After the meeting with Julian, everything unfolded exactly as Novaeus intended. The Caelum Syndicate, the structure he had built from the chaos of blood and fear, was stabilizing. What began as a fractured alliance of desperate men and fading gangs had become a unified machine—efficient, disciplined, and precise. The consolidation of power through the purge had yielded results beyond what even he initially projected.
The losses from the campaign had been minimal compared to the wealth and influence gained. The syndicate now operated like a well-oiled mechanism, its veins running through the entire city of Macao. Money flowed in steady streams from every illicit and legitimate channel. Smuggling routes had been secured, their networks layered through shell companies and front operations that no government agency could untangle. Political interference was nonexistent—many of those who once resisted were now comfortably under their payroll.
Three thousand operatives now worked under the Caelum banner, distributed across multiple agencies. Their largest division, the Atlas PMC, had become a legitimate force after months of maneuvering. It was the syndicate's blade—publicly a private military company, privately a disciplined army at Novaeus' command. Government hesitation had once slowed its expansion, but after their rivals were absorbed or erased, and with several politicians quietly persuaded, the PMC was granted official status.
In his office atop the Caelum Tower, Novaeus reviewed the reports displayed across transparent holographic panels. The numbers pleased him—steady growth, minimized losses, controlled expansion. He believed in efficiency, not chaos. Power was best when quiet, unseen, and absolute.
Ascension Tech, the technological branch he had personally founded, was already moving toward the next stage. The company had begun research and patent applications for its first public product—a formula designed to reverse hair loss. It was a trivial thing in comparison to his true goals, but that was precisely why it was ideal. No one questioned the harmless nature of vanity. Behind it, Ascension Tech could slowly build influence in the pharmaceutical market.
If the patent faced resistance, there were other ways. With Caelum's resources, rejection was merely a temporary obstacle. The syndicate could manipulate government reviewers, purchase approval through intermediaries, or bypass the system entirely. He had learned long ago that legality was just another form of currency.
But Novaeus' mind was already elsewhere—beyond drugs, beyond crime. Technology and entertainment fascinated him as untapped tools of control. He had observed the planet's entertainment industry and noted how underdeveloped it was compared to the advanced systems he once commanded. Gaming, especially simulation, was still primitive. He could change that.
His concept was simple: a fully immersive gaming pod, one that blended technology and biology at the user's threshold of perception. It would not be advanced enough to draw suspicion, only efficient enough to dominate the market. Once it launched, Ascension Tech could flood the industry with games—borrowed designs from a forgotten empire, adjusted for this world's limits. He had no need to file for patents. Control was not about ownership on paper but about dominance in function. The pods would be the only devices compatible with his proprietary systems, and even if competitors emerged, they would find themselves unable to replicate the technology's inner design.
Novaeus planned it all in silence, every decision like a move on a board that only he could see. He did not rush. Victory did not belong to the impatient. He had waited for eons once—he could wait again.
Eiden's voice broke the quiet.
"Sir, Adrian has arrived. Estimated arrival at your office in three minutes."
"Good," Novaeus replied without looking up. "Call Marco as well. Have him report in person."
"Acknowledged."
The AI's tone was perfectly neutral—neither male nor female, entirely devoid of affect. Eiden had no identity beyond function. It served, observed, executed. That was all Novaeus required.
When Adrian and Marco entered the office, both carried the weight of men standing before something greater than themselves. Adrian was first to speak, setting a briefcase on the polished black table between them. "Sir, we have what you requested."
Novaeus gestured silently for him to open it. Inside were twenty-two vials, each filled with a silver, mercury-like fluid that shimmered faintly under the light. He examined them closely—steady viscosity, uniform reaction, no separation of components. Satisfactory.
"Eiden," Novaeus said, his eyes still on the case. "Verification."
"Commencing analysis."
The AI emitted a faint tone as a scanner light passed across the vials. Within seconds, it responded.
"Compound integrity confirmed. No irregularities detected. The solution is stable. Authorization for human intake approved."
"Good," Novaeus said simply. He leaned back, eyes sharp and calculating. "Gentlemen, what you see before you will change your composition—physically, mentally, and genetically. It will enhance your strength, speed, intelligence, and memory. Every aspect of your biology will be refined, from cellular structure to neural patterning. However, it will hurt."
Neither man spoke.
"This pain," Novaeus continued, "is necessary. It will remind you who gave you power. And it will teach you control."
He handed each of them a vial. "Drink it."
Marco hesitated, glancing briefly at Adrian. They both remembered the last time—when microscopic nanostructures had been injected into their bodies under Eiden's supervision. The pain then had been indescribable. But refusal was not an option.
They lifted the vials to their lips and drank. The fluid was cold, metallic, and heavy. For a few seconds, there was nothing. Then came the burn.
It began beneath the skin, spreading through every nerve and muscle. Their bodies convulsed as if caught in an unseen current. Marco fell first, clutching his chest as veins bulged under his skin. Adrian followed, his vision fracturing into bursts of white light. They could hear the sound of their own bones shifting—molecular lattices restructuring under invisible guidance.
Novaeus watched without emotion. To him, this was a process, not suffering. Pain was a byproduct of progress.
Minutes passed before both men lay still, drenched in sweat, trembling but alive. Slowly, their breathing steadied. When they looked up, their eyes were sharper, their pupils slightly dilated. Beneath the surface, their physiology had been rewritten.
Novaeus spoke quietly. "Stand."
They obeyed, their movements precise and stronger than before.
"Eiden," Novaeus said.
"All vital signs within acceptable range. Enhanced physical capacity confirmed. Cognitive function has increased by 38.7%. Neural plasticity elevated."
"Good."
He closed the briefcase with deliberate calm. "From now on, you will serve with greater efficiency. Marco, select twenty of our best operatives. They will take the remaining vials. They will form a new division—an elite unit under direct command of Atlas PMC. Once they've adapted to the change, begin training. Their strength without discipline is useless."
Marco nodded, still dazed but understanding the gravity of what he had just become part of. "Understood, sir."
"Adrian," Novaeus continued, "expand our security protocols. No one outside this room must know about the serum. Not the scientists, not the distributors, not even our own men. The origin remains classified. If anyone asks, it's a neural stimulant prototype from Ascension Tech's biotech branch."
"Yes, sir."
They stood waiting, unsure whether to leave until Novaeus dismissed them with a small gesture. "You are dismissed."
They exited the office in silence. The sound of the door sealing shut behind them echoed faintly, leaving only the hum of the city below and the quiet rhythm of Eiden's data streams.
Novaeus turned back to the window. From this height, Macao seemed motionless, like a city trapped in glass. The lights of the harbor pulsed in steady patterns, each representing a line of profit, a trade, a smuggling route under his control.
He considered the chain of events unfolding—the casino acquisition through Julian, the horse racing venture soon to begin, the growing influence of Ascension Tech, and now the first phase of human enhancement. Everything connected, every step feeding into the next. The Caelum Syndicate was no longer a criminal network. It was evolving into something greater—a system designed to sustain itself beyond human weakness.
"Eiden," Novaeus said softly. "Run a simulation. Project expansion probability across the next fiscal year, factoring in new revenue from Ascension Tech, Atlas PMC contracts, and the casino acquisition."
"Processing… Estimated increase: 312% by Q4 next year. Probability of interference from external entities: 6.2%. Projected stability level: 94.5%."
"Acceptable."
"Would you like to allocate contingency measures?"
"No," Novaeus replied. "Let them make their moves first. We'll adapt accordingly."
"Acknowledged."
For a moment, silence filled the room again. Novaeus allowed himself a single breath of stillness before turning back to his work. The world below him continued to move unaware, its leaders complacent in their illusion of power.
He, however, understood a truth they never would—power was never taken by force. It was built, piece by piece, through design, precision, and patience.
And patience was something he possessed in abundance.
He would wait, building slowly and methodically no one would know when it would start but he knows that time is in his hands no one can take that away from him and no one would know how big the syndicate had truly grown but himself only.