"While we discuss the grand architecture of the Illuminati," Aryan began, "we must address the strength of the foundation. Over the past year, I have not been idle. Within the private sectors of Umbrella—specifically the U.S.S. (Umbrella Security Service)—I have been forging a force that the world is not yet ready to perceive."
He tapped the table, and a holographic list of transaction logs from the Castle appeared, glowing with a blue light.
"I have spent roughly $120 billion purchasing Super Soldier Serums from the System," Aryan revealed. The number hung in the air, staggering even to the billionaire seated across from him. "But this isn't just about chemistry. Power without control is a liability. Every individual I've selected has undergone months of psychological profiling and loyalty testing. They are the elite of the U.S.S., a blade held in reserve."
Tony leaned forward, a playful glint in his eyes that had been missing for years. "Wait, let me guess. For the new U.S.S. batch, you're still making them do the whole 'chanting in a white room' thing?"
Aryan let out a dry laugh. "You should see them. Standing in the sterilized white rooms of Umbrella's sub-levels, surrounded by high-tech equipment, yet chanting ancient-sounding honorifics like they're in a cathedral. Every single one looks at me like I'm some kind of cult dealer, half-mad with science. The Castle doesn't give discounts for bulk orders, and it certainly doesn't care that they think I'm running a high-tech cult."
"I still can't get over it," Tony teased, "Imagine these elite, stone-faced tactical operators—guys who could kill you with a paperclip—standing there in their tactical gear, dead serious, reciting honorifics to the air just to get their 'injection.' It's peak eccentric billionaire behavior, Aryan. Even for me, that's a bit much."
T'Challa cracked a genuine smile. "I recall the reports. The dedication required to convince a soldier that a linguistic lock is the key to biological evolution... it is a masterclass in theatrics."
"He's not a CEO, he's a cult dealer," Namor added with a smirk.
Aryan shook his head, looking around the table at his grinning allies. "Go ahead, get it out of your system. But those 'cult members' are currently the most stable security force on the planet." He then paused, "Actually, now that we're officially forming the Illuminati Parliament... Are you guys going to reimburse me for a year of expenditure? Because a hundred and twenty billion doesn't just grow on trees, and the Castle's exchange rate is brutal."
Tony let out a bark of laughter, clapping his hand on the table. "Oh, absolutely not! That's 'startup capital,' my friend. Consider it your buy-in for the most exclusive club in human history."
"Indeed," T'Challa added, his eyes twinkling. "As a king, I find the concept of 'reimbursement' to be quite foreign when the service was provided for the greater good."
Wanda giggled, "I think you're stuck with the bill, Aryan. But at least you have the most polite Super Soldiers in the world. I've seen them in the hallways at the Hive; they bow so low I'm afraid they'll hit their heads on their tactical shields."
Aryan turned toward her, a mock look of betrayal on his face. He leaned in closer to her, his voice dropping into an intimate register. "Wait a minute. You're supposed to be on my side, Wanda. I'm out here fighting for our collective bank account, and you're joining the board of directors in laughing at my 'cult'?"
Wanda tilted her head, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of affection and mischief. "I am on your side. I'm just saying, if you wanted a discount, maybe you should have tried a different honorific. Something with more... flair?"
"Flair?" Aryan huffed, though the corner of his mouth was twitching. "I'm literally buying the survival of the human race, and my own partner is critiquing my branding. I should have stayed in the lab."
"Oh, please," Wanda teased, reaching out to lightly brush his arm. "You love the drama of it. The white room, the chanting, the mysterious 'Sovereign' persona. You're just grumpy because Tony figured out your secret to getting the U.S.S. to do the dishes without complaining."
Tony groaned, clutching his chest. "Ugh, get a room. I'm trying to run a serious secret parliament here, not watch a rom-com between a chaos witch and a biological god."
"Jealousy is a bad look on you, Stark," Aryan retorted, finally breaking into a full grin as he looked back at Wanda. "Fine. I'll eat the costs. But the next time we need something expensive, I'm sending the bill to the King of Atlantis and the King of Wakanda."
Namor scoffed, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. "I have survived for centuries by avoiding surface-dweller taxes, Aryan. Do not think a few jokes in a fog-filled room will make me open the royal treasury for your 'branding' expenses."
"Oh, come on, Fish-boy," Tony interjected, nudging Namor's shoulder. "You've got literal shipwrecks full of gold and a mountain of Vibranium. You could probably buy this castle and turn it into a summer home. Besides, look at Aryan. He's practically blushing because Wanda called him out. It's charity at this point."
"I do not 'blush', Stark," Aryan said, though his eyes remained fixed on Wanda. "I calculate. And my calculations suggest that if T'Challa doesn't chip in, I might have to start charging for the high-speed wifi in the Hive."
T'Challa chuckled, shaking his head. "We provide the world's rarest metal and the most advanced medical research to our allies, and yet you want to tax our internet access? Truly, you are the most ruthless businessman I have ever met."
"He really is," Wanda added, leaning her head toward Aryan's shoulder. "He'll probably charge us for the air we're breathing in next. 'Beta-Level oxygen: double the price for non-members!'"
"Don't give the Castle any ideas," Aryan warned, trying to keep a straight face. "It's listening. If we start seeing a bill for 'Atmospheric Maintenance,' I'm blaming all of you."
"I'll pay it in Stark Credits," Tony offered with a wink. "Which, conveniently, I've just decided are worth ten times the dollar. See? Problem solved. We're all billionaires again."
"Stark, your 'credits' are as imaginary as your humility," Namor grumbled, though a small smirk betrayed his amusement.
"Hey! My humility is world-class," Tony shot back. "I'm the most humble person in this room. Ask anyone. Ask the JARVIS—oh, wait, he's not here. But trust me, I'm a delight."
Aryan stood up, clapping his hands together. "Alright, alright. Before Tony starts a lecture on his own greatness, we have one last matter to address"
"Now, for the inner circle," Aryan continued. "I am currently finalizing the purchase of three Apex Survival Packages for Wanda, Pietro, and Sharon. They are on the front lines, and I will not risk them being taken down by a lucky shot."
He then turned his focus toward the core members. "But we must look at our own durability. I am recommending that every member of this club upgrades their healing capabilities to Beta-Level High-Speed Regeneration."
Aryan projected the data for the group:
High-Speed Regeneration (Beta Level): Cost: 10,000,000,000.
At the Beta Level," Aryan explained, "your lifespan extends to nearly 500 years. More importantly, your body gains the ability to regenerate entire limbs in real-time. Even if you are cut in half, you will be alive and reassembled in the next movement. It is the ultimate survival power for the dangers we face."
Tony whistled, leaning in to squint at the data. "Wait, let me read that right. Five hundred years? Aryan, are you seeing this? It's not just cellular repair; it's a telomere expansion. We're talking about a half-millennium lifespan."
"A miracle," T'Challa whispered, his voice thick with genuine awe. "In Wakanda, we have used the Heart-Shaped Herb to push the limits of human vitality, but even our greatest kings rarely saw a second century of vigor. To live for five hundred years... to see the world grow, to guide a civilization through five centuries of progress... it is staggering."
"It's a game-changer," Tony agreed, though he couldn't help a cheeky grin. "Think about it. Five hundred years of Stark innovations. I'll be able to see my Mark 2000 suit actually go into production. But look at the price tag—ten billion for us, and since the 'Double Tribute' rule is hard-coded into this place, it's twenty billion for anyone else."
Namor's eyebrows shot up. "Twenty billion? I suppose the Castle knows exactly what a royal bloodline is worth. But a half-millennium... my people are long-lived by surface standards, but five centuries of peak physical prime? That is a strategic immortality I cannot ignore."
"I'm already doing the math," Tony teased, nudging Namor. "Thirty billion for the Stark family plan. Though, honestly, giving Pepper the ability to survive being cut in half is just good risk management. She's lived with me for years; she's already survived the impossible."
"And the Honorifics!" Tony continued, laughing. "Aryan, imagine it. You already put your U.S.S. guys through it, but now Namor has to lead his stern, terrifying Atlantean generals in a circle, chanting to the 'Sovereign of the Fog' just to get their regeneration started. I'd pay twenty billion just for the video footage of that."
Namor grumbled, though a small smirk betrayed his amusement. "My generals will despise the theatrics, but they will value the five centuries of service. I suppose I can tolerate the chanting if it means my heirs outlive the current tides."
Wanda giggled, leaning toward the center of the table. "It's like a cosmic movie night. 'The Great Kings of Earth and their Very Serious Chanting.' We can charge admission in Vibranium."
"See?" Aryan said, laughing along with them. "This is why the system is so brilliant. If you're willing to pay the price and say the words, you get the miracle."
"Exactly!" Tony exclaimed. "To five hundred years of being incredibly expensive and nearly impossible to kill. If we're going to be the Illuminati, we might as well be the best-looking, longest-living, most annoying group of immortals the planet has ever seen. I'm in. Let's make the transaction."
T'Challa nodded, his face glowing with a mixture of solemnity and excitement. "For my family, and for the future of the Federation. We accept the System's terms."
P.S. If you're enjoying the journey through the mist and can't wait to see what happens next, consider supporting my work on Patreon! You can unlock 10 Advance Chapters right now and stay ahead of the curve. Your support helps me keep the updates coming daily!
Read ahead here: www.patreon.com/Drrajnovel