CHAPTER 490: PROLOGUE II

Silence filled the room as they stared at the two who stood at the end of the table.

"Friends, it’s been a while," Sybil, a short old lady, greeted them with a smile. "I know all of you had more important things to attend to, so I appreciate that you took the time to come here."

"Sybil, you’re aware nothing is more important to us than maintaining harmony in the secret society," Marceline remarked, her tone sharp and unfriendly. "Let’s cut to the chase."

Then she shifted her gaze to the man standing beside Sybil. "So, it’s him?"

Everyone immediately assessed Atlas from head to toe.

Sybil dipped her head slightly and chuckled, already used to their impatience. She had expected this. Nodding, she turned to the young man next to her.

"Atlas," she called, placing a wrinkled hand on his back. "Talk to them."

Atlas glanced at Sybil, then stepped forward in silence. His sharp eyes swept over each of their faces before he placed the briefcase on the table. He unlocked it, turned it toward them, and opened it for all to see.

Inside was a head.

A severed head.

Everyone’s breath hitched as they stared at the face enclosed in the transparent glass container. They knew exactly whose head it was.

It was Nathalie Zorken—the "rightful" heir of the Zorken family, the woman who had nearly destroyed the entire family and its Order with her uncontrollable rage.

Atlas watched their reactions before his gaze landed on the empty seat at the table.

"Whether you allow me to take that seat or not..." After a long silence, Atlas finally spoke. He waited for all eyes to turn toward him before continuing, "...does not matter to me. I do not sit at a table where I am not welcome."

A sharp glint flickered in the corner of his eyes, unfazed by the tension suffocating the room or by the power each individual possessed.

"I can always create my own table," he added, meeting their stares without hesitation. "So if you wished for the fall of the Zorken family, do it now—right here. For I will lead the Zorken and its Order back to grace and greatness."

Arrogant? Yes.

But hadn’t they insisted they didn’t want to waste time? The feeling was mutual.

Sybil let out a quiet, secret chuckle behind him. She had given Atlas guidelines—hints about each member of the council, reminders, warnings. She had told him repeatedly not to offend anyone and to maintain friendly relations.

Yet all her reminders were tossed aside. Even so, she couldn’t help the weak chuckle rising in her throat as she listened to his bold greeting.

"If you oppose the idea of the Zorken family rising again, regaining our resources, our military power, and our losses, then I suggest you make your move immediately," Atlas continued, his voice flat and direct. Despite the words, his tone was not mocking or provoking. If anything, they felt his sincerity.

Because Atlas meant every word.

"Compared to each of you, the Zorken family has just come out of a long war between Nathalie and her sisters. Our people have lived under terror. Our resources are nearly depleted. Our strength, weakened." He drew a shallow breath. "Yet we do not accept death easily. We will fight any of you, even if it means to die fighting."

"And I..." He paused, studying each face as though committing them all to memory. "...will not die without taking another head."

With that, Atlas stepped back and slipped one hand into his pocket.

"I am pleased to meet all of you. And I’m glad to meet people who hate wasting their time as much as I do," he said, lowering his head slightly. "We’ll take our leave now. She and I still have an entire Order to rebuild."

With that said, he turned on his heel and glanced at Sybil. She smiled at him, nodding, then faced the others.

"He is a nice boy," Sybil said with a soft chuckle. "A bit strange sometimes, but... he means well."

Then she followed Atlas, a huge smile brightening her face.

Those left behind stared at the door until both disappeared from sight. Then their eyes fell to the open briefcase and the severed head resting inside.

"Hah!" Henrik, the blonde man, laughed in amusement. "He didn’t even give any of us a chance to speak."

"He brought Nathalie’s head here and left it like this," Marceline clicked her tongue, eyeing the container. "Poor Nathalie Zorken. After everything she did, here she is... just her head on display."

The bulky man’s expression soured. "What a rude brat. How dare he provoke us—and threaten to kill us—if we interfere with the Zorken?"

"A fight between families is not forbidden," the older man reminded. "We simply follow rules regarding how it’s done. But we all chose to avoid war for the sake of peace."

The older woman nodded with a gentle smile. "Don’t take it to heart, Dreavic," she said to the ink-covered man. "Think of the Zorken family as a wounded wolf. They’re still overly cautious—even Sybil."

"If anything..." the elder chimed in again, scanning their faces, "I’m curious to see how a man like him will lead the Zorken family."

Henrik tilted his head with a grin. "I want to see if he’s all talk too. This is going to be interesting."

*****

Meanwhile, Sybil followed Atlas with a growing smile. She picked up her pace until she walked beside him.

"Atlas, slow down," she said. "You’re walking with an old woman."

Atlas shot her a side-eye. "I hope you don’t mind that I ignored your instructions."

"Haha... almost," she said, giving him a knowing look. "But... it was satisfying. As a mere representative of the Order, none of them ever listened to me."

"Not anymore," he replied, giving her a slight nod that made her smile widen.

And that simple "not anymore" meant more than any long promise. Because from that day on, the Zorken family—once on the brink of collapse—slowly and steadily regained its former grace.

Once again, Atlas proved he was right.

They should have killed him then and there if they wanted the Zorken’s power and resources.

Because now, achieving that was nearly impossible.