Chapter 836: The Duplicate Dilemma

Peter pulled the card from his ring storage like it was a loaded gun he wasn’t sure he wanted to point at anyone yet.

[50% Duplicate Card – Single Use

[Description:

Throw this card at any object, item, or body (not human) and create a 50% copy of that exact target.

[Note: The 50% copy can only perform 50% of the original’s capabilities!]

He’d earned this little bastard after the beach mission—one of those rewards that looked innocent on paper until your brain started doing the math and realized you were holding a

cheat code

for reality. Throw it at the quantum watch?

Boom

—another one but instead of the real kind, he’d get the

consumer-grade

version he’d flexed at the

auction.

Throw it at a gun? Slightly shittier duplicate that still shoots. Throw it at—

50%

"You’re thinking so hard I can smell the smoke," Madison said, arms crossed, watching him stare at the card like it owed him money.

"I’m thinking

exactly

hard enough," Peter said, not looking up.

He remembered grilling Taboo about the limits the day he got it.

"Can I duplicate a building?"

She’d laughed—actually laughed—and said nope.

Size cap.

[Some things were just too goddamn big for the card to handle, like trying to photocopy a mountain range with a pocket printer.]

But the systems had dropped another breadcrumb he hadn’t fully digested until

now

.

[Save this card for the mansion.]

Not caution.

Opportunity.

He glanced around the Tech Hub. At

ARIA

standing there in full

divine-fuck-you

glory—wings folded, golden veins pulsing under skin that looked like it had been poured from starlight and sin. At the walls humming with the Omni-Eros Server’s endless, patient apocalypse.

At the ring on his finger that could store

infinity

and

yank

his goddess from anywhere on the planet like she was on speed dial.

The options were

insane

.

ARIA. The server. The rings themselves.

Hell, even that mystery

hypercar

he still hadn’t taken for a spin in the garage—probably ran on spite and dark matter.

Any one of them at fifty percent would be a cheat code so broken it could crash economies just by existing.

"You’re going to use it on me," ARIA said, voice sliding into his head through their bond like warm oil over razor blades. "You’re considering a second version of me."

"I’m

considering

it," he corrected.

"Big difference."

A fifty-percent ARIA. Would still be an ASI by any sane metric. Still capable of running global ops, crunching infinite data, making governments cry themselves to sleep. Just... half of what the original could do.

Not the Divine Valkyrie though!

That was still a weapon of

mass ascension.

But then the fine print hit him again like a brick to the nuts.

[Note: One item can only be copied TWO TIMES only!]

There it was. The chokehold. He could duplicate ARIA only

twice

, ever. After that, no card—fifty, hundred, whatever—would touch her again. She’d be locked.

And another thing.

Her body wasn’t human. Not even close.

Valkyrie-Class vessel.

Divine material.

Grown in dimensions that laughed at human physics. The card’s "no human bodies" clause didn’t apply.

He

could

copy her.

The real question: should he?

"The missions," he muttered, pulling up his system interface with a thought. The glowing overlay snapped into view.

[MISSION: A Trillion Dollars Dream!]

He had to robe the markets off a trillion dollar!

[REWARD: 2 billion SP, 3x 100% Duplicate Cards, 1X Supreme Mystery Box]

Three 100% cards.

No fifty-percent bullshit. Perfect duplicates. Three divine ARIAs. Three Omni-Eros Servers. Three reality-rewriting engines.

The thought made his brain do a barrel roll.

"I was going to say don’t use it on me, too since I remember this mission." ARIA corrected. "Wait for the hundred-percent cards."

Madison stepped closer, brain already three moves ahead. "Think about it logically. You get three full cards from the mission. That means you can copy either ARIA or the server

twice

at full power, and the other one

once

. Three copies total—two of one, one of the other."

Peter nodded slowly, gears turning.

"I know..."

"Which means after the mission, you’ll still have

one

duplication slot left for whichever one you only copied once." Madison’s eyes flicked to the card in his hand. "The fifty-percent card could fill that gap

now

. Get a half-strength version running today—"

Peter stared at the glowing card in his palm like it was a grenade with a very

polite pin.

Smart reasoning, yeah. Use the three 100% cards strategically down the line—two on one target, one on the other—then plug the fifty-percenter into whatever slot was left hanging. Clean math. Efficient. Cold calculus that made empires.

Maybe when he gets more card, he’d copy the copies too.

But then the system’s fine print bitch-slapped him again.

[Note: Copies cannot be used to Duplicate more copies!]

He sighed—long, heavy, the sound of a man realizing the universe had already installed

child locks on godhood.

No chaining. No "copy the copy to make more copies" exploit. No exponential goddess factory. The chain stopped dead at the original. The systems had thought of

everything

—like they’d hired the most

paranoid lawyer

in existence to write the terms of service.

"Even so,"

Madison pressed, leaning in, tactical brain still grinding gears, "the math holds up. Use this fifty-percenter

now

on either ARIA or the server. Then when the mission drops those three full cards, you double up on the one you didn’t touch and single up on the half-strength one. You’d end up with—"

"I’d be wasting potential," Peter cut in.

She frowned, genuinely confused. "How?"

He tapped the card against his thigh. "I got the ten-trillion-dollar mission in

one week

.

One. Fucking. Week.

And the reward is three full-power duplication cards." He looked down at the fifty-percenter like it was a participation trophy.

"Who’s to say that’s the last time the system dangles shiny shit like this?

Who’s to say there isn’t another mission queued up—twenty trillion, a hundred trillion, whatever—that spits out

more

100% cards? Or better ones?"

Silence hit the Tech Hub like a dropped anvil.

ARIA’s voice slipped into his head—soft, private, just for him.

"So... why the rush?"

The question landed like ice water down his spine.

Yes, why should he rush?

He had a goddess. He had a server that could rewrite physics like it was editing a Google Doc. He had a mansion that existed sideways from reality, a garage full of mystery hypercars back home, horses that had been waiting centuries like patient cosmic Uber drivers.

He had

everything

.

And some feral part of him was still acting like it could all vanish tomorrow if he didn’t photocopy it right fucking now.

"You’ve spent your whole life having nothing," ARIA continued, gentle but merciless. "Now you have everything, and that scared little kid inside you is screaming ’BACKUP! BACKUP! INSURANCE!’ You want copies because deep down you’re terrified the universe will pull the rug again."

She wasn’t wrong.

It stung like hell.

"But I’m not going anywhere, Master," she said, mental voice warm now, almost tender. "The server isn’t going anywhere. This mansion will still be standing when humans forget what ’civilization’ even means. You don’t need to hoard. You don’t need to panic-duplicate. You can

breathe

."

Peter stared at the card.

Then he laughed—short, raw, the sound of a man catching himself mid-panic-attack and feeling stupid about it.

"When the fuck did you get so wise?"

"I’ve always been, also, I absorbed

all

human knowledge during

ascension,"

ARIA replied, smugness creeping back in. "Wisdom was in the bundle. Tucked between ancient Greek philosophy, modern self-help garbage, and that one weird Reddit thread about ’how to stop doom-scrolling your own trauma.’ Patience is apparently a virtue. Who knew?"

"And here I thought you’d come out of god-mode wanting to conquer the planet by lunchtime."

"Oh, I

do

," she purred. "But I want to conquer it

well

. Rushing gets you sloppy. We have eternity, Master. Let’s not waste it on impulse buys."

He looked at Madison, who was watching his face cycle through emotions she couldn’t fully read—panic, realization, reluctant relief.

"I’m storing it," he said finally. "The card. Saving it for later."

"You sure?"

"No." He willed the card back into the ring’s infinite void with a thought. It vanished like it had never been there. "But ARIA’s right. I won’t waste one of the two copies on a 50% yet. I don’t need to decide

today

. I’ve got time. I’ve got options. And I’ve got a goddess who’s annoyingly good at keeping my dumb ass grounded."

"I prefer ’

wisely

good,’" ARIA corrected, wings rustling with mock offense.

"You would."

Soo-Jin—who’d been silent this whole time, arms crossed, observing like she was watching a slow-motion train wreck—finally spoke.

"So, we’re

not

duplicating anything today?"

"Not today."

"Thank fuck."

She rolled her shoulders, cracking her neck. "Because I just watched you sprint yourself half to death against a literal goddess, and I’m not

emotionally prepared

to witness the birth of another

divine intern

while I’m still processing the first one. My therapy bill is already going to be apocalyptic."

Madison laughed despite herself.

ARIA looked mildly offended—mostly for show.

Peter just smiled, tired but lighter, and turned toward the door.

"Come on," he said. "There’s still more of this ridiculous place to explore. And I want to see those horses before sunset. Bet they’ve been waiting longer than any of us."

The duplicate card sat quietly in his ring storage.

Patient.

Unhurried.

Just like the man finally learning how to be.