2025-05-18 23:52:02
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Chapter 167
The Citadel flickered with the reflection of millions of screens, each one displaying the notification from the Euphoria App. Carl Stanton, now fully returned from his twisted retrospection, watched as his empire of chaos continued to spin, relentless. Fred’s massacre, Jack’s defiance—it was all part of his design. And now, the stage was set for a new battle.A now-familiar hum, the sound of broadcasting drones, intensified over the city. The transmission lit up on every device, on every screen. The insatiable public prepared to enjoy another show about to begin.At the center of the projections, two faces. Two names that fate had chosen to pit against each other in the second round. The first, a middle-aged man in a flawless tailored suit, despite the dust and ruin surrounding him. His gaze was cold, calculating, a sharp intelligence gleaming in his eyes. Perhaps the most well-known contestant of all: THEO WALTON.His description read:[ ELITE MILLIONAIRE...STATS: HIGH.PREVIOUS VIC
Chapter 166
Carl Stanton’s rage still simmered beneath the surface of his skin—a dormant volcano visible through his eyes.Jack’s insolence, his son’s utter disregard for his rules, was a deeply personal offense, one that gnawed at him.The image of Jack pointing directly at the drone, that defiant stare, repeated in Carl’s mind over and over, endlessly. It was a warning, yes—but also a confirmation: Jack was coming for him, driven by a thirst for vengeance Carl knew all too well. Too well. Because that same thirst, that same ruthless ambition, had once fueled Carl’s own rise to power.His anger began to mingle with a strange melancholy, a distant echo of the past. The throne of skulls, once a symbol of his triumph, now served momentarily as a reminder of the horrors and sacrifices that had forged him.Carl closed his eyes, his head heavy in his hand, and the Citadel faded away, replaced by the raw images of his exile—the path that led him to become the Absolute Millionaire. That’s when he began
Chapter 165
The air in the Citadel was thick, saturated with the suffering brought on by the deaths of all those wandering millionaires who had tried to gain entry—and with the expensive perfume of those who had succeeded. It was a life of madness that many were beginning to get used to.Carl Stanton, Absolute Millionaire Number Zero, sat upon his throne of skulls, a macabre monument to his unstoppable ascent. The polished bones creaked softly beneath his weight, and that sound was music to his ears. Only someone like him could find amusement in such a way with the corpses of his enemies.In front of him, the vibrant hologram of the Euphoria App’s broadcast projected the brutal reality of the human world. Drones—his omnipresent eyes and ears—transmitted the signal directly to the spiritual world, and simultaneously, to the screens of other users watching his game.His gaze was fixed on the image: Jack shooting Fred, the “Bone Eater,” squarely in the forehead. A clean shot, dead center between the
Chapter 164
The bodies were piling up in the improvised morgue. The public library had become a grotesque pyramid of flesh and bone. These were the remains of Carl Stanton's "armies"—the teenagers and young adults who had fallen in the senseless war against the police. Their faces, frozen in expressions of terror and regret, stood as silent testimony to the manipulation that had led them to their deaths. The forensic workers, exhausted and glassy-eyed, could barely keep up. The city had become a massive graveyard, where death visited daily.As death filled every corner, a light flickered on millions of screens. The vibrant glow of the Absolute Millionaire System. The users—those who had survived the street war with the police or simply watched it from the safety of their shelters—saw the logo of the Euphoria App come back to life. A pair of snakes staring menacingly at the viewer. Carl Stanton gave the contestants no rest.A sharp, piercing beep rang in everyone’s ears, a vibration announcing the
Chapter 163
The Citadel stood, imposing and opulent, a testament to Carl Stanton's absolute power. It was his pedestal, beyond the sight of the wretched streets of the spirit world, where Absolute Millionaire Number Zero reveled in his latest creation. The throne room, a sanctuary of polished marble and gleaming steel, was bathed in a cold light that highlighted the centerpiece of his macabre work: his new throne.It was no ordinary throne. This architectural abomination had been meticulously assembled from the skulls of all the traitors who dared to conceive a coup against him. Each empty socket, each fractured jaw, narrated a story of failed attack and brutal punishment.But they weren't the only ones on the throne. Among the bony remains mingled the skulls of wandering millionaires who, panicked and desperate, had died by the dozens trying to force their way into the impenetrable Citadel, seeking refuge from the horrors lurking in the slums and the dark forest. These were the remains of those
Chapter 162
Another morning had dawned upon the city. Those who still breathed thanked their god for the miracle of being alive. All was tranquil until the world froze with the artificial glow of millions of technological screens that lit up simultaneously.The anticipation was a palpable electric current, a contained roar that vibrated in the depths of every user, who couldn't wait to know the names of the next contenders.Carl Stanton had created something far more addictive than any drug. He had created the addiction of chaos, and its results had not disappointed. After the brutal previous battle, which ended with the massacre of Fronteit, the public yearned for more.A familiar hum, already known to everyone, was the prelude to a blood spectacle. That sound vibrated in the air, followed by a sharp beep that pierced the eardrums of every user of the Euphoria App. The logo pulsed with a reddish light, like a heart beating in a predator's chest, and then projected onto the screens, like some der
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