I Am the Ruler of All

"No, Mr. Nicholson!" the soldier answered loudly. "Five teams totalling eighty units were deployed for this operation. None are injured." He gulped nervously. "Any resisting enemy was tied and apprehended. Some of the enemies are badly hurt. There are no casualties."

Kingsley nodded. "Thank you."

"Of course, Lieu—" He stopped himself before he could finish and quickly said instead, "The teams are gathered downstairs. The comm… The team leaders will be here shortly."

Even an idiot could see that something was up, let alone people like Frederick and Xanxus. Still, Xanxus refused to believe this, and he gulped. "Impossible! I have more than thirty men with me, and they're all armed! They couldn't have gone down that easily!"

Frederick said raspily, "That's right! You're lying! My whole team is armed. There's no way they didn't go down without a fight." He glanced outside the window. "We're on the second floor, and the window's open. We would have heard it if you guys were fighting. You're just bluffing. That's a bluff."

The soldier looked back. "Oh, you mean those guys downstairs? They didn't even put up a fight. We apprehended them easily. See for yourself."

Xanxus and Frederick exchanged looks and went to the window. They didn't believe their best lackeys would go down without so much as a fight, but when they looked downstairs, they both gasped and tensed up.

A few dozen hardened young men in white shirts were standing on the plaza downstairs. They were spread out in five rows while Xanxus' best lackeys were crouched down with hands on their head and huddled together, shivering in fear. None of them moved, and more importantly, there were only five men keeping an eye on them.

Frederick trembled in rage and thumped the windowsill. He roared, "Goddammit! There's like eighty of them, but only five are keeping an eye on them, and they can't even move? F*cking useless!"

Xanxus looked furious and agitated as well. He had spent top dollar hiring a few retired mercenaries to train his lackeys in marksmanship to create a team of marksmen. Sixty of them emerged triumphant, and they became the fearsome South Nakson Flashfire. He had sent about two dozen of them to hunt Serena down, while the rest followed him here. He never expected his elite lackeys to do nothing and shiver like scared children. He felt something welling in his throat—it was blood. He smashed the glass window and roared, "What the f*ck are you doing? You're embarrassing me!"

His lackeys looked up at him, scared and horrified.

"You gotta save me, boss!"

"I-I wanna go home!"