A GOD'S WAY OF JUDGEMENT

The next day, chaos reigned as every flight was canceled. Heads of state from across the globe made their way toward Ronan’s company, each leader accompanied by their black market head. They gathered in the sprawling seminar hall, an air of tension thick enough to cut with a knife. But as they settled into their seats, they were met with an unexpected absence: Ronan had not come to the company.

Instead, Celia Ashcroft stood confidently at the podium, her gaze unwavering as she connected a video call to Alpha. The atmosphere grew heavier with each passing second. When Alpha’s face appeared on the large screen, the leaders shifted uneasily in their seats, staring at Ronan’s familiar features—his expression cold and calculating.

Alpha's voice reverberated through the hall, piercing the tension. “Who?”

A ripple of fear washed over the leaders as they exchanged anxious glances, uncertainty etched across their faces. They had convened to address an incident that had shaken their world, yet none could pinpoint the perpetrator. A knot of dread formed in their stomachs as they realized their power was meaningless in this moment.

Ronan's face on the screen remained expressionless. "Since you don’t know who did it, let me help you. Each of you brought the head of the black market from your respective countries. The majority of you brought the real ones. Some of your countries, lacking a black market, brought in fakes for protection, which I understand, as I am merciful. However, some of you attempted to deceive me, believing the black market leaders didn’t fear my name. But none of you can identify the one responsible for the incident. So, who is it?"

His gaze locked onto Country F’s representative, whose palms were slick with sweat. "It’s straightforward. It’s Country F’s black market. The leader of Country F remains blissfully unaware that a black market operates in his territory because it functions online. The head of that black market acts as though he owns everything, which means I shall execute him."

Panic gripped the leaders, particularly the president of Country F, whose face turned pale. "Please, Alpha, spare my country!" he stammered, desperation creeping into his voice. In that moment, every leader felt the icy grip of fear. Would their own arrogance be the cause of their downfall?

Alpha’s response was smooth yet edged with danger. "Worry not, Mr. F. Your country will remain unharmed. However, I need the leaders who brought fakes to cover up the real ones to call them. They must explain their absence."

One by one, the leaders dialed their black market heads. Most provided plausible reasons—illness, fear of facing Alpha, or claiming innocence. But then came a voice, dripping with arrogance.

"Why should we fear someone who isn’t even considered an Alpha in our eyes?"

The atmosphere thickened with tension. Alpha leaned closer to the screen, his voice chillingly calm. "Oh, I see. I can sense the insolence radiating from you like a foul stench. Do you feel that prick on your forehead? That’s a red dot marking your imminent demise. Don’t even think about moving, or you’ll be dead before you draw another breath. Those are my drones, silently awaiting my command, each one an extension of my will. I know who tried to harm my right-hand man, Ronan, at that very moment. If I had dispatched him then, it would only create a vacuum, and someone like you would scurry in to fill it. I don’t just deal with the symptoms; I eliminate the entire disease."

Celia’s heart raced as she stood at the stage, her breath hitching in her throat. The palpable dread in the room tightened around her like a vice. She glanced at the world leaders, their expressions shifting from arrogance to sheer terror. The realization hit them all at once—this was no longer a mere negotiation; they were staring into the abyss.

"After the interview two days ago, Ronan was excited to continue living a normal life, but you destroyed his first day. I felt a deep sadness for him, robbed of the chance to enjoy his existence. So now, do you all understand who Alpha is?"

"Right," he continued, his voice cold as ice. "It’s me, the Alpha. So beg for forgiveness now while I’m still feeling generous."

Celia’s pulse quickened as she watched some leaders fall to their knees, trembling as they pleaded for mercy. The sight of their desperation was almost poetic, a vivid contrast to their earlier arrogance. Others, however, defiantly attempted to destroy the drones, their arrogance blinding them to the danger.

Ronan’s face on the screen hardened, and his voice, icy and unyielding, broke the tension. "Alright, I accept your forgiveness."

A collective breath was held as he delivered the final word, cold and unfeeling: "Die."

With that, the drones unleashed a barrage of bullets upon the black market heads who had shown no remorse. Screams echoed through the hall as chaos erupted, and the screen in the auditorium flickered to life, displaying a live feed of Country F’s black market leader.

"Look at this pathetic man," Ronan said, his voice cold and steady. "He is the cause of all this trouble. Just yesterday, I brought him to my base in the freezing North Pole." A cruel smile crept across Ronan's face as he saw the color drain from the man's skin. "And now, I’m going to drown him in lava—a fitting end for someone who thought he could hide away."

Mechanical arms, like twisted tentacles, shot out and seized the black market leader, lifting him effortlessly into the air. The man’s eyes widened in terror as he pleaded, "Please! Don’t do this! I’ll do anything—let me go!"

Ignoring his desperate cries, Ronan leaned in closer, a dark satisfaction in his voice. "Do you know what’s going to happen to you now? The molten lava will slowly fall, drop by drop, into the chamber. As it fills, it will touch your legs first, burning you alive. You’ll see your own flesh melt away before your eyes as the lava consumes you."

The crowd watched in horrified fascination as the chamber opened below him, revealing a bubbling pit of molten iron. As the first drops of lava began to drip into the chamber, the leader's screams of pain echoed through the hall, a chilling sound that sent shivers through everyone present.

"Feel that heat?" Ronan taunted, his eyes gleaming. "That’s just the beginning. Soon, you won’t be begging for mercy anymore; you’ll be wishing for death."

As the lava continued to pour in, the man's cries turned to agonized wails, each second stretching into eternity. Ronan savored the moment, knowing that this was just the start of the reckoning.

Celia’s heart raced, a mix of horror and understanding washing over her. She had always respected Ronan’s strength, but witnessing this level of ruthlessness made her heart ache. Yet, as the chaos unfolded, a sense of pride blossomed within her. She understood why Ronan was doing this—he was reclaiming the power that had been taken from him and protecting what was his.

The leaders, who had once stood tall, now quaked in fear, realizing the cost of their arrogance. As the man writhed in pain, Celia felt a wave of emotion crash over her. This was a necessary brutality, a statement that echoed across the world. The fight was far from over, but Ronan was making it clear that they would not tolerate disrespect or betrayal.

In the back of the hall, a few leaders could barely hold back their tears, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Others stared, horrified yet entranced by the spectacle unfolding before them. As the man screamed, a visceral reminder of the consequences of their actions, Celia straightened her shoulders. She was with Ronan, unwavering in her support.

The atmosphere in the seminar hall was electric, charged with terror and the realization of the true power Ronan and Alpha wielded. As the screams faded and the chamber sealed, a palpable silence engulfed the room.

Celia stood firm at the podium, knowing the world had irrevocably changed. In that moment, she understood the true weight of loyalty and the lengths to which they would go to protect their own. Ronan had become more than a partner; he was a force of nature. She would stand beside him, no matter the cost, as they forged a new path forward—one where respect would be demanded, and power would reign unchallenged.

As news of the brutal execution spread across the globe, a chilling realization gripped the hearts of leaders and citizens alike: crossing Alpha or anyone associated with him—especially Ronan and Celia—was a deadly mistake. The presidents convened emergency meetings, broadcasting urgent announcements to their citizens. “Listen closely! Never stand in the way of Alpha, Ronan, or Celia. They are to be left undisturbed. Any interference will have severe consequences.”

In the midst of this chaos, Ronan and his friend Alex made their way to class. The air around them felt heavy, charged with an unspoken tension. Alex, blissfully unaware of the events that had unfolded, scrolled through his phone as they walked.

“Hey, did you see this?” Alex asked, glancing up from the screen. “There’s some news about an announcement regarding Alpha and his crew. What did you do, Ronan?”

Ronan shrugged, a casual smile playing