[ Greyson Estate ]
The Greyson Estate loomed like a brooding fortress under the eternal night sky of Antagonia.
Tall, dark iron gates stood sentinel at its entrance, adorned with intricate motifs that mimicked thorny vines and twisted serpents.
Gargoyles, their eyes glowing a faint red, guarded each corner of the sprawling mansion's roof, as if challenging anyone to question the family's might or affluence.
Once inside, Luthor's office bore an equally lavish yet foreboding aesthetic.
High vaulted ceilings adorned with dark, hand-carved wood met walls of rich, deep maroon.
A crystal chandelier, black as coal, hung in the center of the room, its dark light casting ominous shadows that seemed to quiver in anticipation of dire events.
A wall behind Luthor's obsidian desk showcased a grim collection of weapons—each one a dark trophy from a successful conquest, evidence of battles won and enemies vanquished.
"Father! That motherfucker needs to pay!"
Rex burst into his father's office, face red with fury.
Luthor Greyson, the ice-cold patriarch of the Greyson Villain Clan, didn't even glance up from the phone where he was replaying Rex's humiliating clash with Daseos.
In Antagonia, a family earns the esteemed title of a "Villain Clan" only if one of their members reaches Tier 4 in villainy.
Luthor was that member for the Greyson family.
"Forty grand, Father! He extorted twenty grand out of me! We should hire an assassin—"
Before Rex could finish, Luthor hurled the phone at him. It hit Rex square on his forehead.
*THUD!*
"Ouch!"
Rex yelped, clutching at the sore spot.
"Embarrassed us enough, have you?"
Luthor stood, flicking his wrist as if dismissing a servant, his eyes cold enough to freeze time itself.
"But he tricked me!"
Rex whined, nursing his wounded pride more than the physical pain.
Swift as a snake, Luthor moved swiftly around his word desk and landed a punch square in Rex's gut.
Rex's knees buckled, and he crumpled onto the floor,gasping for air.
"You useless trash!"
Luthor's voice was a poisonous hiss.
"Do you have any idea how much money I've sunk into your dark cultivation? Top-tier elixirs, world-class trainers, and you get floored by an orphan?"
He stepped on Rex, grinding his heel into his son's vulnerable form curled on the floor.
The act screamed disdain louder than words ever could.
"A disgrace, that's what you are! You cry over getting extorted, and you dare call yourself a villain-in-training?"
Luthor's voice was cold and unforgiving.
"So you want to be a villain, and you're here whining about getting ripped off? You might as well go be a darned human!"
In Antagonia, power ruled over everything—even family bonds.
Luthor's ruthless reaction to his son's failure was a cruel lesson, one that reflected the harsh realities of their world.
"Get out, and clean up your act. We have a family meeting tonight. You better think very careful of how you're going to explain yourself to the rest of the clan! This might be grounds for exile."
Luthor warned as he lifted his foot and returned to his chair, dismissing Rex like one would discard a useless tool.
Rex staggered to his feet, wiping the corners of his mouth where blood had started to coagulate.
His father's loathing was a bitter pill to swallow, but in a world where strength was the only currency that mattered, he knew he had no other choice
He clutched his belly, wincing at the sharp pain, but his eyes were resolute.
"But Father—The Greyson name is at stake! At least give me a chance to redeem myself!"
Rex pleaded, the desperation in his voice tinged with an undertone of something deeper, a gnawing fear of losing his father's respect—what little remained.
Luthor paused, his eyes narrowing as if he was weighing the worth of his own son.
"Do what you want, but remember! No more Villains involved, you're lucky you bought your way out of this! As soon as the Order of Shadows gets involved, even I can't save you. Now scram!"
Rex's shoulders dropped, defeated but not entirely broken.
With a reluctant nod, he turned and exited the room, closing the door softly behind him.
No sooner had the latch clicked into place than a masked figure materialized from behind the now-closed door.
He was adorned in a white priest outfit, stark against his black priest collar—ominous and pure at the same time.
"Trouble in paradise?"
A static, robotic voice filled the room, as if spoken through a voice changer.
"I told you people never to appear at my home!"
Luthor's voice took on an edge sharper than a knife, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"Your offer this time better be worth the risk to my entire clan."
The masked man raised his index and middle fingers together to point upwards.
"For the Dawn of a New Era—"
The robotic voice started, index and middle fingers rising to point upwards in the ritual Dawn Salute of the Covenant of Hope.
Luthor cut him off, gesturing impatiently.
"Enough with that hypocritical Covenant crap, what do you want and what do you have to offer?"
The masked man—evidently a knight from the Covenant of Hope—stepped forward and placed a miniature chest on Luthor's desk.
The masked man's fingers lingered on the latch of the miniature chest, making Luthor's heart pound in anticipation.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he opened the chest to reveal the three coveted pills.
They were unlike any Luthor had ever seen: tiny orbs with intricate patterns of black flames dancing over their surfaces.
Luthor's eyes widened in shock, and he felt his pulse quicken.
"Three Tier 4 Dark Spiritual Refinement Pills~ You should know, you might not be able to buy them even if you can afford it. With these, who knows, you might break through to Tier 5!"
The masked man coaxed, his robotic voice tinged with an undercurrent of unsaid conditions, moral compromises that went beyond mere currency.
The offer hung in the air, a temptation that was impossible to resist, especially for those entrenched in the Dark arts without the credentials of a Villain Institute.
Resources for dark cultivation were stringently regulated, hoarded by governmental organizations like the Antagonian Army, Department of Education, and the dreaded Order of Shadows.
The higher the Tier of the resource the harder to get.
Here, laid out before him, was a direct ticket to power.
This was a temptation no Villain could resist.
"What do you want?"