Chapter 26: Unforgettable scenes

Chapter 26: Unforgettable scenes

(Mark Stark POV)

I can't help but sigh, my mind a whirlwind of worry as I watch this film. As a family man myself, I find myself relating to "The Demonfather" in ways I never expected.

I'm from the Leaf Kingdom on the Evros Continent, a noble lord from a family of moderate wealth and power. My presence in the Morningstar Kingdom was supposed to be purely business - a quick trip, a few meetings, and back home to my own troubles.

But fate, it seems, had other plans. My demon business partner got caught up in this Ferland Demon Film Festival, leaving me at loose ends in a city I found, quite frankly, mind-numbingly dull.

So here I am, watching a demon film of all things, more out of boredom than any real interest. Or at least, that's how it started.

Now, hours have passed, and I'm glued to my seat. I glance at my watch, startled to see that two hours have flown by.

The film isn't even over yet, and you know what? I don't care. If it goes on for another hour, I'll sit here like an obedient hound, hanging on every word, every scene.

Because this story of a powerful family brought low by rival schemes? It hits close to home. Too close, perhaps. I see myself in Don Corleone, a man trying to navigate the treacherous waters of power and family.

The scene where Don Vito sets aside his bitterness towards the five families to stop a war... it's left me feeling conflicted. Rationally, I know it's the right move. But emotionally? There's a part of me that yearns for revenge, that wants to see the Don strike back at those who wronged him.

I find myself sighing again, and I'm not alone. All around me, I hear similar sounds of frustration and concern. None of us want to see this end in disappointment. We're all invested now, all hoping for... what? Justice? Revenge? Peace? I'm not even sure anymore.

What I do know is that this film has done something I never thought possible. It's made me, a human noble, empathize with a demon character. It's made me see past the horns and the red skin to the universal struggles of family, power, and morality.

As the film continues, I find myself on the edge of my seat, my business worries momentarily forgotten. Right now, all that matters is the fate of the Corleone family. Because in a strange way, it feels like my own fate hangs in the balance.

Though I hated seeing Don Corleone back down from revenge, I feel a glimmer of hope when Michael returns to Empirica, to Apple City. But my heart aches for him. Learning of his brother's death and losing Apollonia in that explosion... it's tragedy piled upon tragedy. It's enough to break anyone.

I'm amazed Michael hasn't lost his mind. In his shoes, I'd be consumed by hatred, driven mad by grief. But Michael... he's composed, eerily so. Yet beneath that calm exterior, I can see a controlled rage simmering. I'm not the only one noticing the change in the once enthusiastic Michael.

As the story progresses, Michael seems to grow more indifferent, especially after becoming the head of the Corleone family. Even with Kay, he's distant now.

Watching Moe Greene humiliate Michael and Fredo, I can see Michael containing himself, his eyes betraying a controlled anger. Even Moe notices, but he keeps pushing, mocking the once-powerful Corleone family.

Around me, I hear murmurs of discontent.

"Is it always going to be like this?" someone whispers.

Another voice chimes in, "Are we just wasting our time watching this fallen family get humiliated?"

"Do you believe that Sun God is the only God that cares for us all, no matter our race?"

Michael's calm reply sends chills down my spine: "I do."

Goosebumps ripple across my skin as we watch the Corleone men meticulously preparing, the baby's cries adding an eerie backdrop.

"Michael, do you renounce your ancestor, the evil lord?"

My eyes widen as the scenes unfold with brutal efficiency. A rival Don, laughing with his friends, is suddenly kicked by Peter and shot with an enhanced shotgun.

Michael's indifferent voice: "I do renounce him."

Moe Greene, relaxing during a massage, barely has time to put on his glasses before he's shot directly in the eyes.

"Holy Hellfire!" someone shouts, their voice a mix of shock and awe.

One by one, the Corleone enemies meet their ends. Don Tattaglia, caught in bed with a woman, is riddled with bullets from a Tommy guns.

"I do renounce them," Michael intones, as the massacre continues.

My heart is racing. This is it. This is the revenge we've been waiting for, executed with cold, ruthless precision.

The wolf demon, Don Barzini, tries to escape using a physical enhancement spell, but even that's not enough. He's cut down by a skilled shot from a police officer - clearly on the Corleone payroll.

Around me, the audience is in an uproar. Gone is the disappointment from earlier, replaced by a mix of shock, excitement, and grudging admiration.

"By the nine hells," the demon next to me whispers, "Michael's pulled it off."

An elf behind me can't contain her amazement: "The contrast... the baptism and the killings... it's horrifying and brilliant at the same time."

I find myself nodding in agreement. This scene, this juxtaposition of sacred ritual and calculated violence, is unlike anything I've ever seen in cinema.

As the baptism concludes and the last of the Corleone enemies falls, a hush falls over the theater. We're all trying to process what we've just witnessed.

Then, slowly, a wave of applause begins to build. It starts as a few scattered claps, then grows into a thunderous ovation.

I join in, my hands stinging from the force of my clapping.

As the applause continues, I can't help but marvel at the journey this film has taken us on. From despair to triumph, from powerlessness to calculated revenge. And at the center of it all, Michael Corleone, baptized in both water and blood.