Chapter 35
The roar of jet engines filled the air as the King's aircraft made its final descent toward Liberty City's royal airstrip. The tarmac glistened under the powerful spotlights illuminating the airport, a fortress of security personnel, military vehicles, and medical teams standing ready. Heavy, armored SUVs and armed escorts flanked every corner, a reflection of the heightened alert that had gripped the nation.
Inside the cockpit, the pilots kept a steady hand on the controls.
"Descending at two hundred knots," the copilot announced.
"Touchdown in ten... nine..."
The lead pilot adjusted their descent angle. The aircraft shuddered gently as its landing gear hit the pavement with precision.
"We're down. Taxiing to the medical extraction point," he confirmed, voice calm but tight with focus.
---
Viktor's POV
Viktor felt the weight of the King's body pressing against him as he crouched protectively. His arms were stiff from holding his position, but he never wavered.
The plane slowed, then lurched to a stop. Viktor's earpiece crackled.
"Medical team ready. Extraction point secure. Move!"
The door burst open, and a rush of cold air filled the cabin. A line of guards sprinted up the stairs, weapons drawn and eyes scanning the perimeter. Behind them, the medical team surged forward with a stretcher, faces grim and determined.
"Status!" a doctor snapped as they reached Viktor's side.
"Still critical. Stabilized temporarily, but he's bleeding internally. Bullet through the left lung, damaged heart muscle. He won't make it without surgery," Viktor said, his voice like steel.
The doctors worked in synchronized precision. They transferred the King to the stretcher, securing monitors and IVs as they moved with practiced haste. His bio-watch continued transmitting data to the AI at Liberty Hospital, updating vitals every second.
"Get him to the chopper now!"
---
The helicopter blades were already spinning as the stretcher was rushed aboard. A team of guards, rifles ready, positioned themselves inside and outside the transport. Behind them, three military escort helicopters hovered in readiness, engines growling like predators waiting to pounce.
"Go, go, go!"
The convoy lifted off, the lead helicopter taking point while the escorts flanked it on both sides. The city below seemed to hold its breath as the King was flown over streets lined with onlookers, their faces lit by the glow of breaking news broadcasts flashing updates on every screen.
---
The helicopter landed on the hospital's rooftop, where a trauma team stood poised to act. As soon as the doors opened, the medical staff descended on the stretcher. The King was rushed down a corridor cleared of all personnel except essential staff, the rhythmic thud of running feet echoing through sterile walls.
"Heart and lung compromised," Dr. Maren, the chief surgeon, confirmed as they wheeled him into the surgical suite. "Prepare for a thoracotomy. We'll need to replace the heart and remove the damaged lung temporarily."
The team worked in a blur. Scalpel, suction, clamps—hands moved with precision as blood monitors beeped urgently.
---
The artificial heart, a prototype they worked hard to spread around the world was brought into the room. The AI-assisted system guided Dr. Maren as she carefully cut away the damaged tissue around the King's heart.
"We've got damage to the aortic valve and significant trauma to the left ventricle," one of the assistants reported.
"Prep the artificial heart. We'll place it now."
The device was lowered into the open cavity, its synthetic valves clicking softly as it took over the King's circulatory function.
"What about the lung?"
"Remove it. We'll keep him on oxygen support until we can grow an artificial lung. His vitals are stabilizing, but he'll need time."
The team worked relentlessly, sealing the incisions and ensuring every system functioned perfectly. Hours passed, the tension palpable in every breath. Finally, as dawn began to creep over the horizon, the last suture was placed.
"He's stable. Induce a medical coma for recovery. Monitor for any signs of rejection."
Dr. Maren exhaled, a deep, weary breath. "He'll need a few weeks of light duty after this, but he'll survive."
---
The King lay motionless in the Royal Suite, machines quietly humming beside him. His face was pale, his chest rising and falling with mechanical precision. Outside, Viktor stood watch, his eyes dark with exhaustion but his posture as rigid as ever.
A nurse approached him. "He's out of immediate danger, but it was close."
Viktor nodded. "Thank you."
2 days after Morning broke over Liberty City as King Ethan stirred for the first time since surgery. His eyelids fluttered, and he became dimly aware of the weight in his chest, the hum of machines, and the steady beep of monitors. Blurred figures hovered nearby.
"Your Majesty, welcome back."
He turned his head slowly. It was Viktor, seated near the bed, his eyes filled with guarded relief. "You're safe, sire. You made it."
Ethan's voice was hoarse. "What… happened?"
"An assassination attempt, Your Majesty. We've neutralized immediate threats, but there's much work to do."
Memories began to return in fragments—New Caeloria, the signing, the rifle's crack, and then nothing. He swallowed hard, feeling the dull ache where the bullet had struck.
"Status… of the kingdom?"
Viktor's expression remained grim. "The nation grieves, but the people stand united. Crime networks are scattering. Our forces are already retaliating against organized threats. Intelligence is working around the clock to trace those behind the attack. General Vorn awaits your recovery for a full briefing."
Later that evening, as the city's lights twinkled below, Ethan gazed out from his hospital bed. The horizon seemed both far and within reach. Viktor stood by, silent as a sentinel.
The quiet hum of machines filled King Ethan's hospital suite. Monitors blinked softly, and the sterile scent of antiseptics lingered in the air. His breathing was shallow but steady, aided by the synthetic heart now nestled in his chest. Outside the door, two Royal Guards stood like statues, their eyes scanning every movement in the corridor.
Inside, General Vorn moved silently, his tall frame blending into the shadows as he approached the King's bedside. His boots barely made a sound on the polished floor. Viktor, ever vigilant, leaned against the far wall with arms crossed, his piercing gaze never leaving the general.
"You shouldn't be here," the attending nurse whispered urgently, stepping into Vorn's path. "The King needs rest. He's only just—"
"Leave us," Viktor commanded with quiet authority. The nurse hesitated but relented under his hard stare, stepping out and closing the door behind her.
---
Ethan's eyes fluttered open as Vorn drew near, his features pale but determined. His voice, though strained, carried the weight of command.
"General Vorn," Ethan said, each word slow and deliberate. "You've come."
"At your service, sire." Vorn inclined his head. "But you should be resting."
Ethan ignored the admonition, lifting his hand slightly before letting it fall. "The plans for Costa Nova…"
"They are drafted, Your Majesty, but…"
"No delays," Ethan cut in, his eyes blazing with resolve. "Put them into effect immediately. Their president trusts us, and the world is watching. Deploy some of our forces under the pretense of joint operations. Guard our people, but use this as cover. I want the assassins found."
"It will be done." Vorn's tone was resolute, his mind already calculating logistics.
Ethan drew a slow breath, his chest rising with effort. "The island they gave us—begin construction immediately. I want a fully operational military air and seaport. It will secure our presence in the region."
Vorn's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "And the guise?"
"Strategic development and regional stability," Ethan whispered. "Help Costa Nova stabilize their trade routes while protecting our assets."
---
As the room grew quiet, Ethan shifted slightly. Pain lanced through his chest, but he clenched his teeth.
"One more thing," he murmured. "I want a new energy initiative… partner with the military and space program. A self-contained power supply—nuclear-based—with no waste, no byproduct. Something we can use for long-term missions and infrastructure. Make it priority one."
"Partner with some of our allies that have nuclear material to see if we can purchase any and see if they are willing to help with research"
Vorn nodded, his mind racing with the implications. "A tall order, sire, but if anyone can manage it, it's us."
"We don't have a choice," Ethan replied, closing his eyes. "The future demands it."
"They will pay," Ethan whispered.
"Yes, sire."
"Prepare the council. War in the shadows has begun. We will root out every enemy."
Viktor's eyes hardened with conviction. "It will be done."
In the silence that followed, a new chapter in Veldoria's history began to unfold—one of vigilance, retribution, and the unyielding strength of a people and their King.
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In the far corner of the field, a sleek aircraft bore the royal insignia—its destination: Costa Nova. Engineers, architects, builders, scientists, and planners boarded with their tools of trade, excitement and determination on their faces. They are Veldoria's best minds and hands, ready to reshape a nation.
---
Dr. Elisa Moreau, head of the clean energy team, stepped onto the plane with her tablet, reviewing the plans for renewable energy plants. "We'll start with the tidal generators and move inland," she murmured to her assistant. "Costa Nova's coastline is perfect for sustainable energy capture. Once we demonstrate the efficiency, their entire grid can shift from diesel dependency."
Across from her, Henry Garvin, a master civil engineer, exchanged notes with his team. "The desalination plant is priority one. Fresh water is life. We'll train their teams while we build."
Next to him, a young apprentice asked, "How do you think the locals will take to the changes?"
"With hope," Garvin replied. "When people have access to clean water and stable power, life transforms. They'll see it, and they'll join us in building a brighter future."
---
On the adjacent plane, soldiers in crisp uniforms stood in formation, awaiting their deployment orders. Their faces were stoic, their mission clear: joint operations with Costa Nova's fledgling military to bring stability and security. Crates of military equipment, including weapons and body armor prototypes, were secured in the cargo hold.
Viktor oversaw the loading, his sharp eyes never missing a detail. He gestured to one of the crates marked with the Veldorian crest and a bold inscription: "Project Aegis – Experimental Armor."
"Spider silk armor?" asked Captain Rourke, his brow raised skeptically. "Sounds like something from a comic book."
"It's real enough," Viktor replied, lifting a piece of the lightweight material. "Genetically engineered spider silk. Light as fabric, stronger than Kevlar. We're testing it in the field. If it works, it changes everything."
Rourke whistled, running his fingers over the smooth, flexible weave. "Better than dragging around half our weight in armor."
Viktor nodded. "We're not just helping Costa Nova—we're showing the world what's possible."