Scene: Throne Room – After Classic Awakens
The mood in the throne room was heavy with solemnity, yet beneath it all buzzed a quiet tension. Classic's miraculous recovery had shifted the balance again. But not all wounds heal as swiftly as the body.
Chris stood, robes flowing behind him like the tendrils of authority themselves, his eyes locked on Christiana and Skylar.
He wasn't the Chris of war, or diplomacy, or divine judgment. He was something else right now—a father restoring order, carefully but with unwavering dominance.
"Christiana," his voice echoed across the gold-and-marble hall, cutting clean through the air. "I will need you to suspend your state duties—effective immediately."
Her brow arched, shocked. "Father… suspend? But I'm—"
Chris didn't raise his tone. He didn't need to. The weight in his words did the lifting. "Your brother just returned from the brink of death. And I won't risk him being alone in recovery or politics. I want you by his side. You're his sister before you're the Dictator."
Christiana clenched her jaw. The title meant everything, but the bloodline was eternal.
"…Yes, Father," she said, swallowing her pride.
Then he turned to Skylar, stepping close, and this time his voice dropped into something quieter—almost gentle.
"My love," he said, "you've always held this family together in ways I never could. I need you now more than ever."
Skylar looked up at him, tears already forming as the weight of emotion and responsibility collided inside her.
"I'll do anything for our son," she said. "I'll stay with him night and day if I must."
Chris nodded, then turned and extended his hand. From the corridor, Amara emerged—clad in royal white, her presence like moonlight, cool and noble. She bowed deeply before Chris.
"With Christiana and Skylar attending to Classic," Chris continued, "Amara and I will run the Empire. On my command. I'll need your precision, your silence, your unwavering execution."
Amara replied simply, "I live to serve, my Lord."
Chris's eyes flicked over the whole room, locking with each person like a dagger pressed against a throat. "This is no democracy. I gave titles. I can take them. For now… the Empire bends, not to a council—but to the will of the God and his chosen."
And just like that, it was done.
The Dictator was sidelined—willingly.
The Queen became a guardian once again.
The Caniner was gone—forever erased from legacy.
And now, the God-King walked the halls with his newest partner in power: Amara.
The empire watched. And trembled.