POV: Chris – Blackwood 1
The chamber was cold. Not from the temperature, but from the atmosphere that surrounded me. Power had never tasted so bitter.
The riot footage still played in silence—screens upon screens showing the defiance of my people. Fires consumed statues of my image. Graffiti scrawled across walls in blood and paint alike:
"We are not numbers."
"Down with Blackwood!"
"We are names, not digits!"
I stood there alone in the center of my dominion, hands behind my back, eyes dark and locked on the chaos that threatened to unravel the world I created.
I had built this empire not with dreams but with decisions—brutal, clear, final. Where others hesitated, I acted. And now they dare question the design?
Let them scream.
Their pain is not punishment. It is transition.
---
Amara entered again, slower this time. She had taken off her uniform jacket, revealing the weight pressing on her too. Still, she stood straight before me.
"Report," I said without looking at her.
"The protests have reached the Heart District. Four outposts have been overrun. B.A.M. squads are holding, but the people… they're not afraid anymore."
I turned to face her.
"That's where they've failed."
She looked confused. "Sir?"
"They think fear is weakness. But fear is currency. We use it to buy order, to trade chaos for submission. If they're no longer afraid… then we are bankrupt."
She hesitated. "What do you suggest?"
I stepped forward slowly, past her, toward the massive glass window behind the throne. From there, you could see the Blackwood Spire rising above the city, lit in dark crimson, casting a shadow that touched every corner of the capital.
"Prepare the Black Rain Protocol," I said.
Amara's face turned pale.
"That's… that's irreversible."
I didn't blink. "I didn't ask for your approval. I asked for obedience."
She bowed her head. "Yes, Blackwood 1."
---
Later that night – The Council Room
I stood before the council of enforcers, nobles, and core strategists.
"The riots are not simply rebellion. They are infestation. And like rot, they spread if not cut out."
One general raised a hand. "With respect, sir, you are proposing to gas entire zones. First-Class families live there—"
"Then they will learn loyalty the hard way."
Another noble, trembling: "Please, God of Blackwood… they are just poor people. They cannot afford their numbers. Isn't this a chance to… renegotiate?"
I turned sharply.
"You want mercy? Then you stand with them."
My voice dropped lower, colder.
"Do you wish to walk out of this chamber as Blackwood 72, or would you like to walk out at all?"
He dropped to his knees. "Forgive me."
---
Transmission sent Empire-wide:
> "The Dominion Festival will continue.
There will be no changes to the Law of Numbers.
The Auction stands.
The structure is eternal.
Any who fail to purchase a number shall be marked Null.
Nulls are no longer citizens.
Nulls have no protection.
Nulls have no future.
The God of Blackwood has spoken."
---
Back in the chamber, I stared into the darkness beyond the glass.
Let them riot. Let them bleed. Let them curse my name.
Because when this is over, when the fires die and the blood dries, only my order will remain.
Not as a ruler.
But as a god.
As Blackwood 1.
---