The courtyard outside the mayor's estate was packed.

Citizens filled every corner — merchants, guards, farmers, blacksmiths, even the city's children — all waiting to see the man who had changed their fate.

From the balcony above, Axton looked down upon them.

The crowd stretched farther than he expected, their faces filled with curiosity, fear, and a strange flicker of hope.

They had lost their leader, Mayor Duncan.

And now, a stranger stood in his place.

Axton's clothes and hair swayed in the soft breeze. His hand rested lightly on the balcony rail as he looked over the people of Atlas — his people now.

He could hear whispers below.

"That's him? Commander Khan"

"It's Mayor Khan now."

The murmurs died down the moment Axton raised his hand.

Silence fell across the courtyard like a calm wave.

He stood quietly for a moment, letting the stillness sink in before he spoke again.

"People of Atlas…"

His voice was calm — not loud, but strong enough to carry through the air.

"Today… I stand before you not as a conqueror, not as a tyrant, but as one of you."

He paused, scanning the faces in the crowd — the tired soldiers, the weeping mothers, the confused children clutching their parents' clothes.

"I know what it feels like to lose someone important," he continued softly. "To lose a leader… to lose hope. Many of you have suffered under the weight of fear, corruption, and lies. And I can't pretend to understand all your pain — but I can promise you one thing. It ends here."

A soft murmur rippled through the crowd, like wind rustling through trees.

"Mayor Duncan," Axton went on, "was not a perfect man. But he was a man who tried — a man who believed in Atlas. His death has left a hole in this city… one that no words can fill. But the best way to honor him isn't through tears or silence. It's through action."

He took a deep breath and placed his hand over his chest.

"Atlas will rise again. Not through fear, not through blood, but through unity."

The citizens watched him in silence, their gazes drawn to the sincerity in his eyes.

Even the players standing at the edges of the square — curious, skeptical — found themselves listening.

"Some of you may doubt me," he said, his tone gentle.

"You see me as a stranger — someone who appeared out of nowhere and claimed a title that should have belonged to another. And you have every right to doubt. Trust isn't given. It's earned. And I intend to earn yours."

Axton's eyes softened as he continued.

"I have seen the pain in your streets. The broken walls. The hunger in your markets. The fear that still lingers in your hearts. But I've also seen something else…"

He leaned slightly forward, his voice lowering as if speaking directly to each person.

"I've seen courage. I've seen the guards who fought to protect children they didn't even know. The farmers who shared what little they had with strangers. The healers who worked day and night without sleep. That… is Atlas."

The crowd stirred. Heads lifted. Eyes brightened.

"That spirit — the spirit of this city — is what I wish to protect."

Axton let his hand drop to his side and looked out toward the horizon.

"Atlas has been through dark times and yet, you are still here. That means you are stronger than the darkness that tried to destroy you. But if we wish to move forward, we must do it together."

He raised a single hand into the air.

"From this day onward, there will be no more divided classes in Atlas. No more lords who take from the poor. No more soldiers who harm the people they swore to protect. No more greed ruling over justice."

A small gasp escaped from somewhere in the crowd.

And then, slowly, people began to nod.

"The city's treasury will be reopened," Axton declared. "And it will serve you — the people. The soldiers who protect the city will be rewarded, not ignored. The merchants who pay their taxes honestly will no longer live in fear. And the poor… the poor will eat again."

Cheers began to rise, hesitant at first, then louder, spreading like a flame through dry grass.

But Axton lifted his hand again, calming them. His tone softened once more.

"This isn't about me," he said. "Titles mean nothing without purpose. A city is not made of stone or walls — it's made of people. And every single one of you matters."

He took a moment to let the silence stretch before speaking again.

"There will come challenges," he warned. "Enemies outside these walls who wish to take what we've built. Some may even come from within. But when that time comes…"

He smiled faintly. "…I trust that the people of Atlas will stand together."

A woman near the front wiped her tears.

A blacksmith crossed his arms, staring with respect.

Children began whispering Axton's name — Khan — to each other.

He continued, his tone deepening with emotion.

"Do not forget what you've endured. Every scar, every hardship. It means you survived. And as long as you have breath in your lungs, this city will never fall."

Then he said something that made the entire courtyard go still.

"I don't ask you to see me as your mayor."

He paused.

"I ask you to see me as a man who will fight beside you, and for you."

The silence that followed was powerful and full of emotion.

Axton's words reached them, not through pride or power, but through truth.

"For too long," he said, "you've been told to bow, to obey, to wait for change that never came. But now, the power belongs to you. Each one of you can make Atlas stronger — by being kind, by working together, by believing in yourselves."

He looked over the city once more — the rooftops, the towers, the marketplace beyond.

"There will be new laws," he announced. "Laws that protect, not control. Laws that reward, not punish. The soldiers will defend, not dominate. The nobles will serve, not exploit."

A wave of cheers erupted again, louder this time. The sound carried through the streets and alleys, through every open window and every rooftop.

Axton smiled faintly and nodded.

"Atlas is not mine," he said simply. "It belongs to you… to all of us. And I swear on my life, I will protect it as long as I breathe."

He placed his hand over his chest once more.

"For the fallen. For the forgotten. For those who still dare to dream… we rise again."

The cheers grew deafening.

Citizens shouted his name.

Soldiers raised their weapons in salute.

Even some of the players clapped, caught up in the moment themselves.

From somewhere deep in the crowd, a small boy stood on his father's shoulders and shouted, "Long live Mayor Khan!"

The chant spread — one voice after another — until the entire plaza roared with the same cry.

"Long live Mayor Khan!"

"Long live the Mayor!"

Axton lowered his gaze for a moment, humbled by the sight.

He hadn't expected this.

Not the adoration.

Not the loyalty.

But as he watched the faces of the people, something stirred within him.

He turned away from the balcony, a quiet determination settling in his eyes.

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