The Tycoon's Odyssey

Across the world, inside the Sovereign Bastion.
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The air inside the fortified palace of the USR President was thick with tension. Alarms blared in the distance, and the muffled sound of gunfire echoed through the halls. Staff members rushed into the room, their faces pale with fear.

"Sir, we need to leave now," an aide urged, his voice trembling. "The situation is getting out of control."

President Viktor sat in his high-backed leather chair, his sharp features illuminated by the blue glow of a large digital screen. He didn't seem fazed, his fingers drumming rhythmically against the polished desk.

On the screen, reports poured in.

Daxia and USL had already fallen. Their leaders had either been captured or surrendered. Their territories were no longer independent nations but part of something larger—a unified plan that was unfolding with ruthless efficiency.

Viktor's steel-gray eyes narrowed as he scanned the terms of surrender. The letter from the invaders outlined everything in cold, calculated detail. The borders of the world would be erased. Nations would be consolidated into a singular entity. Governments would remain, but only for administrative purposes—true power would lie elsewhere.

It was bold. Radical. Perhaps even inevitable. But was it possible?

Viktor exhaled heavily, unsure of what to think. Just two days ago, the fall of two major powers had seemed unimaginable. Now, his nation stood on the brink of the same fate.

"Sir!" another staffer shouted, panic creeping into their voice. "We need to move you to the safe zone."

Viktor raised his hand, signaling for silence. "There's no need," he said, his voice calm and authoritative.

At that moment, the heavy double doors swung open with a resounding thud. A woman stepped in, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. She was striking—raven-black hair coiled into a sleek bun and sharp, piercing eyes that seemed to see straight through people. Power and precision radiated from her every step, accentuated by a perfectly tailored business suit that hugged her figure perfectly.

Her smile was confident, almost playful, as she approached the desk with steady steps. "Mr. President," she said, her tone smooth yet commanding. "You know why we're here, don't you?"

Viktor regarded her with a stoic expression. He reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a cigar, and lit it. The faint smell of tobacco filled the air as he took a long puff.

"So," he said, exhaling a plume of smoke, "tell me what I need to do."

The woman's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. She stepped closer, the echo of her heels cutting ominously through the heavy silence.

_____

While Viktor entertained his visitor, the world unraveled.

One by one, the rest of the nations descended into chaos.

Reports of one nation after another falling to the invading forces flooded in. It wasn't just the superpowers like USL and Daxia. Nations across continents—both developed and developing alike—were crumbling under the weight of this sudden upheaval.

In every capital city, leaders were detained. Presidents, prime ministers, and military generals were rounded up and placed under strict surveillance. Their communication devices were confiscated, and their movements were closely monitored. For those at the top, freedom was now a distant memory.

The world's elite families, those who had quietly pulled strings behind the scenes for decades, found themselves paralyzed by fear. Their carefully constructed alliances and shadowy dealings were powerless against this new reality.

The relationship between business tycoons and their government puppets had always been a complex dance of power and influence. The wealthy provided resources and funding to elevate leaders, but they relied on those same leaders to maintain the status quo. Now, even that fragile balance was shattered.

One by one, the world's most advanced militaries proved useless. Advanced weaponry, elite forces, and state-of-the-art defenses—none of it mattered. Evan's forces, armed with technology far beyond anything the world had seen, swept through every stronghold with precision and brutal efficiency.

In boardrooms and private mansions, panic reigned. Business magnates scrambled to make sense of what was happening. Some attempted to contact their political allies, but those lines of communication had gone silent.

Others tried to reach out to the Federation, the global coalition of powerful nations that had long served as the final arbiter of world affairs.

But there was no response. The Federation, once a symbol of strength and unity, remained eerily silent. Even as the global order shifted before their eyes, the Federation seemed paralyzed, unable—or unwilling—to act.

_____

Back in the Sovereign Bastion, the sound of distant gunfire grew louder.

Viktor took another puff of his cigar, studying the woman across the desk. She remained calm, her presence unnervingly steady despite the chaos unfolding outside.

"You're surprisingly composed, Mr. President," she mused, tilting her head slightly.

Viktor smirked, his lips curling around the cigar. "I've seen enough wars to know when one is already lost."

"Wise words," she replied, leaning in slightly. "But this isn't the end. It's the beginning of something better. A world—one without borders, without division."

He raised an eyebrow. "Better for whom?"

"For everyone," she said, her voice taking on a fervent edge. "Once the dust settles, you'll see. This isn't conquest—it's evolution."

Viktor chuckled darkly. "Spare me the speeches. What do you really want?"

She straightened, her smile returning. "Your cooperation. The transition will be smoother with you on board."

"And if I refuse?"

Her smile didn't falter. "You won't."

At that moment, a deafening explosion rocked the palace. The walls trembled and the lights flickered. Viktor's aides flinched, some ducking instinctively—but the woman stood firm, unbothered.

Viktor leaned back in his chair, exhaling another cloud of smoke. "Looks like your friends are getting impatient."

"They're efficient," she corrected, glancing toward the window where plumes of smoke rose against the night sky.

He studied her for a long moment, then sighed. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

The woman's smile widened. And for the first time, Viktor noticed the faint glint of something metallic beneath her sleeve. A thought crept into his mind—how many others like her were already embedded within his government? How many had ensured resistance was futile before the battle had even begun?

Outside, the world burned.

Inside, Viktor rose from his chair, stubbing out the cigar in a crystal ashtray. The era of independent nations was over. He knew it. He hated it. But he had no choice but to play along for now.