The world held its breath.
The desert, once a barren wasteland, had become the stage for history. Millions of people gathered, their eyes locked onto the towering platform where the world's most powerful leaders sat.
And yet, there was still one empty seat.
The one that belonged to him.
The one the world had been waiting for.
Behind the stage, Mirshad moved with steady, calculated steps. His presence alone was enough to command silence among the soldiers standing guard.
One of them stepped forward, holding his mask and suit with both hands, his head bowed in unwavering respect.
Mirshad took the mask, staring at it for a brief moment.
Then—he put it on.
A symbol of power. Of fear. Of control.
Next, he slipped on his coat. The final piece.
The transformation was complete.
His soldier, eyes filled with absolute loyalty, saluted him.
"Sir, ready to go."
The rest followed, their fists clenching against their chests in a synchronized salute.
Mirshad gave a single nod. Then, without a word, he turned toward the entrance of the stage.
The moment had come.
The world was about to shake.
As Mirshad stepped onto the stage, the atmosphere shifted.
A presence unlike any other filled the air.
The world leaders—the most powerful men and women on the planet—rose to their feet, one by one, as if pulled by an invisible force.
Not out of obligation.
Not out of duty.
But out of something far greater.
Respect.
For the first time in history, the rulers of nations stood in silent acknowledgment of one man.
Their king.
The media teams, broadcasting to billions across the world, froze.
Some reporters forgot to speak. Some cameras shook in the hands of those filming. Some spectators, standing for hours, nearly fell to their knees as they felt what could not be explained.
Power.
Raw, undeniable power.
Mirshad's parents, seated in the front row among the people, watched their son walk like a king.
Not as the boy they had raised.
But as the ruler of the world.
A tear escaped his mother's eye. His father remained still, his hands gripping the arms of his chair.
This—
This was beyond anything they had ever imagined.
The second Mirshad reached his seat and sat down, the energy of the world shifted.
The moment his body met the chair, the other leaders—one by one—lowered themselves into their seats.
As if following an unspoken command.
As if waiting for their ruler before daring to sit.
The world erupted.
Social media platforms crashed.
News anchors stumbled over their words.
Spectators in every nation screamed in excitement, confusion, and disbelief.
The greatest question of all spread like wildfire—
Who is this man?
Why did the world's most powerful figures stand for him?
What are we witnessing?
What is happening?
Every conversation, every screen, every whisper in every corner of the world revolved around that one question.
The mystery.
The anticipation.
The fear.
The air around the stage held silence. Not because there was nothing to say—but because there was too much.
The crowd was given time. Time to process. Time to release their emotions.
But finally, after the storm of reaction, the moment came.
A well-known anchor stepped forward, gripping the microphone.
He inhaled deeply, his own hands shaking from the weight of history unfolding before him.
Then, with a voice that echoed across the desert and into the ears of billions—
He spoke.
"So, world… are you ready for this?"
The people, standing in the heat, pressed against barricades, packed in cities and streets across the globe, watching from massive screens—
Roared in unison.
"YES, WE ARE!"
"YES, WE ARE!"
The chant spread like wildfire, shaking the very ground beneath them.
The energy was unreal.
This was no longer just a gathering.
This was no longer just a meeting.
This was a movement.
The moment that would change everything.
The anchor, steadying his breath, lifted the microphone again.
"Today… we are witnessing history."
He turned, his gaze sweeping across the most powerful individuals on the planet.
"The first time in human history… that every nation stands together. Every country—every leader—united under one purpose."
The crowd cheered.
The world watched in anticipation.
"I know every single one of you has gathered here because you seek answers. Because you want to know—why."
The anchor paused, allowing the weight of the moment to sink in.
"You all have questions. And I promise you—those questions will be answered."
He inhaled sharply, then turned toward the world leaders.
His voice rang loud and clear.
"It is my honor to welcome the rulers of nations… but more importantly—our people."
He gestured towards the leaders on the stage, each representing a nation, each carrying the weight of their people's futures.
"And now…"
The energy shifted.
Anticipation rose.
His gaze fell on the masked figures sitting among them.
For the first time since the event began—
The anchor hesitated.
A bead of sweat trickled down his temple.
Even from where he stood, he could feel it.
The presence. The power. The weight of the unknown.
Carefully, as if he knew he was addressing something far beyond a normal leader, he spoke the final words of his introduction.
"And most importantly…"
"The ones who will shape the future…"
"The ones who brought this moment into existence…"
The desert fell into a deafening silence.
Billions leaned closer to their screens.
The crowd held their breath.
Every leader's eyes remained locked on the masked figures.
And then—
The question the world had been screaming for finally found its voice.
"Who… are they?"
The stage remained still.
The wind howled through the desert.
And at last—
The world realized…
This was only the beginning.