I Dominate Them All!

Chapter 0005 — A Pillar has fallen

Tonight was a night of celebration for the Blackwood family. Exodus Corp, their most successful legitimate company to date, had just reached its tenth anniversary.

Their patriarch, Senior Richard Blackwood, was also celebrating his 70th birthday, adding even more grandeur to the occasion.

A fleet of high-end helicopters landed at the Blackwood estate, and A-list celebrities, politicians, and representatives from the empire’s most prominent families disembarked to partake in the festivities.

Inside the manor’s grand foyer, Senior Richard Blackwood sat comfortably, attended by his harem of women, who caressed him and served him champagne. Despite his age, the patriarch appeared sharp and athletic, impeccably dressed in the finest suit money could buy.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is a $31 million Patek Philippe Grandmaster Chime wristwatch,” the family’s butler announced from the hall’s podium. “It is a gift from the Morgan family, who wish the Senior prosperity in his new age.”

The butler continued, all eyes fixed on him. “This is the deed to a private island valued at $100 million, generously gifted by the Del Rosario family. They wish the Senior many more fruitful birthdays.”

“This here is the Salvator Mundi by Leonardo da Vinci, an exquisite art piece valued at $430 million,” the butler continued. “The Delacroix family extends their best wishes and prays for your continued health and grace.”

Polite applause echoed through the room as the gifts were presented.

A smug smile spread across Richard’s face. He laughed heartily, raised his glass in a toast to the occasion, and downed the expensive champagne, enjoying life to the fullest.

Meanwhile, at the estate entrance, a pile of mobsters lay lifeless, stacked on top of each other. Their bodies formed a ring around a man whose black attire seemed to seep smoke. His eyes glowed red, like the scorching coals inside the coffin he carried.

This man was Orion, and he had come to collect a long-overdue debt. To protect Chloe from being drawn into what he would do tonight, he had masked his identity.

Orion strode toward the house.

He reached their golden doors and drove his foot into them. They instantly exploded off their hinges, crashing to the floor with a deafening sound that reverberated through the room, freezing the party in place.

Bang!

A coffin was hurled into the center of the hall, its contents spilling out and scattering fiery coals across the marble floor, scaring guests and halting the party.

The glowing stones spread, creeping toward the feet of Senior Richard.

Richard pulled from his women, his face twisted in shock as he yelled, “What the hell is this? Who are you?”

Orion’s voice shook the room as he spoke. “Me?” He paused, his presence heavy. “I’m the ghost of your past, here to present a well-deserved 70th birthday gift, and,” his voice deepened, “to take your life as payment for a decade-long overdue debt.”

Strained gasps filled the air as the guests reacted in shock. Who would dare hurt a pillar?

Richard’s face went pale, but as he carefully observed the man who had come to kill him, he noticed something: no weapon, no companions. It was just him.

A confident chuckle tore from Richard’s throat, and he fell back to his seat. Composing himself, he finally said, “It’s just you? Boy, you’ve just signed your own death sentence.”

Turning to his chief of security, he ordered, “Assemble the mansion guards. Bring me his head.”

Orion started forward, slow and delicate, taking his time.

The chief of security, flanked by thirty men, stepped forward to block the intruder's path. Undeterred, the masked figure continued advancing. The guards swiftly raised their M16 rifles, aiming them squarely at the approaching threat.

“Fire!”

Hundreds of bullets tore through the air toward Orion, the deafening sound of gunfire echoing throughout the hall.

However, the masked intruder remained standing.

His body showed no signs of injury; he didn’t flinch, scream, or stagger as dozens of steel rounds struck him. Instead, he continued walking, his steps slow and deliberate, his vengeful eyes fixed on Richard.

Molten steel dripped from his cloak and pooled at his feet. The bullets had melted mid-flight, consumed by Orion’s inferno before they could pierce his body.

The guards exhausted their ammunition, yet the man they had been firing at remained alive, still advancing.

The entire hall was in shock.

Richard’s confident smirk quickly faded, replaced by a look of stunned disbelief. The question in his mind mirrored that of everyone around him: what the hell is this man?

Orion drew closer.

The patriarch began to panic.

He yelled desperately at the guards, “Don’t just stand there like fools! Shoot! Attack! Do something!”

The guards discarded their guns, drawing combat knives in unison. With a battle cry, all charged at Orion, their blades glinting under the chandelier's light as they aimed for his throat.

The chief guard’s blade swung toward his throat, but the entire blade melted away from the handle the instant it touched Orion’s neck. Before he could process what he had just witnessed, Orion drove his foot into the guard’s chest.

The impact launched the man backward, crashing into four others and toppling a lavishly set guest table. The remaining guards quickly regrouped, spreading out to attack from all sides.

It was pointless, as one by one, the guards fell.

Richard watched in absolute terror from his seat as his last hope for defense crumbled, leaving him vulnerable.

Orion’s eyes locked back onto him, and he proceeded forward, his steps deliberate and unhurried.

The Senior’s breath hitched, panic gripping his chest.

Desperation consumed him and he quickly shoved his harem of women aside, reaching into a hidden compartment beneath his chair.

From it, he retrieved a flamethrower, his hands trembling as he quickly aimed it at Orion.

The masked man still pressed on, unfazed by the weapon.

Richard couldn’t take it any longer; he pulled the trigger, and a jet of liquid fire erupted from the flamethrower. The flames surged forward, engulfing the intruder’s path and consuming his entire body in a raging inferno.

Not a trace of Orion could be seen after.

A short laugh came from Richard’s lips, quickly growing into a loud, triumphant sound that echoed through the hall as he celebrated his victory. The party guests joined in, cheering and clapping.

Unbeknownst to them, a streak of blue began to ripple through the orange flames that engulfed the intruder. The blue grew and grew, consuming the fire until an eerie, unnatural hue was all that burned.

At that moment, everyone froze, their eyes reflecting the strange blue light.

Suddenly, a fiery blue figure took a step forward, and panic ensued.

Screams echoed through the hall as guests—some of the empire's wealthiest—succumbed to terror, stumbling over one another in a frantic attempt to escape. A few fainted outright, trampled in the chaos of the stampede.

The fiery entity got closer.

Terrified and desperate, Richard pulled the trigger again. Another jet of fire erupted, but it strangely turned blue. Suddenly, his weapon began to shake violently before exploding, ripping off Senior Blackwood’s arm.

He let out a shrill yelp and collapsed into his chair, writhing like a wounded animal.

Seeing all hope is lost, a bitter, desperate laugh left Richard’s bloodied mouth.

He stared at the fiery entity now looming over him, laughing. “A ghost from my past? A decade ago? It all makes sense now. You’re one of those wretched Smiths, aren’t you? A survivor. But with magic powers now.”

Orion spoke, his voice feral within the flames. “Richard Charles Blackwood, your greed drove you to conspire in the massacre of your best friend’s innocent family. I am the product of your sins and have come to claim retribution. Any last words?”

Richard let out a rasping laugh, coughing violently. “Innocent?” he sneered. “Let me tell you something. That corrupt family deserved their demise.”

He smirked, his defiance unyielding. “They’d better rot in hell.”

“Bastard!” Orion growled, seizing him by the mouth and lifting him effortlessly. “You’re not even the least remorseful. You—and the rest of the pillars—will pay for every life you’ve taken.”

The flames rippled and crept from Orion’s body to Richard’s, eating him up.

Richard’s agonized screams echoed through the hall.

Moments later, a charred bone slipped from Orion’s grasp, clattering onto the scorched chair.

One down, three to go.

The fiery figure imploded then into thin blue dust, leaving behind a ravaged party hall and a stunned, horrified onlookers.

•

A pillar had been assassinated on his 70th birthday, and news of the incident spread instantly across social media and major news networks.

The shocking event quickly reached the ears of the remaining pillars and, eventually, the enigmatic head of their mafia organization.

Hours later, at the Blackwoods’ estate,

A fleet of over two dozen black cars surged into the compound, coming to a halt at the manor’s entrance.

Hundreds of heavily built men spilled out of the cars, swiftly forming a rigid line in front of a sleek, plate-less Rolls Royce. A man dashed from the driver's seat, circling the car to open the doors.

From within, a towering entity emerged, and the weather turned gloomy.

His eyes were devoid of pupils, his face lacked eyebrows, and a dark, murderous aura clung to him like a second skin. Cloaked in all black, he wore a long fur coat draped loosely over his shoulders. The coat bore a golden badge that read: Lord.

Very few knew this, but there existed a secretive and immensely powerful mafia organization that the city's four pillars were a part of, known as The Order. They’d immense power, controlling the empire’s criminal underworld. But what truly made them feared, however, was their leader, Lord.

The Devil.

He strode in.

A white shroud lay at the center of the living room, draped over Richard’s remains.

The wailing of the pillar’s concubines and extended family filled the room, their cries echoing in the somber space. However, the moment Lord stepped inside, a dark shadow seemed to envelop the room.

The butler was the first to notice him. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, trembling. In a hushed, fearful tone, he whispered the man’s identity, and one by one, the others followed suit, bowing at his feet in silent terror.

Mr. Lord, the enigmatic leader of The Order, was never seen in public. But tonight, a pillar had been assassinated.

His cold, unfeeling gaze fell upon Richard’s remains as he squatted, reaching for the shroud and lifting it.

Lord inspected the body carefully, and a dark cloud lingered on his face. It was far worse than he had expected. The assailant hadn't used fists or guns. They weren't just an assassin; they were an alchemist too.

Just then, Victor Blackwood, Richard's only son and successor, entered the room, casually flirting with his girlfriends.

The pompous elite cared little about his father's death; to him, his inheritance was finally within reach. However, the moment he saw Lord inspecting his grandfather’s remains, while his family bowed before the ominous figure, rage consumed him.

He stormed over and without thinking, roared. “How dare you? You think you can walk in here and start inspecting a pillar without showing proper respect! Get the fuck away from my grandpa! Fucking ghoul.”

Turning to his family, he bellowed, “Why the hell are y’all kneeling? Get up!”

But no one moved.

Mr. Lord rose slowly. Without looking at Victor, he said in a low, chilling voice, “A minute.”

The sound of his words sent shivers down the spines of the Blackwood family.

Victor, however, rolled his eyes. He sneered. “Well, you’ve a minute to get the fuck out of... ah!”

His words cut off abruptly as he began choking. A powerful force clamping around his neck and lifting him into the air.

The problem was no one was holding him.

Victor thrashed helplessly, gasping for breath. It wasn’t until his bulging eyes locked onto Lord, whose face now bore a dark, psychotic shadow, that he realized who was in control. He’d powers.

“Ah! Please, please, I’m sorry,” Victor gasped, his voice barely audible as he struggled to speak. His limbs flailed weakly, but none dared intervene. They knew that begging for him would seal their own fate.

Lord pulled him closer, his eerie, glowing eyes boring into Victor’s as he floated toward him.

Lord spoke again, his voice cold. “You’re down to 30 seconds, boy. Tell me, what happened here?”

Gasping for breath, Victor choked out everything he had heard and seen, along with what others had told him.

Lord’s white, pupil-less eyes widened in shock. “You’re certain he specifically said he was a ghost of the past, come to collect a decade-long overdue debt? And he has crimson eyes?”

Victor nodded frantically in confirmation.

Lord's face went thoughtful, then it twisted in pure rage. “A Smith survived.” his demon aura increased, and it snapped Victor’s neck.

There was nothing on earth Lord hated more than a Smith.

Thud!

Victor’s lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

The Blackwood family erupted into sobs, shaking in the ground, scared for their lives.

Lord strolled out, his dark aura trailing behind him like a living shadow.

To his chauffeur and right-hand man waiting outside, he spoke, “Call in the families. Provide our government contacts with all footage of the incident, and tell them to provide me with that man’s whereabouts. I want to know which woman, family, or individual he’s currently infatuated with.”

“They, along with the Smith, will perish.”