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LOCATION: VOSS TOWER, 18TH FLOOR
CITY: SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
DATE: JULY 10, 2025 | 7:30 AM
A few days later, the five members of the Round Table, Mallory, and Elliot Voss sat around a conference table on the eighteenth floor of Voss Tower. The past days had been a whirlwind of activity, and everyone felt the mounting pressure of Voss’s shocking announcement.
At Voss’s request, Mallory sat at the head of the table. He took the seat to her left. When everyone had filed in—coffee or tea in hand—and the last conversations trailed off, Mallory called the meeting to order.
“Thanks for coming, everyone. We’ve got a lot to do—together and separately—and I’m afraid none of us will be going on vacation anytime soon. The purpose of today’s meeting is to walk through how all of this will roll out. Mr. Voss has put together a brilliant integration plan for The System. Mr. Voss, if you would?”
Elliot smiled at her. He was proud—not just of how she stepped into her role without hesitation, but of how easily the others had accepted her as The Steward. If anyone had earned the right to guide the future, it was Mallory.
“Thank you, Mallory. Good morning, everyone. I hope you’re rested. We’ve got a lot to cover today. Now that you know what happens after Vitalyx and Rejuvenex reach full distribution, it’s time to talk logistics—the rollout of The System itself.”
Ronan and Grim leaned forward, knowing this part involved them deeply.
“There’s work to do before, during, and after the global awakening. And our solution is simple: you’re going first.”
A few murmurs circled the table, but no one spoke.
“Once final coding is complete after my... departure, the compounds will be ready for full release. But all of you will need the strength, endurance, and mental capacity that comes from integration with The System. You’ll be the first wave. The first class.”
Quiet again. Focused now.
“Ronan and his team have developed an extraordinary framework for introducing The System to humanity. Most of it must be experienced to be understood. But I’ll walk you through a few of the major elements.”
He activated the screen at the front of the room. A presentation began to cycle.
“We’re still refining the mechanics, but the core concepts are in place—weapon design, real-world forging after awakening, and a phased progression system. During the neural phase of the Tutorial, participants will face challenge dungeons designed to teach combat, puzzles, problem-solving, and teamwork. And most importantly, the foundation of the entire structure: the Karmic Gates.”
Ronan smiled. This was his domain—his fingerprints were on every line of code.
“The Karmic Gates ensure humanity doesn’t just grow stronger—but grows wiser. Smarter. Kinder. They’re layered tests of character and morality. Some will be obvious. Most will be hidden. Fail a basic gate badly enough, and you may not wake up until you’ve confronted what’s holding you back.”
“If this were just a game, it’d outsell anything Ronan ever made. But it isn’t a game. It’s a moral architecture. A framework for ascension. And it will act as a gatekeeper—blocking advancement for anyone who refuses to evolve their morality along with their strength.”
Most of the Round Table had heard about karma mechanics before. But this was new. Advancement—denied to the unworthy.
Voss continued. “You’ll learn more soon, but here’s the rollout plan: the fifteen from the Round Table—plus Mallory—and Grim’s four top operatives will be inducted first. During the initial sleep phase, you’ll test the systems, dungeon balance, and Karmic Gates. You’ll assign guardians while you sleep to monitor your bodies for anomalies. There won’t be any.”
“When you return, you’ll be enhanced—mentally, physically, spiritually. And you’ll need every bit of that, because what comes next will be relentless.”
He turned to Grim.
“You and your team will lead recruitment and vetting for the Peacekeepers—military, law enforcement, intelligence, and trusted enforcers from around the world. They’ll be responsible for guarding the global population during the sleep phase.”
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“Wave Two will be a synchronized joint session—an immersive Tutorial specifically designed for your Peacekeepers.”
He let the silence linger for a beat.
“We estimate you’ll need around ten thousand agents to secure the planet while humanity sleeps. Your Tutorial, Grim... is going to be intense. Think basic training—then multiply it by SEAL Hell Week.”
Grim’s eyebrow lifted slightly, definitely intrigued, but he didn’t speak.
“It will feature increasingly difficult physical and combat challenges, coursework on the karmic framework, and a battery of psychological stress tests—each one designed to expose even the slightest trace of corruption or malicious intent. They must be more than strong. They must be incorruptible.”
Mallory chimed in. “The Peacekeepers’ role extends beyond the neural sleep phase. They’ll have unique Class paths focused on guarding and protection. There will still be variation and individual expression within those paths, but make no mistake—what you’re asking of them is no small honor.”
Grim nodded, his expression resolute. “So my team and I will go through the initial Tutorial with all of you, and then we start recruiting. How do we connect with them all in the Peacekeeper session? Is there a way to... port in? Like in The Matrix?”
Ronan chuckled. “It’s not far off, though we’re skipping the metal probe in the back of your head. Your Interface will give you special access as a session leader. You’ll be able to enter and exit sleep mode as needed—and yes, if you want to hang out inside and drink beer with the team, be my guest.”
Elise Draven spoke next. “I’ve been impressed with the data you gave us access to. According to my models, the human body will require significantly less sleep post-integration. Maybe an hour or two of meditative rest for mental clarity, but physically? Almost no need. The new biology is incredibly efficient—every calorie, every nutrient, fully optimized.”
She paused, then added, “I haven’t had the chance to say it before, but it’s the honor of my life to be part of this. Thank you, Mr. Voss. Mallory. And I’m excited to work with all of you.”
She gestured to the full table.
Darian Sirova echoed her. “I agree, Dr. Draven. I feel the same.”
She smiled. “Please—call me Elise. We’re on the same team now. No need for formalities.”
Mallory leaned back, taking it all in. Voss had been right about everything—about everyone. This team didn’t just work. It fit. And it would need to, because what came next would test them all. Hard.
Once again, Elliot Voss had proven his genius.
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LOCATION: VOSS TOWER, 20TH FLOOR
CITY: SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA
DATE: JULY 10, 2025 | TIME: 1:30 PM
That afternoon, Mallory sat in one of the chairs in front of Elliot Voss’s desk. She had been spending six or more hours a day with her boss over the past few weeks, and ever since he had revealed his plans to depart on his own terms, Mallory had wanted to cherish every remaining moment with this brilliant man.
Not just for professional purposes—but for deeply human ones.
For over a decade, Elliot Voss had treated Mallory with respect and unwavering trust. He had challenged her, again and again. Secure this island in the Pacific. Get trademarks and patents for every product. Incorporate this new nanomanufacturing venture. Find space. Procure equipment. Seat the board… And she had done it all—quietly, precisely, and without hesitation. Grateful for the responsibility. Grateful for the growth.
But behind the accomplishments was something more. A bond. Not quite father and daughter, but close. There was affection there. Mutual admiration. A kind of chosen family that had formed over time.
And it was that bond that made the pain so sharp every time Mallory thought about his sacrifice. The quiet certainty with which he had chosen his end. No hesitation. No doubt. He had made it clear—this was not negotiable. This was the culmination of his life’s work, and after passing the torch, he was ready to rejoin Elanor and Madeleine.
Who could argue with a man like that?
Certainly not Mallory. And she wouldn’t try.
So with all of that humming in the background of her mind, she sat across from Elliot Voss, reviewing succession papers that represented the final legal echoes of a life larger than most nations.
The businesses were straightforward. Voss had no outstanding loans. For each company, he redistributed his shares to the board and C-suite—after setting aside twenty-five percent to be split evenly among the employees. They worked through all sixty-four companies that way. The instructions were always the same.
Not that money would carry the same meaning after integration. But the gesture mattered. The message mattered. No one knew exactly what was coming. But one thing was certain: Voss would be gone soon.
His personal assets took more time. Some were marked for sale. Others were gifted to Mallory, Grim, and select members of the Round Table to ensure continuity. He left endowments for sixteen universities, supporting programs in engineering, entrepreneurship and business, sciences, and several other fields.
And then there was the penthouse.
The luxury condo at the top of The Summit, perched in the heart of Russian Hill—the crown jewel of his personal real estate empire. He wanted Mallory to have it. Her current apartment, while modern and comfortable, didn’t even come close. He made sure she had a moving budget and gave her full discretion on timing, understanding she wouldn’t feel ready to move into his home right after losing him.
They went through everything—methodically, solemnly. Mallory had all the legal paperwork prepped in advance. Voss signed it piece by piece.
By the time they finished, it was nearly six o’clock.
Voss leaned back in his chair, visibly tired, but satisfied.
Mallory, though... Mallory felt like a piece of her heart had been surgically removed.
There had been a part of her that believed—as long as she could keep delaying this meeting, it wouldn’t be real. That maybe the paper trail wouldn’t lead to a farewell.
But now it sat before her. A neat stack of contracts, agreements, and signatures.
Cold documentation of a man’s worth.
Not just a great man. A good one.
And one the world would miss dearly—even if it never truly knew just how much it owed him.