The next day, the sun rose over Istanbul, casting long, warm rays across the Aybeyli estate. For the first time in years, Emrah felt it: peace. The chaos, the attacks, the endless scheming of rival families—it all seemed distant, almost unreal.
He moved through his home deliberately, cane in hand, though now it was more habit than necessity. His steps were steady, his mind quiet, and for a moment, he allowed himself to simply breathe.
The previous night's meeting had changed everything. The rival families were aligned, the rules were clear, and, for once, no one was looking to topple him. He had secured the life he'd wanted—not glory, not power, not fear—but peace.
Even the girls, Efsun and Efsane, were momentarily removed from the chaos. Their families now respected his authority, and for once, no one was trying to manipulate him.
Yet as he prepared a simple breakfast, sliding the last remaining pieces of chocolate carefully into the safe, a faint chill ran down his spine. Peace was a luxury he had almost forgotten, and in his heart, he knew that this calm would not last forever.
For now, though, he allowed himself the smallest of smiles. Today, he was just Emrah Aybeyli. No war, no threats, no obligations—just the quiet taste of victory and the faint hum of the power that slept within him.
Emrah made his way downstairs, cane in hand, though now it was more for show than necessity. The morning light streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow across the dining room. He slid into his seat at the head of the table, the last remaining pieces of chocolate still locked safely away.
His family had already gathered. Leyla poured tea while Aslan and Sahra exchanged glances, their curiosity barely contained. Emir, as stoic as ever, regarded his eldest son with an intensity that could pierce steel.
"So…" Leyla began, breaking the quiet, "last night… you were incredible. How did you… I mean, what exactly happened?"
Aslan leaned forward, eyes wide. "You moved so fast… no one could even react. How did you manage to protect everyone?"
Sahra's husband, Yusuf, shook his head in disbelief. "You were calm, calculated… it was like you already knew what was coming. Did you know it was going to happen?"
Emrah took a sip of tea, letting the silence stretch for a beat longer than necessary. Then he spoke, measured, careful. "I did what I had to. That's all. Details… are complicated, and some things are better left unsaid."
Emir finally spoke, voice low but heavy with respect. "Bravery isn't enough. What you did… your decision-making… it saved us all. But it also crossed lines that few would dare. You've changed, Emrah. I can see it. And I know you've changed beyond what you realize yourself."
Emrah nodded slightly, hiding any trace of the truth behind his calm exterior. Inside, he knew that the real power—what he had acquired—was still untested. The Mark of Infinity, the chocolate, the abilities—they were his secret. And while he had secured peace for now, he also knew that this calm was fragile.
He smiled faintly, almost to himself. "I only did what needed to be done. Let's just eat breakfast."
But even as he spoke, every instinct, every sense, every flicker of energy within him hummed quietly—waiting. The Mark of Infinity was stirring. And it would not remain idle for long.
Emrah let their questions hang in the air. He didn't volunteer any more details. He couldn't. Not yet.
During his time at Oxford University, he had poured over every book he could find. Historical accounts of wars, strategies of empires, biographies of commanders who had reshaped the world—he had absorbed it all. Every battle, every political maneuver, every calculated risk had contributed to the man sitting at the breakfast table now.
No one at the table could imagine that behind his calm, tired eyes lay decades of preparation, research, and practice. That his abilities, his decisive actions, and even his mastery over the situation last night weren't just instinct—they were the result of years of study, discipline, and obsession.
"I've read a lot," he said lightly, keeping his tone casual, "and learned a lot. It's… complicated."
Leyla frowned slightly. "Complicated? Emrah, you can't just say that. We all saw what you did."
He gave her a small smile, hiding the truth. "Some things are easier to understand when you've seen them yourself. For now… let's just enjoy breakfast."
As he cut into his food, his mind was already elsewhere. There were still questions to answer, pieces to study, and secrets to protect. The chocolate, the Mark of Infinity, the knowledge he had acquired—they were his alone. And they would remain that way until the time was right.
Because peace, fleeting as it might be, required silence.
Emir's gaze was steady as he leaned back slightly in his chair. "Emrah," he began, voice measured, "what are your plans with these two girls? You need to think carefully."
Emrah took a slow bite of his breakfast, pretending to consider the question. "I'm… thinking," he said lightly, not revealing too much.
Leyla chimed in, her tone both curious and cautious. "You've barely known them. What exactly do you know about them?"
Emir spoke again, his words deliberate, as if preparing Emrah for what lay ahead. "Efsane Saygin. She's the only daughter of the Saygin family. She's the leader of Istanbul's only local Ashiret. Currently leading their operations and dealings herself. She's… very cool and calm, but when she gets angry—she becomes wild. Half Persian, half Turkish. Thirty-five years old. You need to respect that."
He paused, letting the information sink in before continuing. "Efsun Haznedar. Only daughter of the Haznedar family. She used to live with her mother in India, but her father forced them to come to Türkiye. She's thirty-two. Wants to become an actress, but everyone expects her to take over as CEO of Haznedar Industries. Her ruthlessness recently—it's unclear whether it's real, or just an act. Keep that in mind."
Emrah listened silently, taking mental notes. Every detail, every subtlety, mattered. He knew appearances could be deceiving—and in the world he was navigating, underestimating someone could be fatal.
"I see," he said finally, his tone neutral, almost casual. But inside, he was already calculating, already preparing. Peace might have been his goal, but understanding the players on the board was his true priority.
Emrah chewed slowly, letting his father's words sink in. Efsane's calmness, her control… it was admirable, but he knew from experience that the calmest surface often hid the deepest storm. One wrong move, one misread glance, and even the most composed could become dangerous. Her age and leadership of an Ashiret gave her authority, but it also meant pride—and pride could clash with his own plans.
Efsun, on the other hand, was the wildcard. Young enough to be ambitious, old enough to know her value. The ruthlessness—whether real or an act—was interesting. She craved power, but perhaps she also craved something else, something personal. Ambition could be manipulated… carefully.
He brushed a finger over the rim of his glass, thinking about the delicate balance he would have to maintain. Marrying either—or both—wasn't just a personal decision; it was a political chess move. Every word, every gesture, every hidden intent would have consequences. And if he miscalculated, it wouldn't just be him who suffered.
Peace was fragile. He'd tasted it last night, fleeting as it was, and he knew it could vanish in an instant. Yet with these two, and with the clarity of the chocolate's power, he could guide events before they spiraled out of control.
A small smirk ghosted across his face. He might not want the spotlight, the love, or the legacy—but the game had begun, and he was the only one holding the pieces.
The lab was quiet, sterile, humming softly with the machinery's low whir. Emrah stepped in, cane lightly in hand, though it was now more habit than necessity. Dr. Kerem Yalcin looked up from a holographic display, eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and caution.
"Emrah," he said, voice low but urgent, "the chocolate… it's unlike anything I've ever studied. It's… remarkable."
Emrah leaned against the counter, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "Remarkable how?"
Kerem gestured to the display. Molecular structures twisted and danced in three-dimensional space, almost too complex to comprehend. "It's highly adaptive. The way it interacts with the human body… it could enhance certain functions, even repair cellular damage. Neurological acceleration, immune regeneration… it may affect each individual differently if exposed to it. In some cases, it could even cure illnesses—if consumed in the right amount."
Emrah's gaze lingered on the floating molecules. He felt a familiar warmth stir inside, a whisper of the power already coursing through him. Everything he had done, every risk he had taken, now seemed connected to this moment.
Kerem's voice softened, almost reverent. "But it's unpredictable. You must be careful. Not everyone would survive this."
Emrah's eyes narrowed as he studied the holographic display. "Kerem… can you make more? In any quantity?"
Kerem hesitated, fingers hovering over the controls. "Yes," he said finally. "I can replicate it. In any amount you want. The composition is stable… at least under laboratory conditions. But—"
Emrah cut him off with a calm, measured tone. "But nothing in life is without risk. I know."
Kerem nodded slowly. "Exactly. Each individual reacts differently. Even the smallest variation could have unpredictable consequences. You've already experienced it… but others might not be so lucky."
Emrah's thought drifted to his safe, where the remaining chocolate bars lay. A plan was forming in his mind, one that would take patience, precision, and absolute control. "Then I'll keep it limited," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Until the time is right. And I'll be the only one to decide how it's used."
Kerem swallowed, sensing the weight of Emrah's words. "If anyone can handle it… it's you."
Emrah turned, cane tapping lightly against the floor as he walked toward the door. "For now, this knowledge stays between us. And Kerem…" He paused at the doorway. "No one else must ever know about this… not yet."
Outside, the city moved on as if nothing had changed. But inside, a quiet storm was forming—a storm that would soon reshape everything.
Emrah thanked Doctor Kerem quickly and
Without wasting a moment, he returned to the house, his steps smooth and deliberate, betraying none of the urgency he felt inside. Once in his room, he moved straight to his drawer and opened his safe, retrieving the last remaining piece of the chocolate.
He unwrapped it carefully, savoring the moment, and took a bite. Almost instantly, a strange clarity swept through him, sharper and more intense than ever before.
Then, a voice—mechanical, calm, and omnipresent—echoed inside his mind:
"Subject ∞ has acquired the Mark of Infinity. Stand by for acquiring the Weapons of Infinity. Full healing will be achieved upon acquisition of at least two weapons."
Emrah's eyes widened, a mix of awe and anticipation flickering across his face. The quiet hum of power pulsed through him, a promise of what was yet to come.
somewhere beyond time itself, a deep, futuristic voice echoed:
"Finally… it has truly begun."