--Chapter 3: Floodgates of Fortune! Half a Billion Aurum Unleashed and the Phantom Sovereign's First Command--
The Vortex Phantom 488 surged onto the coastal boulevard of Aetheron Bay like a living shadow breaking free from the underworld, its matte obsidian chassis absorbing the golden morning light rather than reflecting it. Damien Voss sat behind the wheel in absolute command, his newly forged body humming with superhuman awareness. The God-Level Driving Mastery skill had fused seamlessly into his nervous system, turning every input—throttle, brake, steering—into pure instinct. He accelerated smoothly through a sweeping curve, the hybrid powerplant delivering 1,200 horsepower with a velvet roar that vibrated through the carbon-fiber chassis and into his chest. Zero to one hundred kilometers per hour in 2.1 seconds, yet the ride remained silk-smooth, the adaptive suspension reading the road like a lover's touch.
His enhanced senses transformed the ordinary into the sublime. The scent of salt-kissed air rushed through the barely cracked window, mingling with the faint, rich aroma of hand-stitched leather and the subtle ozone tang of the electric motors. He could hear the individual tire treads gripping the polymer asphalt, the distant cry of seabirds wheeling above the harbor, and even the low-frequency hum of the maglev trains gliding along elevated tracks three kilometers inland. Vision at 20/10 allowed him to read the tiny digital billboards on the far side of the bay—stock tickers scrolling with Federation market data, luxury watch advertisements featuring models whose beauty now seemed pedestrian compared to his own 98th-percentile features.
Damien glanced at the holographic dashboard display. 7:58 a.m. The city was waking in full splendor: businessmen in tailored suits stepping from autonomous town cars, joggers in high-tech fabrics pounding the waterfront path, and the first waves of tourists posing for holocams against the iconic skyline. He allowed himself a slow, satisfied exhale. Twenty-four hours ago he had been a reclusive ghostwriter in a cramped thirty-second-floor apartment, typing masterpieces that belonged to another world. Now he was sovereign in waiting, body remade, destiny in his grasp.
His old communicator—soon to be replaced by something far more elegant—vibrated sharply in the center console. Damien tapped the steering wheel interface, and the call transferred to the car's immersive audio system.
"Host, incoming priority notification from Aetheron Central Bank," the Supreme Dominion System announced in its crisp, resonant tone. "Account balance update. Do you wish to review?"
"Display," Damien commanded calmly.
A translucent holographic panel materialized above the dashboard, glowing with crisp emerald text. Damien's new amber-gold eyes scanned it once, twice, then lingered.
**Aetheron Central Bank – Private Sovereign Account**
**Account Holder: Damien Voss**
**Current Balance: 550,742,816.47 aurum**
**Transaction Detail: Full royalty release from twenty completed masterpieces on NexusVerse Literature. Piracy-free ecosystem multiplier applied (x3.7 global subscription surge). Funds unlocked per Supreme Dominion System directive.**
**Status: Instant liquidity. No holds. Tax-exempt under hidden majority-shareholder protocol.**
The number hung in the air like a divine decree. Five hundred and fifty million aurum. In his first life, Damien had ghostwritten for pennies compared to this—scraping together a down payment that ultimately killed him. Here, the system's locked royalties had exploded the moment the novice mission completed. NexusVerse's subscription model, free of the piracy that plagued his original Earth, had compounded every view, every chapter unlock, every fan gift into a tidal wave. Twenty masterpieces, each a cultural phenomenon, had quietly dominated leaderboards for years. Now the dam had broken.
Damien's lips curved into a predatory smile that did not reach his eyes. No shock. No frantic laughter. Only cold, calculated acceptance. "Five hundred and fifty million," he murmured, voice deep and velvet-rough from the transformation. "A starting fund. The empire will measure in trillions before I'm done."
He dismissed the hologram with a flick of his finger and eased the Phantom into the express lane reserved for premium vehicles. The car responded instantly, weaving through traffic with surgical grace. Another notification chimed—this one from his personal communicator, now synced to the vehicle.
**Incoming Call: Marcus Hale – General Manager, NexusVerse Literature**
**Priority: Urgent – Executive Level**
Damien accepted without hesitation. A polished, slightly breathless male voice filled the cabin, laced with barely contained panic.
"Mr… Mr. Phantom Sovereign? This is Marcus Hale, General Manager of NexusVerse. I apologize for the early call, but our systems just registered a massive ownership transfer. Fifty-one percent of the company… transferred to an anonymous entity at 7:45 a.m. sharp. The board is in emergency session. Legal is scrambling to verify. If this is legitimate, we need to meet immediately. Your identity is protected under the highest confidentiality protocols, but the implications—"
Damien cut him off smoothly, tone authoritative yet relaxed. "It's legitimate, Mr. Hale. I am the new majority stakeholder. You may call me Damien Voss in private. No need for theatrics. I will be at the Eclipse Pinnacle Sky Duplex within the hour. Arrange secure transport for yourself and your two most trusted aides. Bring the latest performance reports, author contracts, and a full breakdown of the top one hundred novels on the platform. We will discuss the future of NexusVerse over breakfast."
A stunned silence stretched for three full seconds. Marcus recovered with professional speed. "Understood, Mr. Voss. I'll be there. Thank you for the… clarity."
The call ended. Damien leaned back, one hand resting lightly on the gear selector. The system had already transferred the penthouse title, the car, and the shares. Now the human element stirred. Marcus Hale—competent, ambitious, loyal to the company rather than any previous owner—would become his first direct subordinate in the literary empire. Damien had read between the lines of NexusVerse's public filings for years; he knew the man's reputation. Respect would be earned, not demanded. But power? That was already his.
Traffic thinned as he approached the gleaming spire of the Eclipse Pinnacle. The residential tower dominated the northern skyline, a masterpiece of hyper-modern architecture rising 380 meters above the bay. Private sky-gardens cascaded from its upper floors like hanging emerald waterfalls. The topmost section—the ultra-exclusive Sky Duplex—hovered in literal splendor, its infinity pool seemingly suspended in mid-air.
Damien guided the Phantom into the private subterranean entrance. Biometric scanners read his new genetic signature instantly. Reinforced gates slid open with a whisper. A uniformed concierge AI materialized as a holographic attendant beside the elevator bank.
"Welcome home, Sovereign Voss. Eclipse Pinnacle Sky Duplex access granted. Private elevator ascending to floor 380. Concierge services fully activated under your profile. Would you like a guided tour upon arrival?"
"Proceed," Damien replied.
The elevator rose in perfect silence, panoramic smart-glass walls revealing the bay in ever-grander scale. At the 380th floor, doors parted directly into the duplex's grand foyer. Damien stepped out and inhaled deeply. The air carried a faint citrus-and-cedar fragrance from hidden diffusers. Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped 270 degrees around the space, offering unobstructed views of the ocean, the financial district, and the distant mountains. The living area spanned 1,200 square meters across two levels, connected by a floating glass staircase. Bespoke furnishings in midnight ebony and platinum accents filled the space: a sectional sofa large enough for twenty, a holographic entertainment wall, a wine cellar visible through transparent flooring.
He walked to the infinity pool first. Suspended 300 meters above the bay, its edge vanished into the horizon. Crystal-clear water lapped gently; underwater lighting shifted colors with his approach. Beyond it, a climate-controlled sky garden bloomed with rare orchids and miniature fruit trees. The master suite occupied the upper level—king bed carved from a single slab of exotic onyx, walk-in closet already stocked with preliminary designer wardrobe (courtesy of system delivery), and a bathroom featuring a rainfall shower the size of his old apartment.
Damien tested the kitchen next. God-Level Culinary Mastery awakened the moment he opened the Sub-Zero refrigerator. Ingredients appeared perfectly organized—Wagyu beef, fresh uni, heirloom vegetables, rare spices. He could visualize entire recipes in perfect detail: molecular gastronomy techniques, flavor pairings that would induce euphoria. Later, he would cook for chosen guests. For now, he prepared a simple yet transcendent espresso using the integrated barista system, the aroma alone enough to elevate mood.
His communicator buzzed again. This time, a different contact.
**Sophie Reed – Heart-Sister**
A soft smile touched his lips—the first genuine one of the day. Sophie was not blood. They had met in the state orphanage at ages twelve and nine respectively, two lost souls forging an unbreakable platonic bond. She was twenty-one now, studying digital arts at Aetheron University, fiercely independent yet still the little sister his orphan heart had always craved. He had protected her from bullies, helped with tuition through his modest writing income, and promised her the world once he "made it." She knew him only as the reclusive author "Phantom Scribe." Today, that promise would begin to materialize.
He answered. Her bright, energetic voice flooded the line. "Damien! Finally! I tried calling last night but you were probably buried in that final chapter. Did you finish *One Finger Shrouding the Heavens*? The forums are exploding—everyone's saying it's the greatest ending in a decade. When can I read it? And when are you coming to campus? I miss my big bro."
"Finished at dawn," he replied, warmth coloring his tone. "And Sophie… things have changed. I just moved into a new place. The Eclipse Pinnacle Sky Duplex. Top floor. Come by this evening. Bring your roommate if you want. I'll send a car. We need to talk about your future—and mine."
A stunned pause, then an excited squeal. "The Eclipse Pinnacle? Are you serious? Damien, that place is for billionaires! What happened? Did you win the lottery? I'm coming right after my afternoon lecture. This better not be a prank!"
"No prank," he assured her, voice steady. "Just the beginning."
The call ended. Damien stood at the pool's edge, wind tugging gently at his dark hair. The system interface pulsed once more.
**Daily Sign-In Opportunity Available Tomorrow at 00:00. Rewards scale with empire progress. First weekly mega-sign-in in six days.**
He nodded, already calculating. NexusVerse would be restructured under his vision—better author royalties, anti-piracy enforcement (already strong here), new genres launched with his Earth knowledge. Entertainment division next. Real estate. Hospitals. The Voss Dominion Empire would rise methodically, brick by golden brick.
Yet even as power flooded his veins, Damien remained ironclad in discipline. Women would enter his orbit soon—models, heiresses, rising stars drawn to the Phantom Sovereign like iron filings to a magnet. He would observe, elevate, protect. Flirtation, gifts, loyalty tests. But his bed? Only the truly worthy would ever feel the raw, explicit heat of his desire. The thick, relentless thrust of his enhanced body claiming them completely—crude, primal, creampie-deep, ropes of thick release marking them as his alone. No casual conquests. Selectivity was his creed.
Marcus Hale would arrive shortly. The empire's first boardroom meeting in the sky awaited. Damien Voss, orphan scribe turned sovereign, turned toward the elevator.
The floodgates had opened. The world would drown in his fortune.
(Word count: -,---)
--End of Chapter 3--