Lieutenant Mara's POV:
The afternoon sun burned hard over the B.A.M. headquarters, the kind of heat that made tempers short and patience thin. I was inspecting the perimeter when one of the new recruits shoved a man in rags toward the gate. His hair was unkempt, face covered in dust, shirt torn — he looked like one of those desperate wanderers begging for food.
"Who let this trash close to the main gate?" the recruit barked.
The man didn't reply. He just stood there, calm… too calm. There was something about the way he looked at everything — the soldiers, the guns, the flag — like a king silently measuring his own castle.
I frowned. "Search him."
The guards obeyed, checking his pockets, shoes, even his hair. Nothing. Not even an ID tag.
Then the man spoke — softly, but with a tone that sliced through the air. "Is this how the B.A.M. greets their commander's king?"
The words froze every soldier in place. My heart skipped. That voice… no. It couldn't be—
Before I could react, General Soren himself stormed out of the headquarters building, voice echoing across the courtyard. "WHO THE HELL IS CAUSING A SCENE AT MY GATE?!"
He stopped dead the moment his eyes locked on the ragged stranger. His face changed — from rage to disbelief, then to absolute submission.
He dropped to one knee instantly. "Blackwood One."
Every soldier followed, hitting the ground in unison. "LONG LIVE BLACKWOOD ONE!"
I couldn't move. The man I thought was a beggar… was him.
Chris smiled faintly, brushing some dirt off his sleeve. "Seems my army needs better eyes. I could've walked right into your arsenal and taken your missiles."
Soren bowed his head. "My lord, had I known—"
Chris raised a hand to stop him. "That's the point, Soren. You didn't. And I wanted to see it for myself."
He walked past us like a shadow reclaiming his throne. Every step he took oozed quiet dominance — no guards, no crown, just presence.
When he reached me, he stopped. "Lieutenant Mara," he said, his voice low and steady. "You did your duty. But next time, trust your instincts. You felt something was off, didn't you?"
I swallowed hard. "Yes, my king."
He smiled — that calm, lethal smile that could make even a general sweat. "Good. Keep that instinct sharp. I might need it soon."
And with that, he entered the barracks — barefoot, dust-streaked, and yet somehow, the most powerful man in the world.
The soldiers remained kneeling long after he disappeared inside. The silence was heavy — not out of fear… but awe.
—To be continued...—