Infinite Survival: My 10,000x Return System

He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t a god. He was an apex predator who didn’t care about anything except his bottom line.

Korgath couldn’t speak, but he didn’t need to.

The warlord slowly, painfully bowed his head until his forehead touched the muddy cobblestones.

He tapped his remaining functioning optic implant, sending a wide-band absolute surrender signal to his entire fleet.

Across the city, the massive rusted dreadnoughts powered down their weapons.

The thousands of pirate thugs dropped their rifles and chain axes into the mud.

The hostile takeover was officially complete.

The heavy clatter of hundreds of weapons hitting the ground echoed across the Margin.

The invasion was over.

Arthur Sterling stood in the muddy street, casually wiping a smudge of black oil off the blade of his Ebonheart Sword before sliding it back into the scabbard on his back.

He didn’t look at Korgath, who was still kneeling in the dirt, completely broken.

Vane slowly pushed himself up from the rubble. He was clutching his bleeding ribs, his face a mask of absolute confusion. He limped over to Arthur, looking at the surrendered pirates, and then at the man in the dark coat.

"You’re letting them live?" Vane coughed, spitting a wad of blood onto the street. "You just dismantled their boss. You have the city. Why not execute them?"

Arthur adjusted his cuffs. He looked at Vane with mild annoyance.

"Because dead men don’t pay taxes, Vane," Arthur replied smoothly. "And they don’t rebuild infrastructure. We just acquired a massive, heavily armed workforce. Why would I burn perfectly good assets?"

Cassia dropped down from the roof, landing softly on the cobblestones. She slung her sniper rifle over her shoulder and offered Arthur a sharp, highly amused smirk.

"He’s a businessman, Vane," Cassia said, walking up beside Arthur. "He doesn’t care about justice. He cares about profit margins.

And a happy, breathing workforce is a productive workforce."

Arthur nodded in agreement. "Exactly. Now, let’s go set up the new corporate office. This street smells like garbage."

An hour later, the transition of power was finalized.

The pirates were disarmed and put to work clearing the rubble and repairing the damage they had caused to the city’s energy grid.

The local citizens, who had been cowering in shelters, slowly emerged, staring in absolute awe at the trio who had saved their city from both the cosmic bank and the scavengers.

Arthur didn’t care about their adoration. He cared about the real estate.

They sat in the newly renovated Mayor’s office at the very top of the central administrative building.

The room had been quickly cleaned. The shattered glass was swept away, and the heavy mahogany desk was polished. It wasn’t the floating crystal palace of the Celestial Court, but it would do for a regional branch.

Arthur sat in the large leather chair behind the desk. He leaned back, resting his boots on the polished wood.

Vane stood by the massive window, looking out over the neon-lit city. He had hastily bandaged his ribs and shoulder. He looked exhausted, but the heavy, burdened lines on his face were gone.

"I don’t understand you, Sterling," Vane grunted, turning back to the room. "You talk like a tyrant. You act like a monster. But... the city is safe. The people are actually cheering for you down there."

"Good PR is essential for market dominance," Arthur replied lazily. He reached into his coat and pulled out a bottle of top-shelf celestial whiskey he had saved from his stash. He popped the cork and poured three glasses.

Cassia sat on the edge of Arthur’s desk, swinging her legs casually. She took a glass and took a slow sip, her silver eyes dancing with amusement.

"Don’t try to analyze him, Vane. Just accept the paycheck," Cassia advised.

"Speaking of paychecks," Arthur said, sliding a glass across the desk toward Vane. "We need a formal corporate structure. Vane, you’re the Head of Security. Keep the streets clean. Keep the workers happy. Don’t let anyone steal my stuff."

Vane stared at the glass of whiskey for a long moment. Finally, he sighed, walking over and taking it. "Fine. I accept the position."

"Excellent," Arthur smiled. He turned to Cassia. "You’re Head of Intelligence and Bounties. Find me loopholes. Find me targets. Make sure nobody audits us again without me knowing about it first."

"I can do that," Cassia smirked, clinking her glass against his.

"And me?" Arthur leaned back, taking a sip of the burning liquid. "I’m the CEO."

[Ding!]

The system interface suddenly flared to life in Arthur’s mind. The blue text was a welcome sight.

[Territory Secured. The Margin is now recognized as a subsidiary of the Ebon Empire.]

[Initiating corporate tax collection protocols...]

[Passive Debt Repayment initiated. Deducting 5,000 Merit Points per hour from localized city generation.]

Arthur let out a slow, deeply satisfied breath.

It wasn’t a million-fold multiplier. It wasn’t the absolute power of a God. But it was a start.

He had a foundation. He had a revenue stream. He was back in the game.

"To the new firm," Arthur said, raising his glass.

"To the firm," Cassia smiled.

"To survival," Vane grunted.

They drank.

It was a quiet, almost peaceful moment in the chaotic, rusted slum of the frontier.

"KNOCK. KNOCK."

The sharp, crisp sound echoed through the office.

The heavy wooden doors didn’t wait for permission. They swung open with a smooth, mechanical hiss.

The temperature in the room instantly dropped by ten degrees. The air grew sterile and heavy with absolute, unyielding law.

Stepping into the office was a tall, incredibly lean man dressed in an immaculate white suit. He held a glowing, silver time-rapier casually at his side.

But he looked very familiar.

Inspector Sol.

The cosmic Auditor didn’t attack. He didn’t draw his weapon. He simply walked into the room, his face a mask of polite, chilling indifference.

In his left hand, he held a tightly rolled, glowing golden scroll.

"Mr. Sterling," Sol said, his voice a calm, measured drone. "I see you have acquired new office space."