The Tycoon's Odyssey

Walter leaned back in his chair, letting the name "Evan" settle in the air between them. Elyon's sharp gaze flickered with shock, though he quickly masked it thoughtfully. For a man who had seen nearly everything, the mention of Evan had clearly struck a chord.

Elyon leaned forward slightly, intrigued. "Interesting. What kind of developments?"

Walter didn't elaborate immediately, letting the weight of his words settle. Instead, he took a seat across from Elyon and studied him.

"He's clever," Walter said after a pause. "Ambitious. The kind of man who could either create something extraordinary or burn the world trying."

Elyon nodded slowly, absorbing the information while pretending to be unaware. "Sounds like someone to keep a close eye on."

While the world at large remained unaware of Evan's name, those at the highest levels—leaders of conglomerates like Macrosoft and Next Gen Innovations—knew of the shadowy figure whose inventions were quietly reshaping industries. Evan had reportedly developed technology that seemed almost miraculous, far ahead of its time, yet few could trace its origins.

Elyon's secretary discreetly entered the room and handed him a tablet, along with a compact, sleek black case. Opening it, Elyon revealed a high-tech combat suit—matte black with faint silver accents. Its design was futuristic yet functional, with no wasted material. Holding it up, he turned to Walter.

"This," Elyon said, his tone tinged with a glimmer of admiration, "is one of his innovations, isn't it?"

Walter's eyes narrowed slightly, but he remained silent. Elyon gestured for his secretary to demonstrate. The man slipped the lightweight suit on, and it seemed to mold perfectly to his body. A faint hum indicated the activation of its internal systems. Elyon ran his fingers over the suit's surface, marveling at its texture.

"Bulletproof, lightweight, adaptive to temperature, and capable of amplifying physical strength. Truly something else," Elyon muttered. After a moment of silence, he sighed, almost wistfully. "If only he focused on space technology. I would love to collaborate with him on interstellar projects. Who knows what we could achieve together?"

Walter chuckled coldly at Elyon's remark. "Why are you so obsessed with space travel and terraforming? Why waste your time and resources on such fantasies?"

"Is there a golden goose out there in space?"

Elyon's gaze sharpened, and he smirked. "You people just don't get it." He leaned forward, his voice tinged with passion. "Doesn't the idea of exploring other worlds excite you? Think about it—meeting new civilizations, solving overpopulation, discovering unlimited resources. With the problems Earth is facing, from dwindling resources to climate collapse, it's only logical to look beyond."

Walter's lips curled into a faint smile, though his eyes remained cold. "Interesting," he said slowly, but his mind wandered to a darker place.

A memory, one that sent a chill down his spine, resurfaced. For him, it wasn't fascination he felt toward the prospect of meeting extraterrestrial beings rather it was dread. He had seen things that made the idea of other civilizations less of a dream and more like a nightmare.

Elyon noticed Walter's sudden silence. "What's on your mind, Sir Walter?"

Walter shook off his thoughts, his tone turning light. "Nothing. Just thinking about that robot project of yours. Is it finished?"

Elyon's eyes lit up in realization, and he clapped his hands. "Ah, Prime! I almost forgot about it ."

He called out, and moments later, a humanoid robot entered the room. Its appearance was sleek and polished, its metallic body gleaming faintly under the light. Standing six feet tall, it walked with smooth, almost human-like movements. Its joints moved seamlessly, without any mechanical stiffness, and its face displayed a simplistic, neutral design—just enough to be approachable without veering into the uncanny. Continue reading on empire

It carried a glass tray with two crystal glasses of wine in its hands. Prime approached Walter first, bowing slightly as it offered the glass.

"Good evening, Sir Walter," the robot said in a calm, even tone.

Walter took the glass, inspecting the robot with interest. "Impressive," he muttered as Prime moved on to serve Elyon.

Elyon beamed with pride. "Prime is more than just a serving bot. Its AI is designed to learn and adapt. It can analyze situations in real-time, making decisions with near-human precision. It's incredibly strong—able to lift over 1,000 pounds—and flexible enough to perform delicate tasks like surgery. Its design allows it to function in extreme environments, from the Arctic temperatures to the vacuum of space."

Walter's gaze sharpened. "And this was based on the data I provided?"

Elyon nodded, his expression a mixture of awe and unease. "Yes, though we only managed to understand about five percent of the data you gave us. It was… something else entirely. The code seemed riddled with errors—at least, we thought they were errors—but even that tiny fraction we deciphered was enough to build Prime. I can only imagine what the rest of it might be capable of doing."

Walter smiled faintly, though there was no warmth behind it. "Elyon, I'm curious about one thing."

"What's that?" Elyon asked, sipping his wine, his expression calm.

Walter's smile twisted into a cold smirk. "Can it fight?"

Elyon leaned back in his chair, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Better than your best superhuman."

Walter chuckled softly, his calculating mind already running through possibilities. "Now that," he said, raising his glass, "is interesting."

_____

The heavy steel door groaned as it sung open, breaking the oppressive silence of the room. Amit Sharma, pacing like a caged animal, froze in his tracks.

His disheveled appearance—a rumpled shirt, sweat-soaked brow, and trembling hands—was a stark contrast to the confident man he once was. His wide, bloodshot eyes darted toward the opening, his lips quivering as if to speak, but no sound came out.

The room was cloaked in a suffocating silence, broken only by Amit's ragged breathing. His heart pounded in his chest, every beat echoing like a death knell. As the heavy steel door creaked open, he froze, terror gripping his body. Two guards stepped inside, their expressionless faces and imposing figures enough to chill his blood.

But it wasn't the guards who terrified him.

It was the man who followed—a figure exuding a presence so dangerous, so menacing that Amit's years of experience screamed at him to run. Yet his legs wouldn't move.

The man stepped forward, his polished black shoes tapping ominously against the concrete floor. His sharp features were illuminated by the dim light, his cold eyes gleaming with a dangerous mix of amusement and malice.

"Hello," the man said, his tone calm yet laced with menace. "It's been a while since we last met, hasn't it?"