Villain of Fate: The Tyrant System-Chapter 82: The Price of Survival

The Price of Survival

"Ding. The host has successfully survived the West City Police Station plot."

The mechanical voice echoed inside Julian D’Aurelius’s mind just as the night wind swept across the quiet street.

He leaned back in the driver’s seat, cigarette smoke curling lazily around his sharp features.

Then the system continued—

"Reward: Complete mastery of ancient martial art ’Favour Return Strike’ (one-time use)."

Julian blinked.

For a moment, he didn’t react.

Then his face twisted.

"Damn it, Tyrant System," he muttered under his breath. "What’s the point of giving me one-time rewards every day? Why not just hand me a pair of disposable chopsticks?"

He clicked his tongue irritably.

According to the system’s description, Favour Return Strike was an ancient martial technique built on a terrifying principle—

Force against force.

Whatever attack struck him—

He could reflect it back.

Not equally.

But doubled.

If someone struck him with killing intent—

The backlash would return with twice the destructive power.

In martial terms, it was absolute suppression.

In real combat, it was lethal elegance.

But—

"One-time use?"

Julian exhaled sharply.

Infuriating.

"Because the host did not perfectly survive the plot," the Tyrant System replied calmly. "You attracted the enmity of Obsidian Kings Evan."

Julian’s expression darkened.

"I wanted to survive perfectly," he muttered coldly. "But damn it, the whole world is full of snitches."

He flicked the cigarette away.

The so-called perfect survival required invisibility.

No hatred.

No attention.

But tonight?

He had gained Evan’s hostility.

That meant future trouble was guaranteed.

Meanwhile.

After Julian left—

Evan remained inside the office.

Charlotte Bonds stood in front of him, teal eyes steady and cold.

Without hesitation, she placed handcuffs on his wrists.

The metallic click echoed in the room.

To her—

Evan was no different from a criminal.

Otherwise—

Why would he be the boss behind Bear?

The cuffs tightened around his wrists.

Evan’s face remained calm.

Almost indifferent.

But inside—

He was burning.

He was one of the Obsidian Kings.

A man who commanded blood and loyalty in the shadows.

And now—

Handcuffs.

A prisoner.

Humiliation.

But he swallowed it.

For now.

He had endured exile.

He had endured years of hidden struggle.

This?

Was nothing.

He originally believed that with his "relationship" with Charlotte, it wouldn’t take long to resolve matters. Perhaps even a simple statement would free him.

After all—

He wasn’t officially tied to Bear Group.

He was merely the hidden boss.

Even if Lunar Citadel exploded into scandal—

There was no legal thread tying him directly.

But Charlotte refused to release him.

She pressed.

Insisted.

Probed for inconsistencies.

She wanted something from him.

And she wouldn’t bend.

It wasn’t until noon the next day—

That a tall, striking woman walked into the West City Police Station.

Long black hair cascading down her back.

Bright black eyes sharp and intelligent.

Hamsa Jones.

The eldest daughter of the Jones family.

A beauty well-known in Valemont.

The Jones household had always been low-profile.

But their strength rivaled the four major families.

They were a branch of the powerful Jones lineage from Valcenza.

The matriarch of the Jones family once had ties with Evan’s master.

When Evan first arrived in Valemont, he visited the Jones household.

He cured the matriarch’s illness.

Earned gratitude.

A favor.

A powerful favor.

And now—

He had to use it.

For this.

Ridiculous.

After being released, Evan’s expression was gloomy.

He looked at Hamsa with forced gratitude.

"Thank you, Miss Jones, for coming all this way."

Hamsa smiled faintly.

"It was my duty."

Her voice was polite.

Neutral.

Evan hesitated briefly, then spoke.

"Miss Jones... my friend was also detained because of this incident."

His tone carried a subtle plea.

Bear was still inside.

Hamsa shook her head.

"There’s nothing I can do about that. When it involves drugs, no one can interfere. I hope you understand, Mr. Evan. After all... this is Europe."

Her words were gentle—

But firm.

The Jones household had power.

But they would not touch something so troublesome.

Too much risk.

Too many eyes.

Evan suppressed his frustration.

"Alright. I won’t trouble you further. I’ll visit the matriarch in a few days."

"Very well," Hamsa nodded. "I have a meeting to attend."

She turned and left.

After getting into her car, she exhaled softly and shook her head.

Her grandmother had said—

Evan was destined to be a true dragon among men.

But in her eyes?

He was ordinary.

Ambitious.

Not extraordinary.

Nothing more.

Watching her drive away—

A dark glint flickered in Evan’s eyes.

Was she looking down on him?

That cold indifference—

It irritated him.

Fine.

When he conquered her—

When she stood beneath him in power and submission—

He would remind her who he was.

The Jones family would become his stepping stone.

Valcenza would be next.

In the following days—

Evan mobilized Bear Group’s connections.

Pulling strings.

Making calls.

Trying to get Bear released.

But inside detention—

Bear felt like he was rotting alive.

It was bad enough the Lunar Citadel incident had exploded.

But the police searched his residence.

And they found it.

The hair.

The victim’s hair.

Hidden carelessly.

Damning evidence.

The situation escalated instantly.

The weight of the case crushed him.

This time—

He was truly finished.

A week later—

Evan finally secured visitation rights.

When Bear heard that the Obsidian Kings were coming—

His despair turned into excitement.

The Obsidian Kings were omnipotent.

If Evan was here—

There was hope.

He was brought into the visitation room.

Thick glass separated them.

Bear’s eyes were red with anticipation.

"Young Master Evan!"

Evan sat calmly behind the glass.

Composed.

Unreadable.

"I have good news," Evan said slowly, "and bad news. Which one do you want first?"

Bear swallowed.

"The good news?"

"I hired a lawyer. We negotiated a reduced sentence."

Hope ignited in Bear’s eyes.

"And the bad news?"

Evan’s expression remained unchanged.

"Even with the reduced sentence... you’ll still have about twenty years left."

Silence.

The words landed like a death sentence.

Twenty years.

A lifetime.

Behind bars.