The NCB drone's crimson eye blazed like a miniature sun, energy crackling around its weapon array. Death had a countdown: forty-three seconds.
"**FINAL WARNING. RETURN TO NARRATIVE PATH OR FACE TERMINATION.**"
Lucian pressed against the concrete embankment, canal water still dripping from his torn clothes. Above his head, that glitching **[Role: ????]** tag flickered like a broken neon sign—the system couldn't classify what he'd become.
*Run? Hide? Beg for mercy?*
"You want me back on script?" Lucian wiped blood from his split lip, staring directly into the drone's targeting system. "Then come and drag me there."
The weapon charged with a sound like reality screaming. Red targeting lasers painted his chest in a deadly constellation, each dot promising obliteration.
But Lucian was already diving into the code.
The drone's recognition matrix materialized before him—streams of green text cascading through digital space:
**[Target_Classification: HOSTILE_ENTITY]**
**[Threat_Assessment: MAXIMUM]**
**[Elimination_Protocol: ACTIVE]**
**[Weapon_Status: CHARGING_97%]**
Two seconds until death.
Lucian's consciousness slammed into the parameters like a battering ram, rewriting with desperate precision:
**[Target_Classification: ALLIED_UNIT]**
**[Threat_Assessment: MINIMAL]**
**[Protection_Protocol: ACTIVE]**
**[Weapon_Status: STANDBY]**
The change rippled through the drone's neural network like wildfire. Its crimson eye flickered—red to amber to blazing emerald green.
"**RECLASSIFICATION COMPLETE. SWITCHING TO GUARDIAN MODE. PROTECTING DESIGNATED ALLY.**"
The death-ray powered down with a disappointed whine. The drone's hostile posture melted into a protective patrol pattern, circling Lucian like a mechanical guardian angel.
*Holy shit. I just turned a killer robot into my bodyguard.*
Victory tasted like copper and lightning. Blood erupted from Lucian's nose in a crimson torrent, his vision fracturing into kaleidoscope fragments. Agony lanced through his skull like molten steel.
**[⚠️ ENTROPY LEVEL: 8%]**
**[CRITICAL WARNING: Reality Modification Overload]**
**[Continued Abuse Will Result in Cognitive Fragmentation]**
**[Recommendation: Immediate Cessation of Parameter Editing]**
Lucian wiped the blood away with shaking fingers. *So this is the price. Push too hard, and my brain turns to digital soup.*
Worth knowing. Worth remembering.
His phone exploded with notifications—news alerts, social media pings, emergency broadcasts. Arthur's golden face dominated every screen, broadcasting live from the Sky Industries war room.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the financial world," Arthur's voice dripped honey-coated venom through the speakers. "Today, we witness the absorption of a dying empire. Frost Industries—once worth a hundred billion—will join the Sky family for the symbolic price of one dollar."
The camera panned across mahogany and marble, settling on Marcus Frost. Sylvia's father looked like a broken king, his hands trembling as he stared at the contract that would destroy everything his family had built.
"Mr. Frost understands that in business, as in life, the strong devour the weak," Arthur continued, his smile sharp enough to cut glass. "Isn't that right, Marcus?"
Marcus nodded like a puppet with severed strings. "My daughter's future... it's worth any sacrifice."
*Sylvia.* The name hit Lucian like a physical blow. He'd seen her around campus—ice-queen beautiful with eyes like winter storms and a smile that could freeze blood. Arthur's designated prize, according to the cosmic script. The perfect trophy to complete his collection.
"Excellent!" Arthur's laugh was pure predator. "The contract is digital, naturally. One signature, and the Frost legacy becomes mine. Forever."
The camera zoomed tight on the tablet screen, revealing the soul-selling document:
**[HOSTILE ACQUISITION AGREEMENT]**
**[Seller: Marcus Frost / Frost Industries]**
**[Buyer: Arthur Sky / Sky Conglomerate]**
**[Total Assets: $127,000,000,000]**
**[Purchase Price: $1.00]**
**[Wire Transfer: Immediate]**
Arthur's manicured finger hovered over the signature pad like a sword of Damocles. "Any final words before your empire dies, old man?"
Marcus closed his eyes, a single tear tracking down his weathered cheek. "Forgive me, Sylvia. Forgive me for being weak."
*Not today, golden boy. Not fucking today.*
Lucian's consciousness dove into the contract's source code, feeling that intoxicating rush of absolute power. The parameters floated before him like ripe fruit waiting to be plucked:
**[Purchase_Price: $1.00]**
**[Beneficiary_Primary: Arthur Sky]**
**[Transfer_Direction: Frost → Sky]**
His mental fingers danced across the digital interface with surgical precision:
**[Purchase_Price: $15,000,000,000.00]**
**[Beneficiary_Primary: Lucian Ash]**
**[Transfer_Direction: Sky → Lucian]**
The modifications locked in with a satisfying *click* just as Arthur pressed his thumb to the signature pad with theatrical flourish.
"And so dies another dynasty!" Arthur threw his arms wide like a conquering emperor. "Frost Industries is now property of—"
Every device in the boardroom erupted simultaneously. Banking alerts. Wire transfer confirmations. Emergency financial warnings. The sound was like a digital avalanche.
Arthur's golden complexion turned ash-white as he stared at his phone screen. The numbers were falling like dominoes: billions vanishing in real-time.
"What... what the actual FUCK is happening?!"
The live stream chat exploded into chaos:
*HOLY SHIT HIS ACCOUNT IS NEGATIVE*
*$15 BILLION JUST DISAPPEARED*
*ARTHUR SKY IS BROKE AF*
*WHO TF IS LUCIAN ASH???*
*THIS IS BETTER THAN NETFLIX*
Marcus Frost blinked in stunned confusion as his own phone chimed with the sweetest sound in the universe: a deposit notification. His bank balance had just increased by fifteen billion dollars.
"I... I don't understand," Marcus stammered, his voice cracking with disbelief. "The money... it's all here. More than we ever dreamed."
Arthur's perfect composure shattered like crystal. "IMPOSSIBLE! The contract was for ONE DOLLAR! ONE FUCKING DOLLAR!"
He lunged for the tablet, his bandaged ear bleeding through pristine gauze. But the signed document told a different story now—fifteen billion dollars, with Lucian Ash listed as the sole beneficiary.
"WHO THE HELL IS LUCIAN ASH?!" Arthur's scream could have shattered windows. His golden hair was disheveled, his designer suit wrinkled, his protagonist perfection cracking at the seams.
Lucian's phone buzzed—a private message from an unknown number. The sender ID made his heart skip: Sylvia Frost.
*Unknown: The engagement party is tomorrow night at Sky Tower. I have no choice anymore. My father's company is gone, our family name is worthless. I'm sorry I couldn't be stronger. I'm sorry I have to marry a monster.*
*Mass message sent to 73 contacts.*
The desperation in those words hit Lucian like a sledgehammer. She'd sent it to everyone—a digital scream for help that would echo into silence.
Not this time.
*Lucian: Tomorrow night, wear your most beautiful dress. I'm coming to steal you away.*
Three dots appeared instantly, then vanished. Then reappeared.
*Sylvia: Who is this? How did you get this number?*
*Lucian: Someone who just made Arthur Sky lose fifteen billion dollars on live television. Check the news.*
The dots pulsed for an eternity. Then:
*Sylvia: Lucian Ash... you're the one who... but that's impossible. You're nobody. You're just some random student...*
*Lucian: I was cannon fodder. Past tense. Now I'm the guy who's going to burn Arthur's world down.*
*Sylvia: This can't be real. The engagement party... there will be hundreds of guests, private security, the media...*
*Lucian: Let me worry about the obstacles. You just worry about being ready to run.*
*Sylvia: Why? Why would you do this for someone you don't even know?*
Lucian stared at his reflection in the dark canal water, at that flickering **[Role: ????]** tag that refused to stabilize.
*Lucian: Because I'm tired of watching good people get crushed by golden assholes who think they own the world.*
The silence stretched for heartbeats. Then:
*Sylvia: Sky Tower. Penthouse level. Tomorrow at 8 PM. If you're serious... if this isn't some cruel joke... I'll be waiting.*
But even as hope bloomed in his chest, warning klaxons screamed across his vision:
**[⚠️ PROTAGONIST AURA DETECTED - LEVEL: CRITICAL]**
**[REALITY CORRECTION SEQUENCE INITIATED]**
**[ARTHUR SKY ACCESSING EMERGENCY NARRATIVE PROTOCOLS]**
Lucian's bank balance—all fifteen billion dollars—began to flicker like a dying lightbulb. The numbers dropped in real-time: 14.2 billion. 13.8 billion. 13 billion.
*No. Fuck no. Not happening.*
Arthur's voice cut through the live stream like a blade of pure fury: "I don't know how you did this, Lucian Ash. But I am the PROTAGONIST of this reality. I am the chosen one, the golden child, the center of this universe. And I will bend the laws of existence itself to put you back in your place."
Golden light erupted around Arthur like a nuclear sunrise—his protagonist aura manifesting in raw, visible power. The air itself warped and twisted, reality straining to accommodate his cosmic will.
**[ENTROPY LEVEL: 15%]**
Blood poured from Lucian's nose in a steady stream. His vision swam with digital static. But through the pain, he smiled like a wolf.
*You want to play god, golden boy? Let's see whose will burns brighter.*
The NCB drone hovering beside him suddenly spoke, its voice cutting through the chaos: "**MASSIVE NARRATIVE DISTURBANCE DETECTED. DEPLOYING HIGHER-TIER CORRECTION AGENTS. ESTIMATED ARRIVAL: 19 MINUTES, 34 SECONDS.**"
Nineteen minutes to crash the engagement party of the century. Nineteen minutes to steal Arthur's bride. Nineteen minutes to prove that even discarded cannon fodder could rewrite the ending.
Lucian stood, water streaming from his clothes, digital blood painting his lips crimson.
*Game fucking on.*