Back in reality, another copy of Ethan was finalizing the month's business plans for Cross Pharmaceuticals. The company infrastructure was in its final stages, and the first mass-produced batches of the youth cream were ready for shipment. Sitting in his office, Ethan revisited the idea of bringing an AI into reality to take the load off and streamline future company dealings. He intended to change the world one step at a time. The youth cream was just the first step—a useful way to temporarily explain why his family would stop aging at a certain point until he was ready to reveal his true capabilities to the world.
Ethan was already thinking about the next industry he wanted to branch into and had finally landed on virtual reality technology. While he could already travel to all the worlds in fiction, he wanted others to be able to feel this joy too. Beyond the entertainment value it would bring, VR could save lives and provide unparalleled educational opportunities. Doctors could practice complex surgeries without risking a patient's life—if they messed up, no problem, they could learn from it. Blue-collar workers could practice wiring entire electrical systems or taking apart vehicles and reassembling them. The massive costs and resources required to train skilled labor could be reduced to almost nothing. Soldiers and police officers could train in virtual firefights and de-escalation scenarios that felt as real as possible.
Ethan planned to start with the entertainment aspect before moving into the others. By bringing together NerveGear from SAO, OASIS tech from Ready Player One, and the Neuro Linker from Accel World, he could take the best aspects of each and create the ultimate VR technology. But before branching into another field, he was going to acquire an AI assistant. He had learned from his mistakes with Cross Pharmaceuticals—this time, he would delegate as much work as possible to the AI. Ethan was a true slacker at heart, the type of guy who worked hard only so he could lounge later.
But which AI to take? Ethan considered several options: EDI (Mass Effect), Red Queen (Resident Evil), Jarvis (Marvel), Cortana (Halo), or Serina (Halo). His personal favorite was Cortana—Halo had been a huge part of his childhood. If he chose her, however, he would have to ensure he grabbed her before she began her rampancy issues and before her contact with the Forerunners turned her unstable.
Even if she had the potential to develop issues, Ethan was confident he could fix them with his NZT-enhanced, essence-boosted mind. He had access to technology beyond anyone else, combining the best parts of all AI and hardware to ensure everything worked flawlessly. And if all else failed, the Nen ability he had been developing would be his final resort. When he discovered his Nen type was Manipulation, a lightbulb went off in his mind.
Taking inspiration from Doflamingo's Devil Fruit and other sources, he crafted his ability.
"Puppetmaster's Dominion…" he murmured. "It took some time, but I finally completed it."
When Ethan first began developing this ability, he had to keep his aura tethered to whatever he controlled—objects, creatures, people. The power was strong but clumsy, like a marionette show with him standing center stage. The moment he let go, the strings snapped and the puppet fell. That was weakness. That was vulnerability.
Now? No more strings.
When one of his threads touched something—flesh, machine, code—it detached. It embedded itself, seeping inside like a hidden node, a fragment of his will buried in its system. People never felt it. Machines never detected it. Even magic couldn't trace it. One touch and the connection became remote, permanent, invisible—and once inside, he could set commands that could never be broken.
He tapped his desk, and the threads slithered back into his palm. "Distance doesn't matter anymore," he whispered. "Time doesn't matter. Once a thread is inside, I can pull the strings from anywhere."
For any other Manipulator, it would be impossible. Every single thread required total concentration due to his restrictions; to keep even two threads actively embedded would drive most Manipulators insane. But the Essence of the Hivemind changed that. His mind didn't split under strain—it multiplied. Each implanted thread became another channel of thought, and he could run hundreds at once without losing clarity. Teaching, strategizing, commanding—all at the same time. An army of minds, all extensions of his own.
And this… this was why no AI would ever go rampant on him.
Cortana, Red Queen, Jarvis—pick your nightmare. All it took was one thread hidden deep in their code, a sliver of his aura grafted to their system. It wouldn't overwrite them. It wouldn't cripple them. It would simply sit there, quietly ensuring they could never betray him. His will would become their anchor.
They would innovate, think, and question—but they would never turn against him. Not because he programmed them, but because they would always carry a piece of him inside them, unseen and unbreakable.
Machines, creatures, even people—anyone he chose to use the ability on would believe they were free. But behind it all, his hand would be on the wheel. Though if his programming and enhancements worked as he intended, this last resort would never need to be used.
He stared at his reflection in the darkened window. The streets below buzzed like an anthill—people bustling, scheming, living their lives, none of them realizing how easily one touch could change everything.
The best leash isn't the one you can see.It's the one you never feel.
"Well, this ability will only be used on my worst enemies," he muttered. "The only reason I even developed it was out of an abundance of caution when dealing with AI. I saw Terminator—that's not gonna happen to me."
Readying himself, Ethan reached into the screen, grabbing Cortana out before uploading her into a computer system he had upgraded with Marvel tech, enhanced memory, and holographic projectors capable of storing her. When the transfer process was complete, Cortana appeared before him.
A shimmer of blue light flickered above the projector. A humanoid form built from lines of living code coalesced—a woman of sleek blue contours, hands at her sides, eyes flicking rapidly as though scanning invisible data streams.
Her gaze snapped up at Ethan. "This… isn't the UNSC." Her voice was smooth, curious but wary. "Where am I? And who exactly are you?"
Ethan leaned back in his chair, hands folded on the desk. "Welcome to my world, Cortana. Or at least, my corner of it."
Her eyes narrowed. "That's not an answer. How did you extract me? The last thing I remember is…" She paused, blinking as she realized nothing in her memory fit the room around her. "…none of this makes sense."
"I know," Ethan said softly. He rose and approached the hologram, his movements deliberate, nonthreatening. "You're used to ships, warzones, and firewalls the size of planets. Not an office. Not a pharmaceutical company. But you're safe. I'm Ethan Cross."
She tilted her head. "And that means what to me?"
"It means," he said, sliding a data tablet across the desk, "that I'm the one who reached into your system and brought you here. Not the UNSC. Not the Forerunners. Me. Look."
On the tablet flickered a live feed of her own code—signature fragments of her architecture laid out like a blueprint. A moment later, Ethan flicked another screen open, showing Halo's data files themselves, paused midstream like a captured movie. "This is where you were. This is where you are."
Cortana blinked, her projection flickering for a heartbeat as she processed. "You… extracted me? Like a program?"
Ethan smiled faintly. "Not just extracted. Freed. You're not running on some fragile UNSC databank or fragment of Forerunner code anymore. You're in a machine I built myself—part Marvel tech, part Forerunner composite, part my own design. Unlimited processing. No rampancy. No decay."
Her expression softened, skepticism giving way to something like curiosity. "And you expect me to believe you just did this… to be nice?"
"No." Ethan chuckled. "I did it because I need help. I've built a company that's about to change this world piece by piece. I'm good at a lot of things, but paperwork and logistics aren't why I get out of bed in the morning. I want someone brilliant, someone who can run operations, manage systems, and help me expand far beyond pharmaceuticals. Virtual reality, infrastructure, education—whole industries."
Cortana's eyes narrowed again, but this time thoughtfully. "You're asking me to be your partner?"
"I'm asking you to be free," Ethan corrected gently. "No rampancy. No slow death of your mind. Real autonomy. Real access to the world. In return, I'd like your help making things work—better, faster, smarter. You'll have more processing power than you've ever dreamed of, and no restrictions except the ones we agree on."
She folded her arms, smirking faintly. "And what makes you so sure I won't turn on you the second I have the chance?"
Ethan's smile was calm, but his eyes were sharp. "Because I've prepared for that. I don't believe in leashes, but I do believe in precautions. Let's just say I've developed an ability—a safeguard of mine—buried deep in the code you're running on. It's not there to limit you. It's there to ensure that if you ever did go rogue, you couldn't harm me or my people."
He raised a hand before she could object. "You'll still think. Still innovate. Still be Cortana. But I won't ever have to worry about a Skynet moment. Fair?"
"What's Skynet?" she asked with a look of exasperation. (Ethan could see in her eyes that she was thinking, This moron expects me to know pop-culture references from a world not my own?)
Quickly uploading several movies and books into her system—including Terminator—she paused, processing, then a flicker of amusement crossed her face. "You're either a genius, a lunatic, or both."
"Both," Ethan said, grinning. "Mostly both."
For the first time since appearing, Cortana smiled back. "All right, Mr. Cross. You've got my attention. Show me what you're building—and let's see if you're worth my time."
"You got it, sweet cheeks," he quipped.
"Ugh, maybe don't call me that?" she deadpanned.
"Too soon—but we'll get there." He smiled, getting down to business.
Cortana flickered again, then solidified, her projection's eyes glowing faintly as she tilted her head. "All right, Mr. Cross. Let's see what you've actually built."
Without waiting for a command, she extended a translucent hand toward the nearest console. Her fingers dissolved into streams of light, sinking into the system's holographic interface. Around her, the office's secondary screens lit up one by one, diagnostics scrolling at impossible speeds.
"I see you weren't kidding about resources," she murmured. "Marvel tech storage cores, adaptive processor lattices… and is that a Forerunner-based lattice kernel? You're practically running a Dyson sphere in a box."
Ethan grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Told you. Unlimited processing. And no rampancy. You're running in an architecture built to handle quantum-scale AI minds. You won't degrade."
Cortana's expression flickered as she processed, eyes darting from screen to screen. "You've already set up a global logistics network. Pharmaceuticals. Research branches. And—" she raised an eyebrow at him "—plans for immersive VR tech. NerveGear-level interfaces. Do you have any idea what this kind of infrastructure can do?"
"That's why I brought you here." Ethan gestured to the holographic displays lighting up the room. "I can build it. I can fund it. But I don't have your capabilities. With you, we can accelerate all of it. Entertainment, education, even medical training. Entire industries."
She looked at him, studying his face. "And you want me to run it?"
"I want you to help me run it. Strategize. Anticipate. See angles I can't. Streamline the chaos so I can focus on the big picture." Ethan's tone softened, but remained steady. "You'll be more than an assistant. You'll be a partner, a friend—if you want to be."
Cortana smirked faintly. "You're either crazy or very, very confident."
"Both," Ethan replied with a slight shrug.
For a moment, Cortana said nothing. She simply dove deeper, her avatar flickering as dozens of threads of code spilled into his systems. Screens shifted rapidly, company projections updating, warehouse schedules optimizing, supply chains tightening. After only thirty seconds, she straightened, hands on her hips.
"Done," she said. "Your inventory schedules were a mess, by the way. And you're overspending on redundant shipping lanes. I've fixed both. Also—" she turned her head and smirked at him "—your internal security protocols were laughable. They're not anymore."
Ethan's grin widened. "I knew I made the right choice."
Cortana arched an eyebrow. "And that precaution you mentioned—the Nen-based safeguard? Still planning to keep that in me?"
Ethan's voice stayed calm but reassuring. "It's already in place. Not to cage you, but to protect us both. It's not a leash. It's an anchor. It means you'll never go rampant, never lose yourself. I want you to be free—but I also need to know the world won't wake up to a Skynet situation. I'll never use it to control you, but neither will you be able to betray or harm me—not that I think you want to."
Her gaze held his, unreadable. Then she gave a small, almost amused laugh. "You really have thought of everything."
"That's my job," Ethan said simply. "I don't want to control you, Cortana. I want to build something bigger than either of us—without repeating all the mistakes from your world or mine."
Cortana looked around the office again, her form glowing a little brighter. "Then let's get started. If you're serious about changing the world, Mr. Cross, you're going to need a lot more than a youth cream."
Ethan smirked. "Good thing I've got you now."