The stage had never felt so quiet.
MRD sat still, his body upright, but his soul heavy with the echoes of every word he had just spoken. Around him, the world held its breath—not out of fear, but out of reflection.
No more cheering.
No more clapping.
Just silence.
A silence so deep it felt like the earth itself was listening.
His words, simple yet sharper than any weapon, had pierced through layers of ignorance and ego. The stories he shared—of his childhood, his struggles, his helplessness—were not stories of a god, but of a boy who carried the pain of a world on his shoulders.
And now, that boy sat as a man before the world. A man who had the power to burn it down… yet chose to build.
He slowly turned his head to the front row.
There they were.
His parents.
His mother, trembling with tears—her face glowing with a pride only a mother could feel. She had once wiped his tears in silence, never knowing that one day, the world would hang on his every word.
Beside her, his father—stoic as always. His jaw clenched, his hands resting calmly, but his eyes… his eyes told the truth. Eyes that had seen suffering, sacrifice, and now, triumph.
Even now, he refused to cry.
Because he had promised himself that his tears would only fall when his son was free.
And today… his son had freed the world.
Sophia sat between them, gently holding his mother's hand, not as a daughter-in-law, but as a daughter—comforting, grounded, part of the family. Her eyes never left Mirshad. She had seen every side of him—his rage, his love, his weakness, his power—and now, she was watching him in his greatest moment.
Behind MRD, the brothers sat still.
One by one, their eyes turned toward him. None of them said a word.
They didn't have to.
Their presence, their silence, their loyalty… was louder than any applause.
Behind them, the world leaders sat with a different kind of silence.
For the first time, the rulers of nations… looked like students. They had spent their lives signing papers, passing laws, making promises. But now, sitting behind the man who had already done more than they ever dared to dream—they felt both pride… and shame.
Because while they protected their thrones, MRD protected the people.
The media had nothing left to say.
The microphones were on. The cameras were rolling. But there were no questions. No debates. No breaking headlines.
Because for once… the truth was enough.
The world, which had spent years divided by borders, religion, wealth, and politics… was united in a single moment of silence.
And then—
A whisper.
Just one.
From somewhere in the crowd.
"We're with you, MRD."
And then another.
And another.
Until the whispers became a chant.
Not shouted.
But spoken.
Spoken with belief.
With surrender.
With hope.
"We're with you, MRD."
"Tell us your vision."
"Show us the way."
And MRD sat there… listening.
He didn't smile. He didn't cry.
He just… breathed.
The weight was heavy.
But it was his to carry.
He looked at the horizon.
And then, slowly… he stood.
The chants stopped.
The world fell silent again.
Because they remembered what he had said earlier—
"When I rise again… I want silence."
And so, they gave him silence.
No fireworks. No shouting. No flashes.
Just eyes.
Millions and millions of eyes.
Watching the man who would now lead them into a new world.
MRD stepped forward, toward the microphone again.
And this time, the world wasn't just listening…
It was ready.