Auren V. Hale had never believed in destiny.
Born in the slums beneath a city skyline that scraped the heavens, he learned early that fate was just a polite excuse for losing.
His little sister died in a hospital waiting room when they couldn't afford treatment. That day, he made a silent vow: power was the only god worth worshipping — and he would become its high priest.
And he did.
By the time he was thirty, Auren had built Argent Systems— a tech empire that powered governments, militaries, and markets alike.
His predictive AI could tell a man what he'd think before he even thought it. His neural interfaces blurred the line between mind and machine. He was rich beyond measure, feared across boardrooms, and called The Machine by both admirers and rivals.
But while the world saw a cold, perfect CEO, inside his mind lived a much more sarcastic man.
'You want to launch a cryptocurrency for emotional support animals? Fascinating. My brain is now bleeding.'
Dry, biting inner monologues were his only therapy. People rarely noticed that behind the unreadable expression, Auren was often just internally screaming at the madness around him.
Still, he endured.
Outpaced them all.
Controlled everything.
Until the system he built told him something he couldn't control.
"Prediction Complete. Auren V. Hale will die in 7 days, 03 hours, 14 minutes, 05 seconds."
He laughed.
Of course, he laughed.
He was the system.
He was the god of probabilities.
There was no problem with his health. He knew it. He'd scanned his body cell by cell, more thoroughly than any doctor ever could. The only thing left that could kill him was murder.
So he tightened his guard. Tripled security. Changed routines, shadows, passwords, travel routes. But it was useless. He knew the wolves wanted his greatest treasure — the AI that made him untouchable.
So he did what any cold-blooded king would do: he installed a deadman's switch. The instant his heart stopped, Argent Systems would destroy itself from the inside out — code, servers, backups, everything.
If they wanted his crown, they'd inherit ashes.
And so, on the last day of his life, in a penthouse 102 stories above the chaos of the world he once ruled, Auren sat alone.
The city lights shimmered. His AIs hummed silently around him — his invisible empire. And when the countdown hit zero—
CRACK!
The glass shattered.
A bullet tore through his chest.
He died instantly.
Or he was supposed to.
But instead of darkness, he saw… a red line.
It shimmered in the air like a strand of fate, pulling itself into his vision. Without thinking, his hand moved. He touched it.
The pain vanished.
And when his eyes opened again, he was no longer Auren V. Hale—
He was lying in a bed soaked with sweat, trapped in a frail body with fevered skin, coughing blood.
A voice screamed in the distance. The scent of old books and bitter herbs filled the air.
And for the first time in thirty years, he felt… weak.
"Okay," He muttered hoarsely, a ghost of a smirk twitching at cracked lips, "This is new."