Damn. Of all people to piss off, why him? Enoch Bernard was terrified.
Ever since the Nathan Atkinson incident, he hadn’t left the region. He’d been glued to his office phone, dreading a call from above, bracing himself for some furious reprimand. He was haunted by the thought that the person he almost offended might suddenly ring his office.
Days passed, and no call came. His anxiety slowly started to fade. Maybe, just maybe, the whole thing had blown over. But now, here he was again. That same cold, stern face. The same sharp features. And he showed up in the most jaw-dropping way imaginable.
It was him. It really was him. The legend. The ultimate figure who made Fletcher Atkinson end his nephew’s life.
“Enoch Bernard, do you remember me?” Kayden’s voice cut through the air, laced with a hint of mockery. His words sent an electric jolt through Enoch’s body, making him shudder.
Enoch Bernard stood frozen, unable to react, unable to speak. His wife, though, beat him to it, jabbing a finger at Kayden and cursing, “You little punk! You don’t get to say Enoch’s name!”
Without hesitation, Enoch backhanded his wife across the face. Hard. The force of the slap left a red handprint on her cheek, and she fell to the ground in shock.
Not missing a beat, Enoch marched straight up to Kayden, snapped his body to attention, and saluted with precision. His voice boomed with pride and urgency, “Enoch Bernard, Commander of Inassea, reporting to the Defender of the South!”
His shout echoed with passion, strength, and respect.
The soldiers behind him immediately followed suit. These warriors, clad in their battle armor, stood straight as arrows, eyes fixed on Kayden, and shouted in unison, “Reporting to the Defender of the South!”
Their voices thundered across the street, causing passersby to freeze in place. The sound was so powerful, it stirred the blood of anyone who heard it.
But as the awe of the moment passed, confusion set in among the onlookers. Defender of the South? Who’s that? They stared at the ragged figure of Kayden Scott, trying to make sense of it all. Could this scruffy, malnourished young man really be the one they were talking about?
Everyone was sizing him up. He didn’t have the commanding presence of someone like Enoch Bernard. No, he looked like a down-and-out drifter in clothes that probably didn’t cost more than a few bucks. Could this guy really be the one Enoch Bernard was saluting?
No way. It had to be some kind of disguise. A big-shot pretending to be a nobody? A secret visit from someone so high up that even Enoch Bernard had to show him respect?
But he’s just a kid! How could someone so young hold such power?
Their minds spun with possibilities, trying to piece together Kayden Scott’s identity.
He had to be a big deal. You don’t get someone like Enoch Bernard saluting just anyone.
In fact, Enoch was a legend himself. He commanded 100, 000 soldiers in Inassea. Even top officials had to show him respect. Just a few years ago, Enoch had single-handedly crushed a massive rebellion in the region by deploying 10, 000 troops. He was a living legend.
And yet, here he was, saluting this scrawny, ordinary-looking young man.
Enoch’s wife, who had been ready to explode with rage, sat stunned on the ground, hand on her cheek where Enoch had slapped her. She stared at her husband in disbelief, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
Everything went quiet. The crowd, the street-everything froze in time. It was as if the world was holding its breath.
Finally, Kayden moved. He casually wiped the nervous sweat from Enoch Bernard’s forehead, and with a calm, almost amused voice, he said, “Why so nervous? I’m not gonna eat you.”
His words did nothing to calm Enoch. The man was shaking from head to toe. He knew that with a single word from Kayden Scott, his fate could be sealed. His life hung in the balance.
Kayden wasn’t just any figure of power. He was something far greater.
The same man who had coldly ordered the death of Fletcher Atkinson’s nephew wouldn’t hesitate for a second to snuff out a mere regional commander.
The thought chilled Enoch to the bone. For someone who wielded the power to command an entire region, to bend others to his will, Enoch knew that in front of this man-the Defender of the South-he was nothing.