In a manor somewhere in the middle of the desert, in a well-decorated room, a young man was sitting comfortably on a sofa, leafing through a book. His expression was relaxed, almost lazy. A soft light spilled from an old lamp, and the desert wind gently made the curtains tremble.
Who else but Lassen, Mister X.
The man who had vanished without a trace. Years ago, he had bowed out quietly. No message, no farewell. Just silence.
Since then, no one knew where he was. Even his former assistants had disappeared. As if they had never existed.
And yet, he was there.
After the last conversation with the system, he hadn't been the same. He had learned what could potentially destroy this world. Not a simple local danger. Something much greater. Something that perhaps came from farther away. Or from higher up.
He had thought long...Very long.
He firmly believed that the only way for humanity to face it was unity. Real unity. Not fragile diplomatic alliances, not useless summits with flags and promises. A solid unity. Organic. Lasting.
He had considered several options. The first, logical one, was energy. A new source. A technological revolution that would force countries to collaborate.
But after an in-depth discussion with Elias, the idea was abandoned.
Too slow, too unstable, and above all too many variables.
That kind of project took decades. And he… he wasn't sure he had decades ahead of him. So he looked for something else. Something simpler. More direct.
Change governments, create an alliance, reorganize the world map in a way that would force cohesion. It wasn't an elegant or gentle idea, but it was effective.He knew it was difficult to get people to accept their differences, languages, cultures, religions, histories… All of that required time. And time, precisely, was lacking.
That's why he had set his sights on Geria and Tunisia.Two countries geographically, culturally, and historically close. Not only did they speak nearly the same language, but once, they were one.
One empire, fragmented and broken. But never fully dissolved.
Traditions were still close, mentalities compatible, and the social fabric similar.
There was no need to invent unity. One just had to wake it up.
Lassen knew it wouldn't be easy, but it was possible.
And Macro would be the core.The center of gravity.
The anchor point of a new order.
He remained still for a moment, eyes on the book he had just closed.
The desert wind blew softly against the windows, always steady, always calm. It was a strange feeling. The world was changing. The very foundations of the global order were beginning to tremble, and he, sitting there, alone in this manor in the middle of nowhere, was pushing his plan forward without raising his voice, without lifting a hand.
"System."
[Yes]
His inner voice had kept the same neutral tone. But this time, it seemed more attentive. As if it too felt that something was shifting. S~eaʀᴄh the NovelZone.fun website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.
"We move to the next step."
[Phase two?]
He slowly nodded "Geria and Tunisia have fallen. Perfect. But it's not enough. Now we begin the fusion. Quietly. No announcement. No slogan. No speeches. No flags. Just facts."
[What are the orders?]
"First step: build administrative bridges. We start with technical agreements. Health systems, transportation, cybersecurity. Let them exchange protocols, data, training. Nothing visible to the public. Just enough so that, bureaucratically, they start to look alike."
[And then?]
"We send experts from Macro. Not under our name. They'll introduce themselves as international advisors. Their job is to observe. To correct. To standardize procedures. They must adapt Geria to Tunisia, Tunisia to Macro, and Macro to both, in parallel. A silent convergence."
[And the governments in place?]
"They're already ours. But not forever. So we make sure they need us. Energy dependence. Technological dependence. Structural dependence. They must no longer be able to function without our network."
He stood up, walked slowly around the room, hands in his pockets. He spoke without forcing, without haste, as if reciting a plan already written.
"Once the dependence is in place, we merge the intelligence services. That's the easiest. They don't have the staff. We do. Then come official communications. News bulletins. Joint ministerial conferences. A common logo. A color. A code name. Nothing aggressive. Just one idea: 'We move forward together.'"
[And the borders?]
"We don't mention them. Not yet. But we remove visas for professional travel. Then customs agreements. Then long-term residence permits. After six months, people will have forgotten they were supposed to come from different countries."
[And if the people resist?]
"They won't resist what they don't see. We don't change flags. We change train schedules. Electricity bills. School textbooks. Little by little. Until one day, someone says on TV: 'We've always been united.'"
[You want to create a new country.]
"No. I want to restore what was destroyed. And this time, I want it to last."
He stopped in front of the window, gazing at the dunes. The desert was neither dead nor barren. It simply hid what it was preparing. Just like him.
"One language. One vision. Three peoples. One movement."
[And if the rest of the world intervenes?]
"They won't be able to. Too late, too slow, too divided and above all… too distracted."
He turned around, arms crossed.
"While they debate, we build. While they accuse, we merge. While they look elsewhere, we become a force they can no longer separate."
The system remained silent. This time, no question. No remark. Because it knew, too, that this was the most complex part of the plan. The slowest. But also the most stable. No more flashy moves. Now it was about patience. Consistency. Architecture.Lassen sat back on the sofa, picked up his book, opened a page at random. His eyes ran over the lines, but his mind was elsewhere.The storm had passed.Now came the order. And this time, the order would bear his name. Engraved in structures, laws, cities.No statue. No flag.Just the obvious.