Drug Lord Academy

Blood on The Throne

The Drug Kingdom didn’t have gates.

It had walls of glass and steel that stretched higher than any palace should. At night, the city glowed like a circuit board—blue, red, gold.

We stopped at the border checkpoint.

Lord Henry rolled down the window. Two guards in black armor stepped forward, scanning the car with scanners that hummed against my skin.

“Lord Henry,” one said. “Your clearance is revoked.”

Henry didn’t flinch.

“I’m bringing the king’s son.”

The guard’s eyes flicked to me in the back seat.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then the scanner screamed.

“Confirmed. Subject Chaka-01. Hostile. Do not engage. Lockdown Protocol.”

Alarms blared across the checkpoint.

“Drive,” I said.

Henry floored it.

The car surged forward as the checkpoint gates slammed shut behind us. Bullets pinged off the armored doors.

Johnson leaned forward, grinning despite the blood on his lip.

“Nice to see I’m still welcome here.”

“You’re not,” Henry said. “None of us are anymore.”

---

We ditched the car three blocks from the palace.

The streets were empty. Curfew lights painted everything red. Drones hovered overhead, their red eyes sweeping the rooftops.

“Your father knows you’re here,” Henry said quietly. “He’s prepared.”

“Good,” I said. “So am I.”

Johnson checked his knife, then looked at me.

“Chaka. If this goes bad, run. Don’t try to be heroic.”

I met his eyes.

“If it goes bad, we go together.”

He didn’t answer. But he didn’t argue either.

---

The palace looked different from the ground.

No gold trim. No silk. Just cold steel and surveillance towers. My childhood home had been gutted and rebuilt into a fortress.

We entered through the maintenance tunnels. Henry knew every route. He’d built most of them twenty years ago.

“Your mother had a secret room under the throne room,” he said as we moved. “If things go wrong, that’s where we go.”

“What’s in it?” Johnson asked.

“The truth,” Henry said. “And a way out.”

We reached the vent above the throne room just as the doors opened.

---

King Ferran sat on the throne.

Older. Thinner. But his eyes were the same—cold, calculating, empty.

Around him stood twenty guards, and beside him, Queen Ferrera.

She looked at me the moment I dropped down.

“Chaka,” she whispered.

The king didn’t stand. He just smiled.

“So the dead boy returns. Good. I was getting bored.”

I stepped forward, landing on the marble floor. The sound echoed.

“You ordered me killed,” I said.

The king shrugged.

“I ordered a weapon decommissioned. You’re lucky you survived.”

“You let them experiment on me.”

“I let them save you,” he said. “There’s a difference.”

Queen Ferrera stepped forward.

“Ferran, stop. He doesn’t understand—”

“Silence,” the king said. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

She stopped.

Johnson moved to stand beside me.

“Chaka, this is a bad idea.”

“No,” I said. “This is the only idea.”

I looked at my father.

“Why?”

The king stood. Slowly.

“Because a king can’t have a son who’s stronger than him, Chaka. Because the kingdom can’t have a king who doesn’t control his own blood.”

He gestured, and the guards raised their weapons.

“But you do control it,” he said. “Don’t you?”

The blue light flared under my skin.

I didn’t answer.

I attacked.

---

The throne room became a warzone in three seconds.

I hit the first guard before he could pull the trigger. Bone cracked. He dropped.

Johnson moved like a shadow, disarming the second, driving his knife into the third’s thigh.

Henry pulled Queen Ferrera behind a pillar, shielding her.

“Chaka, stop!” she shouted.

“He’s not listening!”

I wasn’t.

The serum was singing in my veins. Every strike felt right. Every block felt effortless.

King Ferran watched me like a scientist watching an experiment.

“Good,” he said. “Good. You’re stronger than I thought.”

He clapped once.

The floor opened.

I fell.

---

Darkness.

Cold.

When I opened my eyes, I was back in the vault.

But this one was different. Smaller. Older.

And she was there.

Queen Ferrera.

“You found it,” she said.

“What is this place?” I asked.

“My lab,” she said. “The one your father doesn’t know about.”

She stepped closer.

“The serum was never meant to control you, Chaka. It was meant to free you.”

She placed her hand on my chest.

“Do you feel it? The memory in your blood?”

I nodded.

“Your father wanted a weapon,” she said. “I wanted a son. When you died, I chose you over him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because if you knew, they’d use it against you.” She touched my face.

“Chaka, the serum has a failsafe. If you accept it, you’ll remember everything. Every life you lived in that lab. Every death.”

I swallowed.

“What happens if I don’t?”

“You stay this way. Strong, but hollow. A puppet with no strings.”

Above us, the floor shook. Johnson was shouting my name.

“What do I do?” I asked.

Queen Ferrera smiled sadly.

“Remember.”

---

The memories hit like a truck.

Ten years old. Strapped down.

Screaming.

Dying.

Waking up.

Forgetting.

Living as a ghost.

I saw it all.

I saw my father watch me die and call it necessary.

I saw my mother break down and promise to make it right.

I saw myself, age twelve, begging them to let me go.

Pain. Rage. Betrayal.

And beneath it all—love.

My mother never stopped fighting for me.

My father never stopped being afraid of me.

When it ended, I was on my knees, gasping.

Queen Ferrera knelt beside me.

“Welcome back, my son.”

I looked up at her.

“Why did you keep me alive?”

“Because you deserved to live,” she said. “Even if it meant losing you.”

Footsteps.

The floor above cracked open. Johnson dropped down, followed by Henry and two guards.

“Chaka!” Johnson shouted, running to me.

He stopped when he saw my eyes.

They were glowing blue.

---

Above us, the king’s voice boomed through the speakers.

“Chaka Ferran. You are a threat to the kingdom. Surrender, or I will erase you.”

I stood.

My body felt different. Heavier. Older. Like I’d lived a hundred lives and finally remembered them all.

“Johnson,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Stay with my mother.”

He frowned.

“What are you doing?”

“Ending this.”

I walked toward the ladder.

Queen Ferrera grabbed my arm.

“Chaka, if you do this, there’s no going back.”

“I know,” I said.

I climbed.

---

The throne room was silent when I emerged.

King Ferran stood alone. The guards were dead.

He looked at me and smiled.

“There you are. My son.”

I stopped ten feet from him.

“I’m not your son anymore.”

“Everyone is someone’s son,” he said.

“Not anymore.”

I raised my hand.

Blue light filled the room.

The king didn’t move.

“Do it,” he said. “Prove you’re better than me.”

I could.

I could end him right here.

But then I saw it—fear in his eyes. Real fear. Not of death. Of being forgotten.

I lowered my hand.

“I’m not you,” I said.

“You’re right,” he said.

He pulled a gun from his coat and pressed it to his temple.

“Then watch.”

“No!” Queen Ferrera screamed from below.

The gun fired.

---

Silence.

King Ferran fell.

Johnson pulled me back as guards flooded the room.

“Chaka, we need to go!” he shouted.

I looked at my father’s body.

No tears came.

Only a single thought:

_It’s over._

But it wasn’t.

Because behind me, the throne cracked.

And from the darkness beneath it, something moved.

Something with glowing blue eyes.

*[End of Chapter 6]*

_Next: The thing beneath the throne awakens._

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