Old Wounds and the Birth of a King
The gray sky remained still, as if time itself waited for them to decide their next steps.
The gathered group rested around what remained of Danilo's parents' old living room.
There was a moment of silence.
A silence full of life.
— "We should spread this blessing to the rest of the family," said the mother, eyes filled with hope. "Your brothers… your nephews… it would only be fair."
The smile on Danilo's face vanished.
His gaze darkened like a storm ready to fall.
He stood up slowly.
— "Not a chance."
The words dropped like stone.
The mother's eyes widened.
— "No? What do you mean?"
— "The distribution is… limited," Danilo replied, avoiding her eyes.
"I've already used all that was possible.
And even if I hadn't… I wouldn't give it to them. Not ever."
Tension fell into the room like a blade through air.
The mother sat down slowly, looking at her son as if she no longer recognized him.
— "They're your brothers… your blood."
Danilo took a step forward, his shadow stretching across the floor in front of her.
Then came a bitter laugh.
— "Brothers? My blood? Where was that blood when I needed them, Mother?
When I was crushed, humiliated, destroyed… they looked at me with pity.
Worse: with shame."
His sister crossed her arms, firm.
— "He's right."
— "Danilo…" the father tried to intervene.
But Danilo didn't yield.
— "I helped them. Both of them.
Even while under the influence of the woman who betrayed me… I was the one who lifted them up.
I supported them — financially, emotionally.
I was the one they chose to forget the moment I fell from grace."
He paced back and forth, like a general giving a speech.
— "One sold the car I gave him and didn't even tell me.
Turned his face away when he saw me on the street.
And the other acted like I didn't exist.
And you, Mother, are asking me to share this power with them?"
The mother sighed.
— "But they're your brothers…"
— "In desperation, you see who people really are," he said.
"They showed their true nature.
And this lineage, this power… it's not for the weak, or for the fake.
I don't care about old ties anymore.
The new world has begun.
And I will choose who reigns beside me."
The sister nodded with a serious look.
— "I support you completely. They're truly hypocrites."
The father tried to soften things.
— "We don't need more distance between us… we're all still alive, Danilo…"
But Danilo cut in coldly:
— "They're alive because they were far away.
If they had been nearby, they'd be dead — or begging me for scraps."
The mother looked away, clearly hurt.
But she didn't argue.
She knew deep down he spoke not just with anger — but with pain.
— "Let's change the subject," said the sister, sitting beside her daughter.
"And the Tower?"
Everyone turned.
There, on the horizon, like a spear embedded in the sky,
the Tower of Chaos stood still, grand, eternal — visible from anywhere on the planet.
— "I'm going to test it," said Danilo, eyes locked on the distance.
"Before any of you. I want to understand how it works.
After that, if it's safe… I'll bring everyone with me."
— "That thing… looks dangerous," Kaela commented.
— "It probably is," he replied with a cold smile.
— "And you're still going?"
Danilo looked at them all.
His parents, his children, his sister, his niece.
For the first time, they were all there — alive, strong, transformed.
Hungry for the future.
— "This new world is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. An absolute reset," he said.
"Out there, the world belonged to the rich, the politicians, the protected.
The world had owners… and I was not one of them."
He clenched his fists.
— "But here? Now? I have the power.
I am the patriarch of a lineage.
This is a new universe… and I will be the king."
Silence.
No one argued.
Not even his mother.
Danilo's ambition was palpable — like an invisible aura spreading through the ruins.
For the first time, his eyes held not the light of someone who dreams…
But of someone who gets what he wants.