One year could be long or short, still it was a time that was enough for many things to happen, whether important or not. One year was a time enough for many to die, and many others to be born, for some to succeed and others to fail, for some to think, and improve themselves, and others to stagnate, or even regress.
Erick could be said to have died, and gotten reborn. He had succeeded just as much as he had failed, but that was at the beginning of the year. In the time that followed, he had thought, racked his brain while swimming in anger, hatred and resentment, and improved himself.
One year had been enough to override all the obstacles to his control of all the systems of the city which did not get destroyed nor self-destructed. And with the crown, he had made himself the most important. Everything belonged to him, and only to him. If he could not have it, then he would take it to hell together.
