Chapter 2: The Billion Dollar Ghost
Marcus was leaning against his car, watching. Stanley sat on a pile of concrete pipes and reached into the bag. He pulled out his few clothes, then reached deeper. His hand brushed against something impossibly cold—an irregularly shaped black box with no visible locks. Beside it was a shimmering, silver-edged Diamond Card from the Aegis Global Bank.
"The Aegis Diamond Card," Marcus whispered. "There are only five in the country, Stanley. Two belong to the highest-ranking members of The Vanguard. You were one of them. We haven't been able to find you for five years because that old man kept you off the grid."
"I don't believe you," Stanley snapped. "This is a scam."
"There's an ATM across the street," Marcus pointed. "Input your real birthday. July 14th."
Stanley walked to the bank kiosk and slid the card in. The screen turned a deep, obsidian black.
[ENTER PIN]
He punched in 0-7-1-4-9-7. The machine hummed with a subsonic frequency—a technology not of this world.
[IDENTITY VERIFIED: MAJOR STANLEY MCCAIN]
[ACCESS LEVEL: ORIGIN]
[TOTAL BALANCE: $1,400,000,000.00]
Stanley stared at the nine zeros. A billion dollars. He wasn't a laborer. He was a Major in an organization that stood between Earth and a robotic harvest.
A week later, Stanley stood in a hidden medical facility beneath New Raven. Marcus had finally convinced him to meet the one person who could truly help.
Dr. Amara stood by a reclined chair, her sharp, beautiful face illuminated by a blue light. She was the Vanguard's lead physician, a woman who used technology created by a genius defector who had left the organization years ago. Amara didn't look at Stanley. She gave him a "cold shoulder" so profound it felt like a physical barrier.
"Sit," she said, her voice clinical.
"Marcus says you can help me remember," Stanley said. "But you act like you want me dead."
"My personal feelings are buried, Major," Amara replied sharply. "Lie back."
She began the hypnosis. As Stanley drifted, the neural seal on his mind—placed there by the synthetic robots during his crash—finally began to crack. Images flooded in. He saw the Vanguard's purpose. He remembered Amara. They had been close, but she had chosen the organization over him. He realized he was at the Goose-Skin Stage of cultivation—purely physical, no elements yet.
The next morning, Stanley returned to Miller Heights in a matte-black luxury SUV. Foreman Kola was screaming at a worker named Elias—Stanley's only friend, whose wife had abandoned him and their child two years ago.
"Pay them, Kola," Stanley's voice boomed.
Kola whirled around, laughing. "The homeless laborer is back! What, did you buy that suit with your divorce settlement?"
Stanley pulled out a tablet. "I just bought the Sentinel Corporate Group. I own this site, your contract, and the debt on your house, Kola. You're fired. And the police are on their way for the payroll funds you've been stealing."
As Kola was led away in handcuffs, Stanley turned to Elias.
"Elias," Stanley handed him a folder. "I've made some changes. You are now the CEO of Sentinel. It's a multi-billion dollar firm. Take your daughter, get a house, and find a lawyer to ensure your ex-wife never sees a dime. Consider it a gift for the man who saw me as human when I was a ghost."
Stanley walked back to his car. Amara was waiting, her cold mask still in place, but her eyes were fixed on the black box in his hand.
"The box is a Void Relic," she said. "The defector doctor made it. It contains your armor and your cultivation manual. But you can't open it until you break into the Muscle-Tempering Stage."
Stanley looked at the sky. He knew the synthetic robots were watching from the stars. The billion dollars was just a tool. The real war was for the soul of the planet.
"Let's go," Stanley said. "I have a thousand years of history to reclaim."