Just as Ethan finished his warning, Thompsonâs encrypted phone began to vibrate violently on the table. The caller ID displayed a seal that few in the world ever saw.
"Itâs Harrison," Thompson whispered, looking at Ethan for permission. "Should I take this privately?"
Ethan leaned back, his expression serene and unbothered. Seeing that calm, almost bored look, Thompson decided it was better not to offend the man who had built his throne. Instead of stepping away, he hit the speakerphone button.
The voice that erupted from the speaker was unrecognizable as the leader of the free world. President Harrison wasnât speaking with the practiced cadence of a politician; he was gasping, his voice high-pitched and vibrating with absolute, naked terror.
"Governor! Thompson! Are you there?" Harrison shrieked. "Forget everything! Forget the contracts, forget the borders! We are sending giftsâtributesâanything to appease your sponsor! We will hand over whatever is requested, just... please! Beg him to stop the massacre! If this continues, the entire country will be scorched to the ground! Tell him we surrender!"
Thompson froze, his eyes darting between the phone and Ethan. He was utterly bewildered. Only an hour ago, Harrisonâs aides had been arrogant and demanding. Now, the President sounded like a man with a gun to his head.
Ethan didnât ask. He simply reached out and plucked the phone from Thompsonâs hand.
"Itâs me," Ethan said casually.
The silence on the other end was instantaneous. Then, a shaky, frantic breath. "M-Master Ethan... Lord Ethan! It is an absolute honor to hear your voice. I... I offer my deepest, most sincere apologies for not presenting my respects sooner. It has been a grave offense on my part. I am already preparing the finest gifts, resources, and titles... please, accept my humblest apologies."
"Weâll see," Ethan replied dryly.
"Thank you! Thank you, sir!" Harrison sputtered before hanging up as if the phone were about to explode.
Thompson stared at Ethan, his mouth slightly agape. "Can I... may I ask what just happened?"
Ethan didnât answer immediately. He reached for a bowl of walnuts on the table, cracked one open with his bare fingers, and began to chew. He leaned back, recounting the battle with the Scavengers and the Celestial Union as if he were giving a bored summary of a movie he had seen over the weekend, rather than describing a world-altering cataclysm.
"The President was a puppet for the Celestial Union," Ethan said, tossing a shell aside. "Iâm not surprised heâs terrified. He knows that if I can annihilate his masters, I can erase him before he finishes his next breath."
"But sir..." Thompson stammered. "Isnât their headquarters in Israel? Did you... did you launch a direct strike across the ocean?"
"No," Ethan said, crunching on another nut. "Their ancestry is from there, but their leaders lived right here on our soil. All but one have been wiped out. They are no longer a threat to us. They are barely a memory."
Ethan stood up, his gaze fixing on Thompson with an intensity that made the Governorâs knees weak.
"You should start preparing your staff, Thompson. Iâm going to send some advisors to your office. Donât doubt for a second that soon, you wonât just be the Governor of the Coast. You will be the lord and master of this entire country. Perhaps the continent. And why stop there? The world is looking for a new architect."
Ethan picked up a crystal glass of wine, raising it high. Thompson, trembling slightly, grabbed his own glass with both handsâa gesture of absolute, subservient respectâand held it lower than Ethanâs.
"To the new world," Ethan toasted.
They both drained their glasses in a single gulp, sharing a sharp, predatory smile. Ethan set his glass down and turned toward the door where Max was waiting.
"Alright, Max," Ethan said, his voice returning to a casual tone. "Letâs head to the university. I have a few things to take care of there anyway."
With a final nod to the Governor, Ethan walked out, leaving Thompson standing in the boardroom, realizes he wasnât just working for a powerful manâhe was working for the new God of the era.
The sleek SUV glided through the streets of Boston, its tinted windows reflecting the grey skyline. Inside, the silence was heavy. Ethan sat in the back, his eyes fixed on his phone as he scrolled through data reports, his face illuminated by the blue light of the screen. Two elite Royal guards sat in the front, their movements precise and robotic.
Max sat beside Ethan, his hands resting on his lap, clenching and unclenching. He looked out the window, his mind racing. Maybe this was a mistake, he thought, a cold sweat forming on his brow. Bringing Ethan to the campus... I should warn Hailey.
His hand drifted toward his pocket, his fingers grazing his phone, but he froze. He didnât pull it out.
Lately, his father had been dragging him deeper and deeper into the dark underbelly of power. Max barely attended classes anymoreâmaybe once a week, if he was lucky. He had seen the classified memos, heard the hushed conversations, and witnessed the terrifying truth: governments were nothing more than decorative puppets for the true titans.
He knew that the world belonged to people like Ethanâmen who could trigger a global massacre over breakfast and talk about it over walnuts. He knew that the protesters who screamed about the "unconstitutionality" of his father holding so many gubernatorial seats at once were shouting into a void; they would be silenced by the absolute power that now backed the Thompson name.
Max felt a wave of suffocation wash over him. He was no longer just a college student; he was a gear in a machine that crushed everything in its path. He looked at Ethanâserene, focused, and utterly lethalâand realized that there was no "normal life" to return to. He was in the middle of a storm, and the only way to survive was to stay close to the eye.
"Everything okay, Max?" Ethan asked without looking up from his screen.
Max jumped slightly, his heart skipping a beat. "Yeah... yeah, Ethan. Just thinking about the semester."
Ethan let out a faint, knowing hum. "Donât worry about the semester. The world is changing its curriculum. Youâre already ahead of the class."
Max forced a nod, his gaze returning to the window. The university gates were coming into view