System S.E.X. (Seduction, Expansion, eXecution)

Chapter 378: The Iron and Light Convoy

Ethan stood on the edge of the Royal Tower’s helipad, hands clasped behind his back. From this height, Massachusetts didn’t just look like a reconstruction project; it was a living, breathing organism under his iron rule. Automated cranes worked ceaselessly, and the city lights formed a tapestry of gold that answered to only one master.

For a month, Ethan had lived like a true sovereign. He strolled through his domains, enjoyed the company of his women, and cemented his legend. But beneath that veneer of tranquility, Royal’s war machine never stopped.

Beside him, Jason was the living embodiment of raw power. The rigorous training and the revolutionary enhancements Ethan had imposed had transformed the soldier: his muscles were no longer just defined; they were sculpted with a density that defied human anatomy. His veins pulsed like steel cables beneath his hardened skin.

"The last few weeks of peace have been a gift, Boss. But the men are restless. They’ve seen the new toys that rolled out of the foundry," said Jason, his voice vibrating with newfound authority.

"Peace is just the time we use to sharpen the blade, Jason," said Ethan, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

Over the last ten days, the 150 chosen soldiers had completed their final cycle of the Nectar of the Queen Worm—the miraculous substance Ethan had discovered deep underground. They were no longer mere men; they were a super-army. Every single one of them now possessed the physical strength and durability of a cultivator at the Bone Refinement stage.

"The men are ready," said Jason. "They can feel the power in their marrow. The nectar has turned them into apex predators."

Ethan nodded. The delivery of the special weaponry had been completed the previous day. The 150 chosen ones now carried technology the Union couldn’t even dream of. Each carried a standard-issue laser pulse pistol, but the real prize was the new tactical vehicles. They were armored trucks made with an experimental alloy suggested by Crul: a fusion of high-carbon steel, tempered glass polymers, and traces of exotic materials purchased from the store.

"Crul’s simulations are clear," said Ethan, gesturing to the convoy forming below. "The armor is the absolute peak of what this planet can produce. It can withstand a direct hit from an anti-tank missile or heavy-caliber kinetic fire without a single scratch. Even concentrated laser fire would take minutes to breach it. It’s a fortress on wheels."

"And with the Bone Refinement strength of the men inside, we’re basically unstoppable," said Jason.

Ethan nodded. According to the matrix analysis, as long as the power limit remained at the Body Refinement level, his men were technically invincible inside those machines. The problem was deployment.

For this expedition to the Grand Canyon, Ethan was taking only 50 of his 150 elite soldiers. Though he was leaving a force of 500,000 to defend the territory, he was stripping 90% of his advanced offensive gear. The remaining defense forces would have to rely on conventional kinetic weapons, a thought that gnawed at him.

"Jason, you’re with me. But the Falcon units from 0 to 5 are staying behind. Their sole mission is the protection of my women and everyone bearing the ’R’. If anything breathes near them with ill intent, I want them erased," said Ethan.

"Understood, Boss. The perimeter back home will be absolute," said Jason.

The convoy was ready. A 36-hour non-stop drive across a fractured nation lay ahead. They were hauling the new rock-boring prototypes: monstrous laser drills, each two meters long and weighing over 300kg. These tools were capable of melting volcanic rock and reinforced metal like paper, but they came with a lethal catch: the urgency of the build meant the laser generation modules were exposed, radiating an infernal heat. They required constant, direct liquid nitrogen cooling, and could not be used for more than one hour continuously.

Ethan descended to the runway where the engines were already roaring. The matte black paint of the heavy trucks absorbed the light, save for the solid gold ’R’ emblems that gleamed with pride.

"It’s time to go back to the monster’s pit," said Ethan, climbing into the lead vehicle. "If the world wants a war, let them find us at the bottom of the canyon."

"I’ll reach the site and secure the perimeter before your arrival, Boss," said Jason, saluting with a sharp, disciplined snap.

Ethan patted him on the shoulder, his eyes cold and focused. "Excellent. Don’t disappoint me, Jason."

With a nod, Ethan gave the signal. The convoy of armored titans roared to life, their engines emitting a low, rhythmic thrum that shook the very ground. As the convoy rolled out, Ethan watched them go, his presence acting as a silent, invisible anchor for their morale. He didn’t need to be in the lead truck to command them; his influence was woven into the very structure of their armor and the strength in their bones.

Once the dust settled, Ethan turned on his heel. He didn’t head for the armored trucks. Instead, he walked toward a sleek, blacked-out transport helicopter waiting on the secondary pad. Falcons 6 through 10 stood at attention nearby, their tactical gear humming with latent energy.

He was headed for the capital.

A few days earlier, an invitation—more of a veiled command—had arrived from the Capitol in Washington D.C. They wanted to "discuss important matters." Ethan knew exactly what that meant; the old guard was smelling blood in the water. He understood the game better than anyone: if he didn’t show up, they would perceive it as weakness. And if those bastards saw weakness, they would bare their fangs and attempt to tear his burgeoning empire apart.

He wasn’t foolish enough to walk into the viper’s nest alone.

Before departing, he had reached out to the Matriarch Blackwood. She had agreed to attend as well, and they had coordinated a rendezvous in the capital. It was a strategic alliance, a silent warning to the Capitol that Royal wasn’t standing in isolation.

If the meeting devolved into a trap, Ethan was ready. He had already calculated the variables; if necessary, they would carve their way out through blood and bone. It was the only language the power-hungry men in Washington truly understood. He would show them exactly what happened when they dared to strike at the house of Royal.

"Let’s go," said Ethan, stepping into the helicopter.

As the rotors spun up, whipping the air into a frenzy, Ethan looked down at his city one last time. The game had entered its most dangerous phase. Whether in the depths of the Grand Canyon or the halls of power in D.C., he was ready to ensure that his enemies didn’t just lose the war—they would lose their existence.