God of Crime: Strongest Mafia Boss



[Las Vegas]

Inside a beautiful room belonging to a highrise building of considerable height, a young man was seated on a chair while he keenly observed the sleeping old man in front.

The old man lay upon a rather luxurious bed— a testament to the wealth and opulence he had amassed throughout his lifetime. The bed, adorned with the intricately carved infrastructure of mahogany wood, was draped in silken sheets of the finest quality available in the world – both the supernatural and ordinary – shimmering in the soft light that filtered through the ornate windows of the room that was filled with luxury and opulence.

However, the grandeur of his surroundings could not disguise the frailty of his sickly form. His once vibrant and commanding presence had withered to a poor display, leaving behind a mere shadow of the man he once had been in his prime. His body, covered by a delicate silk robe of the finest quality lay motionless on the soft bed— save for the faint rise and fall of his wrinkled chest along with the motions of his shallow breaths.

His skin, once taut and smooth like that of a young man filled with immense virility, now clung loosely to his emancipated bones— marked by the passage of time and the toll of his lethal illness. The veins underneath his skin appeared prominent, snaking their way across his frail limbs like fragile branches of the most withered woods— on the verge of collapse.

The old man's breathing was labored and strained, punctuated by occasional coughs that wracked his weakened body further into a state of pain and suffering. Each breath seemed to require an immense effort on his part; as if he were carrying the weight of his fading existence with every inhalation of his breath and leaking away some more of his life force with every exhalation. The lines around his mouth were drawn tight, conveying both pain and resignation.

Despite his deteriorating condition, there was a quiet and regal dignity that surrounded him— his inborn aura. His eyes, though dimmed, still held a flicker of resilience in their wallowing depths, and his wrinkled hands, once strong and capable, now rested gently upon his chest— their graceful movements a testament to a life well-lived and cherished.

"You have grown weak, old man…"

Inside the room, the rhythmic beep of the different machines that were working furiously to keep the man alive continued to whirr on even as the young man spoke.

Opening his eyes with visible difficulty, he turned towards the source of the new voice.

His two pupils, previously scarlet red in color, had now become different— one of them having turned blue already.

He looked at his son.; quietly, serenely, with no anger nor hatred in his eyes.

He knew his situation more than anyone else. Though he had been old, his body had not been so weak that he would fall to this level of weakness and fraility. He still had enough power to stay healthy and strong for a few more decades.

Sadly… It seemed like fate had different things in store for him.

"I guess a wise wolf like you should know what happened. Fooling you more than this impossible on my part."

The young adult, his son, spoke with a smug expression on his face. One of his pupils, once a pale blue… had now turned vibrant red filled with lethal ferality.

The power of the alpha of the werewolf race was slowly being transferred and nothing could stop this phenomenon from occuring.

"Looking at you like this. I really do not understand why I feared you for so many years."

He continued to speak. Proud of what he had done to his own flesh and blood. A heinous act that would even give The Devil himself a run for his money.

"After your death, I will become the full Alpha of our pack and I will take control of your force for myself. In fact, the Great Wolves of Los Angeles are already in fear of my power and influence. Something you had never managed to accomplish in your pitiful life."

He sighed under his breath before explaining, "Because you are too kind. Because you follow the spirit of our ancestors. Because you are a pacifist. All those reasons made everyone look down on you and underestimate us for all this time. But no more. Under my lead, we will usher unto a new era. OUR era…"

The old and sickly wolf stayed silent even as his son went on and on, simply looking at his child with his glazed over eyes. His eyes were filled with nothing but compassion and… pity.

Even though he had been empoisoned by his own son. Even though he was on his deathbed.

All he could feel was pity and disappointment.

Disappointment at himself for failing to raise his son properly.

Sadness for allowing his son to become this stupid and detestable.

If the boy had planned everything alone to take him down, he would have been proud and delighted at his insight and cunningness.

There was nothing wrong with a young pup fighting against the old Alpha to take over his title. This was the natural order of things for the werewolves, something that had been ingrained in their very blood, and the way they had been following since times immemorial— since the days of their Progenitor.

Outsmarting him would have meant the display of his wisdom.

Fighting him up front would have meant the display of his strength.

Waiting for his death would have meant the display of compassion and forbearance.

But of those qualities… His son showed none.

He was clearly being used by the intangible hands of a great manipulator. He was being manipulated like a sickening puppet. He was thinking that he was the protagonist when he was nothing more than a chess piece in the hand's of the higher order.

His lot was already evident for anyone to see. The destiny of a chess piece that did not even know that it was a chess piece was all too evident.

Truly… How pitiful.

"Do not look at me like this!"

The man stood up, fury filling his heterochromatic eyes.

"I am stronger than you now! Better! I will do things you could only dream of. So, stop looking at me like I am just a child!"

"I…."

For the first time the man opened his mouth and his child stopped cursing, waiting with attention for what he was about to whisper.

He himself did not know what he wished for. He was filled with joy and happiness but at the same time, a small part of remorse and guilt filled his heart for the state of his own father.

He wished to be insulted and berated. He wished for his father to curse him in every way possible. To tell him that he had always been a disappointment and that he would have never amounted to much.

This desire to be derided and looked down on by his father. The thought that his father wished him ill was the only thing that allowed him to continue doing what he was doing.

"I am sorry…"

But his wishes were not realized.

"...For being a bad and incompetent father…"

Even to this point, his father showed no hatred towards him.

"...For not giving you more love…"

Only infinite love and more and more regret. Sadness and disappointment in himself and his own spawn.

"Please…"

Every time he spoke, his breath became more labored. Even keeping his eyes open was becoming too difficult and the beating of his heart was progressively slowing down.

"...I beg you…"

His father raised his hand and grabbed him with all the strength he had left on his fading body. Looking at him with intensity even as the red color of his pupil slowly vanished into nothingness,

"Do not trust them and…"

His two blue eyes gazed at him and a warm smile like no other graced his quivering lips.

"I wish you success and all the best in the world."

The young man stood dumbstruck.

The arm that gripped him once had lost strength and slowly began to fall.

By reflex, he tried to grab it back but failed and could do nothing but watch as the hand fell weakly on the bed.

"Ah…"

His two eyes were now crimson.

But he could feel no happiness even though the power of Alpha he had so cherished was now his.

"No…"

Tears of blood streamed down his face as he looked down at the emaciated body of his father.

Memories of a long-forgotten time surfaced in his mind.

He finally realized one sad truth….

In his desire for power and glory…He had killed the only person in the world who would have always been unconditionally on his side.

They said you only realized what was important to you once you lost them.

This was a lesson he would never forget in his life. Pitiful as it may be.

Behind him, in the shadow, a dark elf walked quietly and looked down at the crying man.

Her eyes were filled with shradenfeud and a sneer formed on her face.

She found hypocritical bastards like the one before him extremely laughable. Thankfully, they were the easiest to manipulate.

"My job is done. I followed my part of the deal. Do not forget yours."

"You…"

The Young Alpha glared at her with crimson-red eyes and she clicked her togue while taking a few steps back.

"Do not try anything funny."

She was an assassin not a close combat fighter. Fighting a True Alpha, no matter how stupid he was, would not end well for her.

"I will respect the deal."

"Very well. See you later. Partner…"

She smiled derisively and slipped into the shadows. She had other jobs to do.

Soon, chaos would descend on this damned world.