The Genius System

Hey everyone,I just want to say thank you to all of you for continuing to support me since the beginning of this journey. This is the first time a story I've written has gone beyond 100 chapters, and it's all thanks to you and your support.

I know I'm not always consistent with my chapter releases, but I'm doing my best. I won't promise daily uploads, but I do promise that I'll be publishing more in the future.

So please keep supporting me, your encouragement means a lot.Thanks again, and enjoy the chapter!

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A few years passed.

Slowly... Like a curtain falling without anyone noticing.

The world had grown used to the absence of the genius.

Journalists had eventually given up, and analysts had moved on to theorizing. Conferences were held, books written, debates fueled, and yet no one managed to bring him back into focus. And the world powers had come to accept the idea that Mister X would never return. Even his assistants had vanished with him. As if they had all been swallowed by the same silence.

A shooting star, some said. A flash of genius that crossed the sky of History, briefly, powerfully and then faded away.

Some still tried to find traces of him. Hidden codes in old publications, facial recognition comparisons in old videos, anonymous leaks claiming to come from "inside."

But nothing. No error, no voice, no image.

In Macro, however, his name never disappeared.

Children learned about him in schoolbooks, right after the founding kings. Statues had been erected, modest, yes, but always adorned with flowers.

His face, stylized and anonymous, stood among war heroes and monarchs. He received no visits, no official honors, but the people saw him as a national hero, the one who had taken a forgotten kingdom and raised it to the rank of a strategic power. The one who, alone, had redefined Macro's place on the world stage.

For some, he was a myth. For others, a silent guardian.

Every year, a moment of silence was held on the anniversary of the nuclear plant's unveiling. No speeches. Just silence. As if the country still hoped he was listening.

The world, in any case, moved on without him.

Trade deals were signed. Alliances were broken and reformed. Leaders changed, regimes fell, new crises emerged. But Mister X remained a ghost, present in memories, absent in facts.

His silence became part of the new equilibrium.

Until that morning.

Until, without warning, the entire world awoke to a brutal announcement : A takeover had just overthrown the regime of Geria.

At first, the message seemed like fake news. An isolated broadcast. Then another came. And another.

An official broadcast was aired on state channels, then picked up by global media. The voice of a young soldier betrayed emotion, but also an almost fanatical conviction. He wore a uniform, saluted mechanically, and read a speech that had clearly been hastily written :

"The corrupt regime of Geria has fallen. We, the Liberation Forces, have taken control of the capital, the Ministry of Defense, and the main command centers. As of today, a new era begins. An era free from the humiliations imposed by foreign powers ... visible… or invisible."

The world held its breath.

There was no clear claim. No leader named… No ideology announced. No flag, no color, no face. Just this final sentence, which put every analyst on edge:

"And to those who think Geria is a pawn on their chessboard, we will respond in the only language they understand."

In Macro, the announcement sent a shockwave. The king summoned his council urgently. The royal palace, usually quiet at that hour, echoed with hurried footsteps and muffled voices.

In the corridors, advisors whispered names from the past. Others mentioned revenge. Some feared war.

The security units sealed the entrances, airspace was locked, and internal communication channels went into red alert mode.

The king, still in nightwear under a hastily thrown-on cloak, sat at the crisis table without waiting for protocol. His hands trembled slightly as he gripped the edge of the table.

Around him, ministers arrived one by one, some breathless, others pale. The generals consulted their tablets with barely concealed nervousness.

The Prime Minister stared unblinking at the central screen.

The image of the soldier, frozen on the last frame of the broadcast, hung in the center of the room.

"Do we have confirmation?" the king finally asked.

A military advisor nodded, his gaze dark.

"Our satellites confirm it. The presidential palace of Geria has been taken. Unusual troop movements have been recorded around the main airbase. The regular armored unit has been disarmed. No major combat. They took control quickly."

He paused.

"We estimate the operation lasted less than three hours."

The Minister of Foreign Affairs swallowed hard "Do you think they'll seek revenge against Macro?"

"If they believe Mister X is still active here… it's possible" murmured the Chief of Staff.

No one responded. Everyone was thinking the same thing: the old tensions, the failed assassination, Mister X's retaliation, the successive humiliations, the memory of a message engraved in steel.

Geria had had time to swallow its hatred, to reshape it, to distill it into a new generation.

Raised on defeat, fed with pride, trained in silence.

And now, that generation had taken power.

But the world didn't have time to process that first shockwave.

Barely a few hours after the Geria announcement, another alarm sounded in command centers.

Another blackout.... Another pirate broadcast. This time, from Tunisia.

Another soldier... Another speech... Another tone.

"The government has betrayed the people. As of today, the army is taking back control of the nation."

Simple... Brutal... Unambiguous.

No declaration of principles or justifications. Just uniforms, weapons, and resolve.

Two takeovers in less than twelve hours.

Two strategic nations falling one after the other, like dominoes.

This time, global leaders didn't just hold their breath, they stood up from their chairs.

Meetings were interrupted. Secure lines opened between capitals. Embassies requested immediate briefings.

Financial markets trembled... Gold spiked.

Intelligence agencies entered crisis mode. Keywords like "domino theory," "instability axis," and "shadow doctrine" reappeared in reports.

There was no official link between the two events or a declared alliance.

But the sharpest minds understood immediately: Something, somewhere, had just awakened, and it was moving fast... Too fast. And perhaps… it had never disappeared.

It had simply waited. And now, the kings were falling.

One by one.