2025-09-13 09:46:32
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UNDER HER LIGHT
“I do not fight for bloodshed. I fight for restoration. And today, I declare the reforms that will lift Richmond from the ashes of shame into the dawn of strength.”He stretched his bandaged hand toward the estate grounds.“The trade routes that were stolen from us—I have restored them. The supply lines for hardware and the fiber-optics pipelines that were diverted by rival tech firms—I have reclaimed them. The innovation hubs that withered in neglect under corrupt management—I have taken full responsibility to rebuild them. The IP, the patents, the prototypes that were hoarded by power families—I have ripped them from their hands and returned them to the hands of our engineers. No Richmond child born with dreams of circuits, code, or breakthrough will be shut out again. No Richmond worker will ever again be chained by debt, outsourcing, or by those superpowered rivals who thought Synapticore made them invincible. This is not my promise—it is my reality.”The cheers rose louder this t
THE MOST DOMINANT FIGURE
The courtyard had fallen into an impossible silence.All eyes were fixed on Marvin Richmond, the once-forgotten heir who now stood above them like a man carved out of light and shadow. His bandaged arm rose higher, his gaze gleamed faintly with the pale-blue glow of Synapticore, and for the first time in generations the Richmond estate trembled not from fear of its enemies, but from the weight of its own history.Marvin’s voice broke the silence, deep and steady, carrying like a blade through the air.“Once,” he began, “you called me useless. A burden. An heir unworthy of his blood. You said I was nothing compared to the great powers of Westwood. You whispered that my name would vanish into dust.”He paused, chewing the gum lazily, his lips curling into a smile sharp enough to wound.“But today,” he thundered, his words echoing across the courtyard, “I stand before you as the one who has humbled them all! The hegemons that ruled over Westwood—dismantled. The so-called superpowers tha
BLOOD OR LIGHT
The convoy rolled deeper into the estate courtyard. The air was thick with chants and curses, a storm of voices that crashed against the mansion’s towering walls. Synapticore beams still carved glowing patterns across the sky, their pale-blue light painting everything in an unearthly glow.The first car stopped before the marble steps of the main hall. Doors clicked open, but no one moved. The crowd outside hushed for a heartbeat, the silence was filled only by the low hum of engines and the hiss of banners whipping in the wind.Then the door of the central car opened.Marvin Richmond stepped out.He moved slowly, deliberately, one hand pressed against the polished car roof. His arm was still bound with white bandages, a reminder of wounds that had not fully healed. A stick of gum rolled lazily between his lips. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, reflecting back the sea of people staring at him.The honor guards snapped their rifles to their shoulders, blue light flaring harmlessly from t
NOW COMES THE MURDERER
The Richmond estate had never looked like this before.For days, workers moved through the courtyards like ants, stringing banners, repainting walls, repairing broken fountains, and raising terraces for the parade. The gates were scrubbed until the iron gleamed like black glass. The old scarlet banners of the Richmond family flew again, but now they were joined with sky-blue cloth that shimmered in the wind.The sky-blue was Alicia Richmond’s idea. It was the color of synapticore light, the same light that had saved Stella and Marvin’s child in the hospital. It was also a symbol — a quiet way to remind the people that the Richmond family was changing, that power would no longer be stained only in blood but in something greater.Along the outer walls, engineers tested synapticore projectors. Thin lines of glowing blue stretched across the sky like threads of lightning. Children gasped at the sight. Adults whispered uneasily. For some, the lights promised hope. For others, they promi
WHAT COMES AFTER NOW
Marvin could not breathe.The world around him blurred as Stella stepped into the hospital room, her figure was framed by the doorway. In her arms was a small bundle wrapped in white cloth, the faint coo of a child breaking the silence like a fragile piece of music.His throat closed. His chest tightened. His mind screamed that this could not be real.“Stella…” His voice was a whisper, dry and trembling. “No… this is… this is impossible.”The room swayed before his eyes. Memories hit him all at once—the memory of Daniel Richmond’s face, cold and ruthless, as his finger hovered over the large red button. The memory of his own heart leaping into his throat, his legs moving too slow, his voice breaking with a desperate shout that was drowned by the roar of the explosion.Ten minutes. That was all it took. Ten minutes after he left Stella and their baby in that hospital, the world outside turned into fire. Smoke and glass rained from the sky. The blast swallowed the building whole. He h
THE GUILT OF BLOOD
The world returned to Marvin in fragments.First came the hum of a machine. Slow, steady, beeps echoed somewhere near his ear. Then came the faint sting of antiseptic in the air, sharp and cold. He stirred, his body was heavy, like he was pinned beneath invisible stones. His eyelids trembled before slowly peeling open.The light above him blurred, too bright. He blinked until it softened, turning into the filtered glow of daylight streaming through blinds. The sterile whiteness of a hospital room came into view: pale walls, steel rails, clean sheets.Marvin’s head pounded. It felt as though someone had driven a spike through his skull. He groaned softly, pressing the back of his head against the pillow. His throat was dry, his chest sore, his arms was wrapped in bandages. He could barely move without pain shooting through him.Then he saw him.Sitting in the chair beside the bed, silent and watchful, was the Prime Minister. His posture was steady, composed, and his appearance immacula
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