The Heavenly Demon of Terror

The grand ballroom was filled with luxury—crystal chandeliers, golden décor, and classical music playing in the background. Yet, despite the extravagance, nothing could overshadow the presence of the man who had just entered.

Me.

Every head turned. The whispers spread like wildfire.

"Is that Samuel Gebb?"

"No way... He was nothing in college!"

"How the hell did he change this much?"

Their eyes devoured my form—the black tight pants that sculpted my powerful legs, the fitted black shirt beneath my jet-black vest, and the long black coat flowing behind me like the cloak of a warlord.

Every step I took was measured, exuding a silent dominance that demanded respect.

I wasn't here for nostalgia.

I was here to remind them.

To make them bow.