Scene: Chris Blackwood's POV
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The command room was silent. Too silent.
Screens blinked with data, red alerts flared across sectors, but no one dared make a sound. Every eye—every breath—was frozen in place.
Because he was back.
Chris Blackwood. The God of the Blackwood Empire.
And he was no longer in a coma.
He sat at the head of the command table, tall, pale from weeks unconscious but unshaken. The air around him was heavy—dense with power, rage, and something deeper. Vengeance.
His right hand still had the needle marks. His chest was wrapped in bandages. But nothing—nothing—dimmed the fire in his eyes.
A large screen behind him showed security footage: the final moments of Xavier—the Canine—shot dead. His last breath. A betrayal buried in blood.
Chris stared at it.
Then slowly, he turned his chair, eyes scanning the faces of his generals, ministers, analysts, and commanders.
"He's dead," Chris said coldly. His voice didn't rise. It didn't have to. It pierced. "Xavier is dead. Killed by our own. Shot by his own command."
The room stayed still, like even time refused to move.
Chris leaned forward, elbows on the table.
"Who gave the order?"
No one spoke. Sweat beaded on foreheads. Someone fidgeted with their collar. Another whispered a silent prayer.
Chris's voice dropped into a whisper, more terrifying than any shout.
"I built this empire with blood and wisdom. I raised children who I thought could stand beside me. And yet—"
His fist hit the table. The screen behind him shattered with the force of his aura. Sparks rained like fireflies. No one flinched. They couldn't.
"I watched my son bleed. I took a bullet. I gave you power. I gave her a seat. And in return, you all let this happen?"
He stood, slow and dangerous, walking toward the center.
"You think I will let this empire slip because of pride? Politics? You think the God of Blackwood bows to civil war?"
He looked straight into the surveillance camera recording.
"You all forgot who I am."
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Chris (raising his hand):
"As of now, the position of Canine is abolished."
Murmurs. Someone gasped.
Chris (continued):
"All military, economic, and civil authority returns to me alone. I will handle the traitors personally. Anyone who takes a side in this power grab—Dictator, Commander, or Citizen—will face me."
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The command doors opened.
Black Axe Men stormed in, elite, masked, their weapons ready. They saluted in perfect unison.
Chris didn't turn. He didn't need to. His voice rolled like thunder.
"Christiana," he said, letting her name fall like judgment, "you are summoned."
He paused.
"No one else is to speak to me unless spoken to. I will address the world tonight. Let the people know: their God is watching again."
He turned to the generals.
"Prepare the ceremonial platform. And triple security around my son."
Then he looked to the shattered screen.
"Xavier wanted power without loyalty. That ends now."
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He walked toward the balcony that overlooked the capital. Below, Blackwood citizens had gathered, hearing whispers that their God had awakened.
He stepped into view, lifting his hand.
They screamed in joy, in fear, in worship.
And in that moment, there was no Dictator.
No Canine.
Only one truth:
Chris Blackwood had returned.
The God had reclaimed his throne.
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