Scene: Imperial Medical Wing, High Priority Isolation Ward
The steady beep of the monitors was like a heartbeat echoing through the room. Tubes and machines surrounded the grand, sterile chamber—Classic Blackwood, the heir, lay unmoving on the advanced medical bed, cloaked in regal silence. His chest rose and fell gently, mechanically, but there was something different today.
A flicker.
A twitch.
Then—his fingers moved.
"Vitals are spiking," the chief physician barked into his comms. "I repeat, Classic Blackwood is stabilizing!"
The room exploded into movement.
Outside, an elite unit of Black Axe Men straightened in sync as a red light turned green above the door. Word spread like wildfire through the palace.
Within minutes, Skylar, eyes wide with disbelief, was racing down the corridor. Behind her came Christiana, flanked by high-level security, her face unreadable. Not long after, Chris himself arrived—not the God Emperor in full fury, but a father, silent, still cloaked in divine authority.
Inside the chamber…
Classic's fingers curled again.
Then his eyelids twitched.
Then—he opened them.
The golden light above his bed bathed his face as he squinted, trying to focus. The first face he saw was the doctor's.
"W-where…" he whispered.
"You're home, my Lord," the doctor said with a bow. "You're safe. You're in the Imperial Medical Wing."
Classic's lips barely moved, but he muttered, "Father…?"
Chris walked forward, slow and composed. His eyes, for once, shimmered—not with command, but something deeper. He knelt by his son's bed.
"I'm here," he said. "You took a bullet for your people. You stood at the front, like I taught you. And you came back. Welcome, my son… to the world you were born to rule."
Classic tried to sit up, but winced.
"Take it easy," Skylar said softly, touching his hand. "You've been out for weeks."
Christiana stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed. Her voice was low. "You scared the hell out of us."
He gave a faint grin. "Still… alive… huh?"
"Barely," Christiana replied, then added under her breath, "Stubborn like your father."
Chris stood, turned to the doctor. "Announce it to the empire. The Bloodline breathes. My son walks the realm of the living again. Let every citizen of Blackwood rejoice."
The doctor nodded, already typing into the neural communication tablet.
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BREAKING NEWS:
> BNN SPECIAL BULLETIN: CLASSIC BLACKWOOD AWAKE
After weeks in a coma following the tragic shootout, the son of Chris Blackwood has regained consciousness. The palace confirms his vitals are stable. The heir returns.
Celebrations erupt across the empire.
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