Rebirth Of The Tycoon: I Shall Dominate The World

The low growl of a motorcycle engine shattered the quiet stillness of the forest. I stood on the cabin porch, my eyes locked on the distant figure weaving through the trees. The rider leaned effortlessly into each curve, the sleek black motorcycle an extension of his body. As the bike skidded to a graceful halt, its rider removed his helmet, revealing sharp, calculating eyes and an easy smirk.

"John King," I said, stepping down to greet him. "You sure know how to make an entrance."

"Would you expect anything less?" John replied, his voice carrying the same confidence Ivremembered from their previous life. He cast a quick glance at the cabin. "This the best you could do? Feels a little rustic for someone with your tastes."

"It's functional," I replied. "And secluded. Come on. We've got a lot to cover."

Inside the cabin, Callum sat at the rickety dining table, a stack of maps and hastily scribbled notes spread out before him. He looked up as John entered, his expression a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.

"So, you're the famous John King," Callum said, leaning back in his chair. "William's told me about you."

"Good things, I hope," John replied with a lopsided grin.

"Mixed," Callum said, his tone unreadable. "But I like to form my own opinions. You're supposed to be good with a gun, right?"

John's grin widened. "Supposed to be? Guess I'll have to prove it."

We stepped outside, where Callum had set up a makeshift shooting range. Empty cans and bottles lined a fallen log, some balanced precariously on tree branches.

John reached under his jacket and drew a custom handgun, the matte black surface gleaming faintly in the moonlight. His demeanor shifted instantly, confidence giving way to focused precision.

"Watch and learn," he said, raising the gun.

The first shot rang out, the recoil absorbed effortlessly as the can on the far left exploded into the air. Before it hit the ground, John fired again, hitting it mid-fall. He shifted targets seamlessly, each shot perfectly timed, the bottles and cans shattering or spinning wildly under the impact.

When the final target was obliterated, John holstered his weapon in one smooth motion and turned back to the group.

"Well?" he asked, his tone casual.

Callum let out a low whistle, his earlier skepticism replaced by reluctant admiration. "Not bad."

"Not bad?" I chuckled. "That was textbook John King. Back at Orthrus, he was both the best president and marksman we had."

Although both of us are in our 15-years-old body, our skills and muscle memory of using arsenal was still there. This will shock the entire Syndicate if they all saw a group of teenagers being this professional at using guns!

John shrugged. "You weren't too shabby yourself. Speaking of Orthrus, we need to talk about Eleanor—and about David Lawrence."

Back inside, the atmosphere grew heavier as John took a seat at the table, his face shadowed with memories.

"After Eleanor's death, Orthrus fell apart," John began. "She wasn't just William's personal assistant and right-hand; she was the company's heart. Her assassination sent shockwaves through the ranks. People turned on each other, and the media had a field day. And then there was you, William."

I stiffened, his jaw tightening. "I didn't kill her, John. You know that."

"I do," John said firmly. "But the evidence…everything pointed to you. The footage, the documents—they were all doctored, but the forgeries were flawless. Whoever orchestrated this wanted you out of the picture just as much as they wanted Eleanor gone."

Callum frowned. "Why go through all that trouble? Why not just kill Eleanor and be done with it?"

"Because Orthrus wasn't just a company," John explained. "It was an empire. Taking down Eleanor destabilized it, but framing William ensured it would never recover. It was a power play, and it worked. Investors pulled out, competitors swooped in, and Orthrus crumbled."

I leaned forward, his voice low. "And you? What did you do?"

"I stayed behind and started digging," John said. "I found evidence that someone inside Orthrus was working with the Syndicate. They planned the hit, forged the evidence, and leaked the story to the press. It was all coordinated."

William's eyes narrowed. "Do you know who it was?"

John shook his head. "No names. Just a codename: Cerberus. Whoever they are, they're a ghost. But I'm sure of one thing—they're still working with Cassandra."

John's gaze softened as he looked at me. "Cassandra's anger—it isn't just about betrayal. She's lost in her grief and her need for revenge. Deep down, I think she knows we didn't do it. But she can't let go. She needs someone to blame, and we're the easiest targets."

I exhaled slowly with my mind racing. "If we can find Cerberus, we can prove the truth to her."

Callum's expression was grim. "Easier said than done. If this Cerberus is as elusive as you say, we're going to need more than just old memories to track them down."

"There's one more thing," John said, his voice quieter now. "The car accident. The one that killed you, me, and Bella? It wasn't an accident."

My blood ran cold. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying it was staged. The brake lines were cut. Bella was killed on her way home from the hospital, which leads me into committing suicide, but you were the main target. I saw David Lawrence near the scene hours before the car crashed into me. He's Cerberus, William. I'm sure of it."

Now that you mentioned it, I do remember hearing the two men saying that David Lawrence hired them to kill us and make it seem like a car accident. Looks like he still can't accept the fact that Bella chooses John over him so he commits this murder.

I pulled out my phone, dialing a number he had memorized long ago. The line connected almost instantly.

"It's me," I said with my tone steady. "Callum, John, and I are coming for Cassandra—and David Lawrence."

John, who was seated across from him, gave a small nod. "Let's make it count."

As the night deepened, the three men continued to strategize, their combined knowledge and skills forming the foundation of a plan that would pit them against one of the most dangerous forces they had ever faced.

But the road ahead was treacherous, and the shadows of the past loomed larger than ever. 

When John finished recounting Eleanor's murder, my mind was ablaze with a storm of thoughts. Every piece of the puzzle seemed more daunting than the last. Cassandra was no small threat; she was a hurricane. And here we were—just three people, cornered in a crumbling hideout, trying to weather the storm.

The reality hit me hard. We couldn't do this alone.

It was time to think bigger.

But how does a fifteen-year-old—even one with two lifetimes of experience—rally an army? That's when a single name surfaced in my mind, a name I'd come across during one of my earlier investigations: Edward Olani.

If Cassandra was the queen of her Syndicate, Edward was the king of this city's criminal empire. A man of shadowy legend, feared and respected by everyone in the underworld. His reach extended into the highest echelons of power, and his army of loyal enforcers could give us the edge we desperately needed.

It wasn't just a gamble—it was a necessity. If I could get Edward Olani on my side, I'd have the manpower to stand toe-to-toe with Cassandra.

But how could I, a random kid on paper, approach someone like Edward? That's when I remembered a minor detail from weeks ago: Janet.

I maxed out Janet's loyalty meter after helping her find out who her biological father is, but she still can't accept him at the moment. If I can offer Edward a way to reconnect his relationship with Janet then I can definitely earn his trust! 

Still, Edward wasn't going to roll out the red carpet just because I knew his daughter. If anything, showing up uninvited could land me six feet under. No, I needed leverage—a way to prove my worth.

Blake wasn't just Edward's right-hand man; he was a full-fledged terror in his own right. Known for running the drug trade in our academy and surrounding districts, he was the kind of guy who thrived on fear and power. Students whispered his name like it was a curse, and teachers conveniently turned a blind eye to his activities.

If I could take Blake down, I'd send a clear message to Edward: I wasn't just some punk kid. I was an asset.

But I wasn't just planning to impress Edward through brute force. I needed a bargaining chip to ensure he'd listen to me. That's where Janet came into play.

As I pieced everything together, the idea began to take shape. Edward and Janet were estranged, their relationship fractured by years of secrecy and criminal entanglements. It was clear from my investigation that Edward regretted losing touch with his daughter.

If I could offer him a way to bridge that gap, it would be the perfect incentive for him to join my cause.

Here's the pitch I had in mind:

I'd leverage my position at the academy to facilitate subtle interactions between Edward and Janet. A way for them to rebuild trust without overwhelming her.

I'd create opportunities for Edward to prove he cared—not as a crime lord, but as a father.

In exchange, I'd have access to his resources, his connections, and most importantly, his army.

It was a delicate balance. Janet couldn't know about Edward's involvement, at least not yet. But if I played my cards right, I'd have both Edward's loyalty and Janet's cooperation without either feeling betrayed.

[Deep Investigation Activated]

The moment I activated my skill, the world became a spider web of connections. Every digital footprint Blake had left behind was laid bare before me: text messages, financial transactions, even social media posts he thought were deleted.

It didn't take long to piece together his operation. Blake was operating out of an abandoned factory on the edge of town. It was the perfect place for a guy like him—isolated, easy to secure, and crawling with his gang of delinquents.

But that wasn't all. My investigation uncovered something even more valuable: Blake wasn't just peddling drugs; he was skimming off the top of Edward's profits. That meant Edward wouldn't mind if I took Blake out. In fact, he might even appreciate it.

"Taking down Blake isn't just risky—it's suicidal," Callum said, pacing the floor of our hideout.

I spread the factory blueprints across the table. "It's risky, but it's also our best shot. If we want Edward's support, we need to show him that we're capable of handling his enemies."

John leaned back in his chair, smirking. "You've always had a flair for the dramatic. What's the plan?"

I pointed to the factory's weak points. "Blake operates out of this abandoned factory. It's heavily guarded, but there are blind spots we can exploit. We hit hard, take out his operation, and bring him to Edward as a peace offering."

John's smirk widened. "This reminds me of the old days."

Callum shook his head. "You two are insane."

"Insane," I replied, "but necessary."

Even with John's bravado, I could feel the weight of the decision pressing down on me. One misstep, and this whole thing could blow up in my face.

The factory loomed like a shadowy beast against the night sky, its rusted walls and shattered windows whispering tales of forgotten times. It was the perfect lair for someone like Blake—a decaying monument to his arrogance.

I crouched near the side entrance, my pulse steady but deliberate. In my ear, John's voice crackled. "Positions?"

"All clear," Callum responded from his lookout post.

"Let's move," I whispered.

The night air was heavy as I crouched in the shadows outside the factory. The place was even grittier than I'd imagined—rusted metal walls, shattered windows, and graffiti scrawled in every language imaginable. From inside, I could hear laughter and the occasional thud of something heavy hitting the ground. Blake's men were having a good time.

I gripped the pistol John had lent me, its weight both comforting and terrifying.

"This is it," I whispered to myself.

As I moved closer, the system chimed.

[New Mission Unlocked]

Objective: Infiltrate Blake Grandi's hideout, neutralize his gang, and extract information about Edward Olani.

Reward: Increased reputation with Edward Olani.

Penalty: Mission failure will alert Edward Olani to your actions, jeopardizing future alliances.

The factory's interior was a maze of machinery and storage crates. The stench of oil, sweat, and stale cigarettes hung in the air. I moved silently, my footsteps muffled by years of accumulated grime.

A lone guard leaned against a stack of crates, his cigarette casting a faint glow. I crept up behind him, locking my arm around his neck. He struggled briefly before collapsing.

I dragged his unconscious body into the shadows and signaled the all-clear.

Moving deeper into the factory, I spotted two more guards. They were standing by a shipment of drugs, chatting casually. I motioned to John, who was positioned on a higher platform.

A single silenced shot rang out, and one of the guards fell. I moved in, taking down the second with a swift strike to his temple.

As I rounded a corner, I came face-to-face with a third guard. He froze for a moment before shouting, "INTRUDER!"

The factory erupted into chaos. Alarms blared, and men poured out of every doorway, armed with bats, knives, and handguns.

"Plan B," I muttered, pulling out my pistol.

I fired at the overhead lights, plunging the room into near darkness. Shadows became my allies as I moved through the chaos, taking down enemies one by one.

The air filled with the deafening sounds of gunfire and shouts. One guard swung a pipe at my head. I ducked, countering with a kick that sent him crashing into a stack of crates.

Two more rushed me. I sidestepped the first, using his momentum to send him sprawling. The second lunged with a knife. I grabbed his wrist, twisting until the weapon clattered to the ground.

A gunshot echoed, and the man collapsed.

"Nice timing," I said into my earpiece.

"You're welcome," John replied.

Blake stood at the center of the factory, flanked by his two biggest enforcers. His cocky smirk faltered as he saw the chaos around him.

"You think you can waltz in here and take me down?" he sneered, pulling a knife.

He lunged, his movements quick and precise. I dodged, countering with a punch that sent him staggering.

The enforcers joined the fray, forcing me to fight on two fronts. One swung a pipe at my ribs, narrowly missing as I rolled away. I retaliated with a knee to his gut, followed by an elbow to his jaw.

The second grabbed me from behind, but a well-timed shot from John took him down.

Blake, now cornered, tried to flee. I tackled him, pinning him to the ground.

"It's over," I said, pressing the barrel of my gun to his temple.

Mission Complete[Mission Complete: Blake Grandi Neutralized]

Reputation with Edward Olani: Increased.

The factory was a battlefield. Bodies lay scattered, groaning in pain, while the acrid smell of gunpowder lingered in the air.

As I cuffed Blake and dragged him toward the exit, I couldn't help but feel a sense of grim satisfaction. This was just the first step.

Now, it was time to meet Edward Olani.