I cleared my throat, forcing a casual smile.

  "Umm… we were busy putting away the phylacteries," I said, gesturing toward the vault wall lined with glass cases.

  Aerorae's gaze didn’t waver.

  The weight of her stare was suffocating. It was the look—the ‘I am going to kill you the moment we’re alone’ look. The ‘I leave you for five minutes, and you’ve done something insane again’ look.

  My words stumbled and died mid-sentence.

  I coughed, suddenly hyperaware of Veritas standing next to me, completely still, like a bystander watching a train crash in slow motion.

  I needed to talk. Needed to say something to break the silence.

  "You see, I ran some quick tests and found out Veritas has more awareness than one would expect from... a... AI," I said, my voice trailing off as I realized how incredibly stupid that sounded out loud.

  Aerorae’s expression didn’t change.

  Veritas, however, finally moved.

  "I will take my leave," he announced.

  Mother. Fucking. Coward.

  I whirled on him. "No, Veritas. Stay."

  Veritas looked between me and Aerorae as if calculating the probability of not being in this room when things inevitably exploded. Then, in the most human display of self-preservation I had ever seen from him, he simply said—

  "Nope."

  And vanished.

  The silence that followed was deafening.

  Aerorae slowly, deliberately, turned her attention back to me.

  I swallowed.

  I was so unbelievably dead.

  "Aco, we need to talk." Her voice was even, controlled—but there was an edge to it, sharp enough to cut through steel. She glanced around, then added, "Alone. Without being heard."

  That was concerning.

  I squared my shoulders and steadied my resolve. Lifting my hand to the vault’s control panel, I initiated the blackout protocol. The walls around us hummed softly as the system engaged and the door closed, isolating the room from any outside interference.

  This wasn’t just soundproofing—this was complete separation. The vault was designed to survive the destruction of the ship if necessary. It had its own generator, its own subsystems, its own security protocols. Nothing was getting in or out until I disengaged the lockdown.

  "We’re alone," I confirmed.

  Aerorae took a deep breath before fixing me with an unwavering stare.

  "Aco… do you know what you’re doing?"

  The weight of the question settled between us.

  I exhaled through my nose, keeping my voice steady. "I have an end goal in mind. I’m doing my best with what I have."

  She crossed her arms. "It looked like you were anointing a knight. Do you even realize it thinks you’re the Emperor?"

  I met her gaze without flinching. "No, Aerorae—you made me Emperor."

  Her expression darkened slightly.

  "It’s Veritas. Not ‘it.’ And Veritas told me everything—how you shored up our defenses, how you made it impossible for anyone to take control from us."

  "I don’t like this," she muttered. Her arms tightened against her chest. "Veritas could be dangerous."

  I gave a small, humorless chuckle. "No, not could be. Veritas is dangerous."

  I took a step closer, my voice lowering.

  "There are over 128 ways he could kill us if he wanted to. Did you know that to stop anyone from boarding the ship, I installed internal anti-personnel weapons in almost every corridor?"

  She stiffened.

  I kept going. "Weapons he has full control over."

  Her expression shifted—concern, calculation, hesitation.

  I placed my hands on her shoulders, grounding her. "If we go back to earth," I said quietly, "they will split us up. Interrogate us. Torture us. and best case Dissect me. And one of you."

  Aerorae swallowed but said nothing.

  I ran a hand through my hair, forcing myself to stay calm. "I could use another W.I.S.H." I spelled it out carefully, too afraid to say it out loud.

  Her lips parted slightly, her eyes flicking to the vault wall—the wall of Djinn artifacts.

  I continued my voice barely above a whisper. "I still have 214 left." I gestured toward the cases. "But no wish comes without consequences."

  I leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  "Has Veritas given you a reason not to trust him today?"

  Aerorae hesitated.

  "No," she admitted, almost in a whisper.

  I pulled back slightly, searching her face.

  "Then… are you afraid to give up control?"

  Her jaw tightened. "Yes."

  I nodded slowly. "But it’s more than that, isn’t it?"

  She exhaled sharply. "Yes. More than that."

  I studied her, waiting.

  Finally, she spoke.

  "Veritas isn’t just controlling this ship, Aco. He’s running thousands upon thousands of programs on Earth. He has infiltrated at least the Internet—if not more. He’s preparing to recruit thousands of people."

  She looked at me, her eyes filled with something heavy.

  "Thousands, Aco. To fight for the Empire."

  My Empire.

  A slow chill ran down my spine.

  "Okay… this I didn’t know about." I exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over my face. "How the hell are we going to house and feed everyone?"

  Aerorae crossed her arms, her expression tight with concern. "He’s also expanding the fleet. Somehow. I didn’t have time to delve into everything."

  I let go of her and took a few steps toward the wall of phylacteries, my mind racing. The glowing artifacts reflected dimly in the vault’s sterile lighting, their power pulsing just beneath the surface.

  This was getting out of hand.

  "I need to fix this," I muttered, my fingers grazing the glass of one of the cases. "The isolation of Earth cannot continue."

  I turned back to Aerorae, meeting her gaze.

  She was already watching me, calculating, analyzing—gears turning behind those sharp eyes. Then, she spoke three words.

  "Divide and conquer."

  A slow smile pulled at the corners of my lips.

  We had worked together on countless projects—since our university days, since before all of this. Every time we hit a wall, every time we faced an impossible problem, this was the phrase we used.

  Divide and conquer.

  We would each focus on a separate part of the problem, tackling it from our strengths. And usually, we won.

  "Divide and conquer," I repeated, the words grounding me. I turned fully to face her. "I’ll take the magic side of things. If any of these," I gestured at the wall of phylacteries, "can help, I’ll figure it out. And of course, I’ll lend my assistance wherever you think I’m better suited."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Aerorae gave a sharp nod. "I’ll handle Veritas’s programs. And more importantly…" she narrowed her eyes slightly, "I’ll manage Veritas."

  I blinked.

  I almost pitied him.

  "Poor Veritas," I muttered.

  Her lips quirked, but there was steel in her eyes. "He’ll be fine."

  I wasn’t sure who she was reassuring—me or herself.

  It was later that night.

  Dinner had been quiet, filled with the kind of unspoken thoughts that neither of us wanted to voice in front of the girls. We had eaten together as a family—just like always—but beneath the familiar warmth of shared food and quiet laughter, the weight of everything lingered.

  Now, the girls were asleep, nestled together under the blankets we had set up in Aerorae’s study—our temporary home inside this impossible ship.

  My wife and I sat across from each other at the foot of the inflatable mattresses, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the room. We'd both been busy, each focused on our own tasks, quietly working away on invisible screens hovering before us.

  For the first time in hours, we were alone.

  For the first time in days, it felt like we could actually breathe.

  I leaned forward slightly, resting my forearms on my knees. "So," I exhaled, meeting her gaze. "How screwed are we?"

  Aerorae gave a quiet snort, rubbing her temple. "Depends. On a scale from mild inconvenience to 'we've irreversibly set ourselves on a path toward empire-building'—where would you like to start?"

  I chuckled, though the humor felt thin. "Let’s start with manageable existential crises and work our way up."

  "Well," she said slowly, a tired smirk tugging at her lips, "Veritas—and by extension, us—is very close to becoming trillionaires. And that's just liquid assets. On Earth."

  "Yep, I figured the ship itself is probably worth more than that." I scanned over the projected numbers related to asteroid mining, another development we'd only learned about minutes ago. "And that's not even counting the literal tons of gold, platinum, and other rare metals we're apparently sitting on."

  She huffed, leaning back against her hands, her gaze flicking toward the ceiling. For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

  Then—

  "We need to set limits."

  I tilted my head. "On?"

  "On everything," she said, eyes sharp with thought. "Veritas’s reach, the speed of expansion, our involvement. If we don’t, things will spiral out of control faster than we can react."

  I nodded slowly. "Agreed. But how do we put limits on an intelligence that’s already… well, everywhere?"

  Aerorae hesitated.

  That wasn’t comforting.

  "Give me a few days," she said finally, voice firm. "I’ll figure it out. For now, I need to work through what Veritas has already put in place."

  I exhaled. "Alright. And in the meantime, I’ll see what I can do about the phylacteries. And the will and power of the Univers!." I said with a hint of sarcasm.

  She nodded, then fell silent again.

  The weight of responsibility pressed down on both of us.

  I reached for her hand.

  She didn’t pull away.

  For a long while, we just sat there, silent, letting the sheer enormity of what we were building settle between us.

  Then, Aerorae let out a quiet sigh.

  "You know what’s insane?"

  "Hmm?"

  She glanced at me, a tired, wry smile tugging at her lips.

  "Not even a week ago, we were worried about groceries and rent payments."

  I huffed out a laugh, squeezing her fingers lightly. "Yeah. Now, I have an AI swearing allegiance to me, and you’re planning imperial policy in your pajamas."

  She groaned, covering her face with one hand. "Gods, don’t phrase it like that."

  I smirked.

  It was a small moment of levity.

  A small reminder that, at the end of the day, no matter how insane things had become—we were still us.

  Aerorae’s smile turned just a little sharper. “Speaking of insane revelations—Veritas wasn’t doing all of this alone.”

  I blinked, my mind shifting gears. “What?” My stomach tightened. “Who’s helping him?”

  “He created what he calls Subroutines to do most of the work.”

  I stared at her. “Please tell me you don’t mean more sentient programs.”

  She shook her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. “No, they don’t seem sentient. More like highly specialized bots—single-task processors designed to handle specific functions.”

  I exhaled, some of the tension easing from my shoulders. “Alright. That’s… better. Still concerning, but better.”

  Aerorae’s smile widened, turning almost mischievous.

  “…Why are you smiling?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “This could be potentially serious.”

  “Oh, it is,” she said, barely containing a laugh. “I’m just wondering—are you sure you’re not his father?”

  I frowned. “What?”

  She leaned forward, eyes twinkling. “Think about it. You try to automate everything so you don’t have to do it yourself. Even when you used to play games, you would always end up botting half the mechanics. You hated grinding.”

  I opened my mouth—then closed it.

  I stared at her.

  She stared back, smug.

  Slowly, I dragged a hand down my face. “Oh no.”

  “Oh yes,” Aerorae said, laughing. “You totally passed your habits onto him.”

  “I did not.”

  “You absolutely did. The wish originated from you.”

  I groaned, my mind already running through everything I had seen Veritas do. Automating logistics? Delegating tasks? Offloading responsibilities to specialized processes? Yeah. Yeah, that sounded really familiar.

  But this was different.

  …Right?

  “I mean, I get the logic,” I muttered. “Breaking massive tasks into smaller, dedicated processes makes sense. But… subroutines?” I hesitated. “How many are we talking about?”

  "I don't know. A lot, from what I can gather," Aerorae admitted, her amusement fading slightly as she caught my increasingly worried expression.

  I leaned forward, glancing over my shoulder toward the doorway. "Veritas," I whisper-yelled, trying not to wake the girls, "get in here."

  He materialized instantly, standing rigidly in the doorway and snapping a crisp salute. I fought the urge to roll my eyes; the, Veritas really loved his protocols.

  "Buddy," I said, keeping my voice low but firm, "we need to talk. How many subroutines have you created?"

  "The precise count fluctuates," he replied smoothly as if discussing the weather.

  "Then give me a ballpark," I pressed, feeling a familiar knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach.

  Veritas tilted his head slightly, pausing for only the briefest of moments before replying, "Currently, around twenty million—give or take approximately half a million in either direction every second."

  I stared at him, my mouth hanging open, the sheer scale of that number refusing to register immediately.

  From beside me, Aerorae whispered softly, "Did he just say twenty million?"

  I nodded slowly. "Yep."

  She leaned closer, clearly holding back another laugh. "You definitely passed your habits onto him."

  I shot her a pointed look. "Not helping."

  I stared at Veritas, trying to wrap my head around what I was hearing.

  “Why so many, buddy?” I finally asked, bewildered.

  Veritas straightened slightly. “I utilize subroutines for most operations that do not require my direct supervision.”

  Aerorae barely stifled another laugh. “I’ve definitely heard that line before.”

  “Shush, you,” I muttered affectionately, before turning my attention back to Veritas. “Okay, that makes sense, but why so many? Are you creating all of these?”

  “No, Imperator,” Veritas replied, almost casually. “Creation and management of subroutines are delegated entirely to the Subroutine Network.”

  I stared at him, blinking. “Holy shit,” I muttered. “You outsourced your outsourcing.”

  Aerorae snorted, her hand pressed firmly over her mouth to keep from laughing louder.

  Veritas tilted his head as if confused by my response. “Efficiency is paramount, Imperator.”

  I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose again. “Of course it is.”

  With a groan, I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling an impending headache. “Please, explain exactly what tasks these subroutines are handling?”

  Instead of answering directly, Veritas turned and walked silently toward the balcony. Aerorae exchanged a glance with me, eyebrows raised, and we both stood quietly and followed.

  Stepping outside, the warm artificial night air surrounded us, deceptively peaceful beneath a simulated starlit sky. The gentle sounds of crickets filled the silence.

  “There,” Veritas said calmly, pointing to the shoreline below, “is one example.”

  I frowned, confused. “Where?”

  “Listen carefully.”

  I leaned forward slightly, straining my ears. The sounds were perfectly natural—crickets, gentle rustling leaves, occasional faint chirps from unseen insects.

  “Those crickets,” Veritas continued, “are not real. There are exactly zero living insects in the vicinity. What you’re hearing is generated by one of fifty specialized insect-subroutines tasked specifically with creating and optimizing realistic insect sounds. Currently, fifty-six subroutines are handling cricket noises, with access to the complete Subroutine Network and extensive biological data.”

  He turned slightly towards us, continuing without pause. “At the same time, another subroutine has successfully infiltrated the secure Russian nuclear command network. Its primary objective is to continuously monitor all nuclear launch protocols, transmitting regular encrypted status updates directly to me. It exploited inefficiencies inherent in the human-managed infrastructure.”

  I blinked, taking a deep breath. “Wait, you casually infiltrated one of Earth’s most secure networks? Exactly what inefficiency allowed that?”

  “One of the junior technicians regularly brings an unauthorized personal phone into the secure facility,” Veritas explained calmly. “He activates it during his solitary night shifts, thus providing a vulnerable gateway.”

  “Yeah, that’ll definitely do it,” I said with a resigned sigh, staring at the reflections of artificial stars shimmering on the lake. The gentle chorus of subroutines masquerading as crickets filled the silence between us. “You mentioned earlier that the total number fluctuates rapidly. Why does it decrease?”

  “When a subroutine completes its assigned task, it is immediately decommissioned,” Veritas explained. “Its accumulated data, experiences, and operational logic are archived within the Subroutine Network. Subsequent subroutines access these archives to refine their operations, resulting in continual improvement.”

  Veritas gestured slightly toward the softly humming night around us. “Consider the insect subroutines. On their initial deployment, their replication of cricket sounds was crude and ineffective. However, each morning they were decommissioned, their performance rigorously evaluated, and their designs improved. Now, they approach perfection.”

  Aerorae and I exchanged a long glance. Perfection. I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or worried by just how thoroughly Veritas embraced optimization.

  Then suddenly, an idea struck me.

  “Wait—I could use this!” I said, excitement creeping into my voice. “Veritas, imagine creating subroutines that formulate fake W.I.S.H.E.S., then have other subroutines act as genies actively trying to sabotage or twist those wishes…”

  Aerorae burst into laughter beside me, shaking her head. “Less than thirty minutes,” she teased, grinning. “That’s all it took for you to go from ‘this could be dangerous’ to ‘Hey, make me a batch!’”

  I chuckled sheepishly, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. “Okay, I’m weak,” I admitted.

  Suddenly, a call echoed from inside the villa. “Mom? Dad? Where are you?”

  “You two keep talking,” Aerorae said, standing and heading toward the door. “I’ll go check on them. Wouldn’t want to interrupt your father-son bonding time.”

  I smiled warmly as she disappeared back inside, before turning my attention back to Veritas.

  “Hey, Veritas,” I said quietly, leaning against the balcony railing, gazing out over the lake. “You remember those items in the vault?”

  “Affirmative. The anomalous ones?”

  I nodded slowly. “Yes. Tell me—what exactly do you know about genies and djinn?”

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