Note : Thank you Drokto for the support

    _________

    The world had barely had time to absorb the Kingdom of Macro''s announcement when the media waves flared up again. Images of the NOVA-1 processor and the holograms displayed during the press conference flooded news channels and social media.

    In the luxurious offices of the world''s largest semiconductor and technology companies, the announcement triggered a silent panic.

    Silicon Valley, United States – TechCore International Headquarters

    TechCore''s CEO, Richard Hensley, a man in his fifties with a perfectly tailored suit, paced nervously around the conference room. Around him, board members and lead engineers scrutinized the schematics projected on the massive screen.

    "This is a hoax" declared one of the engineers. "No one can create a processor with such a high circuit density. It''s scientifically impossible."

    Richard turned abruptly.

    "Impossible? Did you see the performance? The tests they showed were real. We''ve got nothing that even comes close, and you know it."

    A heavy silence fell over the room.

    "And what if they''re telling the truth..." murmured another executive. "If they''ve really developed a room-temperature superconductor, then our entire business model collapses. Our patents become obsolete overnight."

    Richard slammed his fist on the table.

    "Unacceptable! We''ve invested billions to maintain our monopoly. We control 80% of the global market! If this NOVA-1 hits the market, it will obliterate our entire supply chain."

    A legal advisor spoke up.

    "We can attack legally. Demand an in-depth analysis of their technology. If it violates existing patents, we can block its distribution."

    "And if they really bypassed our patents?" Richard replied, his eyes dark. "We can''t afford to wait. This isn''t just a commercial battle. It''s a threat to our country."

    He turned to a national security advisor connected via video call.

    "What about Washington? What is the government doing?"

    The advisor sighed.

    "The White House is on high alert. They''re evaluating the possibility of imposing sanctions against the Kingdom of Macro. But there''s a problem..."

    "What is it?"

    "They have Mr. X."

    A chilling silence fell.

    "That man isn''t just an inventor. He''s a weapon."

    Richard sank into his chair, his gaze fixed on the screen.

    "Then he needs to be neutralized, one way or another."

    ---

    Moscow, Russia – Voltek Industries Headquarters

    In an office adorned with marble and gold, Voltek Industries'' CEO, Dmitri Ivanov, watched the recording of the press conference. Around him, military and economic advisors debated loudly.

    "This NOVA-1 ends America''s technological dominance" Ivanov declared, setting his glass down on the desk. "But it''s not a threat to us. It''s an opportunity."

    A military advisor raised an eyebrow.

    "You really think they''ll share this technology? They''ll never sell us a processor this advanced."

    Ivanov smiled.

    "Maybe not. But if we offer them a strategic partnership against U.S. sanctions? We have the energy resources and military expertise they''ll need. In exchange, we demand access to their technology."

    Another advisor interrupted.

    "And if that fails? What if the Americans succeed in pressuring Macro and Mr. X?"

    [A tyrant? I''d say more like a final boss in a video game. They''ve even made memes of you sitting on a flaming throne with a crown made of circuit boards. You''re famous.]

    Lassen nodded, amused.

    "Famous, huh? That wasn''t exactly the plan. I just wanted to read my books in peace and let the world keep turning."

    [Yes, and now instead of turning, the world trembles every time you sneeze. Congratulations.]

    Lassen walked over to his desk and pulled up a hologram of Elias working on an upgraded version of NOVA-1.

    "Do you think Elias ever sleeps?"

    [Would you doubt the abilities of your summoned genius? He''s programmed to work. You, on the other hand, are programmed to do nothing. A masterpiece.]

    "It''s my talent, and I own it."

    Lassen glanced at one of the reports still open on his screen.

    "By the way, can you remind me why the CIA thinks they can hack my systems when I literally designed you to humiliate them?"

    [They sent four hacking teams this morning. Do you want the logs or a summary?]

    "Summary."

    [Three cried at their keyboards, and one tried shutting down his computer to stop the alerts. Spoiler: it didn''t work.]

    "And now?"

    [They''ve sent an official request for a technological alliance. Apparently, threats weren''t enough, so now they''re trying flattery. Should I respond?]

    "I think we''ll make them wait. Can you send an automatic reply?"

    [Already prepared: ''Your request has been received and will be processed within the next 200 years. Sincerely, M. X.'']

    "Perfect."

    Lassen dropped into his chair and grabbed another book from his table.

    "You know, sometimes I wonder what would''ve happened if I''d never used NOVA-1. If I''d never retaliated against Geria."

    [You''d probably be dead. Or worse, stuck working in an office for a boss who criticizes you for being two minutes late. Is that what you want?]

    "I think I prefer being a tyrant, after all."

    The system beeped.

    [I have an alert. The United States just added your name to their ''watch list.'' Do you want me to send them a little gift?]

    "What kind of gift?"

    [A show of force. Maybe temporarily disable their satellites? Or send them a bill for their excessive use of spy networks?]

    "Not yet. Let them sweat a little. If you really want to do something, cut off their Netflix access for an hour."

    [Brutal. I like it.]

    Lassen laughed and flipped a page in his book, finally feeling relaxed despite the chaos brewing beyond the walls of his villa.

    [By the way, I''ve detected a group of Chinese researchers trying to recreate NOVA-1 using blurry photos taken during the press conference. Want to send them a note of encouragement?]

    "Yeah. Write: ''Good luck. You might be done by the end of the century.'' And add a smiley face."

    [Message sent. You''re evil.]

    "I''m realistic."

    He leaned back in his chair, watching the updates scroll across his screens. The world was still scrambling to deal with what he had unleashed, but for now, Lassen could savor this rare moment of calm.

    [Enjoy this moment, Host. At this rate, the next crisis is probably already brewing.]

    "I''m ready. But for now... let me finish my book."

    And in that fragile calm, Lassen found a semblance of normalcy—at least, for a few hours.