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Home / Urban / THE EXILED KING / SLIPPING THROUGH THE CRACK
SLIPPING THROUGH THE CRACK
Author: Victor Amos Regannez
last update2025-06-28 14:08:27

The helicopter’s powerful blades continued their rhythmic thump-thump-thump above, a relentless pulse that mirrored the frantic beating of Nolan’s own heart.

He stood before Mael Vox, the man’s persuasive words still echoing in his ears, battling with the deep-seated caution that had kept Nolan alive on the harsh streets of Bullwick and in the mysterious and unpredictable world of crypto.

The reasons Mael Vox offered — the uncomfortable truth, the impossible money, the sheer scale of the operation — they did make sense.

They chipped away at his suspicion, replacing it with a dizzying blend of awe and apprehension.

His gaze flickered from Mael Vox’s steady eyes to the open helicopter door, a gaping mouth inviting him into the unknown.

This was it. The very edge of a precipice, a point of no return where the past dissolved into an uncertain future.

His destiny hung in the balance, a choice waiting to be made.

Then, a quiet, almost defiant resolve solidified within Nolan. He had to
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  • BURN THE WIRES

    Lord Atherton’s eyes stayed locked on the screen, but his face had changed. The calm was cracking. His jaw was tight. His hand, usually steady, clenched slowly into a fist.“Seventeen percent,” he said quietly. “Gone. Just like that.”The young woman nodded. She looked nervous now. Not afraid of him, but afraid of what she had to say next.“Sir…” she hesitated. “You asked how we got here?”Atherton turned to her slowly. His voice was low and sharp. “Yes. Tell me.”She took a deep breath and tapped a few keys on the laptop. A set of files opened up. Folders named Shell Trades, Hollow Firms, Return Loops, Asset Shadows. These were not regular files. These were secrets.“Your offshore holdings,” she began. “Your cycle trades. The way we move money through fake businesses to create fake gains—it’s not working anymore. The market caught on. Investors are pulling out. Fast.”Atherton blinked slowly. “The system always bounces back.”“Not this time,” she replied. “Your Ponzi threads are dryi

  • INTEREST AND INTRUSION

    It was another day in the Atherton capital and holdings which was a finance and logistics company, and in a tall glass office overlooking the bay, a man named Lord Atherton sat behind a desk of dark walnut. He was dressed in a finely pressed charcoal suit, a gold watch glinting from beneath his sleeve. His eyes were sharp, steady, the kind that didn’t blink easily. He wasn’t a real lord, but people still called him that. His money, influence, and calm authority gave him the title.Across from him sat Jonah Perkins, a well-known real estate mogul in the city of Bellwick. Mr. Perkins was in his late fifties, with graying temples and a belly that pressed gently against his tailored suit. His fingers drummed lightly on the arm of the leather chair, nervous but trying not to show it."So," Lord Atherton said, folding his hands, "how much are you in need of, Mr. Perkins?"Mr. Perkins cleared his throat. "Three hundred million dollars."Lord Atherton raised an eyebrow. "That is... quite a

  • THE HUNTER'S INSTINCT

    Five days later, Nolan woke with a jolt. The air in the bunker had changed. It felt denser, sharper—like static clinging to his skin.His eyes shot to the monitors. He expected the usual cascade of code and data streams. But what he saw froze him.The Ghost Network wasn’t reacting—it was evolving. Lines of code looped, rewrote themselves, split, and converged with patterns he hadn’t programmed. It wasn’t just learning. It was anticipating. Creating.He rubbed at his eyes, trying to shake off sleep. But this wasn’t fatigue-induced delusion. The Ghost network had crossed a line—one he hadn’t drawn.It wasn’t adapting anymore.It was awakening.He watched, his breath was shallow, as algorithms forked into new branches, as neural weights shifted autonomously. The system was refining itself—optimizing without orders, without human input. What he had built to simulate intelligence had started becoming it.It was terrifying. And beautiful.For an hour, he just sat there, mesmerized. The Gho

  • OBSESSION

    For five full seconds, Nolan stood frozen, chest tight, brain refusing to process what had just happened.Then he moved.He ran.When he reached the terminal, he tore off the casing of the terminal with bare hands, not caring as sharp edges bit into his fingers. Sparks still flew. He forced the emergency breakers down, slamming a backup drive into place. A coolant line had burst; he shoved it back, securing it with duct tape and a prayer.For a moment, nothing.Then—flicker.The lights returned. The processor blinked.Alive.Barely.The Ghost network wasn’t dead. But nearly was.And Nolan? He realized something terrifying:The line between control and collapse was thinner than he ever imagined.However for the data?Only 42% was recovered.He had lost days of training models. Thousands of test simulations. Gone.He stood there, panting, shaking, fingers bleeding.That’s when it hit him.The line between control and collapse was paper thin.Glitch Three: ObsessionIt wasn’t just the

  • SURGE POINT

    The control room hummed softly, glowing blue and green from the lines of code crawling across the monitors.Nolan sat perfectly still, eyes locked on the data streams. His fingers hovered just above the keyboard, barely moving. But inside, his mind was racing—always ten steps ahead, always calculating.This was no longer just a bunker.It was a brain.And the Ghost Network? That would be its will.He called it that for a reason. The Ghost wasn’t just another AI script running market scans. It wasn’t designed to follow. It was built to lead—to outthink, outplay, and outmaneuver every system out there.It wasn’t just a tool.It was an entity.It would see the market before the market knew what it was doing. Stocks. Bonds. Commodities. Crypto. Even dark networks and off-grid exchanges. The Ghost would read them all, then react. No—it would shape them.A subtle buy here. A well-timed sell there. A rumor seeded in a closed forum. A misleading data spike to confuse other trading bots. A tra

  • NOLAN'S SANCTUARY

    Nolan stepped into the bunker, the heavy steel door hissing shut behind him with a final, secure thud. The dim lights of the tunnel flickered to life, revealing a path leading deeper into the underground complex. He walked for a few minutes, the air grew progressively cooler and cleaner, until he reached a surprisingly modern-looking control room. Several large monitors displayed complex data streams, and a high-backed ergonomic chair sat before a sleek, black desk.Nolan settled into the chair and activated a secure communication line. After a few rings, an older, gravelly voice answered."Nolan. It's good to hear from you at last. You've settled in, then?" Mr. Jethro’s voice was calm, a stark contrast to the tumultuous events Nolan had recently experienced."As much as I can be, Jethro," Nolan replied, leaning back, as there was a sense of weary satisfaction in his tone. "The place is exactly as described, maybe even better. A true relic. Thomas Hayes was a genius, a paranoid one

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