Threshold of Kings

When I was seven years old, my parents were in a car accident. They were rushed to the hospital right away, but they still didn't make it. Callum Stone, my 14-year-old brother, wrapped an arm around my neck and said, "Our enemies must've done it. I'm going to kill them."

Callum rarely came home after that. He'd be gone for ages before showing up from time to time.

But whenever he did come back, there were always these mysterious people stopping by the house. I saw them carrying sharp blades and guns. They definitely weren't ordinary people.

Whenever I asked Callum what was going on, he'd always tell me not to worry about it and that children shouldn't get involved in the adults' matters.

This situation continued for quite a number of years, until the day before my SATs. I'd been reviewing my notes at home when a squad of police officers kicked the door open. Without a word of explanation, they handcuffed Callum and hauled him out, swearing the whole time.

I was completely dumbstruck. All I could do was stare in a daze as they marched out of the house. It was only after Callum had been shoved into one of the police vehicles that I instinctively shouted out, "Callum!"

Before the car drove off, he looked through the window and said to me, "Don't worry. Wait for me to come out. I've saved up a fortune, enough for us to live comfortably for the rest of our lives—"

He didn't get to finish before the sound of the police siren wailed through the air, and the convoy of police vehicles shot off into the night.

The neighbors gathered around to ask me what was going on, but I couldn't say a word.

After that, I launched a frenzied search for Callum's whereabouts, but I didn't come from an influential background, nor did I have any connections. All I could do was check every single police station and detention center in the vicinity, asking for information about him.

Nevertheless, I never did manage to find out where he was. It was as if he'd vanished into thin air.

Both my exhaustion and emotional distress took a toll on me. The next day, I did miserably on the SATs. All along, my results were good enough to get me into a top university. But in the end, I could only get into a local no-name university.

Throughout my four years of college, I worked part-time to make money while studying as hard as I could, pushing myself to the extreme, hoping that one day I'd see Callum again.

But a few months before graduation, something happened—something that changed the entire trajectory of my life. It also forced Callum to surface once again, launching a bloody storm and turning the whole city upside down.

…

During the last semester of my senior year, I started pursuing a student named Shae Hoover. But like most guys who acted like simps, things didn't turn out well for me. I simply ended up wasting all my money and effort on her.

It was only when Shae announced on social media that she was now in a relationship with another guy that it finally hit me. Furious, I messaged her about it.

"Why did you accept all the money I gave you if you have a boyfriend?"

She simply replied, "Just because I accept your gifts doesn't mean I want to date you."

I was pissed. I told her to return the money to me. I could forget about the money I spent on buying drinks, meals, and other gifts for her. But I'd given her a total of 3,120 dollars in cash across six transfers, so I wanted her to return 3,000 dollars to me.

She didn't answer me. Instead, she posted about me on the university forum, saying I was stingy and a complete turn-off for actually trying to get back the money I gave her.

I didn't let her have her way. I went to the same university forum and uploaded our chat logs. I specifically highlighted all the flirtatious emojis and messages she'd sent, calling her out for reeling me in like her prey.

The campus went wild with the news, and the narrative flipped at once. Everyone said I was a brave guy who'd been sincere about pursuing love. Shae wasn't as lucky. Descriptions like "two-faced" and "player" were all tossed at her.

I was pretty proud of myself for turning the tables on her, but alas, things didn't end there.

That night, as I was hanging out in my dorm, a few guys barged into my room all of a sudden. The one in the lead pointed at me and snapped, "Are you Elliott Stone?"

Startled, I instinctively asked, "What's going on?"

These guys clearly weren't students. They gave off a sketchy, thug-like presence. The leader of the bunch snorted. "Don't you know who you've pissed off?"

It dawned on me right away. "Shae?"

"Good. I don't have to explain it to you then."

The guy raised his hand to hit me, but I blocked it with my arm. Getting up, I asked, "Can we at least go outside first?"

He glanced around the dorm and figured it'd be a bad place to start a fight, so he glared at me and growled, "Come with me!"

The guys all walked out of the dorm. I didn't even have time to do much else, other than put my slippers on and grab the power twister from beneath my pillow. I hid it under my jacket.

Right before stepping out, I glanced at my dormmates. They were all regular guys who never did anything rebellious in their lives. While they couldn't help me with the fight, they could still lend a hand with other things. I whispered something to one of them.

Once I stepped out of the dorm room, my heart sank. I saw a few more guys out in the hallway who were dressed like street thugs, some sporting a thick gold chain around their neck and others with arms covered in tattoos. They all had menacing expressions.

Even if I had two of me, I still couldn't take on so many guys at once!

The guys surrounded me and led me out of the dorm building. A young man walked up to us then—Harvey Chapman, Shae's boyfriend.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Elliott? Delete that post on the forum at once!" Harvey demanded with a frown the moment he approached me.

"Give me back my money, and I'll delete it."

Harvey must've thought I'd be intimidated because I was outnumbered. However, I was a pretty stubborn guy. I was a stickler for right and wrong.

"Why's a grown man like you asking for money back when you've already given it out, huh?" Harvey's tone became even more condescending.

"I gave her the money to show that I was sincere about wanting to be with her. Since she doesn't want to be with me, isn't it right for her to return the money to me?" I retorted. "Besides, I'm an orphan. I worked for that money myself."

Harvey wanted to guilt-trip me by implying that I was being petty, so I simply threw the fact that I was an orphan back at him to see who would win the moral high ground. It wasn't a lie, after all. My parents had died when I was young.

Harvey was visibly taken aback. Clearly, he didn't expect me to say that. However, one of the thugs kicked me in the back out of nowhere, snarling, "Cut the crap! Are you deleting the post or not?"

As I staggered forward, I whipped open my jacket and pulled out the power twister before turning around and swinging it hard.

The guy got hit squarely in the head, the blood trickling down his forehead. He stumbled and nearly crashed onto the ground.

"How dare you attack him!"

"You've got a death wish, punk?"

All of the thugs charged at me. I started waving the power twister around in all directions. Even though it seemed like I'd hit a bunch of them, it didn't change the fact that I was heavily outnumbered. Soon, they kicked me quite a few times.

That didn't make me back down, though. The longer the fight stretched out, the fiercer I fought. Gripping the power twister tightly, I started swinging it around again. Quite a few of them fell back after getting hit by me.

Amid the commotion, I noticed that Harvey's head was bleeding as well.

Just then, someone hollered, "Campus security's here!"

"We're going to beat you up every single day until you take that post down!" Harvey threatened before fleeing with the guys.

One of my dormmates came running up to me, asking me what happened. He was the one I'd spoken to before leaving the dorm earlier, and he'd called up campus security per my instructions. I managed to save my hide with this little trick of mine.

"It's fine. You can head back to the dorm first. I'm going to wash up."

Not wanting too many people to see me in this state, I didn't go back inside the dorm to wash up. Instead, I headed for the library.

At a crummy university like ours, few people hung out at the library at night. Even the hallways were completely quiet. I went to the washroom and went to the sink to start washing off the blood and grime on me.

"You bastard! I won't let you get away with this…" I cursed as I kicked at the sink, pretending it was Harvey.

Thinking about how Harvey would probably come after me again gave me a headache.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps behind me. I spun around—and froze at once.

The man who came in had a buzz cut. He looked like he was about 30 years old. He looked pretty intimidating in his sunglasses and black trench coat. Behind him were two neat rows of men in suits, all with stern expressions.

It was clear that the man was some kind of big shot.

And when I saw his face, my mind went blank. It took a while for me to finally stammer, "Callum… You've been released from prison…"