Building The Strongest Family

The heavy iron gates of the Neo-Luminara Grand Parliament House swung shut behind Arthur Osborn with a quiet, ominous finality.

Derrick lingered on the steps, his face etched with uncertainty, but Arthur didn't look back.

The evening wind danced around him, teasing the edges of his tailored black trench coat as he strode toward the sleek Aether GT parked by the curb, its engine purring like a satisfied predator ready to pounce.

As the automatic door lifted with a soft hiss and Arthur slid into the driver's seat, the luxurious leather embraced him like a throne crafted just for him.

Yet amidst all this wealth and opulence, his thoughts drifted far away, spiraling through time and digging deep into the graveyard of a forgotten life.

The moment the car glided smoothly onto the avenue, tinted windows reflecting Neo-Luminara's neon skyline, Arthur leaned back against his seat.

He wasn't contemplating the Empire he had just built in that Parliament chamber or relishing in the shattered pride of those elite who had bowed before him.

No, his mind was light-years away, across lifetimes and realities.

He could still hear it, the screeching subway doors threatening to close as he sprinted down grimy stairs in a wrinkled shirt and scuffed shoes.

The air was thick with sweat, burnt coffee, and Monday morning despair. That damned subway! Always either late or just out of reach.

Every morning began at 5:30 a.m., body aching from restless sleep as he dragged himself to his tiny apartment bathroom where pipes groaned like they resented being used.

The mirror reflected a man with sunken eyes and no hope, a stranger staring back at him. And still, he'd run to chase that train that treated him like an unwanted guest.

Crushed between hundreds of other souls clutching briefcases filled with dead dreams, he felt their burdens, the weight of mortgages and broken marriages sinking into their backs.

Some mornings he missed that subway entirely and stood at the edge of the platform with fists clenched in frustration.

Then came curses under his breath as he called for a cab that devoured half his day's wages just to arrive at work red-faced and breathless, all while his supervisor glared daggers at him.

"Late again," they hissed through clenched teeth. "Do you even want this job?"

Yes! He wanted it because it was all he had, a 9-to-7 grind without overtime pay or upward mobility; no praise awaited him in this corporate dungeon where he felt like meat caught in an endless grinder, constantly turned into a mindless slave with nowhere to go.

Leaving meant nothing; there were hundreds waiting behind him ready to take his place, but finding another job? That was nearly impossible! Such is life in this brutal society we live in.

He remembered lunch breaks spent choking down stale sandwiches while being called into offices for minor mistakes or not smiling enough.

He remembered the tears that fell silently in the company restroom, the sound of the running tap drowning out his sobs.

A life of insignificance loomed over him, a mere cog in someone else's machine.

But now? Arthur glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror.

His jaw was sharp and clean-shaven; his eyes, once clouded by stress and exhaustion, now sparkled with power, ambition, and clarity.

No longer did he wear a face bowed by defeat.

With a swift motion, he pressed a button on the dashboard.

The display flickered to life as a soft voice greeted him warmly: "Welcome home, Master Arthur."

His car. His mansion. His city. Even his enemies danced on the edge of a sword he wielded with newfound confidence.

Arthur chuckled, first bitterly, then deeply, "Look at me now! A big boss... a truly badass big boss."

His voice was low but resonated through the universe like a declaration.

As he passed through the gates of the Osborn Family Estate, a sprawling fortress of glass, stone, and greenery perched atop one of Neo-Luminara's wealthiest districts, the guards saluted him while an intelligent security system recognized him instantly.

The car glided to a smooth stop, and Arthur stepped out into sunlight that peppered the sky above him.

He took a moment to look up; the hot afternoon wind tousled his hair as if urging him to breathe deeply, to soak it all in.

Inside the mansion, Alfred greeted him with a respectful nod. "Master Arthur. Welcome home."

Arthur returned the nod with purpose. "Prepare the study and bring me a glass of Iceburn Reserve, neat."

"Right away," Alfred replied before disappearing down the corridor.

As Arthur walked into the grand hall, his footsteps echoed against polished marble floors beneath portraits of ancestors, some brave, some foolish, all powerful in their own right.

He traced his fingers along an intricately carved wooden frame and exhaled slowly.

They had all thought that the Osborn Family was finished, that it had reached its twilight, that he, a drunken wayward scion, would be its final nail in the coffin.

But here he stood reborn, from overworked slave to sovereign… well, technically not yet, but soon very soon!

Ascending the winding staircase led him to his private study where Evolon's holographic form flickered into existence upon entry.

"Do you wish to review today's events, Sir?"

Arthur shrugged off his coat and tossed it over an elegant velvet chair before loosening his tie.

"No," he said as he sank into a leather chair behind his desk. "I just want to remember."

"Remember, Sir?" Evolon asked curiously.

Arthur swirled golden liquor in his glass, watching it catch light like liquid sunshine.

"Back then," he mused softly, "I didn't even have time to breathe; every minute belonged to someone else."

He leaned back in his chair, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Now, time belongs to me."

Evolon was utterly perplexed; he had no idea what Arthur meant.

Instead, he remained silent, watching Arthur with curiosity.

The silence in the room was anything but empty. It resonated with the echoes of two lifetimes, train screeches and office slaps, cheers in Parliament chambers, and the whispers of transformation.

A soft knock broke through the reverie.

"Enter," Arthur called out.

In walked Margaret, his first aunt, her expression tinged with concern. "Arthur, are you... okay?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

He flashed her a warm smile that eased the storm brewing inside him. "I'm better than okay."

Margaret's face lit up as she stepped closer, handing him a piece of paper. "Here's the new campus renovation plan for Osborn Academy that you requested."

Arthur quickly scanned the document. "Looks good! We'll approve the budget and triple the scholarship fund too."

Margaret blinked in surprise. "Triple?"

With a nod and a grin, he replied, "I want talent from all corners. We're not just building empires; we're building people."

Her face beamed with pride as she left the room, practically skipping down the hallway.

Alone once more, Arthur turned his gaze to the window.

The world of Panterra was brutal and cold, a realm filled with hyenas but it was also vast and full of untapped potential.

He tapped on his desk, causing a miniature digital map to rise into view, the twelve continents of Panterra spread out before him.

His eyes locked onto Noctis, that would be his next domain.

But for now? He allowed himself to relax and breathe deeply.

To remember.

And to reaffirm his promise: "Never again will I bow. Never again will I be a slave to another's dream. This world belongs to those who dare, and I? I will build the strongest family this world has ever seen."

Outside, the wind whispered through the trees of Osborn estate while inside, Arthur raised his glass high, even if it was to no one in particular.

But somehow, the world felt it.

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