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Classic's POV – Pressure and Power
Classic stood at the edge of the Sky Palace's upper balcony, hands gripping the rail as the wind teased at his long black coat. Below, preparations buzzed like a living organism—guards, decorators, engineers, all working in synchronized chaos to build the most opulent event the world had ever seen.
His father's birthday wasn't just a celebration.
It was a statement:
Chris Blackwood still reigns—and none shall rise above.
Classic understood the symbolism. Every step, every guest, every diamond embedded in the palace walls had to send a message: This is the empire of gods. Bow… or break.
He exhaled, jaw tightening.
He was the heir. The future.
And everyone was watching.
Behind him, the door slid open.
"Your Highness," said his personal advisor. "The guest list has been finalized. One hundred and eight heads of state. Four emperors. Two supreme commanders. And over 700 billionaires."
Classic didn't turn. "And the security?"
"Handled by the Dictator herself."
That made him smile faintly. Of course. Christiana would've planned this down to the last atom. She was terrifying that way—and brilliant.
But it also meant he had to be flawless.
"Any mention of rebellion?" he asked.
"None. Just... tension. Some world leaders are uneasy about how much power the Blackwood family holds. Especially with you now taking a more visible role."
Classic finally turned, his eyes cool.
"Then let them be uneasy."
The advisor hesitated. "Shall I prepare your speech for the ball?"
Classic raised an eyebrow. "No. I'll write it myself. If I'm going to stand beside my father, the world needs to hear my voice. Not echoes."
A long pause.
"And the attire?" the advisor added, almost nervously. "Your mother is wearing the most expensive gown in recorded history. The Dictator has armor laced with ceremonial gold. You, sir... need to match that presence."
Classic nodded.
"Contact House Vantross," he said. "Tell them I want a fusion of old Blackwood elegance… and warlord energy. I'm not just a prince. I'm the storm they didn't see coming."
The advisor bowed and exited swiftly.
Alone again, Classic looked out at the glowing horizon. Cities, continents, nations—all under the Blackwood Union. All under his future command.
They called Christiana the Dictator.
They called Skylar the Queen.
They called Chris the Supreme.
But soon, they would learn another name:
Classic Blackwood.
The next ruler of an empire too powerful to fall.
And unlike the others, he didn't need fear to rule.
He would rule with clarity… and with legacy.
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