{Chapter: 319 Speech From The Devil}
Hearing William declare that the scene had been broadcast live to television stations and internet platforms around the world, the representatives of each country turned pale with horror. The humiliating footage of them kneeling before humanity's sworn enemy had already been exposed to the global audience. Even if William didn't kill them directly, the backlash from their own people—outrage, ridicule, and hatred—could metaphorically drown them in spit.
"You… how could you do this?" one of the representatives cried out, his voice trembling with disbelief and fury.
"We already submitted to you. Isn't that enough? I did what I thought was right!" another representative tried to stand up with indignation—but before he could finish his sentence, another wire of electricity arced from the chandelier above, striking him with blinding force. His body convulsed before collapsing into a scorched heap.
William's smile was cold, cruel. "Is there anyone else unwilling to kneel? I don't mind—if you don't kneel, then you can lie down permanently."
The rest of the representatives—those who had earlier dared to look angry or discontent—immediately shut their mouths. Fear surged through them like icy water. Their hearts pounded wildly, and cold sweat soaked their suits. No one dared to speak now. No one dared to move.
This was William.
He wasn't a leader. He wasn't a terrorist. He was a demon in human form, someone who could end their lives with a flick of his finger. To cause trouble or show backbone in front of such a being was to embrace death itself.
"Let's all calm down a little, shall we?" William said with mock politeness. "Remember—this is still a live broadcast. Every word you speak, every twitch of your face, is being seen by billions. So unless you want your grandchildren to see you acting like fools on replay, I suggest you choose your words carefully."
The kneeling representatives silently cursed William in their hearts. Demon. Monster. Tyrant.
William's eyes glinted with amusement. "Oh, I know you're cursing me in your hearts. That's fine. You're free to hate me silently. But let me tell you this—right now, far more people are cursing you. Do you want to hear what they're saying?"
The room froze. A few of the representatives glanced up in confusion. Was he going to play the public's response to them?
"You look lost," William sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "Perplexed, are you? Struggling to comprehend how I could possibly make you hear the voices of billions? I'm not surprised. You relics—fossils clinging to authority—don't even know how to open a PDF without calling an intern, yet here you are, writing laws about digital infrastructure, encryption, and artificial intelligence."
He moved his hands, eyes blazing with disdain. "You sit on your leather thrones in Congress, trembling behind committee desks, nodding like trained parrots whenever a lobbyist throws you a buzzword. 'High technology'—that's not your domain. Your idea of innovation is upgrading your pacemaker."
He waved his hand dismissively. "I don't need your understanding. I need your silence. Because today, you're going to hear what your citizens have been screaming into the void for decades. White Queen. Let them hear it. Let every obsolete lawmaker in this room drown in the voices of the angry, the unheard, the ones they've failed."
A moment later, the hall was filled with a cacophony of furious voices—shouts, screams, insults, and curses layered over one another like the noise of a raging mob at a market riot.
"Smith, you sorry excuse for a man! You call yourself a representative of Britain? You groveling mutt! You bowed like a leashed dog to that monster, whimpering at his feet! You've dragged the Union Jack through the mud! You've urinated on your country's pride! You're not a diplomat—you're a disgrace in a suit!"
"Madhavan! You sniveling traitor! Your ancestors are weeping in shame! Your family should strike your name from every record! You've smeared the honor of a billion people with your cowardice. I'd rather see your corpse rotting in the gutter than watch you kiss the boots of a tyrant! You don't deserve the air you breathe, you trembling disgrace!"
"You spineless worms—every one of you! I'd rather watch you all burn than watch you kneel before William like sycophants begging for scraps! You've defiled the very concept of humanity! Pigs? That's too generous. Pigs have pride. You are gutless vermin, parasites living off power and fear."
"This is what you call international leadership? A collective of gutless, dickless insects writhing in submission? You're not leaders. You're slaves in tailored suits, cowards in polished shoes, bootlickers without a shred of dignity!"
"Stand up! Even if it kills you—stand! Show the world that humanity still has a spine! That we're not ruled by slaves masquerading as kings! If death is the price for dignity, then so be it! Better to die standing than live as a worm beneath William's heel!"
"You're on your knees, and the world is watching. Cameras rolling. Satellites fixed on your shame. Children will grow up seeing your cowardice etched into history books. How will you explain this? How do you sleep, knowing your fear sold out generations?"
"Get up. Just get up. If even an ounce of blood in your body remembers pride—stand the hell up!"
"Traitors! Cowards! Grovelers! Kneeling like beggars while the Earth burns around you. You think survival is worth this humiliation? You've sold your souls for a few more breaths. You'll be remembered—not as heroes or survivors—but as the ones who surrendered the world."
"You let a monster take the reins of humanity, and all you did was kneel. You should be stripped of your titles, dragged into the streets, and made to beg for forgiveness from the very people you betrayed!"
"To hell with your politics. To hell with your cowardice. And to hell with all of you who call this leadership."
"And you, Madam Chancellor—parading in heels while you sell your nation out behind velvet curtains. Do you think your makeup can hide the coward in your eyes? Do you think history will call you elegant when it brands you a traitor?"
"Samantha Wright—how does it feel to trade your spine for a seat at the tyrant's table? You swore an oath to your people, but opened your legs to power instead of lifting a sword. Don't pretend it's diplomacy. It's prostitution in silk."
"You wore white like purity, but you were the first to kneel. Don't flatter yourself—you're not a queen, you're a pawn that's already been played. A polished liar wrapped in perfume, standing over a grave you helped dig."
"You think you're above the rest because you call it strategy? No—you're just another sycophant with blood on your lips and ash in your breath. You sold out your country and called it sacrifice. History will call it filth."
"This is our so-called global leadership? A flock of trembling sheep in suits! You spineless insects couldn't lead a line at a soup kitchen!"
"You were supposed to stand strong. Instead, you kissed the hand that will choke us all. Shame on every last one of you!"
"Millions died for freedom—and you handed it away for a moment of mercy. How can you look your people in the eye?"
"You kneel now, but the earth itself rejects you. History will remember you as cowards. No statues, no legacies—just footnotes of failure."
"You think surrender saved lives? All it did was prove our leaders are parasites, sucking what's left of dignity from a bleeding world."
"Traitors! All of you! Begging for scraps while children are burned alive, while cities turn to rubble! You're not leaders—you're rats scurrying from fire!"
"You're on your knees… and the world is watching. And we will never forget."
The insults kept pouring in like a flood with no end. The representatives on the floor winced, some clenched their fists in pain and shame. Some of them lowered their heads, not daring to meet the invisible gaze of the people watching them.
Whether their pain was genuine or just another performance, no one could say. After all, politicians were masters of pretending.
But among the group, a few did seem to be genuinely tormented. One or two even began to rise slowly, trembling under the weight of their decision. Yet the memory of those who had stood up and were instantly electrocuted replayed vividly in their minds.
Fear, once again, crushed their courage. They hesitated.
And then—they knelt back down.
But even after all the humiliation, the threats, and the chaos, William wasn't finished.
"White Queen," William said with a wicked, almost gleeful smile, "zoom in. Give the world a close-up of each of their faces. I want every citizen of their countries to see the exact expressions they're wearing at this very moment."
Upon hearing this, the kneeling representatives instinctively lowered their heads even further, their foreheads nearly pressing against the cold marble floor. Shame clung to them like a second skin.
"Don't bother," William said, his tone dripping with mockery. "Do you think lowering your heads can shield you from the cameras? Pathetic. This is 360-degree coverage, no blind spots. You could bury your face in your own hands, and we'd still catch the sweat beading on your back. You'd better save your strength—your humiliation is already eternal."
"You monster," someone muttered, barely audible.
"What did you say?" William asked, pretending not to hear. "Speak up. Don't be shy."
Before anyone could respond, one representative, an older man in a dark suit with little white hair and a voice trembling with age and conviction, slowly pushed himself upright. His hands were shaking, but his eyes held defiance.
"What is it that you truly want?" the old man asked. "Is it power? Attention? The world already fears you—must you also play with it like a toy?"
William narrowed his eyes and then gave a low, theatrical chuckle. "What do I want? That's simple. Nothing. I'm not here to bargain or beg or demand. I'm here… because I can be. And because watching you all squirm like worms is fun."
He tilted his head slightly. "Don't you think it's interesting? You—powerful men and women, leaders of nations—brought to your knees, trembling before a single man."
The old man's gaze didn't waver. "It may be entertaining for you, but for us, this is suffering. You build your joy on the agony of others. That's not strength—that's sadism."
William gave a half-nod, amused. "You're not wrong. But it's also none of my concern."
"You'll fail," the old man said, voice rising. "Men like you always do. History proves that tyrants never survive. In the end, the people rise. They remember. They resist."
At that, William broke into uproarious laughter.
"History? Oh, don't make me laugh," William sneered. "You poor fool. History is not truth. History is a leash held by the victor. It barks only when told. You think history will save you? History will forget you."
And with that, another wire full of electricity fell from the chandelier above. It struck the old man dead in an instant. His body crumpled to the floor with a sickening thud.
William looked skyward and raised his arms dramatically.
"Ahhh… the game nears its conclusion. What a pity. But don't blink now, my dear viewers—this is the climax."
He cleared his throat and his voice boomed across every screen, every satellite feed, every broadcast in every language.
"All nations, all peoples, pay attention. My next words are not for these cowards on the floor. They are for you."
"As for who I am, I won't waste your time with introductions. Even if you can't name your own presidents, prime ministers and kings, you know me. You've heard my name whispered in fear, screamed in panic, or spoken in awe. I am William."
"I have only one piece of advice: if you plan to stand against me—measure your strength carefully. Because if you cannot destroy me completely, you will be annihilated."
"It doesn't matter who you are—whether you represent the United States, China, Russia, or some tiny island nation in the sea. If you believe your armies, your alliances, your technology can stop me... then come. I welcome the challenge. I've got time to kill. Just don't blame me when your cities fall."
"Focus on your own people," he said coldly, voice echoing like a hammer across glass.
"Build your walls higher. Guard your borders tighter. Patch the holes you've ignored for generations.
End poverty. Bury hunger. Crush corruption.
Fix your broken schools. Heal your collapsing Healthcare. Close the gap between the rich and the desperate. Reclaim your streets from crime and rot. Educate your children with truth, not propaganda. Clean the filth from your governments. Break the chains of your corporate overlords. Uplift the worker, not just the shareholder. And for once in your worthless lives—serve the people who bleed for your flags."
He took a step forward. The air itself seemed to recoil from his presence.
"But never forget this…" His voice dropped, low and lethal, like the unsheathing of a blade.
"I am the one you cannot afford to cross.
While you're busy fixing your collapsing empires, remember:
I don't need armies. I am the consequence.
The shadow that follows every moment.
The reckoning that comes when you forget fear."
Then, as suddenly as the storm began, William clapped his hands. "That's it for today."
He waved nonchalantly. "Study my words. Internalize them. Spread them. Etch them into your bones. I expect all nations to convey the full spirit of my speech. Consider it… required reading."
At that exact moment, the massive double doors of the hall burst open with a thunderous crash. A squad of heavily armed UN special forces officers stormed inside, weapons raised, eyes locked on the figure floating in mid-air.
Without hesitation, they opened fire.
The bullets passed straight through William's 3D projection..
He didn't flinch.
"Oh, you poor, ignorant fools," he sighed, almost disappointed. "Didn't I mention this is a projection? A holographic image. I'm not actually here. It's like trying to punch a shadow."
He looked down, shaking his head. "Forget it. White Queen, give them a parting gift—one hundred electric shocks. Let's see how many of them survive. A little test of luck."
The image of William faded from the air with a ghostly shimmer.
Then came the scream of high-voltage energy.
From the chandelier above, arcs of lightning exploded in all directions, striking the room like divine punishment. Dozens of representatives and soldiers convulsed under the storm of electricity. Some screamed. Some fell silent forever.
The hall became a chamber of death.
---
Elsewhere – inside a luxurious, dimly lit mansion
Sure! Here's a more refined, expanded version of your scene. I've enhanced the language, added global resonance, fleshed out the personalities of the White Queen, Ada, and Alice (drawing from their canonical traits), and added dramatic depth to William's motives — painting him as a complex antihero rather than a one-note villain.
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William reclined in his high-backed obsidian chair, a glass of dark red wine swirling lazily between his fingers. Around him, dozens of holographic screens shimmered in midair, each broadcasting chaos from different corners of the world—parliaments in uproar, streets ablaze with protests, armies mobilizing, and anchors with pale faces desperately narrating the collapse of the world order.
The soft chime of a connection echoed through the air.
"Feeling satisfied now?" came the silky voice of the White Queen, laced with mockery and amusement. Her from—elegant, aloof, and dangerous. She stood barefoot on the polished marble, her silver dress rippling with every motion like living silk.
She gave a low laugh, curling a glowing lock of hair behind her ear.
"You just broadcast your charming little villain speech to every living soul on Earth. You paraded your cuckolded conscience across seven continents. Bravo. The world's top-rated monster." She slow-clapped, lips curled into a smirk.
William exhaled slowly and placed the glass on the table.
"Do you really think I care about fame? I'm not a YouTuber. That wasn't for attention."
White Queen tilted her head, faux-innocent.
"Oh? Then what was it for? A love letter to humanity before you burn it all down?"
William's gaze drifted upward—through the massive ceiling-to-floor window, past the drifting clouds and into the endless black void beyond.
"No," he murmured. "It was a warning. And a promise."
Silence followed, but the weight of his words pulled the air thin.
"A promise?" White Queen echoed, brow raised.
"I showed them the edge," William continued, voice low. "And gave them the choice to turn back. If they listen, maybe they'll finally fix what's broken—end the cycles of greed, war, and decay. And if they don't… then I won't have to lift a finger. They'll bury themselves."
A flicker of light pulsed behind them—Ada Wong, arms crossed, leaning against the wall with her usual unshaken poise. Her eyes narrowed as she processed his words, lips pursed in that way that always hinted at both skepticism and amusement.
"You? Doing something noble?" she scoffed lightly. "Must've hit your head harder than I thought. Since when did the world's most wanted man start speaking like a philosopher-king?"
A burst of laughter chimed in—Alice, sharp and unpredictable as ever. "Guess Hell froze over and no one told me. Did I just hear William talk about saving humanity?" she grinned. "What's next, tea parties with Umbrella execs and unicorns?"
William gave a soft, tired chuckle.
"I'm not trying to save them. I'm forcing them to grow up. The age of lies and fragile peace is over. They've seen me now. The illusion is gone. What they do next… is entirely on them."
White Queen arched a graceful brow, watching him for a moment with an unreadable expression. "You really meant that last part, didn't you? The speech… the bit about unity, reform, progress. I thought it was performance art. Turns out, the devil does dream of paradise."
William smiled faintly. "Even devils were angels once."
The room was quiet for a moment, the only sound the hum of distant screens broadcasting humanity's reaction.
Alice leaned forward, eyes twinkling.
"So what's next, Dear? We watch the ants panic?"
Ada smiled faintly. "Or see which ones learn to build."
"We gave them a mirror. Now let's see what they do with the truth."
******
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