DARNOVA PRESIDENT POV
The President of Darnova stood at the tallest window of the Tower, his palms pressed against the glass. His ministers crowded behind him, whispering in panic. The thunder of the convoy shook even the fortified walls of the chamber.
The wide boulevard below was completely swallowed. Tanks. Soldiers. Helicopters. Blackwood banners. And in the very heart of it, that white limousine, moving with the arrogance of a crown that did not need to ask permission.
Minister 1 (voice trembling):
"Mr. President… this isn't a diplomatic visit. This is a message. They want the people to see who truly rules."
The President's throat tightened. He had prepared speeches, even staged a welcome ceremony, but none of that mattered now. This was no longer diplomacy—this was dominance.
The doors burst open. A nervous aide rushed in, nearly stumbling.
"Sir! The citizens… they're chanting his name. Chris Blackwood. Even before he's stepped inside."
The President turned, fury flashing.
"Are they citizens or slaves?! Have they already forgotten their own flag?"
Silence. His ministers didn't answer. They knew the truth—fear was faster than loyalty.
The convoy drew closer. Already, Blackwood soldiers were fanning out, securing the perimeter around the Tower with cold precision.
Minister 2 whispered:
"Mr. President… once he enters this building, this will no longer be your tower. It will be his."
The President straightened, trying to summon his authority. But in his chest, dread weighed heavy. He knew the truth: Blackwood had not come to negotiate. They had come to claim.
And as the limousine doors finally opened below, the President muttered to himself—
"God help us."