POV Switch: Lord Veyron Blackwood → Chris Blackwood → Christiana
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Lord Veyron Blackwood — En Route to the Imperial Seat
The skies above the empire rumbled as Lord Veyron's skycraft glided across the empire's core. He sat inside the obsidian-winged shuttle alone, unarmed as instructed, heart hammering harder than it had during his first battlefield kill.
Fifty billion Blackwood Credits.
The scale of it was absurd, yet he believed in the project. The Titan Rail would connect thirteen provinces and cut off non-Blackwood access permanently. It would also skyrocket his power base—if Chris allowed it.
But that's the problem. Nothing moved in the Empire without His breath.
As the capital skyline formed like a god's crown in the distance, Veyron's palms sweated.
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Chris Blackwood — Throne of Fire
Chris stood on a balcony high above the Imperial Core. Below, soldiers from the Black Axe marched in patterns like blades crossing—intimidating by design.
He didn't need to be here. But he wanted Veyron to feel the heat.
A knock came behind him. Christiana entered, eyes sharp.
"He's ten minutes out," she said. "And I've got more."
She handed over a glowing tablet.
Chris read.
"Ah," he muttered.
"Your instincts were correct," Christiana said. "The rail isn't just for speed. He's been working on a detachable armament platform. The train would be militarized… capable of launching missiles, drones, even carrying chemical payloads."
Chris's brow furrowed.
"That snake…"
Christiana hesitated. "But it's genius."
He raised a brow.
"If loyal to you, my lord… that train becomes your mobile empire. It could enforce law, strike hard, retreat fast."
Chris folded his arms.
"So it's not just fifty billion for transit. It's fifty billion for a new way to wage war. Hmph."
He turned toward the courtyard.
"Send Black Axe scouts to his domain. If there's any sign of disloyalty, I want it reported before he kneels."
"Yes, Father," Christiana said, vanishing like a whisper.
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Lord Veyron — Arrival
The shuttle doors hissed open, revealing the massive black-marble plaza leading to the Emperor's Court. Guards lined both sides in deadly symmetry. Black Axe men. Tall. Masked. Armed.
At the far end, the massive doors creaked open…
And there he stood.
Chris Blackwood.
Dressed in midnight imperial robes. A golden sword resting at his side. His presence bent reality—an aura of divine control.
Veyron fell to one knee.
"My Emperor," he said.
Chris's voice came like thunder wrapped in silk.
"Stand. Speak. And tell me why I shouldn't slice this ambition of yours in half."
Veyron met his eyes—briefly.
"For the strength of your Empire, my lord. Not for mine. Let me show you the full scope."
Chris stared.
"Speak."
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Christiana — Watching from the Shadows
She observed from a secret corridor, noting every word, every twitch in Veyron's voice. Her father might see a man seeking approval.
But she?
She saw a strategist preparing for power.
Too much power.
She tapped her comm.
"Prepare contingency. If he flinches wrong—we erase him. Blood and all."
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