My Ultimate Sign-in System Made Me Invincible

It had only been three days since Lucid entered the world, yet those three days were enough to reshape global politics, corporate strategy, and scientific confidence.

Every major player—governments, tech giants, intelligence agencies, defense contractors, universities, think tanks—was scrambling nonstop. They all had the same problem: the deeper they dug, the more they realized they might never learn anything about Nova Technologies.

If even a single breadcrumb had been left behind, the investigation would have been easier. But besides the fact that Nova Technologies was created through J.P. Morgan's private banking division, there was nothing else to trace.

Government officials tried to pressure J.P. Morgan, both subtly and aggressively, hoping the bank would reveal something. But the bank always gave the exact same answer: client confidentiality. They neither confirmed nor denied anything. Everyone understood why.

But since J.P. Morgan refused to reveal anything, there was nothing anyone could do.

No matter how powerful they were, none of them could pressure the world's largest custodian bank. J.P. Morgan wasn't just "a bank." It was a pillar of the global system—the institution that held the financial backbone of nations, corporations, sovereign funds, military budgets, and central banks.

If J.P. Morgan ever broke client confidentiality, even once, the entire foundation of global finance would shake. Trust would vanish overnight. Markets would crash. Sovereign wealth funds would pull their money. The world would panic.

Everyone understood and feared that. And that fear alone protected Nova Technologies more than any law ever could.

So pressuring the bank was not simply difficult — it was impossible. Even the most powerful governments on Earth wouldn't dare force the hand of the institution that kept their own financial systems standing.

So instead of direct answers, all investigators were left with was speculation, surface-level tracing, and piecing together scattered public information. Even after three days, they had gained zero progress.

What made everything worse was a simple but disturbing fact: Nova Technologies had never filed a patent for Lucid.

This was not normal. This was not logical. This was not even arrogant. It was a message.

Filing a patent would have forced Nova to list the entire technical structure of Lucid: materials, science, internal system, energy source, design diagrams, communication protocols, and everything else that made the device work.

Even if the world understood only a small part—1%, 0.5%, even less—it would still give every tech company and every superpower a path forward, and they could turn that seemingly small percentage into billions in profit.

But by refusing to patent anything, Nova sent a clear signal: they did not fear copying. They did not fear competition. They did not fear reverse engineering. They did not fear being forced to reveal their secrets.

They acted like a company that believed no one on Earth could understand their technology even if they tried. That confidence alone terrified governments.

This also fueled the theory that had begun spreading quietly across intelligence circles, a theory they were afraid to say out loud: The Modern Godfather Theory.

The idea that Nova Technologies wasn't a normal startup, but a hidden power with its own network, wealth, preparation, and long-term plan.

A ghost that operated in the real world with perfect secrecy. Someone with reach. Someone prepared long before Lucid appeared. Someone so confident in their plan that they weren't afraid of anyone trying to steal from them.

And with every question they asked, more questions followed: Who is behind Nova Technologies? When did they form? Why now? Why during a global race for AI and military dominance? What is their target? How can a hidden company create something that surpasses every known lab on Earth? Why is there no history? Where is their funding from? What are their intentions? Why reveal only 1,000 units? Why show so little, yet have so much?

The unknown was more frightening than any threat. And Nova Technologies was nothing but unknowns.

***

At the same time, every online platform in the world—tech forums, gaming communities, news sites, scientific blogs, engineering channels, influencers—tried to dissect Lucid using the only things they had: user videos and reactions.

They didn't have the device. They didn't have access to its system. They didn't have direct data or testing capability. But they had footage. Short clips, gameplay segments, livestream snippets, and user testimonies.

Even if someone owned the device, they would never take it apart. The tech was too rare, too valuable, and honestly too mysterious. And even if someone tried, odds were high the attempt would fail before they even understood what they were looking at.

Still, millions of people analyzed it. Tech experts froze frames and tried to study animation details down to single pixels. Hardware analysts compared Lucid's responsiveness to high-end PCs. AI researchers argued whether the embedded AI assistants were AGIs. VR specialists debated how the device simulated senses without motion sickness. Gamers argued whether the worlds were pre-rendered or dynamically created. Essentially, theories spread nonstop.

Dozens of articles appeared, each giving Lucid dramatic names:

"Reality 2.0."

"The End of Hardware."

"The First Impossible Device."

"Virtual Worlds Without Lag?"

"The Final Answer to Gaming."

But one article went viral more than all the rest. Its title was simple but sharp:

"LUCID: THE DEVICE THAT SHOULDN'T EXIST."

The writer was a Lucid owner who spent two days testing everything. He described his experience, but he focused more on the questions than the gameplay itself. Questions that every tech expert had been afraid to say out loud:

What are Lucid's internal specs?

How much internet speed does it use and need?

How much storage does a single world require?

What kind of processing power can load a full city instantly?

How is there no lag at all?

What type of RAM can render a world this large?

How can a simple sunglass frame hold that much power?

What battery lasts twelve hours a day without losing charge?

How does it never heat up?

What network is it connecting to?

Why can no one detect its signals?

What energy source does it use?

Why is the performance equal to thousands of supercomputers put together?

What does this mean for every company on Earth?

Each question exploded across the internet but no one had any conclusive answers or even anything close.

The writer ended the article with a sentence that shook the tech world:

"No matter what theories you believe, Lucid has ended the console vs PC debate forever. And no company will ever catch up."

It wasn't arrogance. It was the truth everyone felt but didn't want to say. Lucid wasn't just ahead. It wasn't even on the same timeline.

It was something beyond the world's current level of science. A device that shattered assumptions. A device that forced governments to question everything. A device that made tech giants feel small for the first time in decades. A device that shouldn't exist—but somehow did.

And that fact alone terrified everyone in power.

***

As for the culprit behind the chaos, he was grinning as he finished reading that particular article and the comments under it.

He dropped his phone on the nightstand and stretched his hands.

The world always fear what they do not understand.

He looked out the panoramic window, at the skyline view of Dubai's night life. It was simply beautiful.

"I really can't villains that want to take over the world. How can you see such a view and not want to claim it as your own?" He chuckled.

"I wonder if Chrises has reached the capital. Time to go to Astrin and sign-in for today," Liam muttered to himself, before vanishing from the room.