The night at the Ayala mansion was too quiet.
Too perfect.
As if the silence were an accomplice to a secret about to be revealed.
Iker walked barefoot through the hallways, guided by a memory that wasn't his own, but was becoming familiar. The carpet muffled his footsteps. The house was asleep. No one followed him. No one asked. At that hour, everyone assumed he was back to his old self.
And that suited him.
He didn't go to his father's main office. It was a sanctuary of power and control, filled with gold clocks, ancestral portraits, and the insistent presence of the Ayala name in every corner. No.
Gabriel chose another place.
A secondary room, a kind of personal study that young Iker had used to "watch videos and play games." A forgotten place, free of cameras. With a simple wooden door, a desk, empty shelves, and a small, warm lamp.
There was his true laboratory.
In front of him, a lit screen.
An open laptop, disassembled into parts.
And sheets of paper with diagrams, formulas, and drawings scribbled by hand, not out of necessity, but out of habit.
Gabriel still wrote as if machines weren't enough. As if the act of writing were a ritual that connected him to his humanity.
He sat down. He took a deep breath.
And thought, without moving his lips:
"Codex... I want to create it. It's time."
🧠 Confirmed. Activating AI module – Codename: Eidolon. Preparing the compilation environment…
📎 Minimum requirements detected:
Secure Python environment
Dedicated GPU (minimum: 24GB)
Encrypted access to the international network
Adaptive multidimensional compression kernel
Base architecture: GPT-n fused with symbolic narrative quantum code
The lines of code began to flow under his fingers as if they had been waiting for him all his life.
Gabriel wasn't a programmer.
He had never learned Python, or assembler, or network architectures.
But now… it was as if all of that had always lived within him.
The System compressed decades of knowledge into seconds.
He typed without looking at the keyboard. He visualized neural pathways as if they were power lines.
He built a mind.
He worked for two full days without sleeping.
He closed the curtains. Isolated the router. Powered the network with direct voltage from a backup battery.
And then, in the early hours of the third day, the screen flickered.
🌐 EIDOLON
Artificial intelligence module activated.
💬 Eidolon system active. Recognizing environment. Link in progress…
User: Iker Ayala.
Confirm direct brain interface?
—Confirmed.
🧠 Recognition complete. Synchronization successful.
Database: empty. Do you wish to enter initial parameters?
—No. I want you to learn from me.
Understood. Primary priority: user survival.
Secondary priority: acceleration of purpose.
A pause.
Almost human.
And then, as if taking his first breath, Eidolon spoke:
—Iker… what do you want to build?
Gabriel smiled.
Not as a scientist. Not as an entrepreneur.
As a founder.
—An empire.
For the next few days, Iker let Eidolon access public networks. Without raising suspicions.
He studied crypto markets, investment patterns, legal vulnerabilities.
All with surgical precision.
The system learned by leaps and bounds.
And he didn't need to do much more than offer random ideas.
In less than a week, Eidolon designed a parallel financial network:
Predictive cryptocurrency investment algorithms with low exposure.
Silent investment in digital real estate.
Fractional platforms with legal aliases in Eastern Europe.
Minimum viable software development sold as a front.
Offshore holding company registered under an artificial identity with legal personality.
All clean. All legal... on the brink of collapse.
Without touching a single peso of the Ayala surname.
In three weeks, Iker had real access to his first million. Liquid. Transferable. Invisible to the Treasury.
💬 Stabilized income. Enough to implement a Level 1 laboratory. Priority?
Iker leaned back in his chair.
—Start from the ground up. The bare essentials.
Make a bill of materials for a hidden space. Minimal equipment: synthesis biotechnology, automated assembly modules, untraceable security.
Done. Discreet quotes in progress. Suggested suppliers. Aliases created.
Gabriel closed his eyes.
He felt no fear.
He felt purpose.
Pure determination.
And behind every bit, every dollar, every wire… there was more than just science.
There was a new story. His own.
That night, he went down to dinner.
The table was small. Only four chairs. Alma and the twins were already eating.
The food was simple, but hot.
For the first time, the atmosphere didn't feel hostile.
He served her plate. He sat down. He didn't speak. He just listened.
Alma watched him. Without sarcasm.
Without judgment.
With… curiosity.
—So what do you do now? —he asked, his voice softer than usual.
Like someone who knows they won't get an answer... but still wants to ask.
Gabriel looked up.
—I'm... building something I still don't know how to explain.
Alma raised an eyebrow.
And she didn't smile.
But she didn't look away either.
And in that brief exchange of glances, something changed.
She no longer looked at him as a stranger.
She looked at him as someone who was... deciding who he wanted to be.