CHAPTER 34

Now from this day forward, this would be his hideout. It was everything he needed—safe, secure, secretive. Nobody else knew about it, and nobody ever would.

All the characteristics of a perfect base were checked off, and with that, it was time for phase two of the plan: becoming the richest person on Earth in the shortest time possible.

He grinned at the thought. Who said becoming rich was hard? Those people lacked what he had: the gift from his bloodline. Wattson was about to shatter that belief and rewrite the rules of wealth.

And when all was said and done, there'd be the fun part—kicking some serious ass. Something he was naturally good at.

But first, there were people he needed to take care of. People who deserved better. Layla, his sister, had always wanted to be an actress, but that dream died when the family couldn't afford to support her ambition.

Well, he'd give her more than just a chance—he'd give her her own entertainment company. Let her make the movies of her dreams.

And his aunt, once a brilliant doctor, had spiraled after his parents' deaths, losing her career along with her sense of purpose.

He'd build her a state-of-the-art hospital, one where she'd call the shots. Maybe it wouldn't erase the sadness she now had, but at least it would give her something to hold on to.

Wattson leaned back in his chair at the command center. His thoughts hummed with electric anticipation as the screens glowed around him. He reached out with his gift—his technopathy—and began to weave his will into the machines.

The plan was simple. Build the greatest artificial intelligence the world had ever seen, a creation that would elevate him beyond the richest men alive. It took him seconds—just seconds. Where ordinary humans would have needed decades of study, Wattson's connection to machines made him unstoppable.

Once complete, the AI floated before him in orb like form, waiting for his command. He debated where to house it: within the base or inside himself.

Wattson wasn't just a man anymore—he was part machine, capable of processing data at inconceivable speeds. Embedding the AI into his own systems would make it stronger.

But he reconsidered. A quantum server would do the job, anchored here in his hideout. From there, he could control the AI anywhere, anytime. It would be his silent shadow, unseen yet omnipresent.

Phase two demanded precision. Wattson broke it into five clear steps, each a critical move in his ascent to untold riches.

First, Understanding the Code—with his technopathy, he could "speak" to machines, learning and mastering their systems instantly. Coding, hacking, AI development—it was all second nature to him.

Second, Leveraging Networks—he would infiltrate global networks, erasing his digital footprint while manipulating data. He would be invisible to law enforcement and rival hackers alike.

Third, Predictive Analysis—accessing and analyzing real-time data across global systems would let him predict trends in finance, commerce, and human behavior.

Fourth, Strategic Manipulation—rather than outright stealing, he would manipulate systems subtly, creating value that couldn't be traced back to him.

And finally, Automation—his programs would work for him around the clock, multiplying his wealth exponentially while he focused on bigger moves.

The time for action had come. Wattson's fingers hovered in the air, commanding the machines with an unspoken connection. The global economy was his new playground, its systems whispering their secrets to him.

Banks. Stock markets. Cryptocurrencies. These were the veins of wealth, and Wattson was the pulse moving through them. He began small, predicting stock trends with a level of accuracy no human—or AI—could ever achieve.

Investments made with precision turned his modest savings into fortunes in hours.

But he didn't stop there. Using his technopathy, he studied the complex algorithms running the world's stock markets and financial systems.

Instead of crashing or stealing from them, he played smarter. By orchestrating micro transactions, he siphoned minimal amounts—0.1% of the amount of every transaction—from billions of accounts, so insignificant it was practically invisible.

A trickle from a million streams becomes a river. Within hours, his accounts swelled with hundreds of millions of dollars. He smiled as the numbers rolled across his screens, impossibly fast, impossibly vast.

To hide his growing fortune, Wattson created digital personas and shell companies, each with meticulously crafted financial histories.

Every dollar was spread across countless global accounts, masked behind layers of false identities.

Simultaneously, he infiltrated cryptocurrency networks, rewriting blockchain vulnerabilities to mine tokens at unparalleled speed. Bitcoin. Ethereum. Altcoins that nobody had even heard of yet—he owned them all.

Wattson didn't just want wealth, though. He wanted control. Control over the digital economy that ran the modern world.

He turned his attention to the tech giants—Amazon, Google, Tesla—seizing their systems without them even knowing. He nudged algorithms, manipulated marketing trends, and ensured his shell companies went viral overnight.

Products nobody had heard of skyrocketed into must-have brands. Social media exploded with the names of his companies, all while he stayed invisible in the shadows.

With his technopathy, he watched and adapted in real time, always staying one step ahead of the curve.

The digital empire needed roots in the physical world, so he quietly acquired assets—luxury properties, rare art, high-demand commodities—all at fractions of their true value.

Online auctions danced to his commands, and before long, he owned enough real estate and valuables to be listed among the wealthiest individuals alive.

The final masterstroke was his AI: Black Box.

Wattson released it into the world under the guise of an open-source project, designed to optimize every aspect of life—finance, healthcare, logistics, everything.

The tech community hailed it as revolutionary, praising the team of "developers" that never existed. Corporations adopted it en masse, not realizing they were handing Wattson control over their operations.

Black Box was everywhere, embedded in the backbone of society, invisible but omnipotent. It would manage itself, growing Wattson's wealth and influence while he focused on what came next.

Now the last step of phase 2, Automation, was in full swing.

Satisfied, he transferred a few hundred million dollars into his normal account, disguised as profits from successful businesses.

If anyone question him now—they'd find a perfect paper trail, untouchable and pristine.

He stood, stretching for the first time in hours. His body ached slightly, though the thrill of victory outweighed any fatigue.

He walked to the teleportation rune etched into the base's floor. With a faint hum of energy, he disappeared, reappearing atop a mountain peak moments later.

The air was sharp and cold, but Wattson hardly noticed. He gazed out at the horizon, where the sky was just starting to brighten with the first light of dawn.

It was already the next day. Time had slipped past unnoticed, swallowed by the relentless momentum of his plan. But now, standing there, the enormity of what he'd accomplished settled in.

Phase two was complete. The world was his, and they didn't even know it yet.