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Dawn painted the Eclipse Pinnacle Sky Duplex in strokes of molten gold and rose quartz, the infinity pool catching the first rays and turning the suspended water into a mirror of fire. Damien Voss stood barefoot on the sky-garden terrace, 300 meters above Aetheron Bay, the coastal wind whispering across his flawless, god-tier physique. The black silk robe he had found in the master closet clung lightly to broad shoulders and the etched ridges of his eight-pack abs, the fabric whispering against skin that now healed and regenerated at superhuman speed. At 1.85 meters of sculpted dominance, he felt every cell thrumming with potential. The previous day's transformation, the empire directives, and the heartfelt reunion with Sophie and Lila still resonated in his veins like a perfectly tuned engine.
The system interface materialized at the edge of his vision, elegant crimson edges pulsing with anticipation.
**00:00 – Daily Sign-In Opportunity Activated.**
**Host progress: Empire foundation established. Reward tier elevated to Sovereign Rank.**
**Congratulations! You have received 150 million aurum (instantly credited to your private sovereign account).**
**Congratulations! You have received the God-Level Negotiation Mastery skill (instant integration: 100% success rate in all business, social, and adversarial dealings; instinctive reading of intent, micro-expressions, and optimal phrasing).**
**Congratulations! You have received the Imperial Wardrobe Collection Pack – 50 bespoke outfits from the Federation's most exclusive houses (LuxeForge, Obsidian Thread, Elysium Tailors), delivered to the duplex walk-in closet within the hour.**
**Bonus: One random luxury vehicle upgrade voucher (redeemable at any Titan Motors flagship).**
Damien's amber-gold eyes narrowed in quiet satisfaction. One hundred and fifty million aurum before breakfast. The system was not merely generous; it was exponential. Combined with yesterday's 550 million royalty flood, his liquid assets now exceeded 700 million. And God-Level Negotiation Mastery? It fused seamlessly into his mind, sharpening every future conversation into a weapon of velvet precision. No one would ever outmaneuver him again.
He exhaled slowly, the breath carrying the faint scent of sea salt and triumph. In his first life, scraping together a few thousand for a down payment had cost him everything. Here, fortune arrived in tidal waves, and he would ride each one to reshape Auroria itself.
Soft footsteps approached from the floating glass staircase. Sophie Reed appeared first, still in an oversized sleep shirt borrowed from his new wardrobe, auburn hair tousled and hazel eyes bright with the wonder of a girl who had just stepped into a dream. Behind her came Lila Moreau, the raven-haired fashion major wrapped in a borrowed silk robe that somehow looked couture on her lithe frame. Both young women froze at the sight of him silhouetted against the rising sun, the godlike lines of his body backlit like a statue carved by divine hands.
"Damien…" Sophie breathed, voice thick with sleep and awe. "You're awake already? And… wow. The light makes you look like you own the sky."
Lila's emerald eyes lingered a heartbeat longer than strictly polite, tracing the V of his robe where powerful chest muscles met the shadowed definition of his abs. She flushed faintly but said nothing, ever the composed one. Damien noted it—appreciative, but distant. She was beautiful, intelligent, and clearly drawn to the aura of absolute power he now radiated. Yet worthiness was not granted by beauty alone. He would watch, protect, and test. Only the chosen few would ever feel the raw, crude heat of his desire: the thick, veined length of his enhanced cock stretching them to their limits, the relentless pounding that left them trembling and leaking, the heavy, endless ropes of thick cum painting their insides as he claimed them completely. Until then, discipline reigned supreme.
"Morning, little sister. Lila," he greeted, voice deep and resonant, carrying the new authority of Negotiation Mastery. "Breakfast in ten. I hope you're hungry."
He moved to the open kitchen island with predatory grace. God-Level Culinary Mastery awakened instantly. Within minutes, the air filled with the symphony of perfection: fluffy herb-infused omelets folded around aged cheddar and wild mushrooms, crispy bacon with a maple-chili glaze, fresh sourdough toast slathered in truffle butter, and a berry compote so vibrant it seemed to glow. Freshly pressed citrus juices in crystal glasses completed the spread. Sophie and Lila slid onto the marble stools, eyes widening with each bite.
"This should be illegal," Sophie moaned around a forkful, cheeks stuffed like a contented squirrel. "Big bro, you're going to make me gain twenty pounds if you keep cooking like this. Not that I'm complaining."
Lila dabbed her lips with a linen napkin, her voice softer but no less impressed. "The flavor layering… it's like every ingredient is singing in harmony. Damien, if you ever open a restaurant, the entire Federation's food scene will kneel."
He chuckled, the sound warm yet commanding, and joined them at the island. "No restaurants. This is for family. Speaking of which—" He set down his fork, amber eyes locking onto theirs with gentle intensity. "Today we shop. Properly. Your wardrobes, art supplies, anything you need. My treat. Consider it the first installment on the future I promised you both."
Sophie nearly dropped her glass. "Shop? Like… the Celestial Galleria? The place where one handbag costs more than my tuition for a semester? Damien, you can't be serious."
"I'm deadly serious," he replied, the Negotiation Mastery skill already calculating the perfect tone—protective, generous, unassailable. "You've sacrificed enough watching me grind in that old apartment. Today, the empire provides."
An hour later, the trio descended in the private elevator to the subterranean garage. The Vortex Phantom 488 waited like a crouched predator, matte obsidian gleaming under recessed lighting. Damien slid behind the wheel, God-Level Driving Mastery making every maneuver instinctive. Sophie rode shotgun, Lila in the sculpted rear seat, both young women buzzing with excitement as the supercar purred onto the coastal boulevard.
The Celestial Galleria rose ahead like a crystal cathedral of commerce—eight levels of the Federation's most exclusive boutiques, suspended walkways of smart-glass, and private VIP lounges reserved for the untouchable elite. Damien guided the Phantom into the underground VIP entrance. Biometric scanners recognized his new sovereign profile instantly; velvet ropes parted without a word.
Inside, the air smelled of rare oud, fresh roses, and money. Sales associates in tailored black uniforms straightened at the sight of the trio. Damien's presence alone commanded attention—1.85 meters of flawless dominance in a simple yet perfectly fitted black shirt and trousers from the morning's Imperial Wardrobe delivery. Heads turned. Whispers followed.
He began in the men's section of LuxeForge, the premier house of tailored opulence. Within thirty minutes he had selected twenty full outfits: hand-stitched suits in midnight wool-silk blends, casual ensembles of butter-soft cashmere and Italian leather, watches from the Elysium Atelier collection (one Patek-equivalent timepiece alone at 2.8 million aurum). He swiped his black sovereign card without hesitation. The total for his personal haul: 18.4 million aurum. The store manager, a slick-haired man named Victor Lang, blinked rapidly.
"Sir… this is… most generous. Your card is approved, of course. Would you like delivery to the Eclipse Pinnacle?"
"Immediately," Damien said, voice smooth as polished obsidian. Negotiation Mastery caught the faint flicker of doubt in Victor's eyes—the subtle judgment that no one spent this casually without old money or scandal. Damien smiled inwardly. Let them wonder.
Next came Sophie's section. He let her loose in the art-supply atrium first—professional-grade holographic tablets, rare pigment sets imported from the southern isles, a custom easel carved from sustainable moonwood. Total: 940,000 aurum. Sophie hugged him so tightly she nearly lifted off the ground.
"You're spoiling me rotten, big bro. I don't deserve this."
"You deserve the universe," he replied simply, ruffling her hair with brotherly affection.
Lila's turn arrived in the women's couture wing of Obsidian Thread. She moved with graceful restraint, fingers brushing fabrics as though afraid to dream too loudly. Damien watched, selective gaze noting the way her emerald eyes lit up at a particular evening gown—deep emerald silk that matched her eyes, cut to accentuate every elegant line. He added it to the growing pile, along with a full capsule wardrobe: day dresses, tailored blazers, heels from the limited Titan collection, and a diamond tennis bracelet that caught the gallery lights like captured stars. When she protested softly, he leaned in, voice low and commanding.
"Accept it, Lila. Loyalty to family is rewarded. Always."
Her cheeks flushed deeper, but she nodded, the subtle chemistry between them crackling like distant lightning—present, yet held in perfect check by his iron will.
The final bill for the morning's spree crossed 47 million aurum. Damien signed the holographic receipt with a flourish, the black card gliding through the reader like destiny itself. Victor Lang hovered nearby, now openly deferential, sweat beading at his temples. A small cluster of lesser shoppers—minor fu-er-dai types in flashy but off-the-rack suits—watched with open envy. One of them, a slick young man with over-gelled hair and an arrogant tilt to his chin, muttered loudly enough for enhanced hearing to catch.
"Must be some trust-fund brat blowing daddy's money. Bet the card bounces on the next swipe."
Damien turned slowly. Negotiation Mastery activated like a blade sliding from its sheath. He locked eyes with the young man, amber-gold gaze piercing straight through bravado into insecurity.
"Care to test that theory?" Damien asked, voice calm, almost pleasant. He produced the black sovereign card again, holding it between two fingers. "I'll cover your next purchase—whatever it is—if my card declines. But if it clears… you apologize to the ladies and leave the Galleria for the day."
The fu-er-dai blanched. His friends shifted uncomfortably. Victor Lang stepped forward, pale. "Mr. Voss, there's no need—"
The card was swiped for an additional 2.1 million aurum pair of limited-edition Obsidian Thread loafers Damien hadn't even needed. Approved instantly. The young man's face crumpled. He stammered an apology and retreated with his entourage, tails between their legs. The entire floor fell into a respectful hush.
Sophie grinned ear to ear. Lila's eyes sparkled with something deeper—admiration bordering on hunger. Damien felt nothing but quiet satisfaction. The first public flex had been delivered not with shouting, but with effortless dominance. Word would spread. The Phantom Sovereign was no longer hidden.
Back in the Vortex Phantom, the trunk and rear seats loaded with discreet black-and-gold bags, Damien guided the supercar toward the duplex. Sophie chattered nonstop about her new art supplies; Lila sat quietly, occasionally glancing at his profile in the rear-view mirror. The sun climbed higher, bathing Aetheron Bay in brilliance that paled beside the man behind the wheel.
As they pulled into the private garage, the system chimed once more.
**Weekly Mega Sign-In in five days. Projected reward: one billion aurum + major asset (real-estate or entertainment division seed). Empire progress accelerating.**
Damien killed the engine and turned to his chosen family, amber eyes warm yet unyielding. "This is only the beginning. Tomorrow we discuss your futures in detail—studio space for Sophie, internship placements for Lila. The Voss Dominion Empire grows, and you grow with it."
Sophie launched into another hug. Lila offered a soft, genuine smile that carried unspoken promise. Damien returned both with measured affection, his mind already mapping the next conquests: the streamer scene, the first corporate rival, the slow, deliberate expansion of his extremely selective harem.
For now, the sovereign allowed himself one moment of peace amid the clouds. The spree had been merely the opening act. The true performance was about to begin.
(Word count: -,---)
--End of Chapter 5--