Chapter 140
Chapter 140
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 140
Chapter Title: Immortal Great Demon (4)
Day 1 of Super Hurricane Iota-9's formation.
The first to detect the massive tropical disturbance forming 300 km off the New Continent in international waters was the World Climate Analytics (WCA), the research institution monitoring global weather patterns.
Their observation satellites and quantum computers usually picked up all precursors to atmospheric instability on the surface weeks in advance.
But for some reason, this hurricane had slipped through their prediction net entirely.
The researchers were utterly shocked by the unprecedented speed of this natural disaster's harbinger and immediately began their calculations.
However, the hurricane had formed far too abruptly and was growing far too massive. Projections showed it reaching the city in just three days with Category 4 or higher force.
The estimated damage was projected to approach hundreds of billions in credit dollars.
And that very day, it began. A short position liquidation—bait tossed by someone—caused the skyrocketing stock prices of casualty insurers to falter for the first time.
The mixed trading volume surge right before market close felt like ominous foreshadowing in a horror flick, stirring an eerie unease.
Day 2.
Having completed their impact calculations for the superstorm, the WCA issued dire warnings across every channel they had. Evacuation orders accompanied urgent alerts to residents in the affected zones. The New Continent's eastern coastal cities were included in that footprint.
The moment the news broke, investors in Reliance Group's related products feverishly tapped their calculators.
The three coastal cities flagged by the WCA.
Could they pull out all the goods and logistics stockpiled there without a scratch? How much time and cost would it take? The answer was simple: impossible, even if they died and came back to life. Even tripling the cities' average traffic volume, it would take over a month.
And the projected damage didn't stop at logistics.
Property losses from urban housing, commercial facilities, factories, and infrastructure destroyed by the hurricane. Compensation for broken material supply contracts.
The claims against Reliance Group—which monopolized the insurance market in those cities—were enough to trigger bankruptcy.
As a result, the storm hit the investment markets a step ahead.
Panic-stricken investors dumped every share they held. But no one was buying. The future of a casualty insurer on the hook for the superstorm's full damages was nil, and its stock was now obviously scrap paper.
Day 3.
As the hurricane neared the coast, decisive news rocked the markets. Blackwood Holdings—the firm originally set to acquire Reliance—had forfeited all its massive call option holdings.
A call option: the right to buy stock at a set price in the future.
Blackwood, privy to the insurer's internals from early M&A talks, abandoning that right was tantamount to a death sentence.
Shareholders already reeling from colossal losses but clinging to the slim hope of that acquisition couldn't hold out any longer. From that news onward, an endless flood of sell orders poured in.
Still, not a single buyer emerged.
No matter how desperately they wanted to cut losses at fire-sale prices, there were no takers.
Thus, investors holding Reliance Group shares could only watch helplessly as the price plummeted through the floor into the basement, unhindered.
Day 4.
The hurricane made landfall on the New Continent and began ravaging the cities in earnest. The superstorm obliterated logistics and infrastructure without mercy, as predicted. Reports confirmed it was barreling toward the next city without losing any strength.
Reliance Group's stock—which had been among the top 100 firms for decades—converged toward zero faster than light.
Its astronomical market cap, which had rocketed into the top 50 on short squeeze liquidation fallout... all vaporized in just four days.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Bang! The terminal slammed onto the desk.
The noise didn't stop there. Thud! Crack!! Even as the screen shattered and glass flew, the man kept smashing until the device was pulverized. He hurled whatever he could grab.
Bloodshot eyes bulging with rage. Days-old stubble. The man with the gaunt, skull-like face demolishing everything on his desk was Jacob Wilson, a 20-year veteran fund manager at Neptune Capital.
Kwang-!
To the casual eye, it looked like the tantrum of a madman.
But anyone who knew the scale of Jacob's losses over those four days would understand.
Losses? No, that word fell woefully short.
The fund he'd managed for over a decade—the precious fortune amassed without regard for means, ethics, or laws—had evaporated in under a week. It was as good as his entire investment career ending in failure.
"Fuck!! Aaaargh!!!!!"
After venting on innocent objects for a while, Jacob collapsed to the floor, exhausted.
He hadn't eaten or drunk properly for days; he lacked the stamina for a prolonged rampage.
"......."
Now he just stared blankly at the ceiling with glazed eyes.
No more anger welled up inside.
Like a liquidated account, only hollow regret and self-loathing remained.
'Ah....'
It was all gone.
Everything. Cleaned out.
Several hundred million credit dollars, at least.
Not even a chance to bail. The storm had formed too suddenly.
Jacob's fund had been liquidated in a flash, like the gale whipping the eastern coast.
And it wasn't just him. The wolves of global finance—the speculative hedge funds and institutions that had piled in on the blood scent to engineer the short squeeze—had been stripped bare too.
At first, everything went according to plan.
When they concentrated buys to burst the squeeze, the stock soared endlessly. If they'd cashed out then... they'd have made life-changing profits in days.
But greed always ruins everything.
Of course, Jacob knew the surge was a temporary bubble. The company's real value hadn't budged. Once profit-taking flooded in, supply-demand would balance, and a drop was inevitable.
But... he thought it would hold off a bit longer.
He figured he could squeeze out even bigger gains here. New short positions from clueless latecomers kept getting liquidated, and the uptrend showed no signs of breaking.
Plus, Jacob trusted his network and intel. No matter the economic shock or the players involved, he'd get word ten minutes ahead of the pack.
So even if it reversed sharply, he could gauge the mood and exit smoothly.
'Even if it'd halved overnight, it'd still be massive gains. If it'd only halved...!'
The man clawed at his hair again, muttering madly.
"But then... that goddamn storm!! Fuck!!!"
Until the hurricane swept in out of nowhere and obliterated everything.
Jacob had survived decades in the cutthroat financial markets, pitiless as they were.
But he hadn't factored in nature's whims, which outstripped human hubris.
Still, no matter how he thought about it, it felt so unfair.
'How the hell was anyone supposed to predict that...!'
Who could have known? No one but God. No human could foresee a natural disaster striking in just two days.
Jacob and the greed-driven wolves of finance were swept away like that.
Having sacrificed everything to the storm.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Most investments are zero-sum games between buyers and sellers.
Meaning, for every loser, there's inevitably a winner pocketing the gains.
In Omega Detroit's tallest skyscraper, top floor.
A victor's banquet was in full swing.
Hahaha!
Amid the ultra-luxurious party hall's suited men and women of all ages, the atmosphere brimmed with unspeakable warmth and cheer.
It was only natural. This celebration was exclusively for Tessellation Investment's clients and major shareholders.
The tycoons, institutional heads, and city notables who'd entrusted their assets to the firm—for a single audacious bet yielding miraculous returns—mingled with champagne flutes in hand, smiles plastered on their faces.
"Heh, I knew it. Tessellation's vision sets it apart."
"As expected of the president. Wise folks know where to put their money."
Praising each other's judgment gilded mutual egos, blooming laughter naturally.
At the center of this jovial vibe stood one figure.
A platinum blonde beauty in an elegant party gown.
She basked in the admiration and acclaim from the surrounding crowd.
Someone exclaimed in awe once more.
"President Aubersch, truly impressive. Whatever basis did you use to predict the storm even before the WCA?"
Another chided him.
"Why pry? Genius doesn't need reasons."
Someone chimed in.
"No need to nitpick the white shark's methods. We just trust and follow."
Joking banter rippled through, sparking delighted chuckles everywhere.
The scene mirrored a cross-section of the city.
Results above all.
No matter how reckless the gamble, good outcomes silenced all criticism.
Mocked attempts flipped to visionary choices in an instant.
Especially in finance.
Where everything was proven in numbers, returns were power and justice.
And today, Tessellation Investment's new president claimed the pinnacle.
The genius who'd turned the firm's make-or-break gamble into economic history: Celestina Aubersch.
An elderly man raised his champagne in toast.
"Worthy of the white shark's renown. Always venturing where lesser minds fear."
Just a week ago, this man—who'd screamed obscenities demanding his funds withdrawn mid-contract—was now praising her with gentlemanly grace.
A middle-aged woman laughed elegantly, echoing him.
"Well said. Our president inherited her father's guts and vision intact."
She'd once pushed to oust the young president via board vote for recklessly gambling company funds with "like father, like daughter" sneers.
Now, she fawned like she'd lick her shoes.
All who'd doubted Celestina now groveled like puppies rolling over before her.
Another eyed her carefully.
"So, President... about these profits. If it's alright, could we reinvest the full amount?"
Normally, clients entrusting capital held absolute power.
But with proof she could multiply it dozens-fold standing there... she was the god-king now.
If she lined up those begging to invest in her personal fund, it'd snake around Alpha Circle.
To these desperate investors, she responded with a leisurely smile.
"Of course. It's an honor you trust us."
In a world where capital was power.
Even if client funds were distinct from her own, wielding them elevated her authority endlessly.
And the more investments piled into the firm, the greater its shield.
If Tessellation collapsed unexpectedly, client money had no guarantees.
These return-proven power players would now gladly serve as the firm's alarms and allies.
Was this the essence of the "immortal great demon" some desired?
It held true now too.
Celestina approached a certain elderly man just entering the hall with a friendly smile.
"Vice Chairman, thank you for coming."
"Nonsense. I had to pull strings, but as a Tessellation investor, I owe you thanks, President."
The man was Cromwell, Vice Chairman of the World Financial Commission overseeing global credit investments.
One of Tessellation's top heavyweight backers.
Thus, Celestina smiled subtly.
"Ah, yes... there's something I'd like to ask of you, Vice Chairman..."
He waved it off, as if he knew all.
"No need to worry, President. It'll all be dismissed."
She smiled in satisfaction.
She'd just referenced probes into global investment firms and hedge funds tied to the incident.
The ones bankrupted by Reliance's fall were lashing out in desperation.
Filing complaints with the World Financial Commission accusing Tessellation of stock manipulation.
But as seen, their ploys gained no traction.
Tessellation's clientele included influential power brokers.
Celestina's profits were theirs too.
They wouldn't let anyone claw back those gains. Thus, figures like Cromwell stepped up to fend off external pressure.
The firm could preserve its investment gains intact.
Not unlike the "immortal great demon" spoken of earlier.
As the company grew, drawing more funds from more elites, their power would become Tessellation's—and ultimately the church's—strength.
Having resolved the issue, Celestina spent time networking with Cromwell.
Suddenly, he grew solemn.
"That said, President, one question."
"Yes, anything."
"...How exactly did you do it?"
Naturally, about this incident.
Of course, Tessellation wasn't alone in shorting just before the typhoon.
But she alone had bet everything with fateful certainty.
The resulting return: 3,178%.
Derivatives could yield over 100x sometimes.
But scaled to principal size, this was different.
A single bet raking in units worthy of economic history books.
The entire finance world buzzed with curiosity.
What underpinned that bet?
How could she stake all on pure gamble with no certainties and win?
Celestina merely smiled gracefully.
"Who knows. Perhaps the goddess of luck stayed by my side."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Heard it? 3,178%."
"The final return on this investment. Thirty-two times principal. Exceeds the twenty-fold promise."
"So... you'll grant one wish as a congratulatory gift, right?"
"Don't you dare say you forgot. Eve."
"......"
Her stare today felt... a bit intimidating. Hallucination?
The vibe screamed: joke, and you're dead.
So I nodded dazedly.
"Y-Yeah... of course. I remember, Celes sis. Anything you want."
Hearing that, Celestina finally softened.
Her crescent-moon eyes curved seductively somehow.
At last, she spoke softly.
"Good, Eve. My wish is—"