Connected to the previous chapter — Ian Park, now 18 years old, is leaving the Park Family's fog-shrouded island to begin his journey into the world.
[POV: Ian Park]
The sea was calm… too calm for a day like this.
I stood at the deck of my luxury yacht, dressed in a tailored obsidian-black suit. The wind whipped through my white shirt collar, open just enough to flash the intricate chain gifted by my grandfather—something most mortals wouldn't dare touch. Behind me, the foggy silhouette of the island I had called home for 18 years began to fade.
That was my world until now—a hidden island, a family of monsters, legends, and shadows. A place sealed away from time. But today, everything changed.
The yacht cut through the sea like a blade, silent and regal. Aboard were only a few trusted summoned personnel—my loyal aides bound to my will, distinct from the terrifying human subordinates that served my father and grandfather. My summons were unique—solely mine—and today, they'd play their part in escorting me out of the shadows.
I didn't bring any of my elders' men. That was a deliberate choice. Unlike them, I wasn't some ancient martial god indifferent to the world. I wanted to see the world for myself—and conquer it in my own way.
Still, I could feel the weight of the family name on my shoulders.
"Sir Ian, we'll be arriving at the pier shortly."
The voice came from one of my summons—Asura, clad in a sleek driver's uniform, hair neatly parted, eyes calculating. A perfect gentleman with the deadliness of a wraith.
I stepped down from the upper deck, brushing dust off my sleeves as we approached the harbor of the southern city. From afar, I could already see it:
The convoy.
Three vehicles, polished until they gleamed under the afternoon sun. The Rolls-Royce Phantom waited in the middle—the very heart of the procession—flanked by two militarized black Audi sedans. Their engines purred with an eerie synchronization. It wasn't for show. This formation was standard procedure when the Park Family moved on foreign land.
But it wasn't just the cars.
Lining the pier were seven black-suited men—real humans. Not summons. Not machines. These were the subordinates of my father, lent to me for today's landing only. Towering figures, each one built like tanks, stood stone-faced as the yacht came to a halt. Their posture said everything—they were killers dressed like CEOs.
[POV: Dockworker (Unnamed)]
"Holy crap… who the hell is that?" one of the dockworkers whispered, half-crouched behind a stack of crates.
We watched as the yacht door lowered into a ramp. A young man stepped onto the pier.
He wasn't just rich-looking. He was wealth.
His stride was calm but purposeful, his gaze cold yet magnetic. His presence was suffocating—like someone who had never once feared the world. Behind him trailed several servants in uniform, all acting with surgical precision.
Then came the security. I couldn't tell which was worse—the stoic face of the man in front of the Audi… or the way all the black suits moved as if they'd done this dance a thousand times in war zones.
Who the hell were these people?
[Back to Ian's POV]
The moment I stepped on land, I was no longer the hidden heir of the Park Family—I was its sword.
Asura opened the door to the Rolls-Royce without a word.
I paused, turning slightly to one of the guards.
"Have the roads been cleared?" I asked.
"Yes, Young Master. No unnecessary eyes. Drones were intercepted an hour ago. We neutralized three media spotters."
I nodded. "Good. Let's move."
The doors shut with a silent thunk, and the convoy rolled forward, gliding with ghostlike smoothness. The Audi in front checked blind spots before making a precision turn. The one behind followed exactly 0.7 seconds later.
Calculated. Controlled. Cold.
I leaned back against the plush leather seats and stared out the tinted windows.
Today, I begin my journey not just as a fighter—but as a merchant of war. Guns, aircraft, tanks… My summons gave me access to a bottomless armory, and the world? It was starving for weapons. Nations squabbled over scraps, but the Park Family? We controlled everything—from oil to luxury brands.
But no one had touched arms the way I would.
The roads blurred by.
I closed my eyes, remembering the last four years. Training under beasts. Learning every martial art in existence—from Muay Thai to Piguaquan, from Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu to Krav Maga. Everything the PTJ Universe had to offer? I devoured it all.
"They'll never see me coming," I muttered under my breath.
[POV: Jinyoung Park — Age 6]
Back at the island, Jinyoung watched the sea alone. His eyes reflected the horizon where his brother had vanished minutes ago.
"Hyung… make the world yours."
He turned and walked back to the misty estate—back into the realm of shadows.
End of Chapter 8