Night had already fallen over the capital.
The city was quiet in a way it had never been years ago. No gunfire. No gangs fighting in the streets. No chaos. Just lights glowing across buildings and distant traffic moving peacefully.
All of it existed because of Emma Elarat.
Inside the imperial headquarters, the
atmosphere was silent and disciplined. Guards stood outside massive doors, unmoving like statues.
Inside the office, Emma sat behind a long black desk.
Her posture was straight, composed. The same serious expression she had always worn.
Her hair slightly longer now than it used to be, falling neatly over her shoulders.
Years had passed since the day she killed Vencor.
She was 25 now.
On the desk were several files, reports, and digital tablets containing updates from across the territories under her control. Everything was organized. Everything ran smoothly.
Peace.
A knock.
One of her intelligence officers entered the room.
He looked uneasy.
Emma didn't lift her head immediately. She continued reading a document.
"Speak."
Her voice was calm. Flat.
The officer swallowed.
"Your Majesty… new intelligence has arrived."
Emma slowly raised her eyes toward him.
Just that look alone made people nervous.
"From where?"
"From the eastern districts… the former Vencor territories."
The room felt slightly colder.
Emma placed the document down.
"Continue."
The officer stepped forward and placed a file on the desk.
Inside were photos.
Crime scenes.
Beaten gang members.
Destroyed hideouts.
Bodies of criminals who had ruled the streets
before Emma's system stabilized things.
But these deaths were recent.
Emma flipped through the pages calmly.
Her eyes scanned everything with surgical precision.
"Who is responsible?"
The officer hesitated for a moment.
Then he said it.
"He calls himself… the real Vencor's legacy."
Emma stopped turning the pages.
Silence filled the room.
The officer continued.
"He's been attacking gangs. Taking territory. Destroying organizations. Witnesses say he fights alone."
Another photo.
A man standing in a ruined warehouse surrounded by defeated gangsters.
His face partly hidden.
But the resemblance was clear.
Emma stared at it.
The officer finally said the final piece.
"He is Vencor's grandson."
The air in the room felt heavy.
Years ago, Emma had personally killed Vencor. That battle was the turning point that allowed her to take control and establish order.
But now—
His blood had returned.
Emma closed the file slowly.
Her expression did not change.
No anger.
No surprise.
Just quiet calculation.
"So…"
She leaned slightly back in her chair.
"He grew up."
The officer nodded nervously.
"Yes. And according to our reports… he's extremely strong."
Emma looked again at the photograph.
Destroyed criminals.
Broken buildings.
A pattern of violence spreading through the city.
Not chaos.
Not random crime.
Something more deliberate.
A message.
Emma's fingers tapped lightly against the desk.
Once.
Twice.
Then she spoke calmly.
"He's not attacking civilians."
"Just a bit, Your Majesty."
"Although, He's only targeting gangs."
Emma's eyes narrowed slightly.
The officer said nothing.
Emma closed the file completely.
Her gaze turned toward the window, overlooking the peaceful city she had built.
Lights everywhere.
Order.
Control.
Something she fought for years to create.
And now someone claiming Vencor's legacy had appeared.
Finally she spoke again.
"Send observers."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Do not engage him."
The officer looked surprised.
"You're not sending forces?"
Emma slowly stood up.
Her presence alone filled the room.
"No."
She picked up the photo again.
Studying the young man carefully.
Then she said quietly:
"I will handle him myself."
The officer felt a chill run down his spine.
Emma placed the photo back into the file.
"After all…"
Her expression remained cold.
"…this is unfinished business."
Outside, the peaceful city continued sleeping.
Unaware that the shadow of Vencor's bloodline had returned.
And soon—
He would face the woman who killed his grandfather.
----
A dark alley behind an abandoned warehouse.
Rainwater dripped from broken pipes, forming small puddles on the cracked ground. The streetlights nearby barely reached inside, leaving most of the place in shadow.
A man was kneeling on the floor.
An officer.
His uniform was dirty, his lip bleeding, one eye already swelling.
Standing over him was Joseph.
Vencor's grandson.
Taller than most men, broad-shouldered, his presence heavy with aggression. His expression carried the same cold brutality people once feared in his grandfather.
Joseph's hand suddenly grabbed the officer's hair.
He yanked his head upward violently.
The officer groaned in pain.
Joseph stared down at him with burning hatred.
"Where."
His voice was low.
"Is."
He tightened his grip on the officer's hair.
"Emma."
The officer breathed heavily, barely conscious.
"I… don't know…"
Joseph's jaw tightened.
His fist moved instantly.
CRACK.
A brutal punch slammed into the officer's face.
The man collapsed sideways, but Joseph dragged him back up by the hair again.
Blood now ran from the officer's nose.
Joseph spoke again.
"Don't lie to me."
Another punch.
THUD.
The officer's head snapped back.
Joseph didn't stop.
Again.
CRACK.
Again.
THUD.
The alley echoed with the sound of fists hitting flesh.
Joseph's face didn't change.
No hesitation.
No mercy.
Only rage.
"Where is she?"
Punch.
"Where."
Punch.
"IS."
Punch.
The officer's body went limp.
His eyes rolled back.
Joseph held him up for a moment longer.
The man had fainted.
Joseph stared at him silently.
Then he released his hair.
The officer's body dropped to the wet ground like a sack.
Joseph exhaled slowly.
"…Pathetic."
He wiped some blood from his knuckles.
Then he spat on the ground beside the unconscious officer.
His eyes lifted toward the distant skyline of the city.
Somewhere out there…
Was the woman who killed his grandfather.
His fists slowly clenched again.
"Emma Elarat…"
His voice carried quiet fury.
"I'll find you."
Rain continued dripping in the silent alley.
And Joseph walked away, leaving the unconscious officer behind.
Joseph walked down a busy street, the city lights reflecting off the wet pavement from the earlier rain.
Unlike the dark alley before, this part of the city was alive.
People walking. Cars passing. Music from bars and restaurants.
Joseph moved through the crowd like a predator among civilians.
Two women passed by him, laughing together.
Joseph glanced at them and smirked slightly.
"Evening."
His voice was smooth now, completely different from the brutal tone he had used earlier.
One of the women looked surprised.
"Hey…"
Joseph leaned casually against a streetlight.
"You two look like you're having a good night."
The other woman giggled.
"Well… we were."
Joseph gave a small confident smile.
"Maybe it just got better."
They laughed, clearly charmed by his confidence.
For a moment, he looked like a completely different man.
Relaxed.
Dangerous.
Charismatic.
But his eyes still carried that same darkness.
After a short moment, he waved casually and continued walking down the street, leaving the women whispering to each other.
Then—
Every screen in the area suddenly flickered.
Phones.
Billboards.
Bar televisions.
Store displays.
Even the giant digital advertisements across the city.
The images distorted for a second.
Then a broadcast appeared.
---
Meanwhile.
Inside the imperial control center.
Emma stood in front of a large wall of monitors.
Before coming here, she had made one call.
The phone rang once.
Twice.
Then someone picked up.
A man leaned against a wall somewhere, holding a cigarette between his fingers.
Smoke slowly rose into the air.
Mostang.
"Yeah?"
Emma spoke calmly.
"If anything happens… I'll call you."
Mostang took a slow drag from the cigarette.
A smirk appeared on his face.
"Alright."
Smoke escaped his mouth.
"Boss."
The call ended.
Emma put the phone away.
Then she turned toward the operators in the room.
"I need every screen."
They looked at her.
"Across the United States."
The room instantly went into motion.
Technicians typing.
Systems connecting.
Satellites linking.
One of them finally spoke.
"Broadcast ready."
Emma stepped forward.
A camera turned toward her.
Her expression was calm.
Cold.
Composed.
And then—
The broadcast began.
---
Across cities…
Times Square screens.
Restaurant televisions.
Gas station monitors.
Phones in people's hands.
Every screen flickered.
Then Emma appeared.
Standing calmly.
Watching the camera directly.
Joseph stopped walking when he saw it.
A massive digital billboard above the street suddenly showed her face.
The people around him murmured in confusion.
Emma spoke.
"Joseph."
Her voice was clear.
Sharp.
Calm.
"Stop acting arrogant."
Joseph's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched.
Emma continued.
"Your grandfather was scum."
Her tone didn't change.
"Why can't you accept that?"
People in the streets were now fully watching the broadcast.
Emma folded her arms behind her back.
"We can end things."
A brief pause.
"Face to face."
Her eyes locked into the camera.
Then she added one more thing.
A small smirk appearing.
"But don't forget…"
A short silence.
"I am Ethan's daughter."
Her smirk widened slightly.
The screen flickered.
Static.
Then the broadcast suddenly ended.
Every screen returned to normal programming.
Advertisements.
News.
Music videos.
As if nothing had happened.
---
Joseph stood in the street, staring at the billboard that had just gone dark.
The crowd around him slowly resumed normal conversation.
But Joseph didn't move.
A slow grin appeared on his face.
"Ethan's daughter…"
He chuckled quietly.
His eyes burned with excitement now.
"Good."
He cracked his knuckles.
"Now it's personal."
Chapter end