The Reaper Returns: My Brother-in-Law Stole My Coin for Favor? Let Them All Burn in Hell!

I was once the supreme ruler of the global underworld, stepping down from my throne just to cook hot meals for my daughter. Yet, my arrogant brother-in-law mistook my silence for weakness. He smashed my home, tried to hand my wife over to a Mafia Don for his own career, and even stole my Black-Gold Skull Coin as a tribute!

Fine. You want to play? I'll grant your wish.

With a single keystroke, I initiated the DEFCON-1 combat protocol. Instantly, one hundred thousand of the world’s most elite mercenaries went berserk, locking down the entirety of New York City!

 Chapter 1

Brooklyn, a rainy night.

The freezing rain relentlessly hammered the roof of "Old Pop’s" underground auto repair shop, creating a maddening roar.

I was lying under a rusted-out old Ford, gripping a wrench stained with black grease.

"Arthur, we’re here."

My wife Elena’s voice cut through the sound of the rain.

I slid out from under the chassis, my gaze softening instantly.

She was holding the hand of our five-year-old daughter, Lily, who suffered from asthma. Elena's cheap, waterproof trench coat was soaked through, but in her hands, she carefully held a cake box.

"Happy Birthday, Arthur," Elena and Lily smiled. "Eat it while it's fresh."

A warm current flowed through my heart. I grabbed a ragged cloth to wipe the grease off my hands, just reaching out to take the cake.

BANG—!

The rolling shutter door let out a deafening crash as it was violently kicked open from the outside.

Gale-force winds, mixed with icy rain, poured into the garage, sending the dim yellow bulb on the ceiling into a violent swing. Light and shadow engaged in a frantic tug-of-war across the walls.

"Well, well, what a touching family drama. A broke loser and a piece of trash. A match made in heaven."

Five street thugs draped in leather jackets, sporting viper tattoos on their necks, swaggered in.

The man leading them chewed aggressively on a piece of gum, twirling a butterfly knife in his hand. His face was twisted with undisguised mockery and greed.

Tommy.

Elena’s younger brother. A low-level enforcer for the Viper Gang, an irrelevant street crew in Brooklyn.

"Tommy, what are you doing here?" Elena instinctively shielded Lily behind her.

"I’m here to rescue my dear sister, of course," Tommy sneered. He walked straight to my grease-stained workbench and slammed a stack of rain-soaked papers onto it with a heavy SMACK.

Divorce Agreement.

"Sign it. Divorce this mechanic trash," Tommy arrogantly blew a cloud of smoke right into my face. "The Underboss of the Falcone Family has his eyes on you, sis. As long as you go to his villa, sleep with him for a few months, and play the good mistress, our family can finally move out of this damn slum! And I’ll be directly promoted to a lieutenant in the Viper Gang!"

"You're insane! I’m your own sister!" Elena trembled with absolute rage.

"It’s exactly because you’re my sister that I can’t watch you rot in this shithole with this loser!" Tommy violently swung his arm.

CRASH!

Everything on the workbench was swept to the floor. The birthday cake slammed into the ground, mixing instantly with black motor oil and filthy drain water, turning into a disgusting pile of mush.

"Daddy's cake..." Lily stared at the ruined food, tears welling up in her terrified eyes.

"Shut up! You little bastard!"

Agitated, Tommy spun around, snatched the pink plush rabbit from Lily’s arms, and hurled it viciously into the dirtiest corner of the garage, right next to a pile of discarded oil drums. Filthy water splashed up, turning the pink rabbit a foul, muddy brown.

"WAAAAAH!" Lily finally broke down, hiding in Elena’s arms and wailing.

The heavy wrench in my hand was gripped so tight that the veins in my forearm violently bulged.

In that split second, muscle memory awakened like a slumbering beast.

My gaze traced a clinical, razor-sharp path across Tommy’s carotid artery, his trachea, and his right temple.

Distance: less than two meters. With my current grip strength, the moment this wrench swung, his skull would shatter like an overripe watermelon in under two seconds. The rest of his crew would have their throats crushed before they could even process a thought.

"Arthur! No!"

A pair of cold hands desperately grabbed my right arm.

Elena looked at me with pure terror in her eyes, frantically shaking her head. She had never seen such a terrifying, suffocating aura radiate from me. She held onto me for dear life, terrified that I would do something reckless and get beaten to death by these mobsters.

Looking at my wife's pleading eyes and my shivering daughter, I took a deep breath.

I unclenched my jaw and forced my killing intent deep back into my chest.

I am just a mechanic now.

The Reaper retired five years ago. My family cannot live in an endless cycle of bloodshed and fleeing.

I slowly lowered my head, saying nothing.

"HA! Pussied out already? I thought you were gonna bite me, you piece of trash!" Tommy erupted into a fit of maniacal laughter at my reaction. The thugs behind him joined in, mocking me ruthlessly.

Just then, Tommy's eyes locked onto the trunk of a half-dismantled car at the back of the garage.

There was a welded-shut hidden compartment.

"You've been hiding that little box forever. Let's see what kind of shady shit a broke loser like you is keeping from us!"

Tommy snatched a crowbar from one of his boys and strode over.

"Stop. That is not something you can touch," I warned, a trace of absolute frost creeping into my voice.

It was the only item in this garage that did not belong to "Arthur the mechanic."

Tommy laughed maniacally, swinging the crowbar hard against the hidden lock. With a CRACK, the cheap padlock broke. He forcefully yanked open the metal lid.

Inside, there was only one item—a metal coin, slightly larger than a standard piece.

It was forged entirely from exceedingly rare black gold. On the front, a lifelike skull was engraved; set deep within the skull's eye sockets were two flawless, blood-red rubies.

On the back, a crossed scythe and a tactical combat knife.

The Black-Gold Skull Coin.

The ultimate totem at the very peak of the global underworld pyramid.

Whoever holds this coin can knock on the door of any top-tier Mafia family in the world and demand their absolute, limitless loyalty.

Five years ago, just to fight for the right to hold this token representing the former "Reaper," three transnational mercenary syndicates were completely annihilated in Siberia.

"Holy shit... what the hell is this? Solid gold? And these rubies..." Tommy’s eyes instantly turned bloodshot, his Adam’s apple bobbing frantically.

Years on the street told him this thing was worth an unimaginable fortune. That deadly, dark luster it emitted was something that absolutely did not belong in the slums.

"Put it down." I locked my eyes onto his wrist.

"Hahahaha!" Tommy shoved the coin into an inner pocket of his jacket, reaching behind his waist to pull out a handgun, pointing it directly at my chest. "It’s mine now! Which rotting basement did you steal this from, you rat?"

He touched the cold coin in his pocket, his eyes turning fanatical.

"Tomorrow night! The supreme leader of the New York Mafia, Don Falcone, is hosting an extremely private black-market banquet at his hillside estate!" Tommy practically spat in his excitement. "As long as I present this ultra-rare ruby gold coin to Don Falcone, along with my drop-dead gorgeous sister as a bargaining chip... The Don will definitely favor me! I will be the king of Brooklyn!"

He poked the barrel of the gun hard against my chest, wearing a hideous grin.

"When I come back from the Falcone Estate tomorrow night, if you haven't signed this divorce paper, I’ll burn this garage to ashes with you inside it!"

The room fell dead silent.

Elena covered her mouth, crying in terror.

And I... just looked at Tommy with absolute calmness.

Was I angry?

No.

When a clueless ant picks up a nuclear launch button that could annihilate the entire global underworld, and proceeds to brag to your face about trading it for wealth from some local mob boss... you don't get angry.

I just found it extremely hilarious.

He had absolutely no idea what he had stolen.

I looked at Tommy’s arrogant face and let out a faint scoff. "Hold on to it tightly. Make sure you don't lose it."

Agitated by my reaction but unwilling to cause further complications, Tommy cursed under his breath and left with his crew.

The garage returned to a dead silence.

My wife and daughter looked at me, trembling.

I walked over and gently embraced them.

"Don't be afraid, Elena," I patted her shaking back, my voice gentle but resolute. "Go to sleep. I promise you, after tomorrow night, no one will ever bully you again."

Half an hour later, my wife and daughter were sleeping soundly in the back room. I stood alone in the dark garage, listening to the violent rain outside.

A moment later, I made a decision.

Unlike any decision I made for profit five years ago, this time, it was to protect my family.

I walked toward the brick wall at the deepest part of the garage, covered in old tires. Pushing the third tire aside, I pressed my thumb deep into the crevices of the bricks against a bio-electric scanner.

Beep—Vein verification confirmed.

The heavy solid brick wall shifted inward and slid open noiselessly.

Deep in the darkness, a tactical console protected by top-tier military-grade firewalls stood silently.

I walked up to the console. The massive curved screen instantly booted up.

A blinding crimson light illuminated the cold contours of my face.

My fingertips hovered over the holographic keyboard. I rapidly typed in a 64-character dynamic cipher—the Ultimate Protocol.

[DEFCON-1 Extreme Threat Combat Protocol, Unlocked.]

In the center of the screen, a massive, blood-red skull slowly materialized.

This was a frequency that had been dormant for five years. The moment it lit up, it signaled the absolute reshuffling of power across the entire global dark web.

I pulled up the highest-clearance communication channel, locking onto my direct special ops unit, codename: [Cerberus].

I typed a single, brief line:

"Tomorrow night, Falcone Hillside Estate, New York."

"Secure all restricted zones in the perimeter. Assemble heavy armor."

I hit enter.

A blinding flash filled the screen. The crimson interface finally froze onto four chilling letters:

[ORDER CONFIRMED]