Chapter 786  A Month Later


    {What do you mean, sir?} Nova responded, her tone laced with surprise.


    “What is your name?” Aron asked, his tone steady but scrutinizing.


    {Nova, it''s the name you gave me after creating me,} she answered promptly.


    “What is...” Aron’s voice trailed off again, his eyes narrowing.


    For the next twenty seconds, the exchange between Aron and Nova intensified, becoming a rapid-fire interrogation. Aron fired off more than 150 questions, probing her knowledge, function, and past interactions with him. Nova answered each query flawlessly, without hesitation or deviation, her responses perfectly aligned with what Aron knew to be true.


    Despite her impeccable answers, Aron’s unease didn’t waver. Something still felt off, a subtle discord he couldn’t yet define.


    He took a deep breath, deciding it was time to move to a definitive test. “Show me the stream feed,” he demanded, his voice edged with suspicion.


    {Unfortunately, I don’t have access to that data,} came Nova’s reply, the same response that had triggered Aron’s suspicions in the first place.


    “Looks like I’ve been caught in an illusion,” Aron muttered, his tone laced with realization.


    Despite Nova’s flawless answers to his barrage of questions, each response had ultimately drawn from his own knowledge—facts he already knew. This meant the illusion wasn’t crafting anything new but rather mirroring his understanding, keeping everything as consistent as his mind would expect. Even the presence and behavior of Nova were perfectly replicated, thanks to his intimate knowledge of her creation, functionality, and personality.


    The key flaw in the illusion, however, lay in its inability to access external data. The fake Nova couldn’t corroborate its existence with information outside Aron’s mental framework. While the illusion had managed to replicate Nova’s mannerisms and responses, it relied solely on his own mental capacity to sustain its credibility.


    This singular inconsistency was what finally tipped Aron off. The illusion was remarkably detailed, but the absence of external collaboration made it clear—it was all in his mind.


    Nova’s response came swiftly, but the weight of her words was heavy. {In that case, sir, you would likely have perished within an hour. The illusion manipulated your perception so drastically that you were continuously expelling mana to sustain your efforts. Eventually, you would have exhausted your reserves, forcing your body to convert its own structure into mana to compensate. It’s a fatal cycle.}


    As Nova continued explaining, Aron’s gaze shifted to his surroundings, and he finally noticed something peculiar—the mana in the air was so dense that it had become visibly tangible, swirling like a faint mist around him. The realization hit him like a tidal wave: all the mana he had been expelling during his time in the illusion had not dissipated into nothingness. It had simply been ejected by his body, accumulating in the environment.


    Aron frowned, the realization hitting him hard. “So it wasn’t just mental; it was an all-encompassing trap. A death sentence for anyone unable to break free.”


    {Precisely,} Nova confirmed. {It’s fortunate that the system’s protections are as robust as they are. Otherwise, even you might not have survived this encounter.}


    “Damn, that is scary,” he muttered, a shiver running down his spine as goosebumps prickled his skin. The thought of what could have happened if the system hadn’t intervened was chilling.


    Many might question why Aron chose to face these powerful opponents alone when he had formidable allies, such as the Tree Folk, at his disposal. The answer lay in a fundamental gap: they lacked sufficient information about the unique abilities of the civilizations they were up against. Sending his allies without a full understanding of their enemies'' capabilities would have been reckless.


    There was also a more strategic reason—one rooted in the necessity of progress. The other civilizations had a significant head start in developing and refining their abilities, consolidating their strength over time. To bridge this gap, Aron had devised a bold strategy: wagering his advanced technology in exchange for theirs. By facing these challenges personally, he not only gained critical insights into their abilities but also stood to acquire their technological advancements.


    If he succeeded, this exchange would grant his empire a peaceful means of catching up, leveling the playing field without the need for prolonged conflict.


    “Thank God for the system,” Aron muttered, his voice tinged with relief and gratitude. Without it, he would have been nothing more than a disgraced university student—a far cry from the man he had become. The system had transformed his life, enabling him to achieve the unimaginable: becoming the richest man on Earth, ascending to the position of emperor, and now standing on equal footing with alien civilizations despite their centuries-long advantage.


    His reflection was cut short by the sudden voice of the referee AI.


    {Match over. Winner: Terran Empire, Aron Michael.}


    The announcement jolted Aron out of his thoughts. He blinked in confusion, still recovering from the after-effects of his ordeal. The declaration seemed surreal. He hadn’t done anything to warrant victory—not yet.


    “What?” he murmured, staring into the empty expanse of the arena.


    The realization struck him: only one second had elapsed from the start of the fight to the match’s conclusion. It was officially the shortest fight of the tournament, yet he had no idea how or why it ended so abruptly.