Emrah woke in his room, still groggy from the battle and the after-party of the previous night. The two girls—his girlfriends and future wives—were still in his bed, half-awake and half-naked. He froze for a moment, realizing the implications if their fathers discovered this scene.
Quietly, he rose, grabbing his weapons and coat. As the katana on his back transformed into a cane, his Emre persona faded completely, and he became Emrah once more—calm, calculating, and fully himself. He moved carefully, descending the stairs, making sure not to disturb the girls further.
Downstairs, his parents and Efsun and Efsane's parents, along with Uncle Mehmet and his family, were eating breakfast.
"Emre, come and eat something," Cengiz called warmly.
Emrah approached, taking the sandwich piled high with sausage. "Thanks," he said, nodding politely. "I'll be going soon."
"Where are our daughters?" Adil asked, frowning, glancing at Kureyş, who nodded silently.
"They told me last night they'd sleep in the guest rooms," Adil continued, "but I checked earlier, and the rooms were empty."
Emrah shrugged casually. "Maybe they were sleeping in Emrah's room."
A ripple of alarm passed through the parents as they rushed upstairs. When they reached Emrah's room, their eyes widened in shock. The two girls were half-awake, half-naked, tangled in the sheets—alone and Emrah was not there.
Meanwhile, Emre had already teleported to the back of the university parking lot, his car gleaming under the morning light. Stepping out, he flexed his hand, and the Infinity Blade transformed seamlessly into a cane. In that instant, the Emre persona faded, replaced entirely by the calm, commanding presence of Emrah.
As he began walking toward the building, a subtle alert flickered in his mind—the system speaking directly to him:
"Reward unlocked: Chaos Induction – Passive Granted: Danger Sense. Ability detects imminent threats within line of sight. Subject Infinity, heightened awareness engaged."
A faint chill ran down Emrah's spine, and instinctively, he felt it: danger lurking nearby. It was subtle, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but to him, it was unmistakable.
He entered the instructors' lounge with measured steps, each movement precise and confident. A man turned to him with a warm smile, extending a hand.
"Hello," the man said smoothly. "I'm Dr. Adem Yesari, one of the newly hired instructors here. I've heard that you're new as well, so I thought we should look out for each other."
His words sounded genuine, casual even, but Emrah's newly acquired danger sense flared immediately, subtle alarms whispering in his mind. The Weapons of Infinity also stirred faintly, their presence alerting him to the unusual aura surrounding the man.
Something about him wasn't right, and Emrah knew instinctively that every smile, every friendly gesture, carried hidden layers he needed to unravel carefully.
Dr. Adem Yesari's smile didn't falter as he leaned slightly against the edge of the table, eyes scanning Emrah with measured interest.
"So," Adem began casually, "I hear you've already made quite an impression around here. Not just with your reputation, but… your methods. I'm curious—how do you handle unexpected challenges? Do you adapt quickly, or do you rely on others?"
Emrah tilted his head slightly, masking his full awareness behind a calm, polite expression. "Curious question for a casual greeting," his mind noted. The Weapons of Infinity whispered silently, their warning clear: this man was testing him, probing for weaknesses.
"I prefer to assess each situation," Emrah replied evenly, "then act decisively. Efficiency matters more than bravado."
Adem's eyes flickered for just a fraction of a second—a small smirk forming. "Efficiency, huh? That's a bold claim. But tell me—do you trust your instincts completely? Or do you need proof before making a move?"
Proof… or a trap? Emrah thought. He's fishing. I need to stay calm.
"I trust both," Emrah said, his tone neutral, unflinching. "Instincts guide me, but facts confirm my decisions."
Adem nodded slowly, as if satisfied with a hidden metric only he could see. "Interesting. You strike me as… someone who doesn't play by the rules when the rules don't make sense. That can be dangerous—or refreshing, depending on which side you're on."
Emrah kept his expression unchanged, but internally, he adjusted his posture slightly, preparing for any sudden movements. The danger sense pulsed again, sharper this time, as if warning: this man is not what he seems. Keep your distance, but study him closely.
Adem's gaze softened just a touch, a polite but calculating tilt of the head. "Well, I look forward to working with you… Emrah. Let's see if we can both survive this semester without stepping on each other's toes."
Emrah offered a small, polite nod, replying calmly, "Likewise. I'll be watching—and learning."
In that instant, both men understood: what appeared to be a simple meeting of colleagues was already a silent duel of intellects, intentions, and hidden power.
After that conversation Emrah went to his classroom because the class was about to begin.
Emrah stepped in front of the classroom, voice calm and measured, guiding his students through the lecture with practiced ease. Every movement, every word was precise—his teaching impeccable, almost mesmerizing. But behind the mask of focus, his mind raced at an impossible speed.
Who was that man? he wondered, thinking back to Dr. Adem Yesari. There's something off… dangerous about him. How is he already aware of me? And why do the weapons feel… suspicious in his presence?
The lecture went on, students hanging on his words, oblivious to the storm of thoughts spinning in their professor's head.
And last night… what actually happened? Emrah's mind twisted uncomfortably. I was in my Emre persona. The girls… sleeping beside me. Did I… sleep with both of them at the same time?
The thought made him pause subtly, though no one noticed. Does that mean I… cheated on myself? With myself? And what are they thinking?
He tapped a piece of chalk against the board, pretending to gather his thoughts while mentally calculating the implications. Will they ever come clean to my Emrah persona about what happened? Or will they continue keeping it a secret? And their parents… once they find out… things could get… messy. At the very least, we might need an engagement—or marriage—to avoid a scandal.
As he returned to the lecture, explaining a complex concept with clarity, the weapons at his side pulsed faintly, a silent reminder of the dangers lurking outside the classroom. Every instinct told him he needed to remain vigilant—Dr. Adem, the unresolved questions, and the ever-looming shadow of Doctor Everlaster.
Even as his students scribbled notes and nodded along, Emrah's mind never stopped calculating, predicting, and planning. The classroom was safe, for now. But beyond its walls, the game had already begun.
After the class Emrah went back to his home.
Emrah stepped into the Aybeyli mansion, the familiar weight of his Infinity Blade and Gun hidden beneath his coat, but the tension in the air was heavier than any weapon he carried. Everyone was gathered in the main hall: his parents, Efsun and Efsane's parents, Uncle Mehmet, and even the household staff lingering at the edges, sensing the storm about to break.
The moment he walked in, the room erupted in demands.
"Emrah!" Adil, Efsane's father, barked, voice sharp and unyielding. "Explain yourself! What have you done with our daughter?"
Kureyş, Efsun's father, stepped forward, jaw tight. "They told us everything. Sleeping… in the same room. The same bed. Both of them. At the same time! This is outrageous!"
Efsun and Efsane, half embarrassed, half defiant, flinched at their fathers' fury.
Emrah stayed calm, mask in place, but his mind raced. He knew the implications: scandal, ruin, dishonor—yet also the opportunity to solidify his position if he played this right.
He raised a hand, voice measured but commanding: "I understand your anger. And you have every right to be furious. But hear me out before passing judgment. What happened last night… was under unusual circumstances, and no harm was intended."
Adil's glare cut into him like a knife. "Unusual circumstances? Do you think this excuses your actions? Our families' reputations are at stake!"
Kureys added, voice low and dangerous, "You must take responsibility, Emrah. Not just with words—but with a commitment. If the world finds out about this, the shame would destroy all of us."
Emrah took a deep breath, the eyes of four families on him, the future of his alliances dangling in the balance. "I will take responsibility," he said calmly. "And I propose we fix this… officially. I will marry Efsun and Efsane. Set the date, and I will honor both of them, protecting their honor and our families' reputations. I will not let this become a scandal, and I will not run from what happened."
A stunned silence filled the hall. Even the girls' eyes widened, half in shock, half in relief. Cengiz Saygın, observing quietly from the corner, smiled slightly under his beard. Emrah's audacity was… impressive.
Adil spoke slowly, measuring every word: "Very well, Emrah. If you are serious, we will set the date. But know this—this is your chance to prove that you are worthy of not just their trust, but ours."
Kureyş nodded in agreement, his eyes sharp. "We will hold you to your word. No excuses."
Emrah nodded, unwavering. "I am aware. And I will not fail."
Emrah raised his hand, calm but firm, eyes meeting Adil and Kureys. "You wanted me to balance everything between your daughters," he said, voice steady. "That's what I did—even if I wasn't fully myself. And if you want me to marry them, I will do it at the same time, the same day, and the same place. That's the only way I can truly balance everything between them as much as possible."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "That way, we are safer, stronger, and no one can claim favoritism or manipulate the situation. However, legally, I can only marry one of them. I will not do that unless all of you—and the girls themselves—decide which one will be my legal wife. Until that decision is made, I will only marry them through religious rites."
Adil's jaw tightened, but there was a flicker of respect in his eyes. Kureyş leaned back, processing Emrah's audacity and precision. Both fathers understood that their daughter's honor was being protected, and at the same time, Emrah had taken control of the situation on his terms.
Efsun and Efsane exchanged glances, half embarrassed, half impressed. They realized that even under extreme scrutiny, Emrah had maintained perfect balance and authority.
Cengiz, observing quietly, smiled slightly. "This young man… he reminds me of the balance I once sought in my own life. He may just be the one to stabilize all of you."
The hall remained tense, but a sense of understanding settled. Emrah had turned a potential scandal into a calculated advantage, and everyone knew the weddings—and the balance—would be carefully orchestrated.
Right as the tension in the Aybeyli mansion began to settle, a new shadow descended upon the city. At the airport, a private jet landed smoothly, its engines winding down. From the airplane's steps emerged a tall, imposing figure—Aykut Yilmaz, the father and true leader of the Yilmaz family.
Every movement he made carried authority and precision, the aura of a man who had built an empire with strategy, intimidation, and relentless discipline. But beneath that composed exterior burned a singular, personal fire: he was here to avenge his son, Esat Yilmaz.
His sharp gaze scanned the city, already calculating the consequences of the massacre that had befallen his family. The Aybeyli, Saygın, Haznedar, and Ergün families had acted with overwhelming brutality, and now, Aykut would ensure that retribution came swiftly and mercilessly.
The storm had arrived. And its first target was clear: Emrah Aybeyli.
Aykut Yilmaz descended the last step of the jet, the city lights reflecting off the polished metal of the runway. Every movement was precise, every glance sharp with unrelenting focus. His face was a mask of cold vengeance.
He had come for one reason: to avenge his son, Esat. Nothing else mattered. No strategy, no alliances—just retribution.
The night air seemed to grow heavier as he moved toward his destination, each step a silent promise that the events of the previous night would not go unanswered.
Meanwhile, Emrah Aybeyli remained unaware. The aftermath of the first battle, the alliances formed, the aftermath of Emre's brutal display—all of it kept him busy, his mind far from the incoming storm.
Aykut's voice finally broke the silence of the airport, low and deadly:
"I've come for my son, Esat… and for every one of you who stands in his place."
The city remained oblivious, but a war had just taken its first steps into the night.