By high noon, the "Miracle at Maxim" had completely hijacked the national digital landscape. The hashtags #MaximSakura and #TheBloomingSecret were trending number one, surpassing even the news of the British Royal wedding. However, as the images proliferated—blurry shots of pink canopies taken by confused freshmen and wide-angle drone footage captured by local news outlets—a curious thing happened. In every single photograph, the silver-haired man in the black kimono was absent.
Whether it was through the distortion of the heat, the angle of the sun, or a more deliberate manipulation of light and Mana, only Lizzy's eyes had truly captured the image of Kramark Kurogami. To the rest of the world, it was simply a biological impossibility unfolding in real-time.
Inside the President's office, the atmosphere was suffocating. The air-conditioning hummed at its maximum setting, but it did little to cool the heated debate occurring around the mahogany desk. Mario Maxim was staring at a tablet displaying a live news feed of his own campus, his expression caught between awe and absolute dread.
"We have to change the narrative," Mario said, his voice tight. "Right now, the public thinks this is a religious miracle. The Church is already asking for a commission of inquiry. If we don't frame this as an academic achievement, we lose control of the situation."
"He's right," Dr. Valliant Maxim said, leaning against the bookshelf, his eyes scanning the ancient texts as if looking for a legal loophole in the laws of physics. "If we think this through carefully, the antagonists—the Kurogamis, Alyssa, Manfred—they won't immediately think it's Kramark. They've spent five years convincing themselves he's a non-entity. They treated him as dead, or worse, as a degenerate whose brain has been rotted by gambling. To them, the idea of him returning as a master of divine science is more absurd than the trees blooming by themselves."
"But the Board of Trustees is breathing down my neck," Mario countered, slamming his hand on the desk. "I've had three calls from the Chairman in the last hour. They want a formal report on the 'accelerated botanical project.' They said—and I quote—'If this is an unauthorized experiment that puts the university's reputation at risk, or if we cannot provide a repeatable scientific explanation, the funding for the entire Mythology Department will be ceased immediately.'"
"Repeatable?" Carmilla Crimson laughed, a sound tinged with hysteria. "How do we repeat a miracle performed by a man who can fold space? Do they want us to find a god and ask for a second performance?"
"We lie," Professor Alexander Dawn said coldly. He was sitting in the corner, his eyes fixed on a monitor showing the campus gates. "We tell the board that this was a long-term bio-engineering project initiated by the late research team five years ago. We tell them we used a dormant catalyst derived from the Gilgamesh scrolls—a 'botanical formula' that we've finally perfected. We frame it as a celebration of the National Achievement Awards."
"A magic show," Elenita Cunc whispered. "That's what you want us to perform? A scientific magic show?"
"It's the only way to protect him," Alexander replied. "If the world thinks it's a university project, they look at us. If they think it's a miracle, they look for a saint. We need them to look at us."
Meanwhile, in the ultra-modern headquarters of Goddess Fashion, the mood was far less reverent. Alyssa Gaye Soctrips sat in her glass-walled office, the initial terror that had seized her earlier having been replaced by a sharp, defensive arrogance.
Across from her sat Manfred Arc Oyo, his fingers dancing nervously over the holographic interface of his latest tablet. Senator Alonzo Carlos stood by the window, his back to them, watching the traffic below with the predatory stillness of a man who dealt in shadows.
"It's a stunt, Alyssa," Manfred said, though his voice lacked its usual certainty. "I've analyzed the satellite imagery. Maxim University is desperate. They got their awards, but they know their research is stagnant. They probably pumped the soil with a high-concentration growth hormone and used some sort of localized climate control. It's a magic show. A desperate bid to keep their funding from the Board."
"A magic show?" Alyssa hissed, her eyes narrowing. "Manfred, those trees were his. He planted them. He was the only one who could ever make things grow in that garden. When I saw that pink light on the news... I felt like he was standing right behind me."
Alonzo Carlos turned around, his face a mask of cold pragmatism. "Feelings are for voters, Alyssa. Not for us. I spoke to Archie Kurogami ten minutes ago. He's furious. He thinks Mario Maxim is trying to upstage the government's infrastructure announcement by creating a 'miracle' that distracts the masses. The Kurogami clan is already preparing an audit of the university's finances."
"If it's a stunt, it's a brilliant one," Manfred noted, his eyes scanning a graph. "Their stock value—or the equivalent for an educational institution—has tripled in public interest. But scientifically? It's impossible. You can't bring rot back to life. Unless..."
"Unless what?" Alyssa snapped.
"Unless they found something in those scrolls that we missed," Manfred said, his voice dropping. "Something that Kramark didn't put in the public files five years ago. You remember how he used to talk, Alyssa. He spoke about 'Mana' as if it were a programmable language. He said the laws of physics were just 'weak encryption'."
"He was a child playing with fairy tales!" Alyssa shouted, standing up. "He was a gambler! A loser! I saw the reports from the casinos last year. He was throwing away thousands in online poker. A man like that doesn't come back and perform botanical miracles. He's probably dead in a ditch in Macau by now."
"Then who did this?" Alonzo asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"Mario Maxim," Alyssa said, pacing the room. "He's using Kramark's ghost to save his school. He knows that mentioning the 'Kurogami genius'—even indirectly—gets the world's attention. He's mocking us, Alonzo. He's showing us that even without Kramark, he can still use his legacy to make us flinch."
"Then we crush the legacy," Alonzo said. "I'll have the Department of Environment and Natural Resources declare the grove a 'bio-hazard' by tomorrow morning. We'll send in a team to raze those trees to the ground. If it's a magic show, we'll take away the stage."
"Wait," Manfred said, his eyes widening as he looked at a new data stream. "There's a message coming in through the encrypted channels. It's from the London office."
The room went silent. The news of the British Princess's wedding was still the elephant in the global room.
"What does London say?" Alyssa asked, her heart racing.
"They can't get a name," Manfred whispered. "But the 'Prince of the Void'... the palace just released a statement. He's been appointed as the Special Advisor to the Royal Treasury. And his first act? He's liquidating all British holdings in Southeast Asian textile industries. Alyssa... that includes the primary investors for Goddess."
Alyssa's face went pale. "What? Why would a British Prince care about my fashion brand?"
"It's not just you," Manfred continued, his voice trembling. "He's also initiated a patent review of AI logistics across the ASEAN region. He's claiming that certain fundamental architectures—architectures my company uses—are 'stolen cultural property' of the ancient world. He's filing an injunction at the International Court."
Alonzo Carlos walked over to the desk, his eyes fixed on the screen. "This 'Prince of the Void'... he's moving like a man who knows our balance sheets better than we do. First the trees at Maxim, now a global strike against our assets? It's too much of a coincidence."
"It's a coordinated attack," Alyssa breathed. "But by whom? Mario Maxim doesn't have the reach to influence the British Crown."
"Archie thinks it's a rival political faction," Alonzo said. "Someone using the 'Kramark' mythos to destabilize the current administration. But I'm starting to think we're looking at this too locally."
"We need to go to the university," Alyssa said suddenly. "I want to see those trees. I want to see the 'magic show' for myself. If Mario Maxim is hiding something—or someone—I'll find out. I know that school better than anyone."
Back at Maxim University, the "magic show" was in full swing. Mario had authorized a press conference for the afternoon.
"It is the result of years of silent research," Mario told the sea of reporters, his voice steady despite the lie. "Using the deciphered texts of Gilgamesh, our team discovered a unique bio-resonant frequency that can stimulate dormant cellular structures. We call it the 'Maxim Catalyst.' The blooming of the Sakuras is the first successful demonstration of this technology."
"Is it true that this project was started by Kramark Kurogami?" a reporter from a major international outlet asked.
Mario paused, his gaze flickering toward the back of the room where Valliant and Alexander stood. "Kramark Kurogami was a brilliant student, and his early translations provided the foundation for our work. But he is no longer with the university. This achievement belongs to the current faculty, specifically Dr. Crimson and Dr. Cunc."
In the back, Alexander leaned toward Valliant. "Look at them. They're buying it. The world would rather believe in a 'bio-resonant frequency' than the fact that a man can talk to the earth."
"Humanity is addicted to its own explanations," Valliant replied. "But the Kurogamis... they won't be so easily satisfied. Look there."
He pointed to a black SUV pulling up to the edge of the security cordon. Alyssa Gaye Soctrips stepped out, followed by a phalanx of security guards. She didn't look like a goddess; she looked like a hunter.
"The board won't cease our funding today," Mario whispered to himself as he saw Alyssa approach. "But the price of keeping it just went up."
As the press conference ended, Alyssa marched toward the Sakura grove, her eyes fixed on the impossible pink blossoms. She pushed past the security tape, ignored the protests of the faculty, and stood at the edge of the trees.
She reached out, touching the silver-gray bark of the First Scribe. She expected to feel a hidden heater, or a tube pumping chemicals, or some sign of a grand deception.
Instead, she felt a pulse.
A slow, rhythmic heartbeat that seemed to vibrate through the wood and into her palm. It was warm, alive, and utterly terrifying.
"Mario!" she screamed, turning toward the President as he approached. "What is this? What have you done?"
"It's science, Alyssa," Mario said, his voice cold. "The kind of science you and your family would never understand. It requires a soul to operate."
"Don't talk to me about souls," she hissed. "I want the data. I want the formulas for this 'catalyst.' The Kurogami clan owns the land this university sits on, Mario. If you don't turn over the research, we'll bulldoze this entire grove before the sun sets."
"You can try," a voice said.
Everyone turned. It wasn't the voice of Kramark. It was Professor Alexander Dawn, standing with his arms crossed, a tablet in his hand.
"Senator Carlos just received a call from his offshore accounts," Alexander said, his voice dripping with a dark satisfaction. "It seems the 'Prince of the Void' has just purchased the land title for Maxim University through a series of shell companies in London. You don't own the dirt anymore, Alyssa. The British Crown does. And they've just declared this grove a 'Sovereign Heritage Site.'"
Alyssa's eyes widened. She looked at her phone, which was buzzing frantically. It was a message from Alonzo: 'Stop. Everything. We just lost the land. Get out of there now.'
She looked back at the Sakura trees, then at the empty space beneath the branches where the shadows seemed a little too deep, a little too sentient.
The dust from the Sakura grove had barely settled on Alyssa Gaye Soctrips' designer heels when she stormed back into the armored SUV. Her face was a mask of cold, vibrating fury. Behind her, Maxim University's neoclassical columns stood silent and mocking, protected by a British land title they hadn't even known existed until minutes ago.
"Drive!" she shrieked at the chauffeur. "Get me to the Kurogami Estate. Now!"
As the vehicle sped away from the campus, the world outside was already descending into a different kind of chaos. It wasn't just the "Miracle at Maxim" that was dominating the screens of every Filipino; it was a broadcast that had originated from the London Stock Exchange and was now being mirrored by every major news outlet in Manila.
The headline, crawling in bold red text across the bottom of the screens, sent tremors through the very foundations of the upcoming national elections:
PRINCE OF THE VOID CONDEMNS PHILIPPINE POLITICAL CORRUPTION: "VOTES BOUGHT, MACHINES TAMPERED."
Inside the Kurogami clan's ancestral mansion—a sprawling fortress of dark wood and Spanish-tiled roofs—Senator Archie Kurogami and Governor Jessielor Gum Kurogami sat in their private study. The air in the room was thick with the scent of expensive cigars and the sterile ozone of high-end air purifiers.
Archie Kurogami, the man who had traded his son for a political dynasty, stared at the massive television screen. His hands were clenched so tightly on the arms of his leather chair that his knuckles were white.
"Who does this boy think he is?" Archie roared, his voice echoing off the walls lined with law books. "To stand in London and cast aspersions on the sanctity of our democratic process? To call our politics a 'transaction of shadows'?"
Jessielor, ever the colder of the two, didn't look up from her phone. Her face was illuminated by the blue light of a hundred incoming notifications from her constituents in Saint Dominic. "It's not just an aspersion, Archie. He's released data. Encrypted logs, bank transfers, and serial numbers for the counting machines in the Visayas region. He's claiming that the entire election is a farce—a 'theatrical production bought and paid for by the highest bidders.'"
"He's targeting us," Archie hissed. "He mentioned the Saint Dominic Governor's office specifically in the footnotes of the report. He says the funding for the new bridge was diverted to a private account in the Caymans."
The door swung open, and Alyssa, followed by Manfred Arc Oyo and Senator Alonzo Carlos, burst in. The group looked like a defeated army returning from a skirmish they hadn't expected.
"Did you see it?" Alyssa demanded, her voice high and erratic. "The Prince of the Void just bought the university land! He's protecting Mario Maxim! And now this statement... he's trying to burn the whole system down!"
Alonzo Carlos walked to the bar and poured himself a stiff drink. His usual political composure was fraying at the edges. "He didn't just stop at the bridge, Jessielor. He's released a statement saying that 'The President of the Philippines is the only clean soul in a room of thieves, yet even a saint cannot win a war when he is left to fight alone.'"
"He's trying to isolate the President from the rest of us," Manfred said, his fingers flying across his tablet as he tried to trace the source of the data leak. "He's framing Cramos as a victim of our 'corruption.' It's a classic divide-and-conquer strategy. By praising the President and vilifying the Senate and the Governors, he's inciting a populist revolt."
"And the people are eating it up," Manfred continued, turning his tablet around to show a live social media sentiment map. "Ninety percent of the comments are calling for an immediate audit of the counting machines. They're calling the Prince of the Void a 'Saviour from the West.' They don't even know who he is, and they're already ready to follow him into a revolution."
Archie Kurogami stood up, his presence towering and intimidating. "We need to know who he is. Now. Manfred, I don't care how many firewalls you have to break. I want a name. I want a face. I want a biography of this 'Prince of the Void' before the morning papers hit the stands."
"I'm trying, Senator!" Manfred snapped, his nerves finally breaking. "But every time I hit a server in London, I'm met with a recursive encryption that I've only ever seen once before."
The room went deathly silent. Alyssa looked at Manfred, her eyes wide with a dawning, horrific suspicion. "Once before? Where, Manfred? When?"
Manfred swallowed hard, his gaze shifting to the floor. "Five years ago. In the prototype files for the AI I... I patented. The core logic of the encryption—the way it folds onto itself like a serpent—it's identical to the 'Sovereign Syntax' Kramark was developing before he left."
Alyssa sank into a chair, her hand trembling as she touched her necklace. "No. It's impossible. Kramark is a gambler. He's a nobody. He doesn't have the resources of the British Empire behind him. How could a boy from Maxim University become a Prince in five years?"
"He was always a Prince," Alonzo Carlos said, his voice grim. "We just treated him like a stepping stone. If this 'Prince of the Void' is indeed Kramark Kurogami, then he's not just here for a fashion brand or an AI patent. He's here for the crown."
"If it is him," Jessielor said, her voice cutting through the panic like a knife, "then we have a problem that cannot be solved with a simple audit. We are talking about a man who knows where every body is buried because he was the one we tried to bury."
Outside, in the streets of Manila, the conversation was identical. In the jeepneys, in the luxury malls, and in the slums, only one question was being asked: Who is the Prince of the Void?
Some said he was a lost heir of a forgotten royal line. Others whispered he was a digital ghost, a manifestation of the collective anger of the people. But at Maxim University, the inner circle sat in the President's office, watching the same news, their hearts heavy with the weight of the secret they carried.
"He's moving faster than I thought," Mario Maxim whispered, looking at the statement on the screen. "He's not just taking their money. He's taking their legitimacy."
"He's giving the President the leverage he needs to purge the Senate," Valliant observed. "By declaring the President 'clean,' he's forcing Cramos to choose: side with the corrupt system and fall with it, or side with the Prince and become a true leader."
Alexander Dawn looked at the images of the Philippine flag being waved alongside the British Union Jack in online forums.
"The people want a hero. And Kramark is giving them a legend. But he's also putting a target on his own back. The Kurogamis won't go down without a fight. They'll use every illegal resource, every smuggler, and every hitman Alonzo Carlos has on his payroll to find him."
"Let them try," Lizzy said, her eyes fixed on the empty space on the screen where the Prince's face should have been. "They're looking for a man. But as I saw in the garden... Kramark isn't just a man anymore. He's the Void itself."
The night grew deeper. In the Kurogami mansion, the antagonists sat in a circle of fear, their wealth and power suddenly feeling like paper shields against a coming storm. In the university, the Sakura petals continued to fall, a pink snow that refused to wilt.
And thousands of miles away, in a palace of stone and history, a silver-haired man looked at a digital map of the Philippines. He watched the red lights of the corrupt systems flicker and fade as his statements took hold.
He didn't look like a gambler. He didn't look like a student. He looked like a master weaver, finally pulling the threads of a tapestry he had been preparing for five long, silent years.
"The counting has begun," Kramark whispered to the empty room. "And this time, the house doesn't win."
The question remained, echoing through the halls of power and the hearts of the common folk, a question that would define the fate of a nation:
Who is the Prince of the Void?
The answer was coming. And when it arrived, it would not be a miracle. It would be a judgment.