The jet's engines powered down with a soft whine, and one by one, the passengers unbuckled and gathered their belongings. Istanbul stretched out before them, sun glinting off skyscrapers and the Bosphorus shimmering in the distance.
Emrah led the way down the jet's staircase, cane in hand, his expression unreadable. Around him, his family and allies followed, their luggage and shopping bags in tow. The air smelled faintly of jet fuel, leather, and the sea—a strange comfort after the opulence of Dubai.
Efsun walked slightly behind Emrah, her posture stiff, hands clasped in front of her. A quiet tension clung to her like a second skin. Emrah had made his decision before leaving Dubai: he would marry Efsane officially—not out of love, but out of respect for her being older. He had clarified, gently, that it did not mean he loved one more than the other, yet the words seemed to have sunk only partway.
Efsane, beside him, kept her usual composure, but her hand brushed subtly against his as they stepped onto the tarmac. She understood the weight of this decision, though her eyes flickered with a shadow of uncertainty.
Cengiz walked slightly ahead of the group, keeping a careful eye on Emrah. As Efsane's grandfather, he felt a mixture of pride and scrutiny toward the young man who would soon be part of his family.
He carries himself like a man who has faced storms and come out unbroken, Cengiz thought. Not just any boy… this Emrah could lead, could protect, could command. And yet… there's something untamed about him, something dangerous. I must trust him with my granddaughter, but I will watch closely. She deserves someone strong—but she also deserves someone who understands her fire.
He glanced at Efsane, his granddaughter, walking beside Emrah with her usual calm mask. She's strong, clever, and will test him at every step. He may think he's in control… but she's a force he can't underestimate. Perhaps they are meant to push each other, to sharpen one another. If he fails her, I will know. If he rises to meet her… then she will be in capable hands.
Melike leaned slightly toward Cengiz, whispering, "He carries himself differently… even when making hard choices. I can read him."
Cengiz nodded, eyes still on Emrah. "Seven days," he murmured. "Seven days, and I've never seen a man command respect like this. He may be the one for Efsane… but he's not an ordinary man."
The group climbed into their awaiting vehicles—sleek black SUVs and discreet cars arranged by the family. Emrah slipped into the driver's seat of his own personal car, the one he had paired with the Infinity abilities. Efsane joined him in the passenger seat, while Efsun sat in the back.
As the engines purred to life and the convoy rolled onto the Istanbul streets, a private tension filled the car.
Efsun, unable to fully hide her bitterness, finally broke the silence. "So… you really are going to marry her officially?" she asked, voice measured but sharp.
Emrah's eyes flicked to her rearview mirror reflection. "Yes. But that doesn't mean I love her more than you."
Efsun's jaw tightened. "Doesn't it? You've made your choice, but… I feel like you're trying to make it fair rather than… honest."
Efsane, beside him, tilted her head slightly. "Emrah doesn't need to justify his reasoning to you. You know him better than anyone, Efsun. Trust that he has a plan—even if we don't fully understand it yet."
Emrah allowed a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Exactly. I'm thinking about the bigger picture. Both of you matter to me. One step at a time, okay?"
Efsun crossed her arms but didn't respond, a flicker of reluctant understanding in her eyes. Efsane simply nodded, her composure never wavering, though a faint spark of curiosity danced there.
Cengiz, observing from the front seat of another SUV, caught Emrah's calm demeanor. He is already thinking five moves ahead… but how will he handle their fire? Both of these girls are strong, clever, relentless. The future of this family—and the balance between them—rests on his choices. May he be worthy.
The convoy continued through the city, the sun glinting off glass and steel, the murmurs of Istanbul alive around them.
After an hour of driving Everyone went back to their respective homes and when
Emrah's car pulled up in front of the Aybeyli mansion, the gates swinging open as if they recognized the master returning. Inside the courtyard, Yusuf stood rigid, his face a mixture of worry and urgency.
Emrah stepped out, cane in hand, and approached him. "Yusuf… what's going on?" he asked, his tone calm but sharp, sensing the tension radiating off his friend.
Yusuf ran a hand through his hair, clearly on edge. "Aykut… he escaped," he said, voice low but hurried. "I don't know how, but he's out, and… I'm really worried about what comes next. What should we do?"
Emrah's eyes narrowed slightly, scanning the horizon as he absorbed the news. A faint breeze carried the weight of anticipation, the calm before the storm. "I have a plan," he replied slowly, his mind already turning over contingencies. "But first… we need to find him."
Yusuf exhaled sharply. "Find him? How? He's dangerous, Emrah. More dangerous than anyone we've faced before."
Emrah's lips curled into a faint, confident smirk. "That's exactly why we start tracking him now. Time is on our side… as long as we move smart." He paused, letting the words sink in. "Prepare everything. We're going to need every ally, every resource we have. This isn't just about Aykut anymore—this is about making sure no one else suffers because of him."
Yusuf nodded, determination replacing some of the anxiety in his eyes. "I'll alert everyone. We'll cover every angle."
Emrah stepped past him, glancing once at the mansion's silhouette against the Istanbul skyline. His mind was already three steps ahead, calculating escape routes, possible hideouts, and how to corner Aykut before he could strike again.
Inside, the mansion hummed with quiet anticipation, unaware that its heir was about to plunge back into a battle that would test every skill, every weapon, and every decision he had ever made.
As Emrah stepped into his room, the quiet hum of the mansion was suddenly pierced by a voice only he could hear.
"Trial period over. Subject Infinity is now ready to master the system's abilities. Stand by for simulation."
Before he could react, the world around him dissolved. A rush of wind, a blur of colors, and then silence. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a dimension unlike anything he had ever seen—not even resembling his pocket domain.
All around him, creatures of impossible contrast moved and lingered. Some were demonic, their forms jagged, eyes glowing with predatory intent. Others radiated divine beauty, angelic and ethereal, their wings stretching impossibly, their gaze both serene and piercing.
Emrah's instincts flared immediately. The danger sense passive in his mind screamed—every angle, every shadow, every movement was a potential threat. He could feel the imminent death waiting for him at every turn.
This wasn't a simulation. He knew that instinctively. Everything here was real.
Cane in hand, Infinity Blade and Infinity Gun ready at his mental command, Emrah took a slow breath. His heart beat steadily, but his mind raced. Every system ability, every weapon of infinity, every ounce of skill he had mastered—he would need it all.
In that place, surrounded by angels and demons, Emrah realized one undeniable truth: survival depended on how quickly he could adapt, exploit, and dominate.
And failure… was not an option.
Emrah's breath slowed, not because he had calmed down, but because something else demanded silence.
He couldn't see them.
There was no shape, no silhouette in the sky, no eyes staring back at him. And yet, he felt it—an overwhelming pressure bearing down on his existence, as though reality itself had become aware of him.
He was being observed.
Not by the creatures surrounding him. Not by demons or angels locked in their eternal hostility. This presence came from far beyond them—from a place beyond time, beyond space, beyond even the idea of a multiverse.
Emrah's danger-sensing passive went berserk.
It wasn't warning him of a single threat, or even a hundred. It was screaming that everything around him was lethal, that death waited in every direction, in every heartbeat. This wasn't a battlefield. It was an execution ground disguised as a trial.
And still… beneath the terror, he felt something else.
Recognition.
Among the unseen observers, one presence stood apart—not louder, not heavier, but impossibly vast. Time itself seemed to bend inward around it, folding like a bow in reverence. Emrah couldn't see the God of Time, but he felt that gaze settle on him, steady and unwavering.
Not judgment.
Pride.
As if Emrah's very existence validated a decision made eons ago.
A cold realization settled in his chest.
This isn't a simulation, he thought.
This is a proving ground.
The demonic entities snarled as they drew closer, the angelic beings tightening their formations, radiant weapons humming with restrained power. Neither side saw him as an ally. Neither side saw him as a guest.
He was the anomaly.
And whatever happened next would not only decide whether Emrah lived or died—it would decide whether he was worthy of the power that had chosen him.