High above the world, on the balcony of the tallest building ever built, a man stood alone — gazing down at a city drowned in silver light and luxury.
The skyline glittered like a reborn galaxy. Stars shimmered in the velvet sky — but his empire didn't just dominate the skyline — it was the skyline. Skyscrapers glistened like silent witnesses to his legend. Neon rivers flowed between them like molten gold. And the world below didn't just shine — it throbbed with wealth.
His wealth.
In his hand, a glass of aged whisky glinted beneath the moonlight, amber liquid swirling like liquid fire.
Far below, the city buzzed with light and life, unaware that the one who owned it all was watching … silently, like a god from a forgotten myth.
The man the world called "The Golden Sovereign."
A myth in flesh. A name weightier than nations.
The night was quiet.
The hush was broken by the soft click of a door opening behind him, its sound echoing through the penthouse.
From the lavish marble washroom, a woman stepped out, wrapped in nothing but a silken bathrobe that clung to her flawless form.
She moved like a dream brought to life.
Her beauty was ethereal …like something carved by gods who knew no restraint.
Her skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, her lips, soft as temptation itself, hair cascading like silk, and eyes green as gemstone fire, so alluring they could tempt even the most ascetic monk to sin.
She didn't speak.
She padded across the marble floor, without hesitation, without fear, and slipped her arms around him from behind, resting her head on his shoulder.
He didn't flinch, nor said anything, just simply smiled, slow and lazy.
Turning around, he swept her off her feet with practiced ease, as if she weighed nothing at all. And carried her toward the sprawling, ultra-luxurious bed of velvet and silk, her quiet laughter melting into the cool night air.
But just before disappearing into the luxurious shadows of the suite, his gaze for the briefest second, drifted — far beyond the glass and concrete.
Far in the distance, a massive billboard on another skyscraper flickered to life — hundreds of stories down and blocks away.
So far away that it was impossible for the human eye to see.
And yet… he saw it clearly. Not just the image, but the words, the motion, even the sound — filtering through the noise of the world like a whisper meant only for him.
On the screen, an interview was playing.
And the man being interviewed?
It was him.
But he didn't flinch. Didn't pause.
He simply set the woman down on the velvet sheets, his focus fully on her now — as if the rest of the world no longer mattered.
Because it didn't.
Meanwhile, across the globe — From bustling cities to the most remote deserts, from deep-sea research stations to orbiting satellites, from worn-out phones in slums to 200-inch screens in penthouses — the same video was playing everywhere.
The same man.
The same moment.
The same question that had made the planet stop spinning for a second.
—
Earlier That Morning
The golden doors of the Drayce Tower swung open, glinting like the gates of Olympus.
Kaelen had just stepped out of his obsidian hypercar when a swarm of reporters surged forward.
The flashing lights of a hundred cameras lit up the early morning air like a battlefield of fame.
Before they could come closer, his elite bodyguards immediately stepped into formation, forming a wall of muscle and precision, and pushed the crowd back with practiced precision.
Not a single hand, mic, or breath made it past their line.
But Kaelen paused.
With a slight wave of his hand — almost lazy, almost amused — he signaled them to relax.
The guards immediately stepped aside.
The reporters, stunned by the gesture, surged forward again — but none dared to get too close. Not to him.
Then, a single voice pierced through the chaos.
A young female reporter, eyes wide with awe and ambition, stepped ahead of the crowd and raised her mic, voice trembling with excitement.
"Mr. Drayce, today the financial world confirmed you've officially crossed the ten trillion mark… making you the richest man on Earth. But everyone knows your true wealth is far beyond what's publicly known."
She swallowed, breath caught in her throat, and then asked the question everyone was dying to hear:
"Just how rich are you, really?"
A hush fell over the plaza.
Even the wind seemed to still.
Kaelen turned toward her, slowly — like time had bent around him. Then at the sea of flashing cameras, curious faces, hungry eyes. He gave a soft chuckle — almost imperceptible — and slowly removed his sunglasses.
Piercing eyes stared out. Calm. Cold. Infinite.
A soft, amused smile curved at his lips.
Cameras immediately zoomed in. Satellites aligned. News anchors leaned in from every continent.
Then, with the kind of calm arrogance only absolute power could create, he said:
"In heaven and earth, I am the richest.
No one was richer than me.
No one ever will be."
His voice was low and steady, but somehow louder than the world itself.
The words didn't echo. They etched themselves into history.
For a moment, the world held its breath.
Then—
Chaos.
Absolute chaos.
Broadcasts were interrupted. Stocks froze. Nations listened.
The internet? It broke before he even turned away.
"World's First Ten Trillionaire Declares Himself the Richest Ever!"
"Kaelen Drayce: God of Wealth or Just a Man?"
"Heaven and Earth?! Did He Just Say That?"
News networks broadcast it live. The internet went into meltdown. Memes, debates, worship, and rage spread like wildfire.
But amidst all the noise, no one denied it.
Because everyone knew it was true.
And the only question that remained wasn't if he was telling the truth —
…it was how he became something that gods would envy.
—
Back on the balcony, Kaelen let the sound fade into the background as he held the woman close.
The world could keep wondering.
As for how he became the richest man in history?
To answer that, we must go back to that fateful night— to a forgotten room, in a forgotten city, where a 19-year-old boy wept alone in the dark…
Until the system found him.
(End of Chapter)