“The world is yours for the taking, if you can swim, of course,” Wraith said to Zion, his voice dripping with both encouragement and caution. North America now belongs to Zion, a testament to his ruthless ambition and strategic alliances, including Kassandra’s grip on South America. Yet, the path to Europe, Africa, and Asia remains obstructed by Jozen and his mischievous fleet. a formidable barrier to Zion's grand vision.
Zion's eyes narrowed as he contemplated the geopolitical chessboard before him. “For now, I must play the long game,” he replied, his voice steady. “I can manipulate and intervene in overseas politics through complex proxy wars, using mercenary companies in the eastern wasteland to destabilize regions and build puppet states like the Blood Khaganate in Manchuria. Each move is a step toward my ultimate goal: a unified world under my control.”
The stakes are high; every decision could tip the balance of power. Zion understood that to achieve his ambitions, he must not only conquer territories but also win the hearts and minds of the people. The world was watching, and failure was not an option.
He has plans, but this time, he chooses to wait and enjoy his new grand arena—a death race, battle royale, gladiatorial combat, spec ops ninja action, all available in his grand colosseum. He offers the best champions the honor of becoming his lieutenants and vassal rulers overseas. A simple homeless addict can become a lord if they have the talent, or be flattened in the arena.
Despite these achievements, the betrayal of Jozen reminds him of Brutus's betrayal of Caesar. This event makes him more resonant with his god and learns from past historic figures. "I have become a gentler god now," Zion says while kneeling before a statue of Julius Caesar in the temple. "I rule not by the sword, but with pleasure. People die and live because of their own penis. I will become the next god in this realm, soon enough, after I rule all." Zion's gaze turns to the world map in the background of the temple before walking outside, followed by his Amazon Pretorians—a group of female champions honored to act as his bodyguards.
Among the new building projects celebrating glory, blood, and sex, Zion develops AI VR life technology. Tired of a pathetic life in society? Tired of endless war? Want to be a warrior but too scared to face bullets? wanna married someone but too afraid about a commitment? No problem. Now you can spend money to be a king surrounded by succubi in a fantasy world. And everything you want! Earn more money in society to feel pleasure again!
Zion has become the epitome of Capitalism+, making even the wraith blush. Unlike the authoritarian Stalin style, which kills many, or the ruthless ancient capitalism that drives people to kill themselves, he offers both heaven and hell in his hands.
Now, as a good ruler on the world stage, needing a good guy facade, he controls his vassals and proxies for his next global conquest. He sits at his desk, ready to make his move.
At the of the year 2400 AD, the Red Nation, also known as the Free World, joined the New World Council (NWC), bringing the total number of major nations to nine. This expansion included the addition of the Orange Nation, or Nusantara Union, a vibrant group known for their artsy culture and affordable art, hailing from what was once Indonesia and Thailand. The Purple Nation, or Shangri-La Confederacy, emerged as a mystical community that had merged into the Himalayan mountains following the great flood in India. The Green Nation, or Emerald League, consisted of a network of mafiosos in the Persian region. Lastly, there was the Blue Nation, or Nation of the Sea, based in the Pacific and Caribbean, ruled by Jozen himself, which particularly irked Zion.
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With the NWC now in place, a mandate was established forbidding member nations from attacking one another or invading smaller countries. The big question was: had the world finally achieved total peace?
But not everyone was convinced. Some members were still haunted by the memories of the last great war, and they remembered how a few powerful nations could easily overpower the whole UN with their veto power. To prevent that from happening again, some NWC members formed the Crescent Alliance—an alliance within an alliance, designed to keep the peace in this new era.
Zion saw this movement as a red flag for his ambitions of world conquest. Zion aspired to be the unifier, the one who would bring an end to war. But the question remained: how?
One day, an artist from the Orange Nation finished work on a new colosseum for Zion. It was a unique design—a domed structure, almost like a stupa, with a large statue inside. A gift for the Orange Nation,
Zion surveyed the completed arena. Beside him stood Picot, a Yellow Nation general in a yellow tiger-striped cloak, and Kaveh, a Green Nation representative in a sharp black suit.
“Peace is bad for business,” Picot said, dragging on a cigarette. “Gotta keep our vassals fighting. Gives us a reason to sell them the good stuff.”
Kaveh glanced at a long document in his hand. “The NWC’s trying to block arms exports to the Eastern Wasteland. Futile. Their food program has delivery flaws too. Easy for our cargo to slip through.”
Picot nodded. “Yeah, just keep the conflicts from boiling over too fast. We gotta play it smart. Pick the right puppets… When the time’s right, your ground forces will… stabilize things,” he said, looking at Zion.
Zion met his gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable. Kaveh and Picot exchanged a quick glance.
Below, in the empty arena—still surrounded by workers, some of whom were clearly slaves—two men in chains were forced to fight. Kaveh and Picot shared another uneasy look.
Zion intertwined his fingers. “Humans are always cruel to each other, aren’t they? Especially when greed’s involved. My ancestors intervened in every nation on Earth, claiming to spread democracy and liberty… while simultaneously backing fascist dictators. They thrived for a few decades… then collapsed under their own hubris.”
He turned to Kaveh and Picot. “My goal isn’t just about resources. It’s about controlling humanity itself. When my ground forces arrive… there’s no turning back.”
Kaveh nodded. Picot grinned. He gestured to a nearby room, where several journalists waited. “Think it’s time for a chat,” Picot said. “Something the people of the world will eat up.”
The three of them headed inside, ready to spin a tale of harmless geopolitics for the cameras.
Meanwhile, in the eastern wasteland of Central Asia, a lone rider named Ali watched as his homeland burned to ashes. Zion's mercenaries were roaming the land, creating chaos to destabilize the region. They spread terror, justifying Zion's claim to "civilize" the area for his own gain.
But Ali was just a simple tribesman, armed with bows and spears, and a little gunpowder weapons. He led the remnants of his people westward, hoping to find a new future and escape the madness that Zion had unleashed.