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The Vortex Thunderbolt sliced through the evening traffic of Nova Prime with predatory elegance, its engine's throaty rumble harmonizing with the city's awakening nightlife. Neon lights from towering billboards reflected off the obsidian bodywork in streaks of crimson and azure, painting the interior in shifting glows that danced across the holographic dashboard. Ethan Voss gripped the wheel lightly, god-level mastery making the drive an extension of thought—effortless weaves through stacked hover-lanes, anticipatory adjustments to flow. The Azure River glimmered to his left, luxury yachts lit like floating palaces, their decks alive with elite gatherings under string lights. Scents filtered through the vents: briny river air mixed with gourmet aromas from riverside eateries—seared exotic meats, spiced infusions, decadent desserts crafted by master chefs.
His shopping spree had been a revelation—billions dispensed across Elysian Couture, Celestial Gems, and Nexus Horizon, each purchase a brick in the foundation of his new reality. Wardrobe reborn in luxury fabrics, wrists and family adorned with gems eclipsing stars, devices now quantum-powered tools for empire-building. Face-slaps delivered to doubting second-generations, their arrogance crumbling under the weight of his unlimited black card. Satisfaction thrummed deep, but hunger stirred again—not just physical, but for progression. The Supreme Tycoon System's gifts were unfolding, and the call buzzing on his temporary phone felt like the next thread.
The screen lit: incoming from an executive line, prefix tracing to Celestial Fiction Hub's corporate headquarters. The voice message preview: "Mr. Voss? This is Director Harlan from Celestial Fiction Hub Legal Affairs. Urgent matter regarding share transfer and author contract verification for pseudonym 'Apex Sovereign.' Please respond at your earliest convenience."
Ethan's lips curved into a predatory grin. The system had materialized the 51% shares overnight, but real-world integration demanded steps—verifications, meetings, assertions of control. In Auroria, Celestial Fiction Hub wasn't merely a platform; it was an entertainment colossus. Founded two decades ago amid the web novel boom, it had grown into the undisputed leader: billions of daily active users across the globe, serialized stories fueling a multi-trillion industry through subscriptions, virtual gifts, adaptations into holovids, games, merchandise empires. Headquarters a landmark tower in Nova Prime's tech district—sleek spire of glass and neural circuits, symbol of digital dominance. Authors gods among readers, top earners tycoons in their own right. And he—Apex Sovereign—its hidden supreme deity, now majority owner.
"Accept call," he commanded via the Thunderbolt's synced interface, voice routing through premium speakers.
"Mr. Voss?" A polished male voice, mid-forties, cautious deference. "Director Elias Harlan speaking, Head of Legal and Author Relations at Celestial Fiction Hub. Thank you for taking my call."
"Speaking," Ethan replied calmly, accelerating onto a riverside expressway. Wind rushed subtly, city lights blurring.
"Excellent. We're contacting regarding a significant share transfer registered overnight—51% controlling interest to your name. Additionally, internal audits flagged massive unfrozen royalties linked to the account of our top author, Apex Sovereign. The amounts... extraordinary. We need verification to proceed with disbursements and governance protocols."
Straight to business—protocol masking underlying shock. 51% wasn't a minor stake; it flipped control. Board seats, strategy vetoes, CEO influence—all his.
"Understood," Ethan said. "The transfer is legitimate. As for Apex Sovereign... that's me."
Silence stretched—seconds feeling eternal. Then: "You... personally? Sir, Apex Sovereign's identity has been anonymous since debut. Output legendary, records shattered. If true, this aligns holdings, but we require in-person confirmation. Biometrics, contract originals. Headquarters tomorrow? I'll arrange top clearance."
Ethan considered. Penthouse deliveries incoming, family thoughts lingering—but momentum called. Claim the throne now.
"Today," he countered. "Evening. Prepare the boardroom."
Harlan hesitated briefly—sensing authority shift—then acquiesced. "Of course, sir. VIP access. I'll notify Chairwoman Vossler and key executives."
Call ended. Ethan laughed softly. Chairwoman Vossler—fictional stand-in for original's exec, sharp businesswoman in her fifties, built the platform from startup to empire.
Destination rerouted: Celestial Fiction Hub Tower. Tech district loomed ahead—cluster of innovative spires, neural light displays pulsing data flows, drone traffic dense with corporate shuttles.
Arrival swift. Tower base: massive atrium with holographic waterfalls of scrolling chapter previews, reader statues immortalizing fan-favorites, walls etched with quotes from classics (many his transcribed masterpieces). Security scanned the Thunderbolt—priority override from Harlan's prep—valet taking over.
Ethan entered lobby—vast, echoing, air scented with subtle digital freshness. Receptionists in sleek uniforms gawked subtly at his physique, presence.
"Mr. Voss," a poised assistant greeted immediately—young woman, professional smile. "This way. Executives assembled."
Private elevator—biometric express to penthouse boardroom. Ascent smooth, views expanding to panoramic tech district.
Doors opened to opulence: massive oval table of rare woods, holographic projectors dormant, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Nova Prime's glittering expanse. Seated: half-dozen executives—Chairwoman Vossler central, silver-haired authority; Harlan beside; finance heads, legal, operations. All risen respectfully.
"Mr. Voss," Vossler extended hand—firm grip, eyes appraising. "Extraordinary developments. Please."
Ethan sat at head—subtle power move, unopposed. Verifications began: share certificates scanned, biometrics matched system records, pseudonym contract linked via old bonuses.
Confirmation cascaded: "Valid. 51% confirmed."
Atmosphere shifted—deference deepening. Whispers of awe: Apex Sovereign in flesh, young, perfected aura.
Vossler leaned forward. "Sir, this redefines our trajectory. Your works—cornerstone of our success. Royalties alone: over 10 billion unfrozen, plus ongoing. Adaptations pending billions more."
Holographics activated: breakdowns—subscription revenues, gift explosions during cliffs, IP values.
Ethan nodded. "Disburse fully. No holds."
Harlan: "Immediately, sir."
Then—strategy. "As majority, your vision?"
"Expansion," Ethan stated. "Global reach deeper. Creator tools enhanced—AI assists ethical. Live integration stronger—streaming synergies."
Nods enthusiastic. Ideas flowed—his input guiding.
Meeting wrapped: new title unspoken but clear—Shadow Emperor.
Escorted out amid bows, assistant slipping contact: "For any needs, sir."
Thunderbolt returned, Ethan drove homeward—penthouse lights welcoming.
Phone buzzed again: family? No—new alert. System?
No. Reader forums exploding: Apex Sovereign hints at return?
Empire's pulse quickened.
Night deepened, Nova Prime alive—his reign beginning.
(Word count: approximately ----)