In a lavishly decorated conference room in the heart of Beijing, China''s Minister of Technology, Zhao Liang, studied the intricate schematics of NOVA-1 projected on a holographic screen. The glowing lines and detailed calculations hovered in the air, giving the room an almost surreal atmosphere. Around him, engineers and analysts whispered among themselves, their faces marked by tension and concern.

    Zhao tapped nervously on the table with his fingers, a habit he displayed whenever he was deep in thought.

    "This processor..." he finally murmured, breaking the silence. "It challenges the entire global balance. We are the world leaders in electronic chip production. But with this, we could be relegated to second place in an instant."

    One of the engineers, Liu Chen, cleared his throat and stood up.

    "Sir, technically speaking, we can try to replicate this design. But..." He hesitated, searching for the right words. "Even in the best-case scenario, it would take us years. A decade, maybe more, to reach this level."

    "A decade?" Zhao straightened abruptly, his voice sharp. "Do you think we have that luxury? If we let this M. X and Macro move forward alone, we''ll lose access to key markets. And worse, the Americans will dominate by using this technology as leverage."

    An economic advisor seated at the end of the table spoke up.

    "There may be another angle. The Kingdom of Macro is still a relatively weak player on the global stage. Their economy relies on limited resources, and their influence is marginal. We could use this situation to apply pressure—an aggressive commercial offer, development partnerships. Otherwise, we could force them—"

    "No!" Zhao immediately cut in, his tone firm. "If we use force or coercion, we''ll push them straight into the arms of the Americans. And then, we''ll have lost everything. Nothing to gain."

    Silence fell over the room, broken only by the hum of the hologram. Finally, another advisor, Zhang Wei, leaned forward.

    "Sir, we should see this situation as an opportunity. If we can cooperate with them and gain even partial access to their technology, we could strengthen our position against the United States."

    "Cooperation?" Zhao crossed his arms, considering the idea.

    "Think about it," Zhang continued. "This NOVA-1 may only be the beginning. If this M. X is capable of creating something this advanced, who knows what he''ll develop next? We need to be at that table now, not after the fact."

    A murmur of approval spread through the room.

    "And if Macro refuses?" Liu Chen interjected.

    Zhao fixed his gaze on the hologram, his expression hard.

    "Then we''ll make sure they don''t need to refuse."

    Another, more pragmatic advisor raised his hand.

    "And what if the Americans beat us to it? They''re quick to impose sanctions and form alliances."

    Zhao smiled, a cold and calculated smile.

    "The Americans are arrogant. They always believe they''re superior to everyone else. They''ll try to force Macro with sanctions and threats, like they always do."

    He paused before adding.

    "But this time, I have a feeling it won''t go as they expect."

    Exchanged glances confirmed that most of the members shared doubts about the United States'' usual tactics.

    "Prepare a delegation," Zhao declared, standing up and adjusting his suit. "Contact the Kingdom of Macro immediately. Let them know we want to begin formal discussions on mutually beneficial collaborations."

    "And if the Kingdom hesitates?" another advisor asked.

    Zhao shrugged.

    "Then we''ll offer them something they can''t refuse. Investments, infrastructure, military cooperation. But above all, we''ll treat them as partners, not subordinates."

    He turned to Liu Chen.

    "Also, start a detailed analysis of NOVA-1. Even if we can''t replicate it immediately, I want us to understand its foundation. Find every possible flaw in its design. Anything that could give us an advantage."

    Liu nodded quickly.

    Zhao stopped at the door and turned back to give one last warning to his team.

    "This processor is more than just technology. It''s a symbol of power. If we fail to secure our place in this new technological world, we''ll be reduced to following those who shaped it."

    He left the room, leaving his advisors exchanging concerned looks. The future had just changed, and they all knew it.

    ____________________________

    Moscow, Russia — Kremlin, Crisis Room

    Dmitri Ivanov gazed at a model of the globe resting at the center of the conference room. His eyes lingered on the small golden pin marking the location of the Kingdom of Macro. Around him, generals, economists, and intelligence agents argued loudly, their voices overlapping in a mixture of concern and determination.

    He tapped the table softly, demanding silence.

    "The Americans won''t wait," declared a square-faced officer, breaking the quiet. "They''ll find a way to sabotage this project if given the chance."

    A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, but Dmitri remained impassive.

    "I''ve heard they''re planning to sanction Macro if they don''t grant access to the technology to prove there are no patent violations," added another officer.

    An economist, Ivan Petrov, let out a sharp laugh.

    "And you believe them?!" he snapped. "They just want to steal the technology and maintain their monopoly. NOVA-1 is an economic declaration of war to them."

    "They come as friends, but their intentions are clear. They want a piece of the pie."

    A heavy silence fell over the room.

    "What do we do, Your Majesty?"

    The king stood and walked to the window, gazing out at the palace gardens.

    "We''ll receive them. But they need to understand one thing—we won''t give up anything that compromises our sovereignty."

    He turned to the chief of police.

    "Contact Mr. X. I want his opinion on this situation before the delegations arrive."

    ____________________________________________

    Lassen was sprawled out on his couch, an open book resting on his chest while a cup of tea sat cooling on the coffee table. Holograms swirled silently around him, projecting reports and economic simulations he hadn''t even bothered to read.

    The peaceful silence was interrupted by the familiar voice of the system.

    [Host, you have a new message.]

    Lassen opened one eye before closing it again.

    "Who decided to ruin my day?"

    [Probably you, when you decided to mess with the balance of global power.]

    Lassen sighed and set his book aside.

    "I know, I know. What is it this time?"

    [China and Russia have confirmed they''re sending delegations to discuss NOVA-1.]

    Lassen raised an eyebrow, sitting up slightly.

    "Delegations? You mean men in suits, with sweaty handshakes and folders that weigh too much?"

    [Exactly. They''ll come with forced smiles and offers full of hidden clauses.]

    Lassen smirked.

    "Perfect. I''ll make them sit down, serve them tea, and remind them they came here to beg."

    [Charming. Are you planning to offer them cookies too?]

    "Only if they cry."

    The system let out a soft beep.

    [The king wants to know if you have any ideas for handling these delegations.]

    Lassen grabbed his cup of tea, lifted it to his lips, then grimaced when he realized it was cold.

    "They can say what they want. To them, this is revolutionary technology. To me, it''s just a hobby."

    [Show-off.]

    "Shut up." Lassen smirked and placed the cup back on the table. "Call Alex. I need to hear what he thinks."

    [Calling now. Prepare to hear words like ''logistics'' and ''diplomatic protocols.'']

    Lassen rolled his eyes.

    "I''ll survive. Worst case, I''ll mute him."

    Seconds later, Alex appeared on a floating screen, as impeccably dressed as always but with slight shadows under his eyes.

    "You heard?" Lassen asked.

    "Of course. The question is—are you planning to greet them in pajamas or a suit?"

    "I was thinking a bathrobe. To assert dominance."

    Alex pinched the bridge of his nose.

    "You''re not serious."

    "What do you think? I''m not even going to show up. I''ll let the government handle the negotiations. They''re used to this kind of thing anyway." Lassen stretched and propped his feet on the coffee table. "What do you think they really want? Trade deals? Threats disguised as promises?"

    "A bit of both. For now, Macro doesn''t have the infrastructure or strength to be fully independent. We''ll have to give them something."

    "I know. Contact the chief of police or someone else and pitch your ideas for the negotiations."

    Alex opened his mouth to respond, but Lassen immediately disconnected the call.