeves as if they had never existed.

Outside, the cool night air of Ambershire felt clean compared to the stench of the Herman estate.

"Supreme King," Catherine said as she opened the car door. "With all due respect, we could have ended them tonight. Even with the Deputy Governor's involvement, a single call to the Governor of Veridian would have cleared the path. Why the ten-day delay?"

Ethan looked out at the city skyline, his expression pensive. "In Solinar, justice must be seen to be done. If I simply slaughter them, I am just another criminal in the eyes of my sisters. But more importantly, the Hermans are merely a branch on a much larger tree. By giving them ten days, I am giving them time to panic. They will reach out to their true masters, their 'upper lines.' They are the bait, Catherine. I want to see who comes to their rescue."

As the black sedan pulled away, the Herman mansion remained in a state of catatonic shock. Inside, Jason Herman helped his son up. The patriarch's eyes were bloodshot, his mind racing.

"Ten days," Jason whispered. "He thinks he can give us a deadline? He's just a man. A man with a fast bodyguard."

"Father, he's a devil," Julian whimpered, clutching his swollen jaw. "But he's right about one thing—we need help. We need to call the Schlesinger family."

"No," Jason snapped. "The Deputy Governor is for legal protection. To deal with a monster like Smith, we need something more... specialized. But first, we follow your plan. We discredit him. We make the Smith sisters believe he is an impostor."

The following morning, Julian Herman drove to the Riverbank Villa, the prestigious residence of the Schlesinger family. He had spent the night forging documents and altering digital records with the help of high-priced hackers. He needed to turn the narrative around before Bree Smith woke up.

He was greeted at the door by his wife, Jean Herman. She was the image of high-society elegance in a designer silk dress, but her face twisted in horror when she saw Julian's bruised and battered face.

"Julian! What happened to you?" she cried, reaching out to touch his swollen cheek.

"It's the Smith family, Jean," Julian lied, his voice thick with rehearsed tragedy. "A man claiming to be Ethan Smith has appeared. He's an impostor, a high-level mercenary hired by Bree to shake us down. He attacked our home last night, murdered our staff, and threatened to kill us all if we didn't pay him 'reparations' for some imaginary crime. He's using your father's name to intimidate the police."

Jean Herman's eyes flashed with indignation. She was fiercely protective of her husband and her family's status. "A mercenary? Pretending to be a long-lost brother? That is the most disgusting thing I've ever heard. Does Bree really think she can use a fake sibling to launch a coup against the five families?"

"She's desperate, Jean," Julian sighed, leaning into her. "She's built this whole 'hero' persona, and now she's using this thug to do her dirty work. I'm terrified for our family. I'm terrified for you."

Jean squeezed his hand, her jaw set. "Don't be. My father is the Deputy Governor. No street thug is going to bully my husband in this city. He's in his study right now. We're going to show him exactly what kind of 'hero' Bree Smith really is."

They entered the sun-drenched study, where Jeremy Schlesinger sat behind a massive oak desk, reviewing regional reports. He looked up, his brow furrowing at the sight of his son-in-law's injuries.

"Julian? Explain this," the Governor commanded.

Julian placed a thick manila folder on the desk. "Father, we've uncovered a massive fraud. This man calling himself Ethan Smith is a lie. We found these records in a hidden archive during a sweep of my uncle's old business files."

He began spreading out the "evidence." "This is the real Ethan Smith," he said, pointing to a grainy photo of a malnourished child. "He was sold into slavery at Shark Island in the North Sea fifteen years ago. And this," he pointed to a medical report, "is the final entry. It states the boy died following a head injury against the jagged rocks of the shoreline. He's been dead for over a decade."

Jeremy Schlesinger picked up the documents, his eyes scanning the detailed—but entirely fabricated—life and death of the real Smith boy.

"So this man in the city...?" the Governor asked.

"An impostor," Julian insisted. "A criminal with a passing resemblance, coached by the Smith sisters to provide them with an emotional shield. If the public thinks they are protecting their 'baby brother,' no one will question their aggressive expansion into the West District. He's a weapon, Father. And he's a dangerous one."

Jeremy Schlesinger slammed the folder shut, his face a mask of bureaucratic fury. He didn't care much for the truth, but he cared deeply about the stability of his jurisdiction and the honor of his son-in-law's house.

"To use a dead child for political leverage... Bree Smith has crossed a line," the Governor growled. "I don't care if she's the Deputy Governor. In Ambershire, the law is what I say it is. If this 'Ethan' is a fraud, I want him in a cell by tomorrow morning."

He reached for his secure line, his eyes fixed on the photos of the boy who never existed. "I will personally oversee the arrest of this 'Supreme King.' We will see how much he enjoys his throne when he's wearing a state-issued jumpsuit."