Chris moved.
The chamber fell into silence as every eye followed him. Slowly, deliberately, his gloved fingers gripped the straps of his helmet. The air turned heavy, breaths caught in throats.
With one motion, he removed the mask.
The face beneath needed no introduction. The scar across his jaw. The cold, unyielding eyes. The ruler whose name shook continents.
Chris Blackwood.
The president staggered back, rod slipping from his hand and clattering against the marble floor. His lips trembled.
"N–No… impossible… you… you came as a guard?"
Chris's voice was calm, but his words carried the weight of thunder.
"You just started a war… by striking the God of Blackwood."
The hall broke into chaos. Ministers shouted, guards froze, some dropped to their knees out of pure fear. The Darnova First Lady gasped, covering her mouth. Soldiers at the entrance tightened their grips on their rifles, unsure whether to defend their president or beg for mercy.
Chris stepped forward, every stride echoing like a death sentence. His eyes locked on the president, who was trembling now, his earlier arrogance shattered like glass.
"You wanted me to kneel," Chris said, voice low, deadly calm. "Instead, you will kneel before the Blackwood Empire. Your tower, your army, your land—all of it now belongs to me."
Classic rose, smirking faintly, watching the drama unfold with a mix of pride and fire in his eyes.
"I warned you," Classic said coldly. "My men don't kneel."
Chris turned to General Soren, who had been silent at the back of the chamber. His command was sharp, absolute.
"Lock down this tower. Secure the city. Not a soul moves until I decide."
"Yes, my king!" Soren barked, already motioning to B.A.M. soldiers pouring in through the side doors.
The Darnova ministers panicked, some trying to flee, but soldiers blocked every exit.
Chris's gaze returned to the president. His tone softened, but it was far more terrifying than rage.
"You had a chance to welcome me as an ally. Instead, you raised your hand against me. Now you will watch your nation bow, not by choice… but by conquest."
The president dropped to his knees at last, trembling, sweating, his pride utterly crushed.
"P–Please… forgive me, Your Majesty. I didn't know—"
Chris cut him off with a raised hand.
"You don't raise your hand against a god and ask forgiveness. You live with the consequence."
The hall fell silent again, the weight of his words pressing down like a storm.
Outside, the people of Darnova were already gathering, watching as B.A.M. convoys circled the streets, their banners flying high. The empire's shadow had fallen upon them, and they knew—Darnova was no longer free.
Chris stood tall in the center of the chamber, mask in one hand, the president broken at his feet.
The God of Blackwood had revealed himself.
And the world would never be the same.
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