Divorced on Monday, Bought the City on Tuesday: The Infinite

The Currency of the Cosmos

Chapter 60

The blue-scaled alien blinked its four vertical eyes. It looked at Arthur as if the human had just asked the most ridiculous question in the universe.

"The economy?" the alien scoffed, a bitter, clicking sound in its throat. "You were just stripped of your homeworld, dragged across dimensions, and locked in a flesh-market, and you want to know about the local fiscal policy?"

"I am a businessman," Arthur replied smoothly, leaning his back against the cold metallic wall. "I find that understanding the ledger is the fastest way to fire the management."

The alien let out a dry, rattling laugh. "You possess a strange arrogance for a primate. My name is Kael. I was a Host once, just like you. I ruled a binary star system. Until the Architects called my margin. Now, I am priced at fourteen Aether Credits."

Arthur filed the name away. Aether Credits.

"Explain Aether," Arthur commanded. He didn't ask. The Aura of the Sovereign was woven into his psychology. Even without the System's active interface, his presence commanded absolute obedience.

Kael shuddered, instinctively lowering his head. "Aether is the lifeblood of the Void Market. It isn't paper or digital data. It is condensed bio-kinetic energy. The Architects extract it from dying stars and liquidated planets. One Aether Credit holds enough raw energy to power your entire primitive world for a decade. It is the only currency the cosmic nobility recognizes."

Arthur processed the information instantly. Earthly money was a concept built on faith and gold. Cosmic money was built on literal power.

"Who is buying us?" Arthur asked.

"The Syndicates of the Ring," Kael replied, gesturing weakly toward the shielded door. "Warlords. Cosmic nobles. Arena masters. They purchase terrestrial hardware like us to fight their proxy wars, mine hazardous asteroids, or die in the coliseums for their entertainment."

Before Arthur could ask another question, the heavy hum of the cell’s energy shield dropped an octave. The translucent barrier hissed, dissolving into nothingness.

Two massive figures stepped into the doorway. They weren't organic. They were brutal, utilitarian security constructs made of rusted dark-metal, standing eight feet tall. They carried long, crackling gravity-batons.

"Lot 410. Lot 892. Step forward for appraisal," a synthesized, grinding voice blared from a speaker in the ceiling.

Kael scrambled to his feet, keeping his four arms submissively low. He walked out of the cell, head bowed.

Arthur didn't rush. He casually dusted off the sleeve of his ruined charcoal suit jacket. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the raw, coiled kinetic energy in his Grandmaster-tier frame, and walked out into the massive, echoing chasm.

The security constructs flanked them, marching the prisoners down a narrow, suspended walkway that bridged the infinite drop below.

Arthur’s eyes mapped everything. He cataloged the patrol routes of the floating drones. He calculated the tensile strength of the metal walkway beneath his feet. He analyzed the weak points in the constructs’ armor joints. He was entirely unarmed, entirely broke, and surrounded by technology millennia ahead of his own.

He had never felt more alive.

They reached the end of the walkway, stepping onto a massive, floating circular platform. It was an elevator. The platform surged upward at sickening speeds, the gravitational dampeners barely compensating for the G-force. Kael groaned, his knees buckling under the pressure.

Arthur stood perfectly straight, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

The elevator broke through a ceiling hatch, depositing them into a space so vast it defied terrestrial logic.

This was the trading floor of the Obsidian Ring.

It looked like a cyberpunk cathedral built by madmen. Massive, floating holographic tickers displayed shifting values in geometric alien runes. Tens of thousands of entities—ranging from towering, reptilian warlords to elegant, floating beings of pure light—crowded the tiered balconies, screaming bids at central auction blocks. The noise was a physical wall of sound.

"Welcome to the meat grinder," Kael whispered miserably, trembling as the security constructs shoved them toward a holding pen near a brightly lit auction stage.

Arthur looked at the massive holographic board floating above their specific stage.

He watched the bidding wars. He saw a squad of augmented alien soldiers sell for 500 Aether Credits. He saw a massive, beast-like creature sell for 1,200.

He was standing in the center of the largest financial institution in the universe.

"Move, terrestrial," one of the rusted security constructs buzzed, shoving the crackling end of its gravity-baton toward the center of Arthur’s spine to herd him onto the stage.

It was a standard compliance shock. It was meant to drop a prisoner to their knees in agony.

Arthur didn't drop.

He didn't even stumble. The gravity shock hit his Leviathan-enhanced muscular density and grounded out harmlessly.

Arthur paused. He slowly turned his head, looking over his shoulder at the towering, eight-foot metal construct. The golden fire in Arthur’s eyes was so intense it seemed to burn the surrounding air.

"Don't touch my suit," Arthur whispered.

The construct’s optical sensors whirred, processing the anomaly. It raised the baton to strike again.

But Arthur was already calculating the cost of a hostile takeover.