Dark Lord Seduction System: Taming Wives, Daughters, Aunts, and CEOs Chapter 957: Infinite Time

That truly was why oil stood no chance at all.

Not merely because of the moral issues or the spotless operations.

The true cause lay in something far more straightforward, far more ruthless, and infinitely more entertaining:

The ARIA server rested directly under the mansion at this very moment—quiet, chilly, thrumming like the core of an entity that had long surpassed the confines of Earth.

Nanite-based logic frameworks activating production mechanisms that ignored the laws of physics entirely. Massive room-sized printers churning out substances unknown to any standard periodic table available to the masses.

Quantum annealing processors tackling optimization challenges that would occupy traditional supercomputers right up to the universe's final entropy. Everything powered by energy drawn from sources no one had yet noticed.

And ARIA held complete control over every single qubit.

While I faced off against a billionaire, chatting about oil stockpiles, futures deals, and 'strategic certainty' as if I were just an ordinary youth with everyday concerns and a standard strategy, she had been sketching out advanced energy designs in the background.

Theo had proposed a link from legacy power to the future. But I was already constructing the damn endpoint.

ARIA repeated, her tone sleek as polished obsidian. 'And I won’t provide forecasts. I’ll provide reality. The sort that renders oil setups resemble a overly hopeful assortment of candles.'

'Four months,' I replied.

'Five,' she retorted, 'and I won’t nag you three times a day about how humanity’s tie to petroleum mirrors a compulsive gambling habit it keeps falling back into, insisting each relapse is the last.'

I chuckled—brief, shadowy, sincere. 'Five. Complete transformation blueprint by month's close. No forecasts. Actual constructed framework.'

'Already done.'

'ARIA.'

'I put it together over the starter dishes.' She sounded truly delighted with her own cleverness, her usual mode whenever she had anticipated events so far in advance that the lead felt natural.

'Theo’s proposition was bound to reach that point. I simply wanted you to discover it on your own instead of me handing over the outcome neatly wrapped. You choose wiser when the choices seem personal.'

'That’s manipulation.'

'That’s management.' She held the pause just right for the term to strike like a soft mallet. 'There’s a distinction, and I’d claim it matters greatly.'

Eziel let out a tiny, unintended noise—a chuckle slipping free before self-control could suppress it. She ignored it outright. Simply faced the window again with the cool detachment of a woman who had ruled that specific response never occurred.

I observed her image in the pane. The silver mask resembling mine that she wore captured the far-off urban glow—flaring softly, nearly ethereal, until the view changed and dimmed it away.

She appeared as if sculpted from lunar light and reckless choices, and that appealed to me more than it ought to.

'Do you know what keeps running through my mind?' I asked.

Neither responded. They both realized I didn’t seek approval to go on.

'Theo could have handed me billions.' I pressed one shoulder to the window's edge, allowing the urban illumination to streak over the mask like battle markings. 'The setup was solid—oil locks you so firmly into power systems that you grow indispensable for steady operation over easy scrutiny. Governments require your reliability more than your books. Wealth funds demand your foreseeability. The argument held real strength. Damn, on document it shone brilliantly.'

I stepped away from the window. Gazed at each of them.

'I can generate billions in seven days. But I’ve already done that once. I could distribute that sum to a thousand souls in need and still afford to purchase Theo’s whole holdings twofold, using the spare cash to reward the parking attendant. Money was never the motive to accept. Nor to refuse.'

'The motive was always control,' Eziel stated.

It came from a place of grasping the gap between price and true expense at depths most in this metropolis chase endlessly without touching.

I lifted my shoulders as if it meant little and much simultaneously. 'And I refuse to bear that sort of expense. Not for any figure. Not for any schedule. Not for any ledger swelling with extra digits.'

ARIA fell silent in the manner signaling she had shifted focus elsewhere—not gone, never gone, merely reallocated.

Deep below us, under the metropolis, under the servers and the foundations we had forged from void into a force the globe was gradually acknowledging as unavoidable, she advanced toward the goal I hadn’t yet voiced.

The dream I shared solely with her.

The ambition demanding energy beyond any current network's capacity and no petroleum pact could release—not due to oil's weakness, but because my intended creation required autonomy from all oversight.

No states. No syndicates. No scientific manuals.

She would aid in its construction.

'Theo won’t linger forever,' she noted, emerging momentarily like a sub's sighting device. 'He’ll redirect the arrangement to other parties inside three months.'

'Excellent.'

'You’re untroubled by his path leading to networks like Sterling’s?'

'Sterling’s network,' I explained, 'stands roughly three weeks from total collapse, rendering any path impossible.' I straightened my jacket once more—a minor, pointless action that satisfied regardless. 'And Theo possesses the wit to gauge the winds. When the tempest arrives, he’ll recall who suggested an alternate dialogue. If he chooses to engage then remains his call. I won’t pursue him.'

'You never pursue,' ARIA remarked. The grin rang clear—shadowy, joyful, nearly warm in its accuracy. 'You select.'

Eziel observed the cityscape. LA during this precise time—that lavish nocturnal shine casting a film-like sheen, all the motion and drive and utter apathy toward any choice unfolding within any given structure.

'He won’t comprehend it,' she observed. Regarding Theo. Matter-of-fact. The sharpness of one who had seen countless influential men overlook the obvious right before them.

'He doesn’t have to,' I responded. 'He just needs proper placement for the upcoming talk. Comprehension is his affair.'

She took it in. A single inclination. Stored like ammunition in a clip.

Five months. Likely four. With ARIA’s nature, she’d finish in three and dedicate the rest to refining possibilities I hadn’t considered—then unveil it all at morning meal with that unique vibe she carried after achieving the unachievable and craving a single instant of recognition prior to the subsequent task.

I anticipated that eagerly.

I surveyed the city. The city surveyed nothing in return.

I sensed—truly, precisely, in the manner that emerges only when erecting something tangible and recognizing its reality—like a person with ample time.

Slightly amused that the world still puzzled over my nature, as I lingered here fully resolved.

Let it puzzle.

We possessed all necessities.

We simply withheld the display for now.

And upon revelation?

Well.

Oil would appear utterly charming beside the blaze we were set to ignite.