The broadcast had already gone live.
The British Prime Minister sat stiffly in front of the camera, forcing composure as the entire world watched.
"This outcome… was inevitable," he began. "The United States has already fallen. President Ellis is dead."
It was a calculated opening—state the facts, justify the surrender.
"If even they were defeated, then continuing this conflict would only lead to unnecessary loss of life. Other nations have also reached out, expressing willingness to negotiate—"
Across the world, several governments watching the broadcast froze.
We did what?
The Prime Minister pressed on, trying to build a narrative—
But suddenly, he was shoved aside.
"Alright, that's enough," Noah said, stepping into frame and grabbing the microphone. "You're overexplaining."
He looked straight into the camera.
"Let's keep it simple. I won."
No hesitation. No embellishment.
"Everything I said before still stands," he continued. "If anyone disagrees, I'll come see you personally. We can go through it again."
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"I'll be running things my way. And just so we're clear—you don't get to define the rules. I do."
He paused, as if organizing his thoughts.
"There are too many countries to keep track of individually, so we'll simplify it. From now on, we'll group things by region. The Americas, Europe… you get the idea."
He waved a hand dismissively.
"How you govern yourselves within those regions? I don't really care. That's your problem. I'm not here to babysit."
A quiet ripple of unease spread through those watching.
"But there are a few conditions," Noah added, his tone sharpening slightly. "First—what I say is final. No debate."
Silence.
"Second… I might get bored."
That got people's attention.
"And if that happens, I may decide to shake things up. Big-scale projects, global events… something entertaining."
His eyes gleamed faintly.
"So here's a requirement—keep the global population above six billion. If your region drops below that, whoever's in charge… well, that's on you."
No one spoke.
No one could.
The way he said it—so casually, so detached—
It felt like humanity had just been reduced to a number on a screen.
To Noah, the world wasn't a civilization.
It was a sandbox.
A place to experiment. To entertain himself.
Whether people thrived or suffered didn't matter—as long as the system kept running.
In a lab somewhere, Tony Stark watched the broadcast in silence.
A memory surfaced—Noah's voice from weeks ago.
"You don't have to be my ally. But you definitely don't want to be my enemy."
Stark exhaled slowly.
"…Yeah," he muttered. "I get it now."
Elsewhere, members of the Interdimensional Chatroom watched the same feed.
The Noah they saw now was nothing like the one they'd spoken to casually before.
This version—
Cold.
Unpredictable.
Untouchable.
No one said it out loud.
But everyone reached the same conclusion.
Do not cross him.
Back in London—
Noah tilted his head slightly.
"Oh, right," he said. "Today's kind of a big day. Should celebrate."
That didn't sound reassuring.
"I'll start with a few ideas," he continued casually. "Maybe some global financial redistribution. Shake up the economy a bit. Free education initiatives, maybe… we'll see."
Around him, officials felt their scalps prickle.
Every word he said had consequences.
Massive ones.
Even something as simple as dumping money into every account on the planet could destabilize entire economies.
And he was just… improvising.
"…Anything else?" Noah asked, glancing around the room.
Every head shook immediately.
No one dared suggest anything.
He'd done enough.
More than enough.
Noah shrugged.
"Alright. I'll think of more later."
He turned back to the camera.
"That's it for now."
The broadcast cut.
The world exploded into chaos.
Within minutes, discussions, panic, speculation—everything surged at once. In less than two hours, the entire global order had been overturned.
And now, every decision rested in the hands of one person.
Half an hour later—
Noah lay sprawled across a sofa inside Buckingham Palace, completely at ease.
An official approached carefully, voice trembling.
"Reports from… the Americas," he said. "Basic communications are being restored. Infrastructure repairs are still ongoing."
Noah nodded lazily.
"Faster than I expected."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The screen lit up—an incoming call.
Wilson Fisk.
Noah answered.
"Mr. Vale," Fisk's voice came through immediately, full of restrained excitement. "I've arrived in Washington."
"Good timing," Noah said. "The Vice President slot just opened up. It's yours."
There was a brief pause on the other end.
"…Understood," Fisk replied, though there was a trace of something else in his tone—something like restrained disappointment.
Still, he didn't question it.
"Whatever you need, I'll handle it."
"Noah smiled faintly. "That's what I like to hear."
He added, almost as an afterthought, "Also—S.H.I.E.L.D. Find them. Lock them down. I want to deal with them personally."
"Consider it done."
The call ended.
In Washington—
Fisk lowered the phone and turned.
Rodriguez stood nearby, already watching him.
Their eyes met.
Rodriguez stepped forward first, extending his hand with a practiced smile.
"Looks like we'll be working together," he said.
Fisk studied him for a moment, then took the handshake.
His grip was firm.
Controlled.
"Seems that way."
Rodriguez leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.
"Titles don't matter," he said. "What matters is who we serve. As long as we stay useful, we stay alive."
Fisk's expression didn't change.
But internally—
He agreed.
For all his ambition, he understood one thing clearly now.
This wasn't politics anymore.
It was survival under a god.
...
Read up to 100 chapters ahead and access exclusive novels by joining my Patreon!
patreon.com/Zyxxar