(Classic's POV)
The corridor outside the private war chamber was quiet. Too quiet for the kind of anger swirling in Classic's chest.
He had just walked out of the meeting between the High Executors and Chris—his father. The wounds on Chris's arm were still fresh, bandaged and blood-stained. But it wasn't the injury that disturbed Classic.
It was Skylar.
His mother.
And the choice he had already made against her.
He leaned on the rail of the balcony overlooking the western courtyard, eyes locked on the guards moving below. Everything was moving fast now. Chris was no longer the masked heir—he was the God of the Empire, the pulse of the entire world. And Amara... Amara was no longer just the voice in his father's ear. She had become something more—permanent.
Classic sighed.
His hand reached for the communicator clipped to his collar. He tapped it.
"Number 4 to Number 1."
Chris answered almost immediately.
"Go ahead, Classic."
He paused. Then said plainly, "I'm still with you. I always have been. But... I need to know—what happens to her now?"
"You mean your mother."
"Yes."
There was a brief silence on the other end. Then Chris spoke with that cold, thunderous clarity only he could wield:
"She crossed the line. There's no Empire if I bleed without consequence. There's no safety if betrayal walks freely in these halls."
Classic swallowed hard.
"And if I asked for mercy?"
Chris didn't hesitate.
"Then you'd be asking me to sacrifice everything I built—again—for someone who already lit the fire once."
Classic looked out again over the courtyard, fists clenched.
"I'm not asking. Not yet. But I had to ask what the limit is."
"There's only one limit now, son—" Chris replied, "disloyalty."
The line went dead.
Classic didn't move. Didn't blink.
He understood.
His father had hardened completely. This wasn't about personal ties anymore. Not Skylar. Not even him.
It was about the throne.
And loyalty to it.
He turned, stepping back into the palace corridors, passing by soldiers who now saluted him with precision.
Because even though the world saw him as Number 4...
Classic was already preparing to be Number 1, if the Empire ever needed it.