Roger watched them calmly as they examined the weapons and equipment.
Deep down, he didn't take them seriously; these people were merely tools he was using to stir up turmoil and discord among the factions.
"Alright."
Everyone stopped what they were doing, recognizing that it was now time for business and negotiations.
Roger looked at them and said, "Whoever wants to buy these weapons and equipment with money—I don't need money!"
Everyone looked at Roger in surprise, confused about what he actually wanted.
Roger fixed his gaze on them. "I want this plotted area—and all the properties it contains, including facilities and bases—to be under my exclusive authority."
He sharpened his gaze toward the Vice President. "I want a top-level authorization from the President and Congress declaring this region my private property. Any trespass—whether by air, land, or sea—will be considered an act of aggression, and I reserve the right to respond without any negotiation."
He finished speaking and didn't linger. As he walked past them, he said, "Once you reach a decision, I'll be in the side room."
He said this and walked away.
Everyone looked at each other.
Roger entered the room and continued contemplating his plans.
Should he continue developing his personal powers, or focus on advancing technological innovations? As he was thinking—
[The host can now travel to other worlds!]
[I recommend the host expedite the acquisition of power, as there's a possibility you might be transported to another world—and be unable to return to this one!]
"What?!!"
Roger shot up from his seat, cursing. What was this? Was he being told that all his painstaking waiting and damn planning was useless? That he wouldn't even stay here, wouldn't even have the right to return to this world?
He couldn't contain himself. "You damned system, explain what's happening!"
[Host, the fault isn't mine—it's yours.]
"How is it my fault?!"
[The stronger the host becomes, the more you can break free from the constraints of fate or the narrative imposed upon you.]
"Wait—are you telling me I'm a character in someone's story, and there are people reading what I do?!"
"Am I just a clown to them?"
[Host, the stronger you become, the more control you have over your life. For example, if you gain the power to control cosmic dimensions in the future, you can go anywhere with no restrictions.]
Roger stared at the system screen and began cursing.
What was the point of all the plans and tactics he'd devised? All his efforts to remain mysterious and hidden—and in the end, he wouldn't even stay in this world.
Roger decided to change all his previous plans and embrace madness. He could no longer afford patience—he had to extract every power from this world, milk it dry, and develop his abilities to the maximum.
He couldn't stand sitting still any longer.
"Jarvis, send an email to Victoria Neuman containing everything about her adoptive father Edgar, the president of Foot Company International, and revealing that she's a superhero."
"Tell her she must provide more than four liters—or 4000 ml—of her own blood. Otherwise, all the scandals will be broadcast on every channel, cursing her, and she'll lose all her voter support."
Roger could no longer afford to wait. He had to increase his abilities—both mental and physical. His days in this world were numbered, and he wanted to exploit the situation to the fullest.