Chapter 466: The Chairman of AIL

Kylus didn’t waste time once the door sealed behind them.

He turned his head slightly. “Connect me to the chairman of AIL.”

The assistant didn’t ask why. She moved to the console built into the chamber wall, fingers moving fast across the interface, posture calm like this wasn’t a line most people survived dialing. A secure channel lit up, layers of verification sliding past faster than most systems allowed. There was no delay, waiting, or automated voice asking him to hold.

The holo flared to life almost immediately.

The chairman, Saereth Kyn, of AIL reclined under open light that had nothing to do with Jupiter. Pale sand stretched behind him, water rolling in slow, lazy waves that looked designed rather than natural. His skin was smooth and dark with a subtle sheen to it, patterned faintly along the temples and down the neck like something evolutionary rather than decorative. His eyes were wide-set and reflective, catching the light in a way that made it hard to tell where he was looking at any given moment.

He wore loose clothing, expensive without being formal, one arm draped along the back of a chair while a drink rested in his other hand. He looked comfortable in a way that suggested he stayed that way most of the time.

Before Kylus could speak, Saereth Kyn smiled.

“You’re calling about the bounty,” he said. “And about the people who keep slipping through your fingers.”

Kylus stared at the projection for a moment, then let out a short breath. “Good. That saves us time.”

Saereth Kyn took a slow sip from his glass. “Then let me save us more. I won’t accept what you’re about to ask. Not for credits. Not for favors.”

Kylus’s jaw flexed. “I’m not offering you anything.”

That earned him a look of mild interest. “Oh?”

“I’m proposing a deal,” Kylus said. “Those are different things.”

Saereth Kyn leaned back slightly, the sand behind him shifting as if the environment responded to his movement. “Helior Prime isn’t a city you disrupt casually,” he said. “It’s a corporate kingdom. Seven ruling powers. Families, conglomerates, industrial blocs. Finance, transit, security, biotech, energy, information, and entertainment.”

He lifted a finger as he spoke, ticking them off without effort. “They’re tied together by shared interest, shared infrastructure, and shared fear of collapse. That alliance is the reason Helior Prime still stands. It hasn’t fallen since it was built, because no single power is allowed to believe it can survive alone.”

Kylus didn’t interrupt.

“You’re asking me,” Saereth Kyn continued, “to step outside that balance. To break alignment. To create instability that doesn’t just threaten one corporation, but all seven. And you want me to do it on a promise?”

Kylus leaned forward a fraction. “On an outcome.”

Saereth Kyn’s smile returned, thin and patient. “An outcome you can’t guarantee.”

“The reward will be bigger than the risk,” Kylus said.

Saereth Kyn shook his head slowly. “That’s where you’re wrong. No reward outweighs destabilizing Helior Prime unless the result is absolute control, and even then it comes with consequences that last longer than profit.”

He looked directly at Kylus now. “You’re asking me to gamble an empire on something uncertain. I don’t gamble.”

Kylus didn’t move when Saereth Kyn finished speaking.

The holo still hung there, beach light rolling behind Saereth Kyn’s shoulders, the water repeating itself like it had nothing to fear from conversations like this. Kylus stood with his hands planted on the edge of the console, weight forward, eyes locked on the projection like the distance between them didn’t exist.

“I hold sway over almost all of Jupiter,” Kylus said. “No title. No chair. No council seal. Still, when I give an order, people move. Cities adjust. Trade routes shift. Militias fall in line. That’s how it’s always been.”

He paused, then added, “Helior Prime is different. I don’t command it, and I don’t want to.”

Saereth Kyn listened without interrupting.

“The people I put a bounty on are moving,” Kylus continued. “They’re hiding now, burning paths, keeping their heads down. That won’t last. They’ll reach Helior Prime in a few days. Seven at most. Once they’re inside that city, they’re gone to me. Forever.”

Saereth Kyn nodded slowly. “I already know that. And it doesn’t change my answer. I won’t help you catch them.”

Kylus straightened, one hand lifting off the console as he spoke again. “If you help me intercept them before they reach Helior Prime, I’ll make sure AIL doesn’t just survive on Jupiter. It expands.”

Saereth Kyn’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Every major city,” Kylus said. “Every country. Manufacturing hubs, logistics centers, data vaults, security contracts. AIL flags on skylines where you’ve never been allowed to plant them. Subsidiaries folded in clean, sanctioned, and protected. ”

The beach behind Saereth Kyn stayed the same, but his posture shifted.

“That’s not something you can promise,” he said.

Kylus shook his head. “It’s something I can enforce.”

A few seconds passed. Saereth Kyn studied him, fingers resting against the arm of his chair, expression unreadable.

“Even if it’s you,” Saereth Kyn said, “that kind of restructuring isn’t something I touch. The fallout alone—”

“I’m not finished,” Kylus cut in.

He leaned forward slightly. “I’ll also make sure every sanction against the Iron Mandate disappears. Every designation. Every label. Terrorist lists wiped clean. Legal standing restored. Contracts reopened. Security accords rewritten.”

Saereth Kyn looked at him now, fully. “And how exactly do you plan to accomplish that?”

Kylus didn’t hesitate.

“I break the countries that refuse,” he said. “From the inside. I stir internal conflicts where pressure already exists. I fund opposition groups, arm them quietly, fracture loyalties. I let cities turn on their leaders while I feed the narrative.”

Saereth Kyn said nothing.

“I label their governments unstable,” Kylus continued. “I leak just enough evidence to tie their leaders to crimes, to militias, to black markets. I push the story until outside powers step back and call it containment. Then my people step in as solutions.”

His mouth tightened slightly. “I will appoint new leaders, and make new agreements. The citizens are foolish. They will believe what they think is better for them. I will reshape Jupiter without ever calling it conquest.”

“You’re talking about burning entire nations,” Saereth Kyn said.

“I’m talking about control,” Kylus replied. “And I already have the tools. I just don’t deploy them unless the payoff is worth the mess.”

Silence followed, heavier this time, stretched thin between waves that kept rolling and a man who had just laid out how disposable stability really was.

Saereth Kyn finally spoke, slower now. “You’re asking me to bet that you won’t turn that machinery on me once you’re done.”

Kylus met his gaze. “I’m telling you that if I start, everyone either benefits or gets buried. There won’t be spectators.”

“There’s more,” he said. “AIL doesn’t just expand on Jupiter under this deal. You become the backbone. Preferred provider status written into planetary frameworks. Logistics, security architecture, data arbitration. When cities argue about who controls what, your systems become the default answer because they’re already everywhere.”

Saereth Kyn watched him without interrupting.

“I’ll make sure your competitors choke on regulation while you get exemptions,” Kylus continued. “Audits that never clear. Licenses that stall for years. Markets that close overnight unless your logo is on the paperwork. I won’t touch Helior Prime directly, but the rest of Jupiter will tilt toward you whether the councils like it or not.”

He paused, then added, “That’s my word.”

Saereth Kyn set his glass down, finally shifting his full attention away from the scenery behind him. “You talk like someone who believes the outcome is inevitable.”

Kylus nodded once. “Because it is. The only variable is who benefits.”

He leaned in closer to the holo, voice level. “So make the call. Either you help me stop them before they reach Helior Prime, or I take this same offer to the other six ruling powers. One of them will be smart enough to see what I’m offering. Once that happens, the rest won’t have a choice but to follow.”

Saereth Kyn studied him for a long moment, eyes moving slightly as if he were running numbers that didn’t appear on any screen. When he finally spoke, his tone had changed, less dismissive, more precise.

“You’re forcing acceleration,” he said. “That kind of pressure breaks alliances.”

“Only weak ones,” Kylus replied. “Strong ones adapt or they get replaced.”

Another pause followed, longer than the others.

Saereth Kyn exhaled and leaned forward, elbows resting on his chair. “I won’t authorize direct involvement,” he said. “Not yet. But I’ll open a channel.”

Kylus didn’t react.

“I’ll speak to Velkhar Drome,” Saereth Kyn continued. “Iron Mandate has the reach you’re lacking inside Helior Prime’s orbit. If anyone is going to move without collapsing the city’s balance outright, it’s him.”

Kylus’s eyes stayed fixed on the holo. “That’s enough.”

Saereth Kyn nodded once. “If he agrees, the work begins quietly. But remember, no mess that points back to AIL.”

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