The night grew heavy. Shadows stretched long across the small house as Alex sat quietly by the crackling fireplace, the flames painting his face in flickering gold.Across from him, old José sat hunched in his worn wooden chair.Neither spoke. The only sound was the faint crackle of the flames.Josephine stepped softly from the back room, her voice gentle.“Lucia’s asleep.” She moved closer and sat down beside Alex, the glow of the fire warming her face.For a long moment, silence hung over them.Then José stirred suddenly, rising to his feet. “How could I forget? I haven’t served you a drink.”“I’ll help,” Josephine said quickly, springing up before he could refuse.He glanced at her, sighing as though carrying the weight of unspoken words.“You… ah, never mind.” Shaking his head, he pointed her toward the tea.José lowered himself back into the chair, his tired eyes watching Josephine prepare the tea.Something in them shimmered—age, memory, sorrow. The shine of unshed tears.Joseph

Everyone carries some regret in life.For Lucia, the regret went back twenty years—when she failed to stop her only daughter from giving her heart to a man with no honor, a poor peasant with nothing to his name.“Maria,” Lucia said, her voice sharp with authority.“You must remember, we come from the family of the Governor of Vinland. You cannot marry a man with no identity, no honor.”“Mother!” Maria cried, tears streaming down her face.“I don’t care about titles or standing. I love him. And he loves me. Why can’t we be together?”Lucia’s tone hardened. “You’re still young. Love fades. Men like him cling to women like you only for power, only for position. He is using you!”Maria’s eyes flared with defiance.“You adopted William as your son! He’s the one you always praise, the perfect man in your eyes—and I’m nothing compared to him.”“Then give him the governor’s seat! I don’t want any of it. All I want is to be with the man I love.”“That is impossible!” Lucia thundered.And so, i

Alex froze at Lucia’s fading voice.“Doctor!” he barked, shoving Josephine toward him. “Test her blood—now! Maybe we still have a chance!”The doctor’s brow furrowed, hesitation flickering in his eyes. “Are you certain?”“No,” Alex shot back. “But if they’re related, there’s hope. A miracle, maybe. Unless you’ve got something better to offer?”The doctor’s eyes flicked to Jose, trembling with tears, then to Lucia, already slipping into unconsciousness.Time was running out.A gamble, but one worth taking.“All right,” he said quickly, pulling Josephine toward the lab. “Better to try than do nothing.”Alex knelt beside Lucia, taking her frail hand in his.He poured his inner energy into her, helping her heart to hold on. Jose stood silent at her other side, tears streaming down his face, powerless.Minutes crawled by.Then the doors burst open—doctor and nurses rushing in, their faces glowing with relief.They shoved Alex aside like a storm and worked at lightning speed, pumping fresh

The Chief of Police’s face drained of color.“No, I mean… yes. Yes, you dare to pull the trigger.”“No,” Jose exhaled slowly, almost tired. “I don’t dare to pull the trigger. Do you know why?”“I… I don’t know, Governor. Please, tell me.”“The last time I killed a man was during the rebellion, forty years ago. That man was the Governor before me. I swore to the people his blood would be the last I shed, so Vinland could finally know peace.”The Chief of Police nodded rapidly, desperate to cling to his words. “Yes, yes, Governor. You’re right. Killing is useless. Especially killing me—”“But I was wrong,” Jose cut him off, his voice low and heavy.“People whisper that I’m weak because I let the mockery slide. Because I don’t punish fools who act like I’m blind, like I’m some impotent governor sitting on a crumbling throne. And truthfully…”His eyes narrowed, his tone dropped to a growl. “I never cared about their little games.”But then Jose’s face twisted, rage boiling over. His hand

“Shoot him!” Voices erupted, weapons raised in every direction.“Whoever kills him takes the money!”Dozens of guns swung toward Alex. But the moment bullets flew, chaos ripped through the crowd.“Stop shooting! You’re hitting your own men!” someone screamed—right before a stray bullet tore through his chest.Gunfire roared from every direction, bullets ripping into the wrong targets.Alex moved like a phantom, weaving through the storm.Every slash, every sidestep turned their fury back on themselves.Blades missed him and cut down allies. Bullets tore through bodies meant to be comrades.The more they fought, the more they destroyed each other.Men dropped where they stood, some clutching wounds, others falling lifeless with clean shots to the head.The scene spiraled into pure chaos—blood, screams, and friendly fire turning the battlefield into a slaughterhouse.From his vantage point, Charles watched in disbelief. To him, Alex wasn’t battling—he was toying with them.“Pathetic,” C