[Date: June 29, 2027]
The screen floated in front of Iker like a window suspended in the void. He didn't need to touch it. He just needed to see it. The sunrise tinged the curved panels of the skyscraper on Tzabek Island with gold. The smart glass reflected the sky without revealing what lay within: a tower of more than forty floors, with hidden structures, autonomous internal corridors, decentralized intelligence nodes, and underground levels where the androids continued to work tirelessly.
It was beautiful. Silent. Timeless.
Eidolon's voice broke in with its usual tone: neither cold nor warm. Only… absolute.
—Final phase completed. The command center is 100% operational. The assembly plant maintains a constant efficiency of 97.4%. Perimeter security active. Energy-self-sufficient infrastructure. All functional modules have passed the verification protocol.
Iker said nothing. He just took a deep breath.
For a second, he closed his eyes. Not to rest… but to assimilate. It wasn't just a tower of steel and silicon. It was his promise fulfilled. A silent testament to what he could achieve far from other people's empires.
His own empire… was born.
That afternoon, the wind on the farm smelled of wet earth and fresh grass. The sun filtered through the trees with a soft, almost pious light.
Iker crossed the gravel path toward his father's house. He hadn't been there in weeks. Not out of pride, but because he no longer needed to. And now, he came to say it.
The office was as always: neat, with old cedar woodwork and the aroma of bitter coffee that seemed to have permeated the walls.
Leandro Ayala was waiting for him standing, hands behind his back. His face was stony. His expression, measured.
"At least you have the decency to introduce yourself," he said, without irony or affection. "Why?"
Iker closed the door behind him. He didn't sit down.
"I came to tell you I'm leaving here."
The silence was immediate. But not uncomfortable. Just... dense.
"Not out of anger, or conflict," he continued. "I'm leaving because I no longer have to stay. I built something of my own. I no longer need this roof over my head."
Leandro narrowed his eyes.
"Did you build it? Where? With what money? Who finances you?"
"With what no one taught me: with patience," Iker replied. "With vision. And with the only partner I completely trust."
"A woman?"
"Intelligence."
Leandro raised an eyebrow, barely.
"So what do you want from me then? Approval?"
"Nothing. Just for you to know. So you don't have to wonder later where I am, or how I did it."
Leandro walked slowly toward the window. Outside, the fields remained the same. The day laborers continued to pass by with their tools, unaware of the moment unfolding inside.
"And where are you going?"
"To a place where the Ayala name isn't a burden. Where Alex and Dana can grow up without paying for anyone's mistakes."
The old businessman didn't respond immediately. He pressed his lips together. Iker knew him: he was processing. But not emotionally. Mentally. Calculating.
"So you're not interested in this family's legacy."
"No. I'm interested in creating my own."
Leandro finally turned around. On his face, for the first time, there was no judgment.
There was something more subdued. Like a shadow of respect. Or resignation.
"So... you're no longer one of me," he said, without anger.
"I never was," Iker replied calmly. "But now I know what I am: a leader. And I don't need your blessing."
Leandro nodded. Just once.
"Thanks for the roof," Iker said as he turned around. "I don't need it anymore."
And without waiting for a reply, he left.
Night fell like a silent blanket over the estate. Inside the laboratory, Alma was waiting for him, sitting on the leather sofa. Her eyes were lowered, but not sad. Just... expectant.
Iker entered without drama. He sat next to her.
For a moment, there were no words.
Then, he took her hand.
"When are we leaving?" she asked, without blinking.
Iker felt his chest tighten. For the first time in a long time... not out of fear, but out of relief.
"Tomorrow," he replied.
Alma didn't respond.
She just hugged him.
And he, for the first time in years, allowed himself to feel.