The bus ride felt long and bumpy, rattling Adam’s already aching body with every pothole. He sat hunched by the window, staring out at the passing scenery, his mind a whirlwind of pain, anger, and fierce determination.
The bruises from John’s brutal attack throbbed relentlessly, a constant reminder of the danger he was in, and the urgent need to move forward with his plans. He couldn't afford to waste a single moment.
Finally, the bus slowed, wheezing to a halt at a lonely stop on the side of a quiet country road. Adam gathered his meager belongings – the simple canvas bag that miraculously still held his precious certificate – and stepped off carefully, his ribs protesting with every movement. The bus pulled away with a sigh of exhaust fumes, leaving him standing alone under the bright, unforgiving midday sun.
He paused for a moment, blinking against the harsh light, and took a deep breath of the clean country air. It smelled different here, away from the city's grime and noise – a mixture of dry earth, growing plants, and something wilder, carried on the breeze from the nearby forest. The landscape stretched out before him, vast and open.
Endless fields rolled away in every direction, a patchwork quilt of greens and browns under a huge, clear blue sky. It felt both peaceful and incredibly empty.
The road itself was quiet, almost deserted. Only the faint, distant hum of an occasional car or truck broke the silence. Compared to the constant roar of the city he’d just left, the stillness here felt almost eerie, as if the world had paused, holding its breath.
Adam looked around slowly, taking it all in. Some patches of farmland looked healthy and green, crops swaying gently in the warm breeze. Other areas looked neglected, the soil dry and cracked, hinting at struggles and hard times – perhaps like the farmer he’d bought it from. His eyes scanned the horizon, trying to get his bearings.
He reached into his bag and pulled out the certificate he had received just that morning from the Property Transaction Office. The official paper felt solid and real in his hand. He read the familiar words again, confirming the location. This piece of land, ten hectares of it, bordering this very road, was now provisionally his.
"So, this is it…" he muttered softly, his voice barely disturbing the quiet air. He looked from the certificate to the land stretching out beside the road. "My land." Saying it out loud made it feel more real, more concrete. It wasn't just an idea anymore; it was a place. His place. A new beginning, purchased with cunning and a secret power, paid for partly with cash earned through impossible means.
He turned to his right, focusing on the specific parcel described in the document. It was a vast, open field, mostly covered in patches of wild green grass that shimmered under the strong sunlight. It didn't look like much – no impressive buildings, no neat rows of valuable crops, just open space. The road was built up slightly higher than the field, so he had to carefully step down off the shoulder onto the softer earth below.
He started walking slowly into the field, the uneven ground making his bruised body ache, but he ignored the discomfort. He walked further away from the road, putting distance between himself and any potential passersby.
He noted again how few vehicles went past – maybe one every five or ten minutes. This place was truly isolated, far from the prying eyes and busy streets of the city.
And that isolation was exactly what he wanted. Secrecy was crucial for his plans, especially the next step. The further away he was from unwanted attention, the better. A slow smile spread across Adam’s face, despite the lingering pain.
'Perfect,' he thought, a surge of satisfaction warming him. Remote. Untouched. Private. This was the ideal location.
He stopped walking when he felt he was far enough into the field, surrounded only by the whispering grass and the wide-open sky. Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket – a pocket he now guarded fiercely – he pulled out a small, clear plastic tube, about the size of his thumb. Inside the sealed tube was a thick, dark, almost black liquid.
He held the small tube up, letting the bright sunlight shine through it. He swirled the liquid gently. It clung to the sides of the tube, thick and viscous, catching the light with an oily sheen.
A low murmur of satisfaction escaped his lips, a sound of anticipation and purpose. "So," he whispered reverently, "this is Black Gold."
Crude oil. Raw, unrefined petroleum. The lifeblood of the modern world, the source of immense wealth and power. He knew getting his hands on even this tiny sample hadn't been easy or entirely legal.
Earlier that day, using some of the cash he’d carefully set aside from the gold deal, he had discreetly found a disgruntled worker at a small, independent oil processing facility on the outskirts of the city.
A carefully placed bribe – a two thousand dollars, a fortune to the worker – had convinced the man to sneak him this small vial of raw crude oil, siphoned directly from one of the storage tanks. It wasn't much, just a sample, but it was exactly what Adam needed.
It held unimaginable potential, not because of the tiny amount itself, but because of what he could do with it. This sample was the key, the seed for something much, much greater.
Standing alone in the middle of his newly acquired field, feeling the warmth of the sun on his bruised face and the gentle breeze rustling the grass around him, Adam felt a tremor of nervous excitement.
This was a huge step, a massive gamble based on his secret ability. He carefully uncapped the small tube. The pungent, slightly acrid smell of raw oil hit his nostrils. Tilting the tube slowly, he poured a small amount of the thick, black liquid onto the palm of his hand. It felt cool at first, then slightly warm as it spread across his skin, glistening darkly, heavy and viscous.
He took another deep breath, centering himself, focusing his mind. He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing the oil, its properties, its essence. Then, concentrating all his will, he whispered the now-familiar command word, his voice barely audible above the breeze: "Copy."
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Almost instantly, he felt the tell-tale sign. The faint blue dot flickered into existence in the top-right corner of his vision, pulsing gently. A moment later, the familiar blue system window materialized before his eyes, displaying its clear, concise message:
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Congratulations, Host!
You have successfully copied 1 cubic meter of crude oil.
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A triumphant smirk touched Adam’s lips. It worked! Even with a complex liquid like crude oil, the copy function was successful. And not just the tiny amount in the tube – the system seemed to have defaulted to copying a significant unit: one cubic meter.
That was far more than he held in his hand! This power, this impossible ability to duplicate objects and store them in his hidden inventory, was truly incredible. It was the cheat code he needed to rewrite his life story.
Wasting no time, Adam carefully poured the remaining oil from the tube onto a small patch of earth at his feet, letting the black liquid soak into the dry soil. He didn't want to leave any physical evidence behind. He quickly wiped his oily hand clean on the grass, then crouched down beside the dark, damp patch he’d created.
He placed his clean palm gently but firmly against the soil, feeling the warmth of the earth beneath his skin. He closed his eyes again, focusing his intent, picturing the vast space beneath the ground, picturing it filling with the substance he had just copied. He whispered a quiet plea, half to himself, half to the mysterious system that governed his power, "Please… please let this work…"
Then, gathering his concentration, focusing his will like a laser beam, he spoke the command clearly, his voice low but filled with determination: "Paste Crude Oil."
Immediately, another blue window flashed into existence before him. But this one was different. It wasn't just a confirmation; it was a prompt, asking for input:
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Would you like to paste the copied object into an external area?
Please specify the width, depth, and height for placement.
Width: [ ] Depth: [ ] Height: [ ]
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Adam’s eyes flew open, widening in shock and then dawning excitement. A prompt? Asking for dimensions? He hadn't expected that level of control! He thought maybe the oil would just appear in a puddle, or perhaps underground in a generic blob.
But this… this implied precision. He could define the shape and size of the deposit he was creating! The realization sent a fresh surge of exhilaration through him, momentarily overriding the aches and pains of his body.
"It worked!" he thought, almost laughing out loud. "It actually worked! I can control where it goes!"
Keeping his hand pressed firmly against the ground, he focused his mind on the blank fields within the system window. He didn't need to type or speak the numbers.
It felt… intuitive. As he visualized the space beneath him, picturing a large, deep reservoir, numbers began to fill themselves into the boxes, seemingly drawn directly from his intent.
He envisioned a significant deposit, wide and deep, extending far beneath the surface. Width: [5000 meters]. Depth: [100 meters below surface]. Height: [2000 meters thick]. The numbers solidified in the prompt. He confirmed the command mentally.
In a matter of seconds, the prompt window vanished. It was immediately replaced by a new notification, simple and direct:
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Congratulations, Host!
You have successfully pasted crude oil into the external area according to the specified dimensions.
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At the exact same instant that notification appeared, another blue window popped up beside it – this one displaying a detailed, top-down map of the very land Adam was standing on.
His location was marked by a bright, pulsing red dot. And beneath that dot, spreading out underground according to the dimensions he had just mentally entered, a large area on the map began to glow with a deep, reddish-brown color, clearly indicating the presence of a newly created oil deposit.
Adam stared at the map, his heart pounding like a drum against his ribs. He looked down at the ordinary ground beneath his feet, then back at the glowing map in his vision. It was real. He hadn't just copied the oil; he had successfully pasted it, precisely placed deep within the earth, creating an underground reservoir out of nothing but a tiny sample and his secret power.
A wide, almost manic grin spread across his face, splitting his bruised lips despite the pain. "I did it…" he whispered, his voice hoarse with excitement and disbelief. "I actually did it! I just created an underground oil reserve!" The sheer magnitude of what he had accomplished washed over him. This wasn't just about copying water bottles or money anymore.
This was creation on a massive scale. This was resource generation. This was power.
This hidden oil reserve, marked only on his invisible map, was a game-changer. A secret, untapped resource that could, eventually, become the bedrock of his wealth, his influence, his entire empire.
He slowly stood up, stepping back from the spot where he had initiated the paste. He looked out across the vast, empty field, then down at the unremarkable ground beneath his feet. Nothing looked different on the surface.
The grass swayed gently, the sun shone brightly, the world seemed unchanged. But beneath the surface, hidden from everyone, lay a fortune in black gold, placed there by him. The quiet isolation of the land suddenly felt charged with immense possibility. His mind raced, buzzing with the implications, the potential, the steps ahead.
"Okay," he thought aloud, his voice steadier now, filled with purpose. "First step is done. Now, all I need to do is finalize the land ownership in few days… get the deed officially registered… then the real work begins. Then my grand plan can truly start."
In that moment, standing alone in the vast, sun-drenched field, he envisioned the future. He saw drilling rigs piercing the earth, pumpjacks nodding rhythmically, pipelines stretching across the landscape.
He pictured refineries turning the crude oil into valuable fuel, power plants generating electricity, new businesses springing up, all fueled by the resource he controlled. He saw himself, not as a victim anymore, but as a player, a force to be reckoned reckoned with, changing the economic landscape of his country.
He took another look at the certificate – the physical representation of his claim – still safely stored in his inventory. This land, this seemingly unremarkable patch of earth, was now infinitely more valuable than anyone could possibly imagine.
He thought about his country, Fieland. A small nation, not blessed with abundant natural resources like its larger neighbors. Fieland relied heavily on importing crude oil from powerful foreign corporations and nations.
This dependence made the country vulnerable, tying its economy, its inflation rates, the very cost of living for ordinary people, to the whims of global oil markets and the decisions made in distant boardrooms.
In Fieland, the big oil companies held enormous power. They dictated prices, controlled supply, and influenced politicians. When they raised prices, ordinary people suffered, while the rich and connected often found ways to profit.
But Adam knew things others didn't. He had glimpses of the future, perhaps from his original timeline, perhaps from the strange circumstances of his return. He knew which technologies would eventually rise to challenge oil's dominance, which industries were poised for growth, and which were destined to collapse under their own weight or be replaced.
But for now, in this present moment, the world still ran on oil. Nations, industries, armies, economies – everything depended on this finite, messy, incredibly valuable resource. And Adam, through his unique ability, had just placed himself right at the heart of it, creating a secret source within a country that desperately needed it.
A slow, deeply satisfied grin crept across his face again. It wasn't just about getting rich anymore, or even just about revenge. This was about control. About power on a scale he hadn't dared to dream of until now.
"The future," he whispered to himself, the words carried away on the breeze, "belongs to those who seize control of it… and I intend to seize everything."
Standing there in his isolated field, the sun beating down, the secret oil reserve resting silently beneath the soil, Adam's mind buzzed with grand designs. Plans for drilling, refining, distribution, energy generation, new industries – it all swirled together in a thrilling vision of empire.
He saw a future where Fieland wasn't reliant on foreign powers, a future where he held the reins, directing the flow of energy, wealth, and influence. This land wasn't just property; it was the blank canvas on which he would paint his masterpiece, his new destiny.
Taking one last look around the peaceful, empty landscape, Adam took a deep, steadying breath. He carefully ensured the certificate was secure in his inventory.
Then, turning his back on the spot where he had performed his miracle, his eyes shining with fierce determination and boundless ambition, he began walking back towards the dusty road. Each step felt lighter now, despite his aching body. Each step echoed with the promise of a new era, a future he would build with his own hands, fueled by secrets buried deep beneath the earth. Everything was finally starting to change.
