POV: Council of the Non-Blackwood States – Undisclosed Meeting Hall, Neutral Zone
A dull flicker from the holo-screen cast anxious glows across the long, oval-shaped war table. Around it sat the last remnants of what used to be considered global powers—leaders, generals, and tacticians. But now, they were shadows of themselves. Former rulers, trying to reclaim relevance under the suffocating dominion of the Blackwood Empire.
At the head of the table sat Chancellor Divan Arkeon of the old Southern Coalition. Beside him, the once-feared military strategist, General Ko Lian, arms folded tightly, jaw clenched.
Everyone stared at the holo-screen in utter disbelief.
They had just witnessed the final minutes of Elira Morn—once their boldest covert operative, now a forgotten whisper.
The camera feed showed her being strapped silently to a steel chair. No court. No audience. Just sterile lights and a single gloved hand inserting the clear syringe into her neck.
No screaming. No drama.
She slumped.
One blink… then stillness.
Then a cold female voice from off-screen:
> "Name: Elira Morn. Status: Erased.
Record expunged. Biological trace neutralized.
She never existed."
The screen went dark.
Silence swallowed the room.
No one moved. No one breathed too loudly.
Finally, Chancellor Divan whispered:
> "They erased her like she was dust."
Ko Lian's fist hit the table. "They?! No—he. Chris Blackwood did this. And now… no one even remembers her but us."
A younger diplomat, eyes wide with terror, said, "What does that even mean—'erased'? I checked our files. Her name is gone. Her face doesn't register on our ID systems. The system doesn't know she existed anymore. Who has that kind of reach?!"
An older woman at the far end, Prime Archon Vale, whispered bitterly, "He does. The one they now call The God. The moment Classic woke up, something inside him shifted. That man no longer needs to speak. He acts, and the world reacts. This was his reminder."
Ko Lian rose, pacing. "He's sending a message. Not to Elira. To us. He wants fear to govern our hesitation."
"And it's working," someone muttered.
Divan's fingers tapped against the steel table. He looked up, voice barely holding back fire.
> "No. Fear cannot be our leash. If we wait longer, we die like her… in silence, in shadow."
He turned to the council.
> "We either bend our knees or rise while we still remember what rebellion feels like."
Another diplomat shook their head. "How do you rise… against a man who erases people from history?"
Ko Lian responded, voice like thunder:
> "We stop playing noble.
We play Blackwood."
A long silence.
Then a slow nod.
This was no longer diplomacy. This was survival.
But unknown to them… their room had already been tapped.
The Blackwood Empire was always listening.
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