Getting a Technology System in Modern Day

801  Conversation I

[Colosseum]

Aron and Seraphina stood motionless, maintaining the same distance as at the start of their faceoff. Neither had moved, even during the spectacular fireworks show that followed Aron’s acceptance of her surrender. The only exception was Aron briefly waving to the citizens of his empire watching the broadcast, many of whom were overcome with emotion, crying in celebration of their historic victory. This event marked the first-ever interstellar combat they had participated in, and despite their lack of experience, they emerged as the sole victors.

As cheers of triumph reverberated among his people and the disbelief of others lingered, the broadcast concluded. The moment Aron secured his final victory, the Arena itself was officially handed over to him as part of his reward, along with control of the AI referee. Without hesitation, the AI complied with her new owner’s first command: to end the broadcast. Aron had more pressing matters to attend to—a private conversation with an abandoned individual. For this, he required absolute privacy, away from the watchful eyes of the viewers and representatives.

“Can you morph back into your humanoid form so we can have a proper conversation?” Aron said, addressing Seraphina for the first time since the fight had ended. As he spoke, the container holding a golden-colored nanomachine liquid opened, swiftly shaping itself into a table and two chairs. The remaining nanomachines coalesced into Nova, who materialized wearing a maid outfit, a subtle nod to her role in the upcoming meeting.

Almost as if orchestrated in advance, a ship entered the arena at high speed, heading straight toward Aron. It landed a short distance away, careful to avoid kicking up any dust in his direction. Nova approached the ship, retrieving a box nearly half her height. She carried it back and placed it at the side of the table, slightly off-center, before opening it to reveal its contents. With practiced efficiency, she began preparing drinks and snacks, setting them neatly on the table for their conversation.

Throughout the entire sequence of events, Seraphina remained silent, her dragon form unyielding as she watched the unfolding preparations without making a single move.

“Make sure no one hears or sees anything inside until I’m done,” Aron said, his words directed seemingly at no one in particular. Yet, the intended recipient understood perfectly and acted without delay.

The arena's protective shield began to shift, its translucent surface gradually turning opaque until it was entirely impenetrable to outside view. Simultaneously, a network of machines and runes powered up, creating a comprehensive barrier that blocked all forms of surveillance. These systems ensured that no unauthorized monitoring could breach the Colosseum’s defenses, and any attempts would be immediately detected and countered.

{Everything is ready, sir,} the AI referee confirmed, her voice resonating without materializing.

“Are you going to keep staring at me like that and not join me?” Aron finally raised his head, breaking the silence as he addressed Seraphina, who had remained rooted in the same spot.

“I’m not your pet that you can order around,” Seraphina retorted, her voice sharp and dripping with disdain. “I have no reason to listen to or follow the orders of someone who runs away from fair fights like the coward he is.” Her tone was laced with suppressed anger, though it hardly concealed the fury simmering beneath. As if to emphasize her contempt, a plume of fire escaped her nostrils with her exhaled breath, directed squarely at Aron.

She seemed intent on disobeying every word and command coming from Aron, her defiance a clear act of retaliation. Yet, her plans to provoke him into anger—to push him into demanding a fight where she could negotiate her freedom upon victory—quickly unraveled.

Before she could savor any satisfaction from her rebelliousness, a sudden, piercing pain coursed through her. It was not a pain of the flesh but one that emanated directly from her soul. The agony was so profound that even her monstrous endurance faltered. A sharp, involuntary squeal of pain escaped her lips, betraying the vulnerability she desperately sought to hide.

“So that’s how it works,” Aron muttered, observing her reaction with calculated detachment. His eyes held no anger, only cold curiosity as he studied the effects of the mana oath binding her to him. Then, raising his voice so she could hear him clearly, he declared, “You seem to have forgotten that, at this moment, you are my property—something I have complete power over. I could do whatever I wanted with you.”

His words were sharp and deliberate, each syllable cutting into the silence like a blade. “Yet despite this, I have chosen to treat you with a semblance of respect, befitting your position as a princess of one of the Xor’Vak Royal Clans. Perhaps that has made you forget your current reality.”

Seraphina said nothing in response, but the fury in her eyes spoke volumes. Her gaze burned with indignation, and her body began to radiate an intense, suffocating aura. The sheer force of her anger distorted the space around her, the air shimmering as though caught in a heatwave. The raw power emanating from her presence was both awe-inspiring and oppressive, a clear warning that her spirit remained unbroken despite the chains binding her. n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

“What makes you think you have the right to control me?” Seraphina demanded, her voice laced with defiance and her fiery eyes locked onto Aron as though ready to strike. Her challenge was immediately followed by another agonizing squeal of pain, the mana oath punishing her rebellion. Yet despite the torment, her unwavering gaze bore into Aron, her resolve unshaken. She was willing to endure any hellish suffering if it meant maintaining her defiance.

“Your leader seems to have done exactly that by ordering you to surrender,” Aron replied, his tone calm and detached, as if they were discussing a trivial matter. He appeared completely unfazed by her display of resistance, his demeanor unyieldingly composed.

Seraphina flinched at his words but refused to back down, her aura growing heavier, and denser, as her anger bubbled to a boiling point.

“But why would he do that,” Aron continued, leaning slightly forward as his sharp eyes met hers, “when it meant tainting the carefully built image of uncompromising strength your people pride themselves on? Could it be that you are a threat significant enough to warrant such an act, even at the cost of tarnishing that image?”

He delivered the question with an unnerving calm, then casually reached for his tea, taking a measured sip as if her response was of no real consequence to him.

Though Seraphina refused to answer, her eyes betrayed her. For the briefest moment, the fury blazing in them faltered. Aron noticed the subtle shift, the flicker of doubt, the redirection of her anger toward someone else—perhaps her leader—before it snapped back to him.

Aron chuckled softly at her reaction, a hint of amusement flickering across his face. He was beginning to get a clearer sense of Seraphina’s personality. “This is going to take some time,” he mused inwardly. Resolving the core issues with her today was essential—her cooperation wasn’t just preferable; it was vital for his plan to unfold successfully.

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