System S.E.X. (Seduction, Expansion, eXecution)-Chapter 351: The Weight of Being Part of Royal (2)
For the men who had returned home defeated, their spirits crushed by the "death" they suffered in the afternoon’s paint-ball massacre, these stories were a double-edged sword. Every time they winced as they sat down, their bodies screaming from the weight of the lead replicas, they were met with the beaming smiles of their children and the renewed dignity of their partners.
Ethan had calculated this with precision. He hadn’t just given them money; he had struck them exactly where a man is most vulnerable: his pride and his family.
"I can’t believe we used to live in that basement. Mrs. Higgins from the bakery gave me a whole box of pastries for free just because she saw my Royal ID. She said she felt safer knowing you were on the force," said a woman, her eyes shining with tears of relief.
The men listened, gritting their teeth against the pain. The thought of quitting, which had crossed many minds during the third hour of "crawling and drawing," was instantly incinerated by the warmth of their new homes.
How could I look them in the eye and tell them we’re going back to the dirt? they thought. How could I tell my son he has to leave that school because I couldn’t handle a heavy gun?
The pressure was no longer just physical; it was an infernal psychological weight. If they failed, if they surrendered to the exhaustion, they weren’t just losing a job—they were losing the respect of their families. They were losing the right to be called "men" in their own eyes.
"Are you okay, dear? You’re so quiet," said a wife, noticing her husband staring at his trembling hands.
"I’m fine. Just a long day. I’ll be ready for tomorrow," said the man, his voice low and raspy.
In that moment, 150 men made a silent, blood-bound pact with themselves. They would endure the gravity, they would endure the paint, and they would endure the shadow of death. They would become the monsters Ethan wanted them to be, because the cost of being anything less was a price they were no longer willing to pay.
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The atmosphere in the private boardroom was thick with the scent of expensive tobacco and aged single-malt whisky. Ethan sat back in a leather armchair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, while Jason stood by the window, looking out over the city lights.
"Boss, I’ve seen the latest reports from the finance department. Between the luxury housing, the private schooling, the VIP services, and the daily operations for the 150... we’re hitting six figures in daily expenses. Every single day" said Jason.
Jason turned around, his expression caught between admiration and genuine concern for the bottom line.
"I know we have the capital, but why give them so much? Most men would kill for half of this" said Jason.
Ethan took a slow sip of his whisky, the ice clinking softly against the glass. He didn’t look like a man worried about a budget; he looked like a gardener watching his seeds sprout.
"Money is just a number on a screen, Jason. It’s the cheapest thing I have. What I’m buying is something that can’t be found on a stock exchange" said Ethan.
"But this much? It’s almost excessive" said Jason.
"You have to understand how the human heart works. If I give a man a million dollars, he’ll be grateful for a month. Eventually, he’ll start thinking he earned it with his own talent. He’ll get arrogant. He’ll think he can find a better deal elsewhere. But if you take care of his family—if you give his children a future they never dreamed of and his wife a dignity she never had—you don’t just get his gratitude. You get the loyalty of generations" said Ethan.
The women in the room exchanged glances. They had been listening in silence, but Ethan’s words hit them with a sudden, illuminating clarity. They saw the chess board he was playing on; he wasn’t just building a company, he was building a blood-bound dynasty.
Old Falcon, sitting in the corner with his arms crossed, gave a slow, deep nod of approval. His weathered face broke into a rare, knowing smile.
"I’ve seen kings and generals try to buy loyalty with gold, and I’ve watched them get stabbed in the back the moment the gold ran out. But what the boy is doing... that’s old-world wisdom. He’s making it so that betraying him doesn’t just mean losing a job—it means betraying their own blood. It’s a weight no man can carry easily" said Old Falcon.
"Exactly. A man will betray his boss for a higher salary, but he will die before he lets his son go back to a public school in the slums. I’m not just their leader anymore, Jason. I am the architect of their happiness. And that makes me untouchable" said Ethan.
Ethan stood up, walking over to the window to stand beside Jason. He looked down at the district where his "Vanguard" lived, knowing that at this very moment, 150 men were hugging their families, fueled by a terrifying, beautiful obligation to him.
"The money will come back tenfold through their efficiency and their willingness to walk through fire for me. Now, tell me... how is the progress on the real weapons? If they can handle the lead, they’re ready for the steel" said Ethan.
Jason cleared his throat and adjusted his posture, shifting the conversation back to the technical progress.
"We have started production based on the blueprints. The fabrication of the nodes is also underway. Starting tomorrow, all components will be sent to the main assembly plant. I’ve already arranged for a rotating group of the most trusted men from the 150 to supervise the assembly process personally" said Jason.
Ethan took another sip of his whisky, his gaze turning cold and sharp. He was neither a fool nor a dreamer. He had spent every single one of his Lux Points with calculated desperation. While his amethyst eyes granted him the power to stand against the current kings of the world, his subordinates were still fragile.
He had spent 10,000 Lux Points on the blueprints for the Nodes, urgent to give Crul the processing power needed to infiltrate the world’s deepest secrets. But his most vital investment was in defense: he had purchased the blueprints for the "Laser Pistol" and the "Laser Rifle"—two weapons designed to deliver massive damage, capable of turning any threat to his territory into ash.
To ensure total secrecy, Ethan and Crul had divided the manufacturing into twenty sub-processes. Twenty different factories would produce separate components. Since the parts were designed to look like standard high-tech hardware, no worker could tell if a piece was for a rifle, a pistol, or a node.
The pieces would only meet at the Main Assembly Plant, a fortress of glass and steel.
"Crul is monitoring that facility twenty-four hours a day. We have deployed the full military force there—automated turrets, high-frequency scanners, and thermal sensors. Not even a fly could infiltrate that plant to steal Royal’s secrets without being vaporized" said Ethan.
Ethan set his glass down on the table with a firm click. The foundation was set. He had the loyalty of the men, the happiness of their families, and now, he was building the teeth that would bite back at the world.
"Let them think we are just a wealthy company. By the time they realize we are an empire, it will be far too late for them to stop us" said Ethan.
