The financial annihilation of the Project Chimera cabal began at 9:00 AM New York time, orchestrated from a bunker three hundred feet beneath the earth.
David stood behind Marcus Cole in the Bastion's Command Center, watching the wall of monitors awash in red. The Phantom Fund—David's untraceable financial weapon utilizing the Orion Satellite Network—had executed a synchronized, massive short-sell operation against the global silver futures market.
Marcus was conducting the symphony of destruction with manic precision.
"The trap is sprung, Mr. David. The Chimera group, specifically the shell companies owned by Blackguard's primary financiers, was heavily leveraged in silver futures to hedge against the impending energy market crash they planned to cause. We just dumped $500 million worth of phantom liquidity into the market. The price of silver is collapsing."
On the screen, the graph for silver futures didn't just dip; it cliff-dived.
"Current losses for the Blackguard cabal estimated at four billion dollars and climbing," Marcus reported, his voice trembling with the thrill of the kill. "Margin calls are triggering across the board. The Sovereign Wealth Fund of Zurich just liquidated their position. The chaotic selling is feeding itself. We are bleeding them dry."
David watched the numbers fall. It wasn't about the profit—though the cashback from his initial injection was substantial—it was about removing the enemy's capacity to wage war. Wars cost money. Mercenaries cost money. By noon, Blackguard's backers would be struggling to pay their electric bills, let alone fund a global coup.
"Keep the pressure on, Marcus. Don't let them breathe. If they try to liquify other assets to cover the margin calls, short those too. I want them panicked."
The Supply Chain Blockade
While the financial war raged, the technological war hit a snag. Dr. Vivian Zhou entered the Command Center, holding a bulky, metallic wrist-guard that looked like a piece of futuristic armor.
"Mr. David, the Quantum Field Emitter prototype is functional, but we have a critical supply chain failure," Vivian announced, looking frustrated. "The emitter requires a core of Ultra-Pure Tantalum Carbide to stabilize the tachyon field. Without it, the device burns out after three seconds of usage."
"Order it," David said simply. "Money is not an issue."
"I tried. That's the problem," Vivian replied, pulling up a logistics map. "Blackguard has realized we are bleeding them. They can't stop your money, so they're stopping the materials. They've issued a 'National Security Hold' on all Tantalum shipments in North America and Europe. Every supplier has been locked down by the Department of Defense, likely under Blackguard's influence. We are blockaded."
David studied the map. The red zones of the blockade covered every major industrial port. Blackguard was trying to starve Aero Corp of the resources needed to build the very weapons that could defeat them.
"They think they can choke us out," David said, his eyes narrowing. "They forget that everything has a price. If I can't buy it through the front door, I'll buy the door."
He turned to Marcus. "Find me a source outside of their jurisdiction. Somewhere the Department of Defense has no authority."
Marcus's fingers flew across the keyboard, accessing the dark web markets and grey-zone trade manifests via the Orion Network.
"There is one," Marcus said after a minute. "The Geneva Freeport Authority is holding an emergency liquidation auction tonight. It's a 'Blind Lot' seizure from a defunct Russian mining oligarch. The manifest lists five tons of raw industrial materials, including high-grade Tantalum. It's in international territory. Blackguard can't seize it legally, but…"
"But they will be there to buy it," David finished. "And they will bring their checkbook."
David stood up, the Nanobots humming beneath his skin.
"Prepare the jet. I'm going to Geneva. And Vivian, give me the prototype Emitter. Three seconds of shielding is better than zero."
The Geneva Showdown
The Geneva Freeport was a fortress of commerce, a tax-free zone where the world's billionaires stored art, gold, and secrets. The auction was held in a secure, underground amphitheater, populated by arms dealers, warlords, and corporate proxies.
David entered wearing a bespoke suit, the bulky Emitter hidden beneath his cuff, looking like a heavy luxury watch. He walked with the confidence of a man who owned the very ground beneath his feet.
He spotted his opposition immediately. Sitting in the front row was Julian Sterling, a high-ranking executive of Blackguard Industries. Sterling was slick, dangerous, and flanked by two bodyguards who moved with the stiffness of enhanced soldiers.
Sterling saw David and sneered, whispering something to his aide. They clearly hadn't expected the CEO of Aero Corp to show up in person.
The auctioneer began. "Lot 45. Five tons of mixed industrial rare earth metals. Including refined Tantalum and Neodymium. Bidding starts at ten million dollars."
"Twenty million," Sterling called out instantly, not even looking at the crowd. He wanted to end this quickly.
David raised his paddle. "Fifty million."
A gasp ran through the room. A thirty-million-dollar jump was aggressive.
Sterling turned, his eyes cold. He raised his paddle. "Sixty million."
"One hundred million," David countered without hesitation.
Sterling stiffened. He stood up, buttoning his jacket, and turned to face David directly. "Mr. David, this is a waste of capital. Blackguard has unlimited resources for this acquisition. You are merely driving up the price of your own defeat. One hundred and ten million."
David smiled, a predatory expression that unsettled the room. "Unlimited resources? Your backers lost four billion dollars this morning in the silver market, Mr. Sterling. I suspect your credit line is... strained. Two hundred million."
The room erupted in whispers. Two hundred million for a pile of raw metal was insanity. It was ten times the market value.
Sterling's face flushed red. He grabbed his phone, likely dialing his superiors to authorize more funds. He shouted into the receiver, sweat beading on his forehead. He slammed the phone down and glared at David.
"Two hundred and ten million! This is the limit of sanity!" Sterling roared.
David didn't even blink. He tapped his earpiece, connecting to Marcus back at the Bastion. "Marcus, execute the transfer."
David looked at the auctioneer. "Three hundred million dollars. And I will pay the transfer fees."
Silence. Absolute, crushing silence.
Sterling's paddle dropped. He couldn't match it. The Blackguard accounts were frozen or drained. He stared at David with pure, unadulterated hatred.
"Sold! To the gentleman in the black suit for three hundred million!"
[DING! High-Value Purchase Completed. You spent $300,000,000. Cashback Multiplier Triggered: 2x!][You have received $600,000,000.00 cash back. Current Balance: $1,555,000,023.90.]
David had not only secured the materials to build an army of Emitters; he had publicly humiliated Blackguard on the global stage.
The Assassin's Bullet
David didn't stay to socialize. He signed the digital transfer and walked straight toward the exit, his senses on high alert. Sterling was gone. The bodyguards were gone.
They won't let me leave with the Tantalum, David realized. The auction was the civilized part. Now comes the wet work.
He stepped out into the cool Swiss night air, heading toward his waiting armored limousine. The Freeport loading dock was quiet—too quiet.
His Nanobot-enhanced perception screamed a warning. A micro-shift in air pressure. A glint of light on a rooftop half a mile away.
Sniper.
David didn't dive. He didn't run. There was no time. The bullet, a .50 caliber armor-piercing round traveling at supersonic speed, was already in the air.
David raised his left wrist, triggering the experimental Quantum Field Emitter.
"Activate."
The device hummed with a sound that wasn't sound—a vibration in the fabric of reality. A shimmering, distorted sphere of translucent energy erupted around David, lasting only for the designated three seconds.
The air in front of David rippled like water disturbed by a stone.
The .50 caliber bullet slammed into the Tachyon field three feet from David's chest.
It didn't ricochet. It didn't stop. It simply... displaced.
The bullet vanished from its trajectory and reappeared ten feet behind David, slamming harmlessly into the concrete pavement with a deafening crack. The kinetic energy was conserved, but the spatial coordinates had been rewritten.
The shield flickered and died, the prototype's battery drained.
David stood unharmed, brushing a speck of dust from his lapel. He looked up at the distant rooftop where the assassin lay confused, likely wondering how his perfect shot had missed.
David tapped his comms. "Marcus, I'm bringing the Tantalum home. And add 'Geneva Freeport Security' to the list of companies we are going to bankrupt tomorrow."
The Half-Billion Milestone
As the limousine sped toward the private airstrip, the System chimed again, tallying the massive expenditure of the auction combined with the earlier financial warfare injection.
[DING! Spending Milestone Reached! Total accumulated spending of over $500,000,000!][Level Up! Host is now a Level 7 Industrial Overlord.][Tier 5 Technology Unlocked: [Sentient AI Construction Core Blueprint]]
David leaned back in the leather seat, closing his eyes.
A Sentient AI Construction Core.
This wasn't just an upgrade. This was the endgame. With the Nanobots, he was invincible. With the Emitter, he was shielded. With the Tantalum, he could mass-produce that shield.
But with a Sentient AI capable of self-directing construction, he didn't need to hire contractors or wait for permits. He could build the Aero Corp Global Headquarters—a fortress city—in weeks, not years. He could build a drone fleet to rival Blackguard's.
Blackguard wanted a war of attrition? David was about to introduce them to exponential industrial growth.
"System," David whispered. "Show me the build requirements for the AI Core."
The war was about to leave the shadows and enter the age of machines.