The city was full of light and music. People danced in the streets, celebrating the annual Festival of Unity. Fireworks lit up the night sky, booming above tall buildings. Every year, the entire country took the day off to enjoy the holiday.
But high above the city, in a quiet mansion on a hill, one man was not celebrating.
Tyler sat alone in his living room, holding a glass of wine. The lights were off, and only the moonlight and the flashes from fireworks lit the room. He leaned back in a leather chair, silent, watching the sky through the giant glass wall in front of him.
He could have thrown a party. He could have invited celebrities, politicians, and powerful people. But he didn't care for those things.
Tyler was one of the richest men in the country. He had turned his father's small business into a giant company. People called him smart, dangerous, and cold. Most thought he had no feelings at all.
But what they didn't know was that Tyler still cared in his own way.
Earlier that morning, he had sent a message to his security team.
> "Take the day off. Spend time with your families."
> "Are you sure, sir?" one of them replied.
"We didn't ask for leave."
> *"I know," Tyler replied. "But you deserve it. Come back tomorrow."
They listened, even though they were confused. No one said thank you, and Tyler didn't expect it. He just wanted them to have a break.
No one else was in the mansion. No guards, no staff. Just silence.
He sipped his wine again. The bitter taste didn't bother him. He was used to bitterness.
Then, something strange happened.
He heard something. A low sound, like engines.
He stood up and walked to the window.
Down below, on the long road leading to his house, several black cars were moving toward the mansion. Not one or two cars—but a whole convoy. Tyler counted at least ten, maybe more.
They didn't stop at the gate.
No alarms went off. No one came to stop them. The cameras didn't alert him. He had turned everything off for the holiday, trusting that no one would be foolish enough to attack him.
Now, he wasn't so sure.
He placed the wine glass down and calmly adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. Then he waited.
The cars reached the front of the house and stopped in perfect order. Like a military unit.
The front car door opened. A man stepped out.
He was tall and broad-shouldered. He wore a black suit with golden dragon patterns on the collar. He looked important, confident, and dangerous. His hair was slicked back, and his shoes shined like mirrors.
The rest of the men stepped out of the other cars. All dressed in black. All calm. All waiting.
Tyler narrowed his eyes. He had seen many kinds of people. Politicians, gangsters, businessmen, and traitors. But something about this man felt different.
He didn't knock.
He simply pushed the front doors open and walked inside.
Tyler didn't move. He stood near the stairs, watching the man come in.
The two stared at each other for a few seconds.
"You came with a lot of noise," Tyler finally said. His voice was calm, like he was talking about the weather.
The man smiled. "Do you remember me?"
Tyler looked at him again. Something about his eyes… the way he stood… it felt familiar. A distant memory came to him.
"Years ago…" Tyler said slowly. "You came to my door. You wanted money."
The man nodded. "You threw me out."
"You were asking for too much. You gave no reason. You wouldn't leave when I asked. So yes, I threw you out."
The man's smile grew colder. "That day, you ruined my life."
"And today?" Tyler asked.
"Today, I return as the Dragon King of California."
Tyler raised an eyebrow. "You gave yourself quite a name."
"I earned it," the Dragon King replied.
Then, he raised one hand and snapped his fingers.
The moment the Dragon King snapped his fingers, everything changed.
Tyler heard footsteps—fast, sharp, and organized. The men who had stepped out of the black cars were now storming into the mansion from every side.
The front door was already wide open, and now other doors opened too. Glass shattered somewhere below. Footsteps echoed through the hallways. These men weren't just random thugs—they moved like trained soldiers. Clean, quick, deadly.
Tyler didn't run. He didn't panic.
He stayed calm, standing at the top of the staircase, looking down at the chaos. His heart beat steadily, but his mind raced.
He cursed himself—not out loud, but in his head.
I should've left the cameras on. Should've kept at least two guards.
But he hadn't. Because he wanted to be kind. Because he thought nothing would happen during a holiday.
Now, he was paying for that mistake.
The Dragon King walked up the stairs slowly, step by step. His eyes stayed locked on Tyler, like a hunter walking toward his prey.
"You built this empire with cold logic," the Dragon King said. "With no heart. No mercy. And when I came to you for help—just once—you threw me into the dirt."
"You asked for money like you were owed it," Tyler replied, voice flat. "You gave no reason. No explanation. You came into my house demanding what I built."
"I was desperate," the Dragon King said.
"And I had no reason to care," Tyler answered. "You weren't my friend. Not my family. You were just noise. I made the smart choice."
The Dragon King stopped one step below him. "Smart? Maybe. But today, you learn what it feels like to be the one on the floor."
In a flash, one of the Dragon King's men rushed at Tyler from the side.
Tyler moved fast—faster than anyone expected. He ducked low, turned, and slammed his elbow into the man's jaw. The man fell with a thud.
Another rushed in. Tyler grabbed a vase from a nearby table and smashed it into the man's face. Blood splattered across the wall.
But there were too many.
Three more men tackled him. Tyler fought back, punching and kicking, but he wasn't a fighter. He was strong, sure—but not trained like they were.
A fist hit him in the stomach. Then another. He grunted and doubled over.
Someone slammed him into the wall. The back of his head hit hard.
Another punch hit his ribs. Something cracked.
He couldn't breathe.
He fell to the floor, gasping, trying to move—but his body wasn't listening.
Above him, the Dragon King knelt down.
"You don't even remember my name," he said quietly.
Tyler looked up through bloodied eyes. "Should I?"
"No," the Dragon King whispered. "Because now… the world will remember mine."
He stood.
"End it."
One of the men raised a blade.
Tyler closed his eyes.
The cold edge of the blade pressed against Tyler's skin.
His thoughts were quiet now. No fear. No begging. Just stillness.
He had always been called heartless. Emotionless. A machine. But today, he had sent his guards home. Not because they asked—but because he cared, in his own quiet way.
That small kindness had cost him everything.
The blade moved.
Darkness rushed in.
And then—
> [Arch Villain System Activated]
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