Chapter 10: The Turning Point

The roar of my jet's engines filled the night as I settled into my seat, the sleek interior bathed in a dim blue glow. I tapped a button on my wrist console.

"Jarvis, list the targets for this mission."

A holographic interface materialized before me, casting a cold, sterile light against the cabin walls. Three profiles appeared, each one outlined in red—high-value threats.

Targets Identified:

Colonel Viktor Sokolov – Ex-Spetsnaz, a ruthless strategist now orchestrating covert operations from the shadows. His tactics have prolonged conflicts, turning battlefields into meat grinders.

General Oleg Petrov – A high-ranking Russian officer, the architect behind relentless sieges that have left entire cities in ruin.

Major Sergei Karpov – Former KGB, now a warlord controlling the underground arms trade. His network ensures a steady flow of weapons into mercenary hands.

I studied their faces—calculating, remorseless. Men who saw war not as tragedy, but as opportunity.

"Display the current status of the war."

The hologram shifted. A series of satellite feeds, live combat footage, and intercepted transmissions flooded the air before me. A grotesque symphony of destruction.

A Ukrainian trench, filled with bodies, some still twitching, eyes frozen in terror. Smoke drifted through the air as artillery pounded in the distance.

A Russian armored convoy reduced to molten wreckage, the charred remains of soldiers hanging from twisted metal. A lone survivor, missing half his face, dragged himself forward before collapsing.

A civilian shelter bombed to oblivion, the screams of the dying captured by a nearby drone. Limbs jutted from the rubble like grotesque sculptures of war.

The air in my jet felt heavy. I clenched my fist. This wasn't just war—it was carnage, a festering wound that refused to heal.

For a moment, I considered selecting one of the targets. Removing even one of them could change the tide. But something deeper gnawed at me.

"No," I muttered.

Jarvis's voice cut through the silence. "Sir?"

I exhaled, my decision firm. "Arrange a secret meeting with the President of Ukraine."

A pause. Then the hologram recalibrated, shifting to encrypted diplomatic channels.

"Understood. Initiating covert communications… This will not be easy."

I smirked. "Nothing ever is."

Kyiv's Underground Bunker – The Meeting

The black SUV weaved through Kyiv's war-torn streets, its headlights off, the night masking our approach. Bullet-riddled buildings loomed on either side, whispering silent warnings of the war's toll.

Inside, I sat between two heavily armed Ukrainian operatives. No one spoke. There was nothing to say. The vehicle stopped near an abandoned structure. I was led underground, past layers of security. Every checkpoint tightened around me like a noose—armed guards, biometric scans, encrypted doors. At the end of it, a final steel door slid open with a sharp hiss.

Inside, President Roman Ivanov stood at the head of a long table, eyes weary but sharp. The room smelled of old paper, gunpowder, and tension.

I stepped forward, lowering my hood. "Mr. President."

He didn't flinch. "You wanted to talk. So talk."

The steel door sealed behind me, locking us in. The guards stiffened, hands hovering near their weapons. I met President Ivanov gaze, unshaken.

"I need your men to leave."

One of the guards scoffed. "Not happening."

President Ivanov raised a hand, silencing him. He studied me for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. "Leave us."

The guards hesitated, then obeyed. Their boots echoed against the floor as they stepped out. The door shut once more, isolating us completely.

I reached into my coat and pulled out a small black device. With a flick, I activated it. A soft pulse vibrated through the air.

I placed it on the table. "No microphones. No cameras. No ears listening in."

President Ivanov expression didn't change. "What do you want?"

"People."

His gaze sharpened. "You want my soldiers?"

"Not just soldiers," I corrected. "Everyone. The rich, the poor, government officials, doctors, mechanics, teachers, engineers—ordinary people. Those who've lost everything to this war, those who want a future beyond just survival. I'm offering them that future."

He studied me, suspicion etched across his face. "And if I refuse?"

I shrugged. "Then you keep fighting the way you have been. Bleeding, struggling, while Russia grinds you down piece by piece. Or—" I gestured toward the holographic device on my wrist, "—you take what I offer, and you dictate how this war ends."

Ivanov exhaled slowly. "Show me."

I tapped the interface. The room was bathed in a blue glow as the hologram came to life—schematics of next-generation weaponry, automated drone swarms, kinetic barrier shields, and cyber-warfare programs designed to disrupt enemy infrastructure in real time.

His eyes widened. "This… this isn't military-grade. This is something else."

I nodded. "Because I don't play by their rules."

A tense silence filled the room.

President Ivanov ran a hand over his face. "You're asking me to trust a man who appeared out of nowhere, offering technology that shouldn't exist."

I met his gaze, unwavering. "I'm asking you to survive."

He clenched his jaw, frustration seeping through his controlled exterior. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't watch my men die every day, torn apart by missiles we can't intercept, drones we can't counter? I have to call mothers and tell them their sons won't be coming home. I've seen children buried under rubble because our air defenses couldn't stop the strikes. So don't you dare tell me what I already know!"

President Ivanov fingers drummed against the table. "You're asking me to take a leap into the unknown while my country is already standing on the edge of an abyss."

I leaned forward, my tone firm. "You think this war is the end? It's not. The world is changing. Soon, conflicts like this will be obsolete. The real power won't be in nations but in those who control the future."

His eyes narrowed. "And you think that's you?"

"I don't think—I know." I let the words sink in. "And if you join me now, Ukraine won't just survive this war. It'll be the foundation of something greater. The first to rise in an empire that will outlive every government on this planet."

President Ivanov studied me for a long moment. Then, slowly, he extended his hand.

President Ivanov voice was quiet but resolute. "Then let's talk details."

I swiped again, unveiling the next phase—nanotech-enhanced armor, adaptive camouflage systems, and AI-coordinated battlefield logistics. Autonomous combat units, self-repairing vehicles, and orbital surveillance grids flickered into view, painting a picture of a war fought with technology beyond modern comprehension.

His eyes narrowed. "What are these?"

"Mark VII and Halo suits. The future of warfare. Each one enhances reflexes, endurance, and survivability. These aren't exo-suits—they're game-changers."

"How many?" he asked.

"Five Mark VII suits, five Halo suits."

He frowned. "That's not enough."

I smirked and flicked my wrist. The data shifted, revealing combat simulations. The suits tearing through tanks, evading missile strikes, engaging enemy soldiers with deadly efficiency.

Ivanov jaw tightened as he watched. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "This… this isn't possible."

I leaned forward. "It is."

Silence. Then he looked at me. "Double the Halo suits. Ten minimum."

I chuckled. "Done."

His fingers drummed against the table. "And the people? How many?"

I leaned back. "Up to you. Send whoever you want to this address. My people will take it from there. They'll be safe."

President Ivanov studied me, considering. "Why? What do you want with them?"

"This world needs cleansing, Mr. President. And I need people who are ready for the future."

His lips pressed into a thin line. "This meeting never happened."

I nodded. "Agreed. I have a stage to prepare."

I stepped out of the bunker, the cold night air hitting me as I exhaled slowly. "Jarvis, book me a cab and order some food to my hotel. Something light but filling."

"Understood, sir. ETA for transport is five minutes."

By the time I reached my hotel room, exhaustion was clawing at me, but my mind was too wired to rest. I sank into the chair, opening my system panel with a thought.

ProfileZero Celestia

Age: 24

Strength: 7 (10)

Wisdom: 10 (10)

Agility: 7 (10)

Vitality: 7 (10)

Charm: 7 (10)

Luck: 5

Extraction Points: 3

I stared at the screen, deep in thought. The suits were powerful, but they weren't enough to dominate the battlefield. If I wanted true superiority, I needed more.

"Jarvis, boot up my phone and launch Space Commander: Trade and War."

As the game loaded, nostalgia washed over me. I had spent countless hours collecting starships, constructing space stations, and commanding fleets. But this wasn't just a game anymore. It was a blueprint for reality.

"System, extract my space station."

A sharp notification jolted me.

-WARNING: CANNOT EXTRACT-

-INSUFFICIENT EXTRACTION POINTS-

"What?" I muttered. "Why now? Why didn't I get this warning before?"

The system responded, its voice neutral yet firm. "The previous extractions were considered minor by cosmic standards. Attempting to materialize an entire space station requires significantly higher extraction points."

"How many?" I asked, already bracing myself.

"Five points."

I exhaled. Just two short. Tomorrow, then.

I closed the system, rubbing my temples. I need a shower, food, and some rest—that was all I could do for now."