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It seemed to make sense.
The bald Marlos rubbed his shiny head, clearly thinking hard.
He looked like he understood.
And like he didn't.
In the end, he could only stare at Ryden awkwardly.
Seeing this, Ryden knew his lecture had mostly gone to waste.
Looks like I'll need to print instructions for him to follow step by step.
So stupid.
Why don't I have a single smart subordinate?
Terrence was smart, but he wasn't suited for this kind of work.
Ryden drained his drink in frustration.
He reached into his bag, pulled out three assembled assault rifles, and tossed out two boxes of ammunition.
"This is the last support I'm giving you. If you want to carve out a future, do exactly what I said. Don't overthink it."
He paused, tone flat.
"By the way, where's Carmendra? On a job-or dead?"
His voice was cold, as if human life carried no weight.
Ryden didn't even stand up.
Just the act of pulling out the guns made Marlos's scalp go numb.
He had seen their power last night.
They could turn a man into a sieve.
Swallowing his fear, he spoke quickly.
"Carmendra was a traitor. He wanted to steal the guns you gave us, so I killed him. That's the truth."
Ryden looked straight into Marlos's eyes.
The man was afraid.
But he didn't dodge the gaze.
Didn't blink.
If he were lying, his eyes would have betrayed him instantly.
Only five seconds passed.
To Marlos, it felt like a century.
Those calm eyes-without a trace of killing intent-terrified him more than rage ever could.
Cold sweat soaked his back.
It felt like standing before an army.
Like a venomous snake was coiled behind him, ready to strike if he displeased its master.
There was no sense of safety at all.
"Alright. I believe you."
Ryden smiled.
"That guy was just a test anyway. You did well."
He laughed lightly.
"Look at this place. Now you've got a bar. Work hard, and you'll get more."
"I won't micromanage you. Everything's up to you."
"Don't worry. I won't treat you like a puppet."
"There's an old saying: if you want the horse to run, you have to let it eat first."
"As long as you finish the tasks I give you, you'll be fine."
A dangerous glint flickered through Ryden's eyes.
Maybe because he had died once.
Maybe because he'd grown indifferent.
"Yes, yes! I'll listen to you, Master Ryden! I'll do a good job! I'll definitely complete your tasks!"
Marlos swore loudly, as if a moment's hesitation would cost him his life.
He looked like a eunuch serving a temperamental emperor.
Todd, slow as he was, knew what to do.
He immediately bowed ninety degrees.
More respectful than someone from that earthquake-prone, adult-film-famous island nation.
"I will follow Master Ryden's every word. My life belongs to you."
Ryden hadn't expected to be this intimidating.
But he didn't bother thinking too deeply about it.
Black cat or white cat-if it caught mice, it was a good cat.
"These three rifles are the latest AK-47s. Extremely durable."
"You can buy ammo for them at gun shops."
"Remember this-don't lose them."
"Follow my instructions exactly."
"And if I find out you're doing something behind my back..."
His smile vanished.
"Death will feel like a luxury."
The result satisfied him.
It wasn't that Ryden knew ancient torture methods.
He didn't eat people.
He just knew how to act.
In the end, intimidation came down to who looked more convincing.
Ryden-who had only ever killed a chicken-had successfully cowed two hardened gang members.
Todd was cowardly.
But obedient.
Marlos had an ego.
But as long as Ryden stayed strong, he'd remain a loyal dog.
As for Carman the pickpocket being dead?
If he was dead, he was dead.
I didn't know him anyway.
"Master Ryden, we'll do exactly as you say. Anything else?"
Marlos leaned closer, giving a suggestive wink.
"If not, how about having some fun? Plenty of good dancers here. Want to try?"
Ryden almost spat beer in his face.
Who knows what diseases those people carried?
Your status shaped your thinking.
If he were still a vagrant with no standards, maybe he'd say yes.
But now?
He had thousands of dollars.
And a girlfriend as beautiful as Dia.
Why would he look at those women?
"No."
"Get lost."
"Starting tonight, take over the rest of Vulcan Street."
He raised his glass.
"Here's to your success."
"Haha."
Todd and Marlos stared at the AK-47s on the table.
Their cold metallic sheen made their mouths dry.
Most gangs only had pistols.
Light machine guns weren't even standard army equipment.
These four rifles were practically nuclear weapons.
Against clubs, knives, and machetes?
Victory would be effortless.
"We toast to you too, Master Ryden!"
"Haha! Drink as much as you like-we'll finish ours!"
They downed their beers in one gulp.
A loud burp followed.
Ryden headed home alone.
He'd drunk a little too much.
And refused an escort.
The cold night wind brushed against him.
"I'm going to live longer."
"I'm going to live better."
"Let the World War come!"
He stared up at the star-filled sky and roared.
The neighborhood erupted.
Men and women engaged in nightly "exercise" were scared straight into impotence.
"Damn it! Who was that?!"
"Shut up! It's too loud!"
"Who's shouting?! Don't run-I'll kill you!"
Curses rang out.
The culprit had already disappeared into the filthy streets, snickering.
Tonight was destined to be restless.
Backed by powerful support, Marlos began mobilizing his men.
Scouts were sent out.
Guns and ammunition were handed to his core members.
"Tonight, we become Brooklyn's fourth-largest gang!"
"No more rivals!"
"Follow me! Take them out!"
"From today on, we eat and drink like kings!"
"Yeah!! Charge!"
"Kill them!"
People of the same race gathered quickly.
Cohesion formed fast.
What followed was a one-sided slaughter.
Doors were kicked open.
Three AK-47s roared.
Bars were shredded.
Glass exploded.
White flags rose one after another.
Against overwhelming firepower, knives and pistols meant nothing.
The smart ones surrendered.
This wasn't a war to the death.
The stubborn ones were simply turned into sieves by the storm of metal.
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