Here Comes Almighty Desmond Ice

Military Organization

The next morning, Desmond woke up with a sore body. After returning to bed the second time, he had struggled to sleep again, leaving dark circles under his eyes.

He headed to the bathroom, which was just as luxurious as the room itself, and took a quick shower. The old man had mentioned they would speak today, and Desmond didn’t want to be late. Afterward, he went to the wardrobe, already stocked with clothes tailored for him, and chose a black top and white trousers before heading out.

As he descended the stairs, he saw the same people from the living room the previous day, now gathered around the dining table for breakfast. He hesitated, unsure whether to join them or not.

“Desmond, you're awake! Come over!” Rebecca called out, waving him over.

He sighed and, feeling a bit awkward, made his way to the table. The old man was seated there as well, so Desmond greeted everyone before quietly joining them for the meal. He was surprised by the silence that hung over the table—was it because of the old man’s presence? Even Rebecca, who seemed like a chatterbox, was unusually quiet.

Once the meal was over, Desmond thanked them and stood up.

“Desmond, come with me outside,” the old man said.

They stepped out and sat beneath a beautiful tree. Butler Yaxley soon arrived with a glass of water for each of them.

“You may go now,” the old man dismissed him, and Yaxley left.

“Grandfather, is there something you want to tell me?” Desmond asked directly.

From the atmosphere at the dining table, Desmond had already sensed the old man had something weighing on his mind.

“Yes, there is,” the old man replied. “You’ve already agreed to take over from me, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Desmond confirmed with a nod.

The old man sighed, his tone becoming serious. “I don’t want you to think I’m being unfair, but there’s something you need to go through.” He paused before adding quickly, “You see, you don’t have any experience in my world—especially the military. Technically, you could inherit everything without going through this, but you won’t be able to rise to the top in the military world without facing some challenges.”

Desmond could see the reluctance in the old man’s eyes, sensing that he didn’t want to offend him. But it was clear he felt this was something important.

“Grandfather, you don’t need to worry. Please, speak freely,” Desmond reassured him.

Though he didn’t know exactly what the old man was about to reveal, Desmond could tell from his expression that it was a serious matter, despite the concern in his eyes.

“You have to join our underground Millitary organization,” 

Desmond was confused. “Organization? What's that?” 

“It's an organisation for millitary specially founded by me and some other powerful millitary men.” The old man simply.

“Oh.” Desmond nodded in understanding.

Seeing the old man had said just that, Desmond knew better not to ask more. If the old man wanted to, he could have spoke more on it.

The old man paused before continuing, "First, you'll need to enter our organization as a recruit. From there, you’ll have to work your way up, step by step, earning your place."

"Oh."

Seeing Desmond’s lackluster response, the old man elaborated, "Don't think it's as easy as it sounds. Our organization isn’t for the weak. Once you're in, you’ll face tougher and more dangerous opponents. If you want to rise, you’ll need to be stronger than them."

Desmond stayed silent, clearly absorbing every word.

"Is it really that difficult?" Desmond asked, curiosity evident in his voice.

"It's worse than you think. Every month, over 30 percent of recruits end up either seriously injured or dead," the old man admitted, his expression growing more concerned.

Desmond's eyes widened in shock.

"Seriously?" Now he understood why the old man had hesitated. An organization where 30 percent of people die was far more dangerous than he had anticipated.

Military? Organization? Desmond's thoughts swirled with the gravity of the situation.

"Are you afraid? You don’t have to go through with this if you’re not ready," the old man said, misinterpreting Desmond's silence as fear.

Desmond chuckled, gently placing his hand on the old man’s. "I'm fine, Grandfather. Why would I be scared?"

"You're really not afraid?" The old man still seemed skeptical.

"No, I’m not afraid," Desmond replied with confidence. "From the moment you entrusted your legacy to me, I swore I’d do whatever it takes to make you proud."

The old man smiled, pride swelling in his chest. "That’s my grandson."

Desmond hesitated for a moment, then continued, "Honestly, it's not just about making you proud. I want to be strong for myself, to protect the people I love... and to get revenge on those who’ve wronged me."

He lowered his gaze, guilt creeping in. Would his grandfather think less of him after hearing that?

What if he thinks I’m being selfish? Desmond wondered.

He briefly considered apologizing, but the old man’s next words took him by surprise.

"Heh, that’s the spirit! Revenge is sweet!" The old man laughed heartily.

Desmond stared in disbelief. Did his grandfather really approve?

Overwhelmed, Desmond quickly stood and embraced the old man. "Grandfather, you really do love me," he whispered, tears welling in his eyes.

He couldn’t fathom what he had done to deserve someone like his grandfather in his life.

"Of course! No one wrongs my grandson without facing the consequences. Go to that organization, grow stronger, and come back to get your revenge!" The old man patted Desmond's shoulder with pride.

“Sure.” 

After spending two weeks with his grandfather, Desmond set off for the underground organization. He, Desmond Ice, would return stronger and ready to exact revenge on all who had humiliated, betrayed, and mistreated him.

He was gone now, but he would surely come back transformed and empowered.

No matter the cost, even if it meant shedding every drop of his blood, he, “DESMOND ICE!”, would pursue his revenge!