At an antique fair, a teenager strolled down a red carpet. Sunglasses hid his eyes, a lollipop dangled from his lips, and both hands were buried casually in his pockets. His arrogant stride screamed superiority.
This was Caesar—the notorious second-generation rich kid, infamous for his conceit and arrogance.
The sunglasses weren't for blocking sunlight but for shielding himself from the blinding "radiance" he believed he emitted.
And it wasn't just his imagination. Passersby squinted and even raised their hands to block the dazzling light around him…
Because Caesar had actually hired an entire crew to shine spotlights wherever he went. Even movie stars couldn't compete with that level of extravagance.
The red carpet beneath his feet? A team of attendants laid it down and rolled it back up wherever he passed. Altogether, his entourage numbered more than a dozen.
In the middle of his grand entrance, Caesar suddenly halted. He lowered his shades to glance at a roadside stall. Yet the lights were so blinding that even squinting, he couldn't see clearly.
"Turn them off."
The spotlights vanished instantly. The seamless timing spoke volumes of how well-drilled his crew was.
Caesar's gaze fell upon something that caught his interest: a black thermos flask, caked in mud.
"Hah! This scam is too obvious. An antique, you say? What is this—one year old?"
He grinned, flashing his teeth, looking far more approachable than the arrogant brat from moments ago.
The stall owner stiffened. Of course, he knew most of the goods here weren't real antiques—mostly junk and fakes.
Seeing the man remain silent, Caesar smirked with boredom but kept his eyes on the thermos.
"Hey, how much?"
"O-One hundred…"
The vendor dared not name a higher price. In this city, who didn't know Caesar's notorious reputation? Offend him, and your livelihood was finished.
"Huh? How much?"
Caesar leaned closer, hand cupped to his ear as if he hadn't heard properly.
"T-Ten..."
"Shut up!"
The stall owner flinched as Caesar barked directly in his face. With a haughty tilt of his chin, Caesar raised his sunglasses again, his arrogance in full display.
"Anything that catches my eye can't possibly be that cheap. One hundred thousand. You're not allowed to refuse!"
Without waiting for a reply, he scanned the QR code and paid on the spot.
"What are you standing around for? Take it, clean off the dirt, and bring it to me."
"Yes, Young Master!"
Moments later, the lights blazed back on, the red carpet unfurled once more, and Caesar swaggered away in blinding glory.
...
That night, in his room, Caesar held the strange thermos in his hands, trying to open it.
"Hah! Just as I thought. My eyes don't miss a thing. If this can't open, it must be extraordinary."
He was utterly confident, never once considering that the thermos might just be broken.
Fumbling for a moment, he triggered some hidden mechanism. The flask suddenly glowed and hovered in midair.
"Can you help me gather the fragments?"
A question from a bizarre thermos didn't scare Caesar. If anything, he looked even more arrogant, his sharp eyes scanning his newfound treasure.
"Speak. I'm in a good mood. Maybe I'll help you."
"I already told you, didn't I?"
"I know, but I must make it clear: I'm helping because I want to, not because of you."
He tossed his hair, tilted his chin, and lifted his face to the ceiling in pure self-satisfaction.
The thermos' CPU seemed to freeze for a moment.
"So, you agree? You're not afraid I might deceive you?"
"Huh! Who do you think I am? I'm Caesar! Dogs cower when they see me, thieves beg for mercy, heroes bow their heads, and villains steer clear for thirty thousand miles. Tell me—who dares trick me? Who even can?"
Caesar spoke arrogantly, disdain dripping from every word.
"Good. Tell me how to find your fragments. Even if I have to turn the world upside down, I'll help you."
"No need. One hundred fragments in one hundred different worlds. You'll have to go there yourself to collect them."
Hearing this, Caesar slammed the table and stood up, startling the thermos.
"Hahaha! From now on, bro, you're officially my best brother. Time to show a hundred worlds the invincible me. When do we depart? I'll call the spotlight crew, the carpet crew… oh, and this time we need the sound system too. A battle without a soundtrack isn't worthy of me!"
The thermos was silent for a moment. Strange as this ally seemed, with this attitude, it would surely help him gather the fragments fastest.
"You'll have to train the crews in other worlds. I can only bring you along."
"Then that's a pity. Oh, and what about outfits? Do those worlds even have civilizations comparable to Earth?"
"Your outfit will automatically adjust to fit each world," the thermos assured him. "Don't worry. I guarantee it'll always be the flashiest style available."
Caesar nodded in satisfaction until something bothered him.
"Wait a second. What if the civilization is too primitive? What about my speakers? My spotlights? The red carpet I can manage, but the rest?"
The thermos wanted to curse. Anyone else traveling to another world would worry about survival, power, or equipment. This guy only cared about his showmanship.
"I'll handle that part," the thermos snapped. "I absorb natural energy from each world and convert it into potions that boost your strength. As for manpower—recruit them yourself."
"Good, good! As expected, my eye for talent never fails."
…Seriously? Did he just praise himself again?
Sliding on a pair of sunglasses, Caesar glanced around the room that he had lived in for years.
"It's time for me to shine on another stage. Your journey ends here. Bro, can we depart now?"
"Of course."
A shimmering spatial gate blossomed beside him. Caesar tilted his head, studying it with curiosity before grinning.
"Never thought I'd get to walk into one of these. Not bad, Bro. Truly, my thermos never lets me down."
The thermos no longer bothered replying. This lunatic was beyond saving.
At that moment, Caesar pulled out a small red button from his drawer and pressed it.
"What are you doing?!"
"Triggering the bomb. Obviously. No one else is worthy of my beloved possessions."
Without another glance, he strode into the portal. Looking back at the explosion, after all, would only ruin his cool.