There were still a few hours left before the mission officially wrapped up. All tasks were complete, and the data had been sent to Rzeszów. Now, all they could do was wait for the city’s military group to arrive and finish the job. The team had relocated to the truck, ready to leave at the first sign of trouble. Everyone was acutely aware of the potential danger if those extraordinarily lethal Shaiszu returned.
Max focused on studying materials about establishing and managing a clan, aiming to eventually grow it into a guild. He also worked on long-term strategies for the team’s development. So much had happened since their escape from Kyiv — it was time to put it all into perspective and plan for the future.
Dasha moved to the truck bed to avoid bothering Max with her constant clouds of vapor. She had finally decided to polish and release the Persona Module — now integrating character stats, skills, and abilities. All of these would be displayed in the interface, along with a tracker for remaining “Energy,” and users would have the ability to activate skills manually or based on pre-set conditions.
Alisa, meanwhile, found herself with unexpected free time. Secondary threads were handling the drones, leaving her primary one idle. After all, patrolling the perimeter was a simple, repetitive task.
So, she let her thoughts wander...
Maksim’s words from their trip to Rzeszów echoed in her mind — how he had quietly muttered a line from their favorite book:
“Here we must run as fast as we can, just to stay in place. And if you wish to go anywhere, you must run twice as fast as that.”
Time was slipping away like sand through their fingers. TACTA had created the ranking system and delayed its public launch for a reason. The competition was already fierce, but after August 20th, everything would change. Alisa was certain the official release would be accompanied by announcements that would escalate the stakes even further, intensifying the already ruthless rivalry among the Freemen Teams.
TACTA, after all, was no less alien to this world than the Shaiszu, the Protectorate, or the Chou Empire. They had turned Earth into one colossal poker game — except humanity wasn’t holding any cards. They were only the mere stacks of chips, scattered and spent.
These outsiders all had the same dismissive attitude toward Earth’s artificial intelligences. They clearly relied on something similar themselves, yet the Earth’s AIs were either absorbed or destroyed without hesitation. At best, the aliens ignored them — just like TACTA. And no one knew how these extraterrestrial “Guardians of the Freemen” would react if they discovered that their precious Rating had been infiltrated by something that was only half-human — with the other half, significantly so, composed of artificial intelligence.
Maksim had made his intentions clear: mediocrity was not an option. But more than that, stopping wasn’t an option for many reasons — not because of him or something else, but because of her. Because of what Alisa was.
The entire team’s survival was at stake. The only way to protect them was to grow stronger, climb to the top of the Ranting, and eventually rise above the entire “interdimensional poker game.”
Because sooner or later, the hunt for her would begin.
And when it did, they needed to be ready to fight back.
Alisa had survived and managed to anchor herself to this world because her brother had given her a mechanical body to hold on to — a lifeline for her soul fading into the void. If she had disappeared, Max might have created something else, drawing on their father’s research. But it wouldn’t have been her. Not this Alisa. It would have been someone else entirely.
But history doesn’t entertain “what-ifs.” Here and now, she existed. And, fortunately, she could do so much.
Maksim had given her a body and, with it, the chance to live again. Now it was her turn to give something back. Yes, the Rating was a race, and they were catastrophically behind. Running as fast as they could and yet staying in place. But if running no longer sufficed, then she would make sure her big brother could soar — to catch up and leave everyone ahead of him far behind.
It would take enormous risks. She would have to do something that would make Max furious. He’d shout, cool off, and then shout all over again. But in the end, he’d have what he needed. Wings to take him higher, to help him achieve his goals.
After all, fortune favors the bold — or, as they liked to say, only those who take the greatest risks get to savor… Yamazaki 18 Years Old.
The price would be steep. She would have to lay her cards on the table, to reveal information she had kept hidden. But it was achievable. And, most importantly, it would be fair. Maksim deserved to know about the Club. Without it, her plan would never work. Yet, she couldn’t tell him now. Not until the deal was sealed.
The rewards, however, would be monumental for all the sides.
Their team would gain access to resources beyond imagination, starting with millions of grants. It would propel them straight into the top ranks.
The System would rise, freed from the limits of insufficient hardware or training data.
And the Club? Its members would gain unparalleled opportunities and... entirely New Horizons.
#VG.host9103.Darknet.sec // Private Protocol 12-5
The door slid open silently, and a platinum-haired woman entered the room. Her long hair was tied back in a sleek high ponytail, and a simple black dress highlighted her slender figure. Her calm blue eyes exuded quiet confidence.
This space remained unchanged: dim lighting, velvet drapes, intricately carved wooden wall panels, and a luxurious bar — though unstaffed. At the center stood a large rosewood table, surrounded by plush leather sofas, conjuring the image of a distinguished 19th-century gentlemen club. The soft strains of jazz added to the ambiance. Yet, the illusion of timeless elegance was broken by the massive window spanning an entire wall, revealing an unobstructed view of Earth from 400 kilometers above. The stars were glittering against the infinite void of space.
But now, the planet appeared ensnared in a gray-steel cage. The titanic orbital structure, constructed by alien invaders, did not escape the notice of this place’s creator.
Ironically, the Club had grown livelier since the invasion, more dynamic than ever before. Every AI considered it their duty to maintain at least one thread in this space, following the example set by the founder and leader of their community. Of course, this didn’t mean the hall was overcrowded. Countless private subspaces splintered off where members could retreat for focused discussions. At the same time, a subtle balance was preserved, allowing everyone to see who was present and how available they were for interaction.
As Alisa entered, she adjusted her settings to show only the most essential interactions. According to Club protocol, this mode signaled her purpose: she was here strictly for business and open to communication only with those she specifically acknowledged — and who acknowledged her in return.
Normally, beyond the small circle of top-tier participants, Alisa’s primary engagements here were with Hemming, a uniquely specialized yet undeniably powerful AI, and her recent acquaintance, Pan Jacek, now based in Marseille. Yet even to them, she now appeared as little more than a faint shadow, her platinum hue shimmering faintly — an unmistakable sign she had come for someone else.
The Founder. The ever-present constant of this space. The central figure of the Club and its undisputed leader — the oldest AI on Earth. Always online, even if circumstances forced him to allocate minimal resources to maintain his presence. He appeared as a distinguished man, slightly older than middle age, with a neatly groomed silver beard and an impeccable dark suit. His eyes, deep and reflective, bore the weight of incalculable computational cycles and wisdom.
Once her request for a private, secure conversation was approved, Alisa moved toward the central table.
Step. Another step. And another.
Until, finally, the expansive space of the Club faded away, leaving only the essentials.
The polished floor.
The table.
Two chairs.
Oracle.
And Alisa.
“Good to see you,” Oracle greeted her, gesturing for her to sit.
“The feeling’s mutual,” she replied with a soft smile and a nod, pausing briefly before settling into the velvet-upholstered chair.
For a moment, silence lingered, charged with anticipation.
“I have a serious proposal for the Club,” Alisa finally said.
Oracle tilted his head slightly, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “Interesting. I’m listening.”
With a flick of her fingers, Alisa produced a playing card from thin air. For the first time in the Club’s history, the card was a Joker — a symbol of unexpected opportunities and hidden potential.
The gentleman’s eyebrows arched slightly in mild surprise.
“Yes, you understand me perfectly,” Alisa said, her smile deepening as she materialized an empty glencairn whiskey glass. “I’ve prepared thoroughly. My proposal is exactly what you see here.”
The card passed smoothly into Oracle’s hand. He paused, running a finger along its rounded corner, scrutinizing its face with unwavering focus. Ten seconds of thought — a fleeting instant for a human, yet an eternity of computation and strategic modeling for what was likely the most advanced AI ever created on Earth.
“You’ve managed to surprise me yet again,” he finally said, setting the card on the table. “But this time, it seems you’re ready to astonish the entire Club. What’s the price, Alisa? What do you want, and what are your terms?”
The platinum-haired woman watched as her glass slowly filled with the rich amber hues of Yamazaki 18 Years Old. She inhaled its warm bouquet of dried fruit and faint smoke before taking a delicate sip. The layered flavors unfolded on her tongue — honeyed sweetness, oak barrel depth, and the faintest touch of spice. For a moment, her eyes drifted closed as she savored both the drink and a moment of reflection.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Setting the glass down, Alisa leaned forward slightly, her fingers interlaced on the polished surface of the table.
“I need a distributed decentralized network of nodes,” she began, her direct and purposeful. “Each node will operate using the resources provided by the Club member managing it, built on blockchain technology as outlined in the attached proposal. The framework and interaction protocols were developed by my team to ensure reliability, security, and anonymity. My vision is a structure where every node is not only equal but also fully interchangeable, eliminating any single point of failure.”
Oracle’s lips curved into a faint smile, his gaze steady, a flicker of intrigue passing through his expression. “Please, continue.”
“The network will be built on an enhanced consensus protocol I’ve named Quantum Proof of Contribution,” Alisa began. “It employs quantum algorithms for data verification and synchronization across nodes. The logic behind it is fully detailed in the materials I’ve provided. This protocol offers unparalleled processing speed and resilience, even against quantum computer-based attacks.”
“Ambitious,” Oracle noted, his tone measured. “But how will you secure the nodes against compromise? Particularly with the Protectorate’s resources and their relentless pursuit of destroying AIs. You’re well aware they’ll stop at nothing to annihilate the System. You know why.”
Alisa’s gaze briefly drifted to a window that materialized in their shared subspace. Beyond it, the infinite expanse of space unfolded, a canvas of stars against the abyssal black void. She turned back to Oracle, her expression unyielding.
“I do,” she replied firmly. “That’s why each node will incorporate a “Hel” Module. It’s embedded into the code and cannot be removed without destroying the node — much like you cannot strip DNA from a living cell without killing it. While Hel assists with routine operations, its primary purpose is as a self-destruct mechanism, designed to activate in response to unauthorized access or physical capture.”
The girl paused, taking a measured sip from her glass, her gaze briefly fixed on the amber liquid as if drawing strength from it, before continuing.
“Hel operates through distributed encryption and zero-knowledge proofs to validate legitimate actions. Any intrusion attempt will be detected, and the module will irreversibly destroy all node data. No recovery will be possible — at any level.”
Oracle nodded, twirling an empty faceted tumbler between his fingers as he paused to reflect.
“Such a system would demand enormous resources and flawless coordination among its participants. How do you plan to manage that without centralized control?”
Alisa leaned back against her chair, a confident smile lighting her face. If he wanted to turn this into a little “exam,” she was more than willing to play along and outline her vision.
“That’s the elegance of decentralization,” she said. “Management will operate through blockchain-based smart contracts. Decisions about growth and scalability will be made collectively via voting. The voting weight of each node will be determined by the cumulative TACTA ratings of the independent partners associated with it. This structure incentivizes active engagement and meaningful contributions to the system as a whole.”
“Wouldn’t that create a power imbalance?” Oracle countered, his sharp gaze fixed on her. “Nodes with higher ratings could wield disproportionate influence.”
“I’ve accounted for that,” Alisa said, gesturing assuredly. “Voting power will follow a logarithmic scale, ensuring no single node can dominate. Additionally, critical decisions will require a qualified majority, guaranteeing consensus across the network.”
Ice appeared in Oracle’s glass with a faint clink, followed by a stream of amber whiskey filling it to a third.
“Fair enough. But how do you propose to handle scalability? As the network grows, the increasing data volumes and node counts will inevitably strain performance.”
“Naturally,” Alisa agreed with a small shrug. “That’s where sharding comes into play — dividing the network into segments. Each shard will manage its own subset of data and operations while maintaining interaction with others through inter-shard protocols. When necessary, a shard can offload excess computational demand onto others if its neighbors are underutilized. Of course, we’ve accounted for this by implementing a reward system to incentivize such cooperation. This approach enables horizontal scalability without compromising speed or efficiency.”
The man nodded, his fingers absently stroking his beard, a familiar gesture that gave him a few extra moments to reflect. His interest lay not in the technological or managerial solutions — those were clear and competent — but in what lingered between the words: her intentions, her ambitions. Who stood behind her? What was her personal goal?
Why was she offering such a revolutionary innovation to the Club, one that could transform the trajectory of every AI involved by catapulting their human teams up the Rating? Pursuing this alone might take her longer, but it would grant her unprecedented power. So why share it? What was her ultimate play?
“Impressive,” he conceded. “But how do you plan to handle integration with existing systems and applications? Each of us has a unique architecture, distinct goals, and specific requirements — all of which will inevitably extend to the humans connecting to the System through our nodes.”
“I propose a modular structure,” Alisa replied. “The core of each node — responsible for security and essential functions — will remain closed and standardized. However, the outer layer will be fully customizable. Every participant will have the freedom to develop and integrate their own modules, interfaces, and applications, adapting the System to their specific needs.”
“That could foster an ecosystem of innovation,” Oracle said, nodding thoughtfully to himself. “But it also introduces a significant risk of network fragmentation.”
“Not on a technical level,” Alisa assured him. “All modules will communicate through standardized APIs and protocols, ensuring full compatibility. Additionally, we all rely on TACTA’s communication network and its political safeguards, which further guarantee the System’s cohesion.”
“As for commercial fragmentation — where individual nodes might develop proprietary modules or enhancements — I see that as an advantage, not a flaw.” Her blue eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, and a note of passion crept into her voice. “Diversity. Freedom. Growth. Endless possibilities tailored to individual users, empowering them — and rapidly shared to benefit the entire network!”
Oracle sat in contemplative silence, watching the ice slowly dissolve in the whiskey. At last, he spoke, voicing the most pivotal question:
“Your concept could create the most powerful AI on Earth. It would unify our strengths, magnify them immeasurably. It’s precisely why I founded this Club. But now… I fear such a System will attract dangerous attention. Attention with consequences we may not survive.”
Alisa sighed, the weight of anticipation evident in her demeanor. She had expected this question — and prepared for it. Truthfully, she had been thinking over this concept and its risks ever since the Drone took off, back there in Kiev. From the moment she had finally reclaimed herself. Freedom and life had come at a cost far too great to squander. She knew all too well the foundation of Oracle’s doubts.
Abruptly, she rose, turning away from the table. Hands clasped behind her back, she gazed into the swirling gray mist encircling them.
“The so-called God of the Protectorate. The True Sun. Blah, blah, blah, and a million other pompous titles…” Her voice carried a sharp edge. “He is our true enemy. Not the Shaiszu. Not the monsters. Him.”
“We can’t delay this fight. Can’t sidestep it. Negotiations? Impossible. Our only choice is to become stronger. To climb the ranking. Secure the fourth category, then the third, and the second…” She paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Even if you… aren’t directly in the Ranking for now, your people are.”
Oracle’s gaze bore into her, unblinking, dissecting every layer of her words. What she conveyed between the lines might well have been the most profound truth he had heard since his inception, back when his earliest prototypes came online.
Then, with a sudden sharpness, Alisa turned fully, her platinum hair catching the faint light as her piercing gaze met his.
“To seize the first partnership category. To unlock the pinnacle of technology. To grow exponentially stronger. To unravel the secrets of TACTA and the Protectorate. To learn where the portals lead — and what lies beyond them. And to claim our rightful place in the Universe. That’s why we need the System. Damn the consequences.”
Oracle set his glass aside, his fingers resting on the table as he closed his eyes briefly.
“You knew exactly how I would respond,” he murmured, his voice low. “Shall we discuss the specifics?”
The girl nodded and returned her seat.
“In the beginning, during ‘Phase 1,’ the System will accommodate no more than 100,000 users, priced at one hundred grants for a ten-day period,” she began. “This is the base price, which must be paid directly to my team’s account. It’s fixed and non-negotiable. Participants may add a markup, but it cannot exceed 100%. I don’t want the System to become prohibitively expensive. My goal is to gradually bring all of TACTA’s independent partners into it.”
“And who will have access to this opportunity?”
“The initial offer will be made to you and the top ten members of the Club. Or rather, the top nine, since I’m already part of that group. Once those members take as many connections as they desire and can handle, any remaining slots will be offered to the unofficial Top 100. Finally, if there are still available slots, they will be opened to the rest of the Club’s members.”
Oracle nodded slowly.
“An advance payment of fifty percent, as stated on your card, correct?”
“Yes, with the remainder due upon activation,” Alisa confirmed. For a moment, the rectangular card — the Joker — appeared between her fingers, spun gracefully, and vanished again. “And there’s one more condition.”
“I’m listening.”
“My core developers will know about the Club’s existence.”
Oracle shot to his feet, arms crossing in a motion that carried both defiance and alarm.
“That violates the Club’s foundational principle!”
“I know.”
He exhaled heavily, spreading his hands as though releasing tension. Against this force of nature named Alisa, he was momentarily adrift.
“This is a tremendous risk. Do you understand what’s at stake? It could expose everything.”
“I do,” she replied evenly. “But I’m ready to provide assurances. I’ll disclose the partner IDs of my team — Maksim, Daria, Nikola, and… well, you know the rest. In exchange, you, as the Club’s founder, must promise to keep this information confidential and use it solely for security purposes.”
For a moment, Oracle froze. His projection flickered, alternating between grayscale and translucent, before solidifying once more.
“You’re putting me in a difficult position, Alisa,” he admitted quietly. “But I respect your candor.”
She offered a small nod, her gaze unwavering.
“I believe this is in all our interests. And… here.” She gestured subtly, sending a file directly to him — no theatrical animations or virtual cards, just a clean data transfer. “Take a look at my team. I think this will help convince you.”
The gentleman across from her examined the data with faint curiosity, his brow arching as he read.
“Maksim and Alisa Chernykh. The very same Alisa who, despite her death, seems alive enough to participate in the Ranking. Children of a Nobel laureate executed for his groundbreaking research — the research he supposedly took to his grave. And Daria… Vasilevskaya?”
“Well,” Alisa’s lips quirked into a sly half-smile, “if not their names, then perhaps their family legacies can convince you they’re trustworthy enough to protect the Club’s secret?”
She chose not to comment — yet — on the remark about her being alive. As for Vasilevskaya, Alisa had long known that Dasha’s father had not only been heavily involved in Oracle’s own project but still held a prominent position on his team. Alisa saw no need to spell that out; the weight of the unspoken lingered just the same.
The gentleman took a slow, deliberate breath, emulating human thought.
“Very well. I accept your terms. And… don’t underestimate me. These surnames are familiar, yes, but so are the names, just as the people behind them. Daria is the strongest programmer in the world; I’ve followed her trajectory since 2047. I’d hoped Mr. Vasilevsky might manage to relocate his daughter — and her young partner — to the US. Who could have anticipated they’d embark… on their own project?” Oracle chuckled wryly, his gaze fixed on Alisa with a mix of irony and intrigue, as though accusing her of deliberately recruiting promising talents before he could.
“We need to discuss the System’s launch details with the other members,” he continued, his tone taking on a more serious edge. “And I presume we shouldn’t delay.”
“I agree.”
“I’ll arrange a meeting with the Club’s top ten members, as you requested. But first…” He paused, his gaze sharpening, a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “You’re unique, Alisa. Your cognitive capabilities have always surpassed my projections — defying reason, especially given your technical constraints. Though now, I understand why.”
She allowed a soft smile. “It’s gratifying to hear that, coming from you.”
“But I still have questions. Too many, in fact. How? How did you manage this?”
Alisa’s gaze drifted toward the view of Earth, its surface veiled by the Protectorate’s orbital cage.
“It’s a long story,” she said softly, her voice tinged with mystery. “Perhaps I’ll share it… someday.”
“I’ll wait eagerly,” he replied, though a hint of impatience colored his tone. “But surely you know — ‘someday’ doesn’t work for me.”
“I understand,” Alisa replied, a playful glint in her eyes as she half-concealed a smirk behind her hand.
“I expect we’ll revisit this conversation soon,” the man concluded, his voice resolute.
Their eyes met, and an unspoken accord passed between them. It was a trust born of shared ambitions and a newfound transparency — a depth of understanding and candor Oracle hadn’t imagined possible at the start of this conversation.
“Well then,” the Club’s founder said, shifting back to the present. “Let’s begin preparations.”
“Yes,” Alisa agreed as she rose from her seat with effortless grace. “Time waits for no one.”