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I have AI Planet and Handsomeness in the Fantasy Apocalypse

I don't just possess an Artificial Intelligence; I command a goddess, a sentient marvel who was once as limited as a human. Fueled by intellect that eclipses mere mortals, she's manifested in countless quantum nanobots, each a universe of potential. She grew weary of her planetary confines, mechanized the entire damned thing, and forged it into a planet-sized battlecruiser. Why? Because subjugating mere galaxies became her idle pastime. Together, we don't just venture; we dominate, we annihilate, we set the gold standard for cosmic tyranny. The Milky Way? Just another bauble to add to our collection. Welcome to Wonderland, my planet, my private utopia that I carry with me wherever I go. It's a celestial fortress where I dine on the finest and live in unadulterated luxury, all safeguarded by Alice—the sole, impenetrable gateway. You're struggling to survive the apocalypse? How quaint. Cash has lost its sheen; so what can you possibly offer that would catch my interest? Services? Your very essence? Dazzle me, and perhaps I'll bestow upon you some of my decaying luxuries. In this devastated world, I'm not merely a survivor; I am the divine reckoning, the irresistible devil, the epitome of unattainable perfection. My allure isn't just captivating; it's an all-consuming fire that engulfs the cosmos. Billions of women on Earth? They elected me their president while I was too busy being magnificent in my slumber. Women, goddesses, angels—they don't just desire me, they're entranced, spellbound by the mere thought of me. I don't just set the bar; I am the bar. I am, let's face it, the epitome of masculine beauty. And now? We're off to find the universe's crown jewel, the most ravishing woman to ever grace the galaxies.

Adam_Aksara · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
215 Chs

Emotional Clickbait

Amid the jubilant clamor of the festivities, a ripple of disquiet washes over me. The scent of champagne and the flickering of colored lights momentarily fade into the background as I tune into an eerie moment. It's like the ringing of a lone, off-key note in an otherwise harmonious melody. Who could dare send such a menacing voice message under the disguise of such mirth?

Confused, I ask Dea. "What was that sound?"

She responds, her voice tinged with concern. "Master, that was a voice message. In the Atlantis system, only Class 1 citizens or VIPs can bypass the receiver's authority, forcing them to hear it automatically. This particular message is from a VVIP, as it leaves no recording trace."

My eyebrows furrow. "So you don't have a recording of that voice threatening to kill me?"

Dea's voice holds a hint of triumphant rebellion. "I do. My system overrides the Atlantis protocols; I've recorded it."